VeepStakes: “We’re Number Two!”

July 12, 2012

 

Vice President Dan Quayle. On the subject of his frequent mistakes and verbal miscues, his wife Marilyn once quipped, “What do you expect? He’s a blond.”

Would you like to be Vice President of the United States?  You’re probably better suited than many of the people who have held that high office.

The election is just a few months away.  Looks like Barack and Joe will be running together again, and we still don’t know who’s going to pair up with Mitt and run for vice president on the challengers’ ticket.

But whatever your political leanings, I hope you agree with me that the next person who will be a heartbeat away from the most powerful job in the world ought to be both of sound character and well qualified to step in, just like the Miss America runner-up. It hasn’t always been that way.

Perhaps that’s why so few sitting vice presidents get elected to the presidency.  It was more than 150 years between the elections of Martin Van Buren (1836) and George H.W. Bush (1988). Both of them lasted a single term as president.

You and I are more suited to stand first in line to succeed the president than many of those who’ve done so.  As Lord Acton wrote in his oft-quoted passage about the corruptive lure of power, “There is no worse heresy than the fact that the office sanctifies the holder of it.”  He might have been thinking of one or more vice presidents of the United States. Examples abound. Consider:

John Nance Garner

John Nance “Cactus Jack” Garner

A Texan, he was vice president for Franklin Roosevelt’s first two terms. He got the nickname after campaigning for the prickly pear cactus to be named the official state flower. It wasn’t – the Bluebonnet got the nod in that crucial political decision. Garner is often quoted as saying that the vice presidency isn’t worth “a bucket of warm spit.” Only he didn’t say “spit.” You can guess what the actual word was. He also called himself “the president’s spare tire.”

Okay, okay, at least Garner was qualified for the job, having been Speaker of the House. But you wouldn’t have wanted to invite him over for dinner. Labor leader John L. Lewis called him “a labor-baiting, poker-playing, whiskey-drinking, evil old man.” That must have been partly accurate; during Prohibition he convened his “Board of Education,” a place where politicians of both parties could consume alcoholic beverages.

Liberals didn’t like him; he opposed FDR’s New Deal machinations and the plan to pack the Supreme Court.  Garner declared for president in 1940 but got nowhere at the convention.  FDR couldn’t let go and ran for a third term, picking Henry Wallace as running mate.

Schuyler Colfax

Schuyler Colfax, Financial Scandal Pioneer

Garner died at age 98, making him the longest-living vice president.  He and Schuyler Colfax – the coolest-named VP – who served under Ulysses Grant, are the only two Vice Presidents to have been Speaker of the House of Representatives prior to becoming Vice President.  That means that Garner and Colfax are the only people to have served as the presiding officer of both Houses of Congress.

Colfax, one of four veeps from Indiana, was another rogue. He was serving as Speaker of the House in 1865 when he declined an invitation to attend “Our American Cousin” with President Lincoln at Ford’s Theater.  Colfax was one of 13 congressmen who took bribes in the Credit Mobilier scandal that took place in the Andrew Johnson administration.  The news of those sleazy dealings, associated with the building of the first transcontinental railroad – the “Big Dig” of its day – came to light in 1872 when Colfax was VP.  He was bounced off the ticket and didn’t run with Grant for the latter’s second term in office. His successor, Henry Wilson, died in office after soaking in a tub.

Levi Morton, Civil Rights Obstructionist

Levi Morton

Levi Morton was vice president under Benjamin Harrison from 1889 to 1993. He is a bit player in American history, but he might have become president had he accepted James Garfield’s invitation to run with him in 1880. He refused, and asked to be appointed Minister to France instead. Garfield – who had a superb background and might have made a wonderful president had he lived – agreed to the request. Soon he was assassinated by the screwball Charles Guiteau, who thought that he had been “passed over” for the job that Morton took.

Morton actually did a decent job as Minster to France.  In Paris, on October 24, 1881, he placed the first rivet in the construction of the Statue of Liberty. The rivet was driven into the big toe of Lady Liberty’s left foot.

When Morton was serving as VP, President Harrison tried to pass the Lodge Bill, an election law enforcing the voting rights of blacks in the South. Morton did not support the bill against a Democratic filibuster in the Senate, and Harrison blamed Morton for the bill’s failure. He bounced Morton from the ticket and chose Whitelaw Reid as the vice-presidential candidate for the next election. They lost to Democrats Grover Cleveland and Adlai E. Stevenson.

Daniel Tompkins

Daniel Tompkins, Sad Case of a Good Man’s Ultimate Failure

Governor of New York from 1807 to 1817, Tompkins won re-election three times and once turned down an offer to become James Madison’s Secretary of State.  He was vice president for James Monroe’s two terms. During the War of 1812, he was one of the nation’s most effective governors. He organized the state militia, initiated the practice of conscription, and funded much of the militia’s operations when the state legislature would not do so. This financial generosity to his country proved his undoing. Tompkins took out loans and used his personal property as collateral.  By the end of the war he was owed $90,000, quite a fortune in those days.

When Tompkins tried to recover his loans from the state and the federal government, they both stiffed him. Litigation ran to 1824, the last of his eight years as vice president. His financial problems drive him to alcoholism and to embezzling schemes, and he often presided over the Senate while drunk.  It got so bad that Congress even docked his pay.

Thomas Marshall, Small Caliber but Funny Guy

Thomas Marshall

An Indiana lawyer, Marshall was VP for Woodrow Wilson, the supercilious and much overrated president, who was also once the president of Princeton University.  Wilson called Marshall a “small-caliber man” and wrote that a vice president’s only significance is that he “be may cease to be Vice President.” Marshall should actually have assumed the top spot after Wilson had a paralytic stroke. Instead, Wilson’s wife effectively ran the country.  Marshall had been in the dark about how bad Wilson’s condition was, but he didn’t want the presidency anyway.

He was a wit, though. It was he who stated, after listening to a long, blustering Senate speech on the country’s needs, “What this country needs is a good five-cent cigar.” When he left the vice presidency, he retired to Indiana and did not want to work anymore. His memoirs made that point, and added, “I wouldn’t mind being Vice President again.”

Richard Johnson, Disheveled Tavern Owner

Richard Johnson

Martin van Buren, successor to President Andrew Jackson, was a foppish New York dandy who was accused of wearing corsets. To “balance” the ticket, they picked Kentuckian Richard Johnson, who tried to claim credit for slaying the Indian chief Tecumseh. That gave rise to a campaign slogan: “Rumpsey Dumpsey, Col. Johnson killed Tecumsey.”

Johnson once petitioned Congress to drill “the Polar regions” to see if the Earth was hollow. He also alienated Southern Congressmen by taking a slave as a common-law wife and escorting his two mulatto daughters to official functions. He ran up many debts as vice president, so he fled to Kentucky and ran a hotel and tavern. His appearance was so unkempt that an English visitor wrote, “If he should become President, he will be as strange-looking a potentate as ever ruled.”

“His Accidency” John Tyler, and Others Who (Briefly) Moved Up

Tyler succeeded William Henry Harrison, who died after a month in office. He became the first president not to run for a second term. No party wanted him.  Millard Fillmore, who moved in after Zachary Taylor died, fared no better when he tried to run again. It was he who appointed Brigham Young governor of Utah Territory. Andrew Johnson, disastrous second vice president under Abe Lincoln, was drunk at his vice presidential inauguration.  Chester Arthur, who took over for the assassinated James Garfield, was the presidency’s premier gourmand. He served 14 course meals at the White House.  His party dumped him too.

Vice Presidential One-Liners

Thomas Jefferson called his vice presidency under John Adams “a tranquil and unoffending station” and spent most of his time at Monticello. Adlai Stevenson, vice president to Grover Cleveland, was asked if the president ever consulted him on anything. His reply: “Not yet, but there are still a few weeks of my term remaining.”

Senator Charles Fairbanks of Indiana was Teddy Roosevelt’s vice president. T.R. did his best to foil Fairbanks’ career ambitions, dubbing him “the Indiana icicle” and undercutting him at every opportunity.  Four years after Roosevelt left office, Fairbanks was approached again for a possible vice presidential run. His answer: “My name must not be considered for Vice President. Please withdraw it.”

Hannibal Hamlin

Hannibal Hamlin of Maine, Lincoln’s first running mate, was an avid card-player. He said that the announcement of his candidacy “ruined a good hand.”

Lyndon Johnson, JFK’s vice president, was no friend of the Kennedys.  They called him “Uncle Cornpone.” Nelson Rockefeller, VP under Jerry Ford, said “I go to funerals. I go to earthquakes.”

And then there’s Bush I’s vice president Dan Quayle, who once spelled the name of a popular food “potatoe.” He also butchered the slogan of the United Negro College Fund and earned a spot in Bartlett’s, saying “It’s a terrible thing to lose one’s mind.  Or not to have a mind is being very wasteful.”

Source for most of the information in this post is the July/August issue of Smithsonian magazine. If you’d like to know more of the stories behind the stories of our country’s vice presidents, you might want to check out the Vice Presidential Learning Center in Dan Quayle’s home town of Huntington, Indiana. It’s the only museum dedicated to vice-presidential history and memorabilia.

The Center’s former marketing slogan: “Second to One.”

The All-Star Game: What a Classic It Was Back When

July 10, 2012

Dick Radatz

Members of “Red Sox Nation” don’t know how good they have it: World Series championships, playoffs, perennial contender status. Back in the bad old days when I was growing up, the only thing we could ever look forward to was the All-Star game. The Red Sox never had any hope of winning the American League pennant. They were mediocrity personified.

You had to win the pennant to get into the World Series. There were no playoffs, no wild cards. And just about every year, the Yankees would have the regular season title clinched by the end of July.

There was almost no television coverage of baseball from out of town either. So the only time we could see the mythical immortals of the National League was in the mid-summer All-Star game. At least one player from every team had to make the All-Stars, so we could root for a smattering of our local heroes against the titans from afar.

The game was a very big deal. The baseball card companies even hustled out packets of All-Star cards around that time. And the teams played to win. Many of the starters would play the entire game. A lot of those who made it to the game just rode the bench.

From 1950 through 1980, there were 35 All-Star games, because in three of those years they played two games. The National League won 28 of the 35. It was close to utter domination.  Musial, Spahn,

Willie Mays

Matthews, Mays, Marichal, Clemente, McCovey, Drysdale, Koufax – demigods all – were the typical opponents. We of junior circuit were always overmatched.

The Carmine Hose’s perennial representatives were Ted Williams and his successor, Carl Yastrzemski. Others who made it onto the team more than once in that era included Frank Malzone, Pete Runnels, and Jackie Jensen.  Sox fans could hope they would get in for an inning or two, and maybe one at-bat.

In 2009, six Red Sox made the All-Stars.  This year the only Sox player on the team is Ortiz. The team is in last place. Feels familiar. To me, not to the Gen-Xers, and not to the Millennials. They’ve been spoiled.

The Monster

Back before anyone invented the term “closer” or dreamed up “saves” as a baseball statistic, Boston Red Sox relief pitcher Dick Radatz was the best in the business. And he pitched for us!

He was big, burly, and intimidating beyond words. He threw heat, heat, and more heat. For three seasons, 1962-64, Dick Radatz and his fastball were masters of the late-innings – not just the ninth. Mickey Mantle dubbed him “The Monster.” It stuck. Radatz didn’t last long in the majors. Once he lost just a tad off his fast ball, he was history.

Richard Raymond Radatz was born in in Detroit and graduated from Michigan State. College graduates in pro baseball were a rarity back then. I once heard – it may have been from him – that he was only the 25th college grad ever to play major league ball. I don’t know if that’s true, but it sounds plausible.

I met Dick one evening in a corporate “Legends” box at a Red Sox game.  He was an ideal host in that venue; he loved to tell stories and share his knowledge of the sport. Radatz was also a good sport with a sense of humor. I decided to kid him during handshakes and introductions by saying that my name was Johnny Callison. He glared at me, then broke into a grin and said, “They were bringing me the keys to the Corvette, and that guy took it away from me. Let me tell you about Johnny Callison.”

Johnny Callison

John Wesley Callison was a right fielder who grew up in Oklahoma, broke in with the White Sox, and was traded to the Phillies in 1961. In Philadelphia, he blossomed into a star. Supreme Court Justice Sam Alito was a big fan. Callison’s single against the Chicago Cubs in a 1962 game was the first hit ever seen by a live television audience in Europe. A portion of that game was shown on the first transatlantic broadcast via Telstar, which had been launched a few days earlier.

The 1964 Game

Radatz and Eddie Bressoud, a journeyman shortstop who was enjoying a career year, were the only Red Sox on the American League’s 1964 All-Star squad. Bressoud had also done Boston an enormous favor. He was the guy who came here in trade for Don Buddin, the hapless butt of endless jokes and one-liners. Boston writer Clif Keane once suggested that Buddin’s license plate be “E6.”

The game was a thriller, played in brand-new Shea Stadium adjacent to the New York World’s Fair. Radatz took the mound in the seventh inning with American League leading 4-3. The first player he faced was Callison, who flied deep to right field; the long out carried to the warning track. Radatz then retired the next five batters.

The Nationals tied the game in the last of the ninth. Willie Mays – maybe the greatest ball player ever, and certainly one of the top five – walked after fouling off five third-strike pitches. He stole second and scored on a bloop single and a bad throw by the grossly overrated Yankee Joe Pepitone.

Callison came up with two outs and two men on base. He stepped into the batter’s box, then asked for time and went back to the dugout. He emerged a minute later and blasted a Radatz fastball into the seats for a walk-off home run, the third in All-Star Game history. In previous years, Stan Musial and Ted Williams had also ended the All-Star Game with a home run. That hit earned Callison the game MVP award, a Chevrolet Corvette.

Years later, Radatz related, he encountered Callison and asked why he had gone back to the dugout.  Callison explained that, with his own bat, he hadn’t quite been able to “get around” on Dick’s fastball.  His fly-out had gone to the warning track – not good enough. So Callison borrowed a bat from his teammate, Willie Mays. Willie’s bat was one ounce lighter. A single ounce made all the difference.

Earthshine: The DaVinci Glow

July 8, 2012

When you think of Leonardo Da Vinci, you probably think of the Mona Lisa or 16th-century submarines or, maybe, a certain suspenseful novel that has been made into a movie. That’s old school. From now on, think of the Moon. Little-known to most, one of Leonardo’s finest works is not a painting or an invention, but rather something from astronomy: He solved the ancient riddle of Earthshine.

You can see Earthshine whenever there’s a crescent Moon on the horizon at sunset.  Look between the horns of the crescent for a ghostly image of the full Moon. That’s Earthshine.  There should be one on July 15 – and at dawn that day it will also be framed in a celestial triangle with Jupiter and Venus. Worth getting up early to see it – hope there are no clouds!

For thousands of years, humans marveled at the beauty of this “ashen glow,” or “the old Moon in the new Moon’s arms.” But what was it? No one knew until the 16th century when Leonardo figured it out.

In modern times, the answer must seem obvious. When the sun sets on the Moon, it gets dark–but not completely dark. There’s still a source of light in the sky: Earth. Our own planet lights up the lunar night 50 times brighter than a full Moon, producing the ashen glow.

Visualizing this in the 1500s required a wild kind of imagination. No one had ever been to the Moon and looked “up” at Earth. Most people didn’t even know that Earth orbited the sun. (Copernicus’ sun-centered theory of the solar system wasn’t published until 1543, twenty-four years after Leonardo died.)

Leonardo

Wild imagination was one thing Leonardo had in abundance. His notebooks are filled with sketches of flying machines, army tanks, scuba gear and other fantastic devices centuries ahead of their time. He even designed a robot: an armored knight that could sit up, wave its arms, and move its head while opening and closing an anatomically correct jaw.

To Leonardo, Earthshine was an appealing riddle. As an artist, he was keenly interested in light and shadow. As a mathematician and engineer, he was fond of geometry. All that remained was a trip to the Moon. This marvelous Renaissance man made that mental journey.

In Leonardo’s Codex Leicester, circa 1510, there is a page entitled “Of the Moon: No Solid Body is Lighter than Air.” He states his belief that the Moon has an atmosphere and oceans. The Moon was a fine reflector of light, Leonardo believed, because it was covered with so much water. As for the “ghostly glow,” he explained, that was due to sunlight bouncing off Earth’s oceans and, in turn, hitting the Moon.

Not oceans – clouds do most of Earth’s reflecting. And the Moon has no atmosphere. But he was basically right. Nice going, Leonardo da Vinci!

To Celebrate and Remember: July 1

July 1, 2012

Poppies of Flanders

Today is Canada Day, national holiday of our northern neighbor.  In America, we are preparing to celebrate the birth of our own nation three days hence. Let us wish our Canadian friends the best end enjoy the festivities here. But let us also pause and remember once again the suffering and sacrifices of those who made it possible for us to live freely in these blessed and noble lands.

99 years ago today, July 1, 1916, was the first day of the Battle of the Somme.  In that horrific encounter the British suffered 3,483 casualties an hour.  By midnight, British losses were 57,470 men. This is more than 50% of the manpower of the entire regular British Army in 2010.

That was in World War I, perhaps the most hideous and tragic of all conflicts because it was the first time that the tactics of ancient war confronted the machinery of modern war.  Formerly mighty stone fortresses and their defenders, blasted to rubble by monstrous artillery shells fired from 20 miles away. Cavalry and infantry charges, across open fields into cataracts of death spewed from automatic machine guns.

These encounters were foreshadowed years previously at places like Gettysburg and Balaclava, but they burst into full horror and unspeakable carnage with the perfection of the devilish engines of World War I. The Somme and battles like it befouled the battlefields and left large deposits of lime in the soil of France and Belgium.   Poppies were among the few plants that could still grow there.  In 1918, American professor Moina Michael resolved to wear a red poppy year-round to honor the soldiers who died in the war.  She also wrote poetry and campaigned to have the poppy adopted as an official symbol of remembrance by the American Legion.

John McCrae

One literary work that never fails to move me is “In Flanders Fields” by John McCrae, who was a Canadian physician in World War I.  On this day, I think, it’s well to ponder his touching poem once again.

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
      Between the crosses, row on row,
   That mark our place; and in the sky
   The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
   Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
         In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
   The torch; be yours to hold it high.
   If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
         In Flanders fields.

Lincoln (circled) at Gettysburg, three hours before delivering the Gettysburg Address.

The final stanza also calls to mind the message of Lincoln at Gettysburg: “… that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom..”

So yes, let us enjoy our nation’s upcoming birthday celebration and raise a glass in salute to our Canadian friends. But may we pause a moment, both to highly resolve as Mr. Lincoln said, and to hold the torch high as Mr. McCrae said. And on this day, July 1, it is also fitting that we whisper a prayer of gratitude and remembrance for those brave lads who suffered so terribly and made the ultimate sacrifice nearly 100 years ago in the War to End All Wars.

Firsts and Superlatives

June 25, 2012

Americans love a winner. That’s what General George Patton said, anyway.  I don’t disagree with the old polo player and 1912 Olympic pentathlete, but I’ll go a step further and say that Americans also love superlatives. We enjoy learning about them – the first, the best, the biggest, the highest, the lowest, the hostess with the mostest. Finally, we like to know the stories behind their stories, the real scoop. So here, in no particular order, are several firsts, superlatives, and back stories that I hope you find interesting.

 

The First President of the United States

John Hanson

The first president of the United States was not George Washington.  His name was John Hanson.  He was from Maryland, a delegate to the Second Continental Congress, and was the first of eight men to serve one-year terms as president under the Articles of Confederation.

On March 1, 1781, Maryland’s ratification of the Articles put them into effect. In November of that year, Hanson became the first President of the Continental Congress to be elected for an annual term as specified in the Articles.  His title was “President of the United States in Congress Assembled.”

Unlike the Constitution, the Articles of Confederation did not enumerate the powers of the president.  There was no executive branch of the government, and the presidency was largely a ceremonial position.  But Hanson and his successors were the only individuals who had the responsibility to correspond and negotiate with foreign governments.  John Hanson also approved the Great Seal of the United States, which is still in use today.

Upon his death on November 21, 1783, an obituary in the Maryland Gazette read, in part, “It is doubtful that there ever lived on this side of the Atlantic a nobler character or shrewder statesman…And it is extremely doubtful if there has ever lived in an age since the advent of civilization a man with a keener grasp of, or a deeper insight into, such democratic ideals as are essential to the promotion of personal liberty and the extension of human happiness. He was firm in his opinion that the people of America were capable of ruling themselves without the aid of a king.”

 

The World’s Highest Mountain

Mount Everest (29,027 feet above sea level) is not the highest mountain on the earth. The highest, when measured by distance of mountain peak to the center of the earth, is Mount Chimborazo (20,702). Chimborazo is an extinct volcano in Ecuador. It is right near the Equator, and because the earth bulges out at the Equator due to centrifugal force of the earth’s rotation, Chimborazo’s peak is 7,109 feet farther from earth’s core than Everest’s.

Near Chimborazo is Cayembe, slightly lower and directly on the Equator. it is the only place on the Equator where there is snow year-round.

 

The First All-America Quarterback

In 1889, Caspar Whitney of Harper’s magazine selected the first All-America college football team.  All of the team’s members were from the “Big Three” teams – Harvard, Yale and Princeton. The quarterback on the team was Edgar Allan Poe, who played for Princeton. He was named for his famous second cousin twice removed.

The story goes that after Princeton beat Harvard 41-15, a Harvard man reportedly asked a Princeton alumnus whether Poe was related to the great Edgar Allan Poe. The Princeton guy replied, “He is the great Edgar Allan Poe.'”

Poe graduated Phi Beta Kappa and later served as the Attorney General of the State of Maryland from 1911 to 1915.  Had he been born a century or so later, he would certainly have been a first round draft choice of the Baltimore Ravens.

The Richest Country on Earth

Anton Florian von Liechtenstein

Liechtenstein has the world’s highest per capita income. It is also the only country in the world to be named after people who purchased it, the only country of the Holy Roman Empire that is still in existence, and the world’s biggest exporter of false teeth.

Liechtenstein is Europe’s fourth-smallest country (after Vatican City, Monaco, and San Marino). It is named for the Liechtenstein dynasty, which from around 1140 had possessed Castle Liechtenstein in Lower Austria. Through the centuries, the Liechtensteins acquired vast tracts of land in Central Europe. But all of their territories were held as fiefs under other nobles; none of the lands were held directly under the imperial throne. That meant the Liechtensteins were unable to qualify for a seat in the Reichstag, the imperial parliament.

The family wanted into the Reichstag, so they finally arranged to purchase the “lordship,” of Schellenberg in 1699 and the county of Vaduz in 1712. These places fit the bill; their sovereigns reported directly to the Emperor.

On January 23, 1719, Holy Roman Emperor Charles VI decreed that Vaduz and Schellenberg were united into a single territory. He raised the territory to the status of principality and named it in honor of his “true servant, Anton Florian of Liechtenstein.”   That’s how Liechtenstein became a sovereign member state of the Empire.  It is the only surviving state (of around 1,800) of that Empire.  Not a bad accomplishment, but it’s not like the owners actually cared about the place.  No princes of Liechtenstein even set foot in the principality for over 120 years after it came into being.

“Remembering the Raisin” and the War of 1812

June 1, 2012

James Madison

Two hundred years ago, on June 1, 1812, President James Madison sent his “war message” to Congress, and  soon a divided Congress declared war on Great Britain, with 79-49 the House vote and 19-13 the Senate vote.  Only three of those pro-war Senators were from New England.

So began the War of 1812. We don’t really know much about it. That’s entirely understandable.  Other than a few memories burnished almost in isolation in the history books  – the USS Constitution’s successes, Francis Scott Key at Fort McHenry, Oliver Hazard Perry on the Great Lakes, the Battle of New Orleans – the War of 1812 was largely a bungled, mismanaged fiasco.

I’m not saying we shouldn’t learn about the War of 1812. It had a profound and lasting effect on the future course of the new American nation. But reading its tangled history is like learning a slew of guilty secrets about your family forebears.  Though I love history, recounting that of the War of 1812 is not my intent here. I’d just like to tell you a few things about it that perhaps you didn’t know.

  • “Remember the Raisin” became a battle cry of the time.  As the Alamo, the Maine, and Pearl Harbor would become motivators to future generations, the crushing 1813 defeat at the River Raisin in Michigan whipped up the martial zeal of the Americans against the enemy. That enemy was really the American Indian, not the British Redcoat.

At the Raisin, a joint force of Brits and Indians had overrun a poorly constructed, unguarded and unpatrolled American encampment. The Indians scalped 100 Americans during the fight, and later on they returned, drunk, and began scalping the wounded, burning the village, and tomahawking those fleeing the flames.

  • Two American presidents, prominent in the War of 1812, got to the White House because they won more battles than they lost against Indians.  William Henry Harrison, victor at Tippecanoe Creek in Indiana in 1811, had an epitaph that read “Avenger of the Massacre of the River Raisin.”  Andrew Jackson defeated the Creek Indians at Horseshoe Bend in the South, and got them to surrender 23 million acres of their land in the peace agreement.
  • The Indians were the real losers in the War of 1812. Their lands and the vast expanse of Canada were the objectives of the “War Hawks” in Congress. Indians, led by the warrior-statesman Tecumseh, had been allied with the Brits ever since the cessation of the Revolutionary War. Britain hadn’t withdrawn all its troops from the West, and they harassed and opposed settlers moving west. But with the death of Tecumseh at Thames – his British allies had fled from the field – and the eventual withdrawal of British forces at war’s end, the native tribes had no more hope of uniting or defeating the Americans.

    Tecumseh

  • James Madison, scholar and writer, was a terrible president. His wife Dolley, outgoing, bodacious, and full of personality, would probably have been a better chief executive. Madison was shy and diffident; he appointed a crew of political lifers and self-dealing ne’er do wells to run the war effort.

    Dolley Madison, the first “First Lady.”

  • Dolley Madison saved the portrait of George Washington from destruction when the Brits burned the White House and the US Capitol in retaliation for the burning of Toronto. According to legend, President Zachary Taylor referred to Dolley as “first lady” at her funeral.  Before her husband was elected president, Dolley served as a hostess for President Thomas Jefferson. As first lady, she was known for her flamboyant parties, strong personality, and as a supporter of many charities, including the Washington City Orphan Asylum.
  • Impressment of seamen by Britain was probably overstated as a cause of the War of 1812. The states of the Northeast, maritime in their economies, were largely against the war. Yes, the Brits did impress sailors, most of whom were in fact deserters from the British Navy. Only a few hundred Americans were snatched onto British ships. The biggest hue and cry about “Free Trade and Sailors’ Rights” came from states of the South and West. It was an excuse.  The War Hawks wanted Indian land and Canadian land.
  • Canada was a winner in the War of 1812. Americans thought it would be easy to take over Canada, and invaded three times, only to lose each time. Canadians celebrate the war as a heroic defense against and a formative moment in their country’s emergence as an independent nation.  The War of 1812 bicentennial is big deal in Canada, as they celebrate heroes such as Isaac Brock and Laura Secord.
  • As mentioned previously, Northeastern states resisted “Mr. Madison’s War.”  Massachusetts and Connecticut refused to send soldiers to fight in Canada.  Secession was seriously considered, then abandoned, at the Hartford Convention of the two states in 1814. But emissaries from the convention, sure of an American defeat,  were on the way to Washington to “speak plainly” to Madison when word came that the Americans had won a big victory at New Orleans.  They stayed in Washington for a while but slunk back to New England after the Treaty of Ghent was ratified, ending the War officially in February 1815.
  • Rockets did have red glare at Fort McHenry. They were inaccurate but intimidating British missiles called Congreves. They looked like giant bottle rockets, long sticks that spun around in the air, attached to a cylindrical canister filled with gunpowder, tar and shrapnel. The “bombs bursting in air” were 200 pound cannonballs, designed to explode above their target. The British fired about 1500 bombs and rockets from ships in Baltimore Harbor and only killed four of the fort’s defenders.
  • Uncle Sam came from the War. In Troy, New York, a military supplier named Sam Wilson packed meat rations in barrels labeled U.S. According to local lore, a soldier was told the initials stood for “Uncle Sam” Wilson, who was feeding the army. The name endured as shorthand for the U.S. government.
  • The ill-fated General Custer got his start in the War. George Armstrong Custer “Remembered the Raisin,’ having spent his youth in Monroe, the city that grew up along the Raisin. In 1871, he was photographed with War of 1812 veterans beside a monument to Americans slaughtered during and after the battle. Five years later, Custer also died fighting Indians at Little Big Horn, one of the most lopsided defeats for U.S. forces since the River Raisin battle 63 years before.
  • The DuPont Chemical Company got its start in the War too. Pierre DuPont de Nemours had fled the French Revolution with his sons and settled in Delaware.  When a British fleet invaded up Chesapeake Bay, the sons’ powder factory rushed a supply of gunpowder to the scene, and the artillery was able to drive away the invaders.
  • The Burning of Washington in August 1814 turned out to be a blessing in disguise. The “President’s House” (as it was then known) was rebuilt in sturdier form, with elegant furnishings and white paint replacing the earlier whitewash. The books burned at Congress’s library were replaced by Thomas Jefferson. Tom was broke and needed money. He sold his wide-ranging collection to the government for around $20,000. It became the foundation for today’s comprehensive Library of Congress. The previous library had been limited largely to works of a legal nature.
  • The War of 1812 could have been avoided had there a telephone or telegraph.  Britain was ready to deal and had rescinded the Orders in Council just before Madison’s war message went to Congress.  Then in 1814, the U.S. and Britain agreed to peace two weeks before the battle of New Orleans.
  • Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture, the climactic musical piece in America’s Fourth of July celebrations in Boston and elsewhere, had nothing to do with the War of 1812. It was composed in 1880 in commemoration of Russia’s defeat of Napoleon at Borodino, near Moscow. The piece was first played at the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour in Moscow in 1882.
  • For roughly a century, the conflict didn’t merit so much as a capital “W” in its name and was often called “the war of 1812.” The British were even more dismissive. They termed it “the American War of 1812,” to distinguish the conflict from the much greater Napoleonic War in progress at the same time.

William Tecumseh Sherman

We should never forget the lessons that history can teach us, and military history is particularly thrilling and instructive. Wars are, unfortunately, sometimes the only choice that a nation can make.  The War of 1812 was not one of those choices.  What might have happened to the Native Americans, had the war not been waged, and had their leader Tecumseh survived to unify them? Would Harrison and Jackson ever have become presidents?

We’ll never know, of course. But we do know, as General Sherman – William Tecumseh Sherman, named for the great Indian leader – said to a military school’s graduating class in 1879:

“You don’t know the horrible aspects of war. I’ve been through two wars and I know. I’ve seen cities and homes in ashes. I’ve seen thousands of men lying on the ground, their dead faces looking up at the skies. I tell you, War is Hell!”

A Remarkable Life: Vidal Sassoon

May 10, 2012

What man wouldn’t want Vidal Sassoon’s job? Making beautiful women even more beautiful? Could it get any better than that? “If you don’t look good, we don’t look good.” Yes indeed!

Vidal Sassoon cuts model Mary Quant’s hair, 1964.

It took Sassoon nine years to perfect his hairstyling technique. His secret? “The ability to look at somebody’s face and body structure. It’s like sculpture. You eliminate the superfluous. I dreamt of hair as an art form, giving the lead to other art forms.”

Well put, Vidal.  We sensitive men always eliminate the superfluous in our dealings with lady friends, but that’s as far as we can go. Not many of us could ever hope to match your artistry. You made them feel as gorgeous as we knew they were. You did it for them. We reaped the benefits.

Vidal Sassoon, dead at 84, did it the hard way. He was born in London, into a poor family of Sephardic Jewish immigrants. Part of his youth was spent in an orphanage after his father abandoned the family. His mother remarried and reclaimed Vidal when he was 12. Like many boys, he wanted to be a star athlete. But his mother insisted he apprentice to a hairdresser and become a “shampoo boy” at age 14.

That was during World War II. A sign in the shop where he worked read “Madam, during an air raid, you are permed at your own risk.”

Sassoon also studied hard to get rid of his cockney accent, thereby to attract more upscale clients. When he wasn’t working on the ladies, he was a member of a Jewish patrol that battled homegrown British fascists in the streets of London. He also went to Israel to fight in the 1948 War of Independence, and after making his fortune he endowed the Vidal Sassoon International Center for the Study of Anti-Semitism.

It was in the 1960s that his modern style bobs rocketed him to fame, with clients such as Carol Channing, Jill St. John, and the British mini-skirt model Mary Quant. Guys like Michael Caine and Peter O’Toole also liked the look he gave them. Sassoon created an international sensation in 1967 when Roman Polanski flew him to L.A. to cut Mia Farrow’s hair. Price: $5,000. Farrow wore the ‘do in Rosemary’s Baby.

A chain of salons, along with sales of his haircare products, made Sassoon a very rich man. He sold his company in 1983 but stayed on for Procter & Gamble as the pitch man. He was married four times, and didn’t do much haircutting during his last few decades, except for a few select friends and clients.

These included his beloved dogs, “The only Shih Tzus around with geometric haircuts,” as he put it.

Lucky dogs.

Rest in peace, Vidal. You’ve earned it.

It’s Walpurgis Night!

April 30, 2012

The witches are abroad again!

It’s April 30. Happy Walpurgis Night, my friends!

Here, on the far side of The Pond, we’re missing out on some great fun.  How about we bring back some of the old world traditions of tonight and tomorrow?

Tomorrow is May Day, also called Beltane, throughout much of Europe.  Tonight, Walpurgis Night, is the eve of Beltane, the joyful festival of growth and fecundity that heralds the arrival of summer. It is the festival of the ‘Good Fire’ or ‘Bel-fire’, named after the solar deity Bel.

Lighting fires was customary at Beltane, and traditionally a Beltane fire was composed of the nine sacred woods of the Celts. All hearth fires were extinguished on Beltane Eve and then kindled again from the sacred “need fires” lit on Beltane. People would leap through the smoke and flames of Beltane fires and cattle were driven through them for purification, fertility, prosperity and protection.

It is a traditional time for Handfastings (marriages), and was a time for couples to make love outside to bless the crops and the earth. Maypoles were often danced around at Beltane to bring fertility and good fortune. The ribbons which were wrapped around the pole by the dancers brought a  sense of the integration of male and female archetypes, mirroring the union between the God and the Goddess. Beltane lore also includes washing in May-day dew for beauty and health, and scrying in sacred waters or crystal balls.

But that’s tomorrow. Tonight, exactly six months’ distant from All Hallows’ Eve, the supernatural once again rules. On Walpurgis Night, witches ride their broomsticks through the sky, and the natural world is forced to confront the powers of the supernatural. According to ancient legend, this night was the last chance for witches and their nefarious cohorts to stir up trouble before Spring reawakened the land.

Like Halloween, Walpurgis has its roots in ancient pagan customs, superstitions and festivals. At this time of year, the Vikings participated in a ritual that they hoped would hasten the arrival of Spring weather and ensure fertility for their crops and livestock. They lighted huge bonfires in hopes of scaring away evil spirits.

Saint Walpurga

The name “Walpurgis” comes from a woman named Valborg who founded the Catholic convent of Heidenheim in Wurtemburg, Germany. She later became a nun and was known for speaking out against witchcraft and sorcery. She was canonized Saint Walpurga on May 1, 779. The celebration of her sainthood and the old Viking festival occurred around the same time; over the years the festivals and traditions intermingled until the hybrid pagan-Catholic celebration became known as Walpurgis Night.

In Germany, the witches were said to congregate on Brocken, the highest peak in the Harz Mountains – a tradition that comes from Goethe’s Faust.  Brocken is also known for the phenomenon of the Brocken Spectre, the magnified shadow of an observer, typically surrounded by rainbow-like bands, thrown onto a bank of cloud in high mountain areas when the sun is low.

A scene in Faust Part One is called “Walpurgisnacht”, and one in Faust Part Two is called “Classical Walpurgisnacht”. The last chapter of book five in Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain is also called “Walpurgisnacht”. In Edward Albee’s 1962 play Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, Act Two is entitled “Walpurgisnacht”.

In some parts of Germany, the custom of lighting huge fires is still kept alive to celebrate the coming of May, while most parts of Germany have a derived Christianized custom around Easter called “Easter fires.”

The Czech Republic celebrates April 30 as the “burning of the witches” when winter is ceremonially brought to the end by the burning of rag and straw witches or just broomsticks on bonfires around the country. The festival offers Czechs the chance to eat, drink and be merry around a roaring fire.

In Estonia, they call it Volbriöö and celebrate throughout the night of April 30 and into the early hours of May 1, a public holiday called “Spring Day.”  Here too, the night originally stood for the gathering and meeting of witches. Modern people still dress up as witches to wander the streets in a carnival-like mood.

In Finland, Walpurgis day (Vappu) is, a big carnival-style festival that begins on April 30 and carries over to May 1. They drink large quantities of sima, sparkling wine, and other alcoholic beverages. Student traditions, particularly those of the engineering students, are one of the main characteristics of Vappu. Since the end of the 19th century, students and university alumni wear a cap; some caps, such as worn by engineering students and nurses, have pom-poms hanging from them.  In Helsinki, and its surrounding region, they have the fixtures include the capping (on 30 April at 6 pm) of the Havis Amanda, a nude female statue.  

Bonfire at Valborg, Sweden

In Sweden, it’s all but an official holiday. Walpurgis Night bonfires, which are supposed to be kindled by striking two flints together, are seen on many hills. Farm animals are let out to graze, and the bonfires are meant to scare away predators.  Singing traditional songs of spring is widespread throughout the country.  During the day, people gather in parks, drink considerable amounts of alcoholic beverages, barbecue and generally enjoy the weather.

So how about it? We deserve this kind of celebration too! Let’s cast a vote for the first presidential candidate who promises to declare Walpurgis Night a national holiday in America!

An Address to the National Champions

April 15, 2012

Master of Ceremonies’ greeting to Boston College hockey team at its annual Pike’s Peak Club Awards Banquet.

January 21st.  It was a long bus ride home from Orono. Two straight losses, six in the preceding ten games. It was the winter of our discontent.

But now, is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by these sons of York.

Not only do we have the Iliad of Homer to guide us. William Shakespeare is a fan too. And he had Boston College in mind when he wrote, “This story shall the good man teach his son.”

This story – that we’ll retell today – is the marvelous and inspiring tale of the Boston College Eagles, 2011-2012. It will be told as long as ice hockey is played in Boston.

I thank the Pike’s Peak Club for once again allowing me to serve as your Master of Ceremonies. I’ve been around Boston College hockey since 1968, did seven seasons on radio color, and the last 26 as your p.a announcer. In football, it’s been 36 seasons.

Over all that time I’ve felt privileged to be able to play any kind of role in presenting to the world the grand and glorious enterprise that is Boston College sports. I usually speak to you from far away.  This afternoon, we’re face-to-face, and it’s a thrill for me to be here.

And I think that I’ll be doing more than speaking to you. I’ll be speaking for you. And for the 160,000 living alumni of Boston College. And for all those alumni who have gone before us and are now watching with pride from the Second Balcony.

Gentlemen, you’ve brought home to the Heights yet another national championship. You have heard, and heeded, the motto of your University, taken from the words of Homer’s wise man Nestor. You remember!

The Trojan War was going poorly – rather like the hockey season back in January. Nestor comes to the tent and reminds the great warrior Achilles of the teachings of Peleus, Achilles’ father: “Fight ever amongst the foremost. Outvie your peers. Aien aristeuein.”

Ever to Excel. Our motto. Your watchword. All Boston College people aspire to it. You show us how it’s done.

The annual Pike’s Peak Hockey Banquet recognizes and honors the heroes of the present day. We also take this opportunity to remember and salute the memory of many individuals whose names you’ll be hearing in a little while when we present the named awards. They are giants of eras past, and they are still with us as we meet today and celebrate our national championship.

Pike’s Peak, as we know, towers over Colorado Springs. That was almost a second home to Boston College. In the first eight years of the NCAA Championship Tournament at the old Broadmoor World Arena, the Eagles made it five times. The Pike’s Peak Club founders were all players who’d themselves been to that mountain and once, in 1949, made it all the way to the top.

This year, for the third time in five, you’ve scaled that mountain. You stand on top, as national champions. And as a Boston College man, I’m especially proud and grateful to you for doing it this year. It is very important, and most fitting, that a team that represents Boston College achieved a national championship in 2012.

Why do I say that?

This past 12 months or so was not a particularly good time for the world of sports. Some of the news we heard – and continue to hear – ranged from mildly disconcerting to downright distressing. It was everywhere; in professional, college, and high school ranks. Maybe, in some people’s minds, sport wasn’t worth all the attention we pay to it.

And then, along comes Boston College hockey. Banishing the January doldrums and never tasting defeat again. Your victory march did so much to set things right. It’s not only for your fans and the people of your school. It’s for everyone who knows and loves athletic competition. For everyone who values sportsmanship and fair play.

We all know Grantland Rice’s famous line, “When the One Great Scorer comes to mark against your name, He writes, not that you won or lost, But how you played the game.”

We generally quote Mr. Rice following a gallant try that ends up in defeat. Not this time. It was not that you won. It was how you did it…with speed and grace and skill. But more importantly, with dignity and class.

You’ve restored the faith of the entire sporting world. And now they look to you, just as they looked to Governor John Winthrop’s Boston, the shining City on a Hill. You’ve shown them just what a winner is, what a winner can be, what a winner should be. That winner is Boston College.

To repeat something I said a year ago…Boston College hockey is the gold standard, the acme, the epitome of all that’s best in college athletics. I’m convinced that there is no academic pursuit, no student activity, no administrative function, no alumni undertaking, that can proclaim to the world, as proudly and as surely who we of Boston College are, and what we believe in, as our athletic program. And especially, our hockey program.

Your story is that story which the good man will teach his son. And those sons who don the gold sweater and lace up the skates in years to come will remember it. They’ll strive to meet those standards, both athletic and personal, that you have set. That will be your lasting legacy.

I’ll conclude with a personal note, and an echo of another old favorite. I always dreamed of being a great athlete. Who doesn’t?  But I wasn’t, so I had my heroes. And I want you to know you’re my heroes. You’re everything that I’d like to be.

Because nothing flies higher than an Eagle.

Rasputitsa

March 18, 2012

Rasputin

People who like Robert Frost’s poetry have read about it. Our friends up North in Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine, are living through it.

This is Mud Time. That’s what we call it here. But in over in Russia, it’s Rasputitsa.

That’s the time of year, in both spring and fall, when heavy snow or rain make the unpaved roads of that vast country impassable.  Rasputitsa did much to defend Russia from invading hordes led by Napoleon and Hitler, sucking horses’ hooves, wagon wheels, truck tires, and tank treads into gooey mire.  People of Russia – at least those who’ve been allowed to learn their country’s true history – must have an appreciation for Rasputitsa, even as they hunker down and eat borscht until their roads dry up.

If you think ”Rasputitsa”  sounds like the surname of that shadowy figure Gregory Rasputin, you’re right.  But the word itself probably came from the Russian root “put,” which means “road” or “way.”  A “rasputye” is a place where roads converge. “Rasputitsa” came to mean “muddy road season.”

Some people mistakenly believe that Rasputin’s surname means “licentious.” That’s not true, though the guy who is popularly called “the mad monk” was almost certainly that, in his dealings with women of the Court and elsewhere in St. Petersburg.  A similar Russian word, “rasputny” does carry that meaning, and its noun form, “rasputnik,” describes a man who might be described nowadays as a lecher.

Nicholas II

Rasputin is a common name in Russia. But as for the man himself – he was a mysterious character who held mesmeric sway over Alexis, the hemophiliac son and only male heir of the hapless Czar Nicholas II.

Rasputin arrived in St Petersburg from Siberia around 1905. An itinerant preacher, he had a reputation of being able to heal people through prayer. Doctors of the Imperial Court had been unable to help the lad, who was great grandson of Queen Victoria. Rasputin was able to make Alexis feel better, every time the boy hurt himself or began to bleed. It was probably through some form of hypnosis. He may also have used leeches, and he said to stop using aspirin – a good move because aspirin is an anticoagulant that made matters worse.

The Czar called Rasputin as “our friend” and a “holy man.” The trust that built up for him gave the guy a lot of personal and political influence at the court. Local nobility and the Orthodox Church leaders couldn’t stand him, of course, but had a hard time of it because he became an official of the Czar’s administration.  He was accused of many things – unbridled sexual predation, undue influence over the royal family among them.  These allegations were largely accurate.

Czarina Alexandra, of German-Protestant descent, thought God spoke to her through Rasputin.  Rasputin spoke of salvation as depending less on the clergy and the church than on seeking the spirit of God within. He also claimed that yielding to temptation – which for him meant sex and alcohol – was needed to proceed to repentance and salvation.

During the years of World War I, Rasputin’s drunkenness, sexual promiscuity and willingness to accept bribes and having his critics dismissed from their posts showed what kinds of guy he was.  He became the focus of accusations of unpatriotic influence at court. The unpopular Czarina was accused of spying for Germany.  Rasputin was against the war effort; he claimed that he had a revelation that the Russian armies would not be successful until the Czar personally took command.  The bumbling Nicholas did so, with dire consequences.

Alexandra

While Nicholas was away at the front, Rasputin’s influence over Czarina Alexandra increased. He persuaded her to fill governmental offices with his own handpicked candidates. He also cohabited with upper-class women in exchange for granting political favors.  At that same time, Russia’s economy was declining rapidly. Many people blamed Alexandra and Rasputin. A group of conspirators finally murdered him in December 1916 after several attempts – he had been poisoned, shot, beaten, and finally drowned in an icy river.

You know the rest of the sorry history. Russia withdrew from the war, the Bolsheviks seized power, the Czar abdicated and was eventually murdered in the cellar of the Ipatiev House in Ekaterinburg. There followed nearly a century – and counting – of profound evil, mass murder, plunder, pillage and assorted human tragedy wrought by Lenin, Stalin and so many of their successors.

Gregory Rasputin is a bit player on history’s grand stage. But was he really? Nicholas, the wrong man to come to power at an especially wrong time, probably would have screwed things up anyway.  Still, I can’t help but wonder how things might have been different had the imperial court’s doctors been successful in treating the poor little Czarevitch, and if Gregory Rasputin remained out on the steppes, just conning peasants out of their money and their honor. Rasputin may well have influenced the history of the world much more than he deserved to. We’ll never know.

If this story and era are of interest to you, I recommend Nicholas and Alexandra, by Robert K. Massie. The author also had a hemophiliac son, and he decided to research the story of Russia’s last imperial family. It is a good read.

So next time your car is bogged down in the mud of a northern New England spring, remember that it’s just Rasputitsa.  You’ve got it bad for the moment, but it could be worse. Warm days will come, the roads will dry, and you’ll be on your way to the gorgeous scenic vistas of the Green Mountain and Granite States. They’re worth the effort.

And one final editorial comment. The Ipatiev House, a grand edifice in a backwater town in the Urals, remained standing until 1977 when bozo Russky premier Leonid Brezhnev ordered it destroyed, lest it become a revered place and shrine to the Romanovs.  Like most bad guys throughout history, Brezhnev was a craven coward.  He would have fled from a fistfight with Granny Clampett. But what he most feared was the light of truth.

No matter how painful the truth may be – truth from history or in the present day – we must never fear it.  And we must never cease our search for it.

Truth will set us free. It still has not yet set the people of Russia free. But it may yet – and let us hope it does.