Citizen of the Galaxy

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I don’t know why Robert Heinlein built his novel Citizen of the Galaxy around slavery. As far as I know, he never commented publicly on it. On the surface it would have seemed a problem that no longer existed. Hadn’t we ended slavery with the Civil War? He may have looked deeper at practices that weren’t part of an institution anymore, but were still part of that oppressive pattern. But we have no evidence that he did. The novel doesn’t portray that.

What it DOES portray is people looking the other way if not actively abetting slavers. In a future of interstellar travel with many worlds colonized by Earth there are too many without functioning legal systems, and also numerous that are attracted to slavery for the reason people always have been: it’s profitable.

The novel begins with a slave auction just after a slave ship has landed. One boy (about six years old) is very small, malnourished, dirty, and rebellious. Not what slave owners look for. He is bought, though, for a ridiculously small price by a beggar. The beggar takes him home, and we get hints that this is no ordinary beggar.

He lives under a ruined coliseum, where lot of others also live. But where he stays is different: it has a door that locks, electric lights, and furniture. And the man, who is missing a leg and an eye, has a prosthetic leg and artificial eye. We don’t learn much more about this aspect of his life at first. The focus is on his relationship with the boy.

As might be expected, the boy is troubled, as most would be after having been a slave and having been punished like one. There’s more to it than that, but we don’t learn about that for awhile.

Another aspect of the man’s difference from other beggars is then exhibited. Somewhere in the past he’s learned hypnotism. He hypnotizes the boy to find out the roots of his trauma, and gives him suggestions to help him heal emotionally as well as physically. Of course his physical healing is easier, but the hypnotism takes, and he grows up for about 10 years.

Then the authorities come for the beggar. The boy hasn’t really thought about what his stepfather does, though he assists him somewhat, delivering messages, etc. So it’s not a total surprise, but certainly a shock when the boy finds their home broken into and trashed. Then he finds out that HE’S wanted by the police, and has to go on the run.

Fortunately, his stepfather has foreseen this, and has arranged for him to be picked up by several Free Traders, and one just happens to be in port. It takes some hocus-pocus, but the captain of the Free Trader ship manages to get him into the ship, which takes off, leaving his major troubles behind.

The Free Traders, as portrayed in the novel, are a fascinating subculture. The ship Thorby lands on is a family enterprise that travels from one world to another, trading. The easiest way for them to fulfill the first part of what the old beggar has asked of them is to adopt Thorby, and after some adjustments he finds himself happy in his environment.

But the old beggar has asked more of his new family: to deliver him to the Hegemonic Guard (the Hegemony is the government centered on Earth which includes a number of other worlds. When he arrives to the Guard he becomes a recruit, which makes him feel like he’s part of something again. A sort of family.

We now discover that Thorby’s adoptive father (however informally) was part of the Guard, and that the reason he can ask favors of Free Traders is that he had rescued traders from a ship captured by slavers, during which he had lost an eye and a leg. Rather than sit at a desk for the rest of his career, he decides to become a spy, and sends messages to his superiors through Free Traders.

He has landed on the world where he and Thorby meet because slavery is legal there, which makes it a big center of the trade. He picks the city where the spaceport is so he can work out which ships are bringing slaves. In an interstellar culture slavers need ships to transport slaves. They not only need a place to buy them, but places to get equipment and supplies.

Thorby’s stepfather has prepared him by giving him coded messages to memorize under hypnosis. He tells his superior in his new “family” this, and they begin debriefing him. While he doesn’t know the information the beggar discovered, he does know various ships, and can tell the Guard what they brought. It appears that there are people in the Hegemony actively helping the slavers.

Then comes the big plot twist: Thorby turns out to be the heir to a vast fortune on earth.

He has already endured several abrupt changes in fortune. At first, becoming rich doesn’t seem so bad, but that doesn’t last. First, he’s invited to party and vacation all the time, which is fun at first, but gets boring. And he’s used to working, so he wants to find out what his new responsibilities are and begin picking them up. But the CEO who has been running the financial empire Thorby will be inheriting asks him to sign a document telling him to continue doing the same job he’s been doing. Thorby demurs. He doesn’t want to sign anything until he understands what it means, his trader experience coming out. The CEO gives him some time, but when he still doesn’t feel he understands sufficiently, becomes impatient with him, and snows him under with obscure paperwork almost impossible to understand.

But Thorby has an ally in the CEO’s daughter (who tells him her father is hoping he’ll marry her). She points him to a high-powered lawyer who helps him get free of the CEO, and to take over his company. But that just brings new problems. His empire is vast, and it’s nearly impossible to oversee much of it at all. Thorby is particularly concerned about one corner of it that produces spaceships. It’s left as an open question whether slavers coincidentally attacked the ship his father and mother were in, but somebody observes that it wouldn’t be the first time that underlings became upset at bosses paying too much attention to something they want to hide.

And he thinks his spaceship company may be producing ships for slavers. He visits the headquarters of the Patrol and shows the person interviewing him that much of the business of slavery is conducted in one sector of the galaxy. He wants to work at eradicating slavery, but can’t do so until he can get his vast inheritance under some kind of control.

At the end of the novel he’s apologizing to the CEO’s daughter that he can’t come to a dinner party. He’s much too busy. He tells the lawyer about his problem, and the lawyer tells him he’s trying to do too much at once, and will only burn out that way. He has to take time for himself, the lawyer tells him, and says he needs to go out, instead of eating at his desk, and look at pretty girls.

Thorby decides he’s right, and then feels that his stepfather approves of the task he’s taken on, and how he’s approaching it.

I don’t know if Heinlein wrote this novel because he was aware that though slavery seems superficially to be over since the American Civil War, it continues beneath the radar. The legal institution is no more, but the state of mind that approves of slavery remains. The subject seems to move him, so I think that may be a good assumption.

Slavery is still common in the Middle East, where “agents” arrange for young people from Africa or the Philippines to come and work for families who often abuse them, withholding salary or physically punishing them, according to a PBS documentary. One woman from Kenya who decided to work in order to help support her family is sent back to Kenya burnt so badly that she doesn’t survive long. A woman lawyer in the country is trying to get the country to demand restrictions on how Middle Eastern families treat the young people they “hire”, but the Kenyan government benefits from the workers, so that doesn’t seem likely.

In India there are laws against slavery, but the police aren’t necessarily very interested in enforcing them. Many of the slaves come from Bengal, in the far east of the country, and when young people from rural areas are taken to large cities like Delhi or Mumbai in the far west of the country it’s not easy to track them down, assuming anyone is trying very hard.

North Korea has a different sort of slavery. One could probably count all of the lower classes as slaves, more or less, but there are quite a number of people who work in other countries “patriotically” bringing the country hard currency. Some work in Russia in areas not far from the Korean peninsula. Others in China, and some even in such distant countries as Poland. The usual reason applies: they work more cheaply than native workers. One such worker tells us the only way they can stand what they do is to drink on their infrequent days off.

Not that the USA can afford to feel very superior. Once the institution of slavery was over and the Southern states made it perfectly clear that they weren’t going to treat the former slaves humanely, Jim Crow ensued. Besides Jim Crow there were enterprises like the mining and the clothing industries that tied workers to their jobs by paying them in scrip only redeemable at company stores. Workers in other parts of the country had little job security, were paid very little, and worked long hours in unsafe conditions. And such conditions aren’t a thing of the past, either. Fast food restaurants make workers sign promises not to apply to any other similar restaurants. The free market in that case is only free for the owners of the businesses.

Slavery is a very old bad habit for the human race. Heinlein’s point is the same many of today’s progressives make: we can’t expect to immediately eradicate the practice and its near relatives, but we have to keep opposing the forces that over and over find the temptation too much to resist.

The Dark Side of Capitalism

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It’s ironic that capitalism has been extolled, especially by conservatives, as being the system that has lifted the most people from poverty. As far as it goes, that is true, but it doesn’t express the totality of the capitalist system. The system that lifts from poverty also has the power to deprive people of wealth. Over the past forty years at least, capitalism in the United States made wealthy people wealthier, but has also often sent ordinary people into poverty.

Early in the 1980s leveraged buyouts became popular. Corporate raiders would buy companies (frequently against the company’s will), loot the company of any assets, load it with debt, and then declare it bankrupt. Its employees would be left to fend for themselves, and towns in which there was only one viable industry, loss of that industry would cause the town to devolve into poverty, crime, and drug addiction. By the 1980s there were few farming communities left, and farming could no longer support many people. In the past farming had been a way to make a living independent of industry–most people were farmers until well into the 20th century– but that was no longer possible. Only industry could support people anymore, and when industry refused there was little anyone could do.

In the 1990s came downsizing. The theory behind it was a company could be made more efficient by firing unproductive employees, and thus more profitable. Actually, according to an article I read in that decade, that rationale was only for public consumption. What the companies were actually doing was firing employees who had been with them a long time, had worked their way up into middle management, and knew best how their companies did business. They were really fired so the companies could hire younger people whom they could pay less, and when the fired people looked for other jobs nobody would hire them because they were “overqualified”.

I gather this meant that the former employees were desperate, and willing to take jobs that would pay them a lot less than they were used to. It showed that capitalism’s power didn’t make it ethical. It could indeed be very cruel, but that was especially popular then. Michael Douglas, in a movie of the eighties, enunciated it: Greed is good. And the immediate reason for the firings was that they made those companies more profitable for the shareholders, whom Milton Friedman had assured industries were the only people they needed to make happy.

This mode of operations seems to have been especially popular with true believers in capitalism who had been offended by the distrust and dislike many had had for the system earlier in the 20th century. So when they were given more freedom and less regulation, they confirmed many of the stereotypes that had grown up about how capitalists operated. Perhaps they were punishing people who denigrated capitalism for their opinions.

Nor were they done. Later in the 1990s came the export of jobs from the United States. Companies had earlier moved their manufacturing plants from northern and midwestern cities into the south, where unions were much weaker, and they could make profits by paying workers less. Now they moved their manufacturing out of the country entirely, to Mexico, China, and other south Asian countries in particular. That forced many American workers to compete with Third World countries, which began to turn the United States into a Third World country itself.

Oh, there were still particularly favored workers, software developers, for instance, who made plenty of money, but a majority of workers no longer were able to earn the salaries their parents had in the 1950s, when the economy in America was better than ever before or since, and the corporate ethic was also different.

After World War II soldiers and sailors came back to fill jobs in this country. The government passed the GI bill which enabled veterans to go to college more cheaply than before, and gave them highly desirable skills. American companies of that era valued loyalty, and understood that loyalty was a two-way street. For awhile it wasn’t unusual for someone to spend their whole working life with one company. But in the 1980s that changed.

Although there was a tradition of loyalty and fairness among some American employers, there was also a tradition of slavery in America. Slavery had been a very profitable system, and a lot of people didn’t want to give it up, even if they hadn’t actually practiced it. Southerners accused the northern manufacturers of practicing “wage slavery”, and they had a point. Labor problems didn’t become a serious matter until after the Civil War, when they coincided with what became known as the “Gilded Age”.

American capitalists had seized on new technology, which suddenly came in a torrent, and became very wealthy from it. But many of their workers were dissatisfied with both their pay and working conditions. By the 1890s many people were demanding reform, and government slowly began to respond. But it wasn’t until the Great Depression that there were many thorough reforms. Many people liked those reforms, but capitalists didn’t, and worked to reverse them. A not very dynamic economy in the 1970s abetted them, and capitalism became popular again–for awhile.

Now it’s become less popular, but it’s so embedded in our lives that it’s difficult to draw back from it. Most people need cars, need heat or air conditioning in their houses (though I remember lots of hot days without it), need money to buy things necessary for survival. I remember being impressed with one of the books of Laura Ingalls Wilder in which she described how her father built their house in the territory they’d just moved to without nails. Instead he whittled pegs and used them to hold the boards and beams together. Some people might enjoy doing things that way, but most of us prefer to do things in easier ways, which would be very difficult without capitalism.

And now that I think of it, maybe that’s one of the reasons capitalists like to punish us: to remind us how dependent we are on them, and discourage us from trying to become independent again.

But to some extent I have to be sorry for a lot of these capitalists who are so desperate to become wealthy. No doubt they equate wealth with security, but it’s difficult to imagine how having billions of dollars makes one much more secure than thousands or millions. Ultimately we die anyway, and the possessions we put so much effort into acquiring are left behind. I have a car, a bicycle, a stereo, and lots of books, cds, and cassettes, and I doubt the people I leave them to will have a lot of use for them. And although I live comfortably, I don’t have guaranteed financial security. If I contracted a catastrophic illness my money would disappear quickly. So chances are there will be very little of my money left for anyone I might leave it to.

It certainly appears that wealthy people are terribly distressed about things in general. They seem to have been very unhappy that they weren’t loved for being wealthy, and that their employees weren’t universally happy to work for them. They were often unhappy enough to resort to violence when their workers went on strike, and in many cases it took federal legislation to force them to pay their employees a living wage, to make sure their products were safe, and to have their workers work only an 8 hour day and 40 hour week. Then, when the industries were deregulated, they decided to punish their workers, apparently, as noted above. That doesn’t seem to indicate that wealth brings happiness.

By chance I picked up a novel to read last night, The Mozart Season, by Virginia Euwer Wolff. Its narrator is a 12-year-old girl who has been playing violin for 7 years, and has a chance to play in a competition for young musicians. Of course she has to practice hard to do so, but playing a Mozart violin concerto at the age of 12 is already an achievement.

The thing I began to notice about the novel as I got into it was that the narrator’s family was happy. Both parents were musicians, professional musicians, but not wealthy, The vast majority of musicians are not. The parents play in symphonies and string quartets around Portland, Oregon, which sounds like a pleasant place to live, and a pleasant WAY to live.

In every novel there must be some conflict, but the conflict in this one is relatively subtle. The girl narrator doesn’t mind practicing (which was my downfall when taking piano lessons), and nothing really terrible happens to her in the book. She doesn’t win the competition, unsurprisingly; she’s the youngest of the competitors, but she also acquits herself well when she plays. She’s a little upset at not winning, but not too much.

The character who DOES seem upset is a 16-year-old who says when interviewed that he can only imagine being a performer in Carnegie Hall in his future. So it appears that anything less than achieving that goal won’t satisfy him.

The narrator doesn’t look so far ahead. She reflects that playing the concerto well won’t heal the brain-damaged man who dances at concerts in the area (classical music concerts, no less), nor will it bring back the victims of Treblinka, where her great-grandmother died. But that’s no reason not to do it well and enjoy it.

After the competition she has to play in the Youth Orchestra, and discovers that the piece the orchestra is playing is the piece the brain-damaged man told her he wanted to hear again, Valse Triste, by Jean Sibelius. She didn’t exactly heal him, but maybe he did experience some healing, and maybe it happened partly through her, though not directly. And that night she hears one of the other violinists request a song on a radio show and dedicate it to her. It looks like she has a happy future.

And at the end of the book is an interview with the author, and one thing she says is to thank her parents for giving her music.

I think that the world of capitalism is a cruel world. No doubt it can be exhilarating if you’re successful in it, but being a loser in that kind of game can be devastating. And many have been drawn into that game unknowingly and unwillingly and have had it take over their whole world.

Robertson Davies, in the Deptford Trilogy, had a character who had inherited money from his father and then turned it into a fortune. He and his capitalist friends often talked about how ordinary unrealistic people misunderstood money, which was no doubt true, but Davies commented through his narrator that the capitalists weren’t giving themselves appropriate credit. It wasn’t that they were more realistic in the region of finance, but that they were engaged in a high art-form, for which they weren’t giving themselves credit. Of course the problem with their art-form was that ordinary people often didn’t know how to defend themselves from it.

But if they could have enjoyed it simply for the pleasure of doing it, the way many musicians enjoy making music, how much better that might have been. Capitalism could be turned to righteous ends, as it was in the 1950s, when corporations were closely regulated and owners of corporations were heavily taxed, and motivated to do research and development to avoid the highest tax brackets. If we were able to go back to that vision of society we could give everyone opportunities and prevent everyone from being homeless–unless they really wanted to be. I don’t think many people think homelessness is very romantic, though.

From Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones I got the notion that being a musician is a very exclusive club. Of course Richards has been one of the most successful musicians of his era, but one has the impression he’d be playing even if he weren’t successful.

Do capitalists feel that way? Would they be playing the capitalist game even if it didn’t lead to wealth and power? Or do they enjoy the game primarily because they get to grind the faces of the losers in the game into how pathetic they are? Kind of like the sadists who can’t enjoy an orgasm without hurting their partner?

It’s a shame the capitalists seem to be so resentful. They could be very useful citizens of this country, as they used to be before they got infatuated with revenge on the people who disliked their dark side.

Conspiracy Theory

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I believe I’ve come across a conspiracy theory. The other day I saw a post by a conservative group on Facebook comparing gas prices during the Trump administration and under Biden. Of course prices were lower under Trump, at least partly because demand was down; most people weren’t traveling.

As a comment, I asked, Couldn’t be that the oil companies don’t have enough competition, could it? One of the group answered, No, and nothing else, which I considered suspicious, so I asked, Why not? And added that I thought it was Adam Smith who said competition was good, but that it was John Kenneth Galbraith who said that all industries try to suppress their competition.

One reply to that was that I had advertised that I didn’t know anything about economics. That may be true, but Robert Reich (who does know something about economics) had said that oil companies had decided they could make more money by not trying to find new oil sources. One of the group said my scenario couldn’t work because in this country the oil companies are all private companies. I asked how that would prevent them from colluding to keep prices high, and that’s where the conversation ended.

The conservative group are all capitalist true-believers, so no doubt they were offended that I had suggested the oil companies might be corrupt. And I had said things before they hadn’t appreciated, so that’s part of the story too. The fact that I don’t automatically believe that capitalist hearts are pure doesn’t make me a Communist (though one of the group called me that repeatedly). I don’t like Communism any more than I like Nazis or other varieties of fascism. Both are authoritarian, and I like the freedoms we’re guaranteed in the Bill of Rights.

But capitalism can be as authoritarian as Nazis or Communists. Maybe they have better rationales, but when Congressmen are concerned about ordinary Americans getting “free” money, it behooves me to ask why they’re not just as concerned about wealthy people being given large amounts more money. Aren’t they concerned that the wealthy will begin feeling entitled, if not downright corrupt? It’s sweet of them to be so concerned about the moral fiber of ordinary Americans, but I would suggest that most of them have very little idea how ordinary Americans live, and the problems they have to solve.

I read a lot of articles saying that large corporations have continued to make high profits through the Covid pandemic, while ordinary people have had the disadvantage of not being able to work, and having to try to pay rent (already high for most people), buy groceries, and deal with sicknesses in their families. Objecting to the government helping people who can’t work and have children to take care of is adding insult to injury.

Meanwhile, the government, during the last presidency, bailed out the cruise ship industry. How is that essential? And nurses (probably doctors too) are getting tired. I’ve been watching a lot of football the past few months, and have noticed few masks on in the stands. Am I surprised that Covid is surging again? No, I’m not. I don’t know of large corporations are surprised or not, but considering that in the meat-packing industry there were reports that middle management people were betting on how many people in their plants would catch Covid, I doubt that they care.

They do care when people don’t want to work for them, though. Several business people have been quoted the past few months as saying that people don’t want to work anymore, at least implying that the government shouldn’t be helping people financially. There have been a number of posts correcting that statement to read, People don’t want to work for the pay they’ve been getting and in the workplaces they’re confined to. Having financial help from the government has given some people a chance to think about what they want to do, and at least some don’t want to return to their previous jobs.

Forty years ago, during the Reagan presidency, the country turned away from the regulation that had been imposed on business previously, and deregulated a lot of industries. Now we see that the wealthy have rigged things to put most of the profits in their pockets. They complain that raising the minimum wage will make products (fast food, for instance) more expensive, but don’t explain why CEOs being paid millions a year won’t do the same. One conservative explained to me that CEOs are worth that much pay because they have rare abilities. Which doesn’t explain why the economy was so strong in the 1950s and 60s, when CEOs made a lot less.

The unspoken explanation is that companies feel their ordinary employees can work their jobs for less, and have been forcing them into a situation in which they almost certainly HAVE to work for less than they would have had to forty or fifty years ago.

Remember when people looking for jobs were denied them because they were “overqualified?” Those were people who had worked in their companies a long time, had worked their way up to middle management, and had been fired because the company needed to become leaner and more efficient. Actually, according to an article I read in the 1990s, they were being fired so the company could hire younger people to replace them whom they wouldn’t have to pay as much. Of course they also didn’t know how to do their jobs as well, either, but when they companies were highly profitable, what did they care?

And this was after the age of leveraged buyouts, when one company would buy another, take its assets, saddle it with the debt of the price of buying it, and then shut it down. These companies didn’t care about the workers they displaced, most of whom couldn’t find jobs at which they could be paid nearly as much.

Then there’s the housing industry which was selling property to lots of people who, if they had been paying attention (and known their jobs), would probably have realized couldn’t pay their mortgages. And then compounded that by creating investment vehicles based on the questionable mortgages. I have to wonder to what extent they were just acting like they were drunk, and to what extent they actually PLANNED to throw lots of people into bankruptcy.

Whatever the truth of that, it’s clear that they didn’t care about the people they had ruined financially. I would have liked to see the big companies go bankrupt, and the government help the people unable to pay their mortgages. Instead, of course, the government bailed out the banks and mortgage companies.

One thing has become clear in this country: capitalists, when they get their own way, treat their workers like enemies. How long can that state of things persist before the country comes apart?

Pursuit of the Pankera

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Robert Heinlein was one of the outstanding authors of science fiction. His career began in the 1930s when he was approximately thirty years old, and continued for about fifty years, until he died in 1987. One of his novels was The Number of the Beast, about the invention of a way to visit parallel worlds, parallel worlds being a science fiction concept. Heinlein tried most of the science fiction story ideas on for size, and this was one.

As usual, his heroes are physically attractive, highly intelligent, and have a variety of skills. And their explorations in “alternate” worlds (worlds similar to our own, but differing in various details–like worlds in which the American revolution didn’t succeed, for example) are highly attractive to someone like me: one of the first is the Mars portrayed by Edgar Rice Burroughs. Barsoom. Obviously, the Mars of our universe is not the same as Barsoom. It has very little atmosphere or water, and is uninhabitable without an awful lot of work. And nobody could go naked on the surface of Mars without freezing to death.

I never read Burroughs Martian books (he also created the character of Tarzan–I think I read one of those novels), and set several novels in Pellucidar, deep within the earth), but the group next lands in Oz, and I fell in love with the Oz books when I was a child. So I can see the attraction of visiting the worlds of stories one has loved. But Heinlein didn’t stop there. He also took his characters to a place in the future in which characters from his own novels mingled and interacted.

The Number of the Beast turned out to be a mediocre effort at best, as Heinlein’s later novels unfortunately often did. But it was interesting to hear that an alternative version of the novel (an alternative novel about alternative worlds) existed. I’ve been a fan of Heinlein’s for about 60 years, so when I came across it in the library I immediately borrowed it.

Heinlein is fun to read, at least for me. He doesn’t make me laugh out loud, but at least makes me chuckle frequently. I could understand his desire to write exactly what he felt like writing about twenty years into his career, and not have to change things for any editors. But unfortunately, as I said before, his later novels are a very mixed bag. Stranger in a Strange Land and The Moon is a Harsh Mistress are unequivocal masterpieces, each doing all the things Heinlein does best. But even they have details that are questionable. And others, like Farnham’s Freehold,, are not masterpieces.

Farnham’s is about a group of people who are in a bomb shelter when a nuclear attack happens, and are somehow blown into the future. The story doesn’t go into any detail about how this happens, but it’s a story, and we take it on faith. The future situation is that blacks have replaced whites as the power elite that runs the world, and don’t seem to be any nicer. That’s quite acceptable, but why does he need to make the blacks cannibals? Specifically eating white people? I don’t really think Heinlein is racist, but that’s certainly a racist idea. I doubt that he wanted to say that blacks are inherently cannibalistic (any more than any other human group–we all have cannibalism somewhere in our ancestry), but that’s how he wrote the story, deliberately or not.

The alternate version of The Number of the Beast is called The Pursuit of the Pankera, and it has a similar problem.

When one of the characters in the novel builds a continua craft (which can visit parallel worlds) he finds that some people unknown to him do not like him. They make this obvious by trying to kill him, blowing up first his car and then his home. One of them also confronts him violently, and he kills that one, thereby discovering that the person isn’t human. Green blood. That’s the impetus for the group to go exploring in the multiverse (multiple universes).

The aliens are clearly not very pleasant people, and the group in Pankera finds that many of them are living in disguise in the human universe. No doubt they’re doing some very unpleasant things to humans in general, but the book never describes that. We’re left to infer what they might be doing.

The group decides it wants revenge on the aliens. That’s understandable enough. At first the revenge takes the shape of tracking down individual aliens and killing them. To me, that’s going a step too far. The things the aliens had done and tried to do justified self-defense, but tracking unwary individuals down to murder them isn’t readily justifiable. Remember that the Nazis in particular justified killing of Jews and others by saying they were alien and not human, and were parasites (which is how the protagonists describe the aliens). In this case, the aliens really AREN”T human, but in the absence of evidence that they’re doing terrible things to the human population they live among, individual murder isn’t really justifiable (and the protagonists claim to have killed a LOT of individuals), much less mass or serial murder.

I still don’t think Heinlein was consciously racist, but allowed himself to be seduced by the human logic of the situation: how humans usually treat people they dislike, for whatever reason. But it’s telling that instead of trying in some way to confront and negotiate with the aliens, the protagonists prefer to murder them individually, and then to organize a vast operation to kill them all. And up until the very end of the book Heinlein had me sympathizing with the very attractive characters.

Maybe it’s no wonder he decided not to publish this version.

Disapproved Art

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I began reading Marcel Proust’s In Search of Lost Time more than 35 years ago when I was working for the Hanover Inn in Hanover, New Hampshire. I worked in the catering department of the Inn which set up and served meals in various places: sometimes in rooms in the Inn itself, sometimes in various places on the Dartmouth College campus, and sometimes other places. This suited me quite well. I had been introduced to being a waiter in a restaurant in Switzerland, which had been a very positive experience. I had worked in restaurants in this country, but those experiences had been less positive. Working for the Hanover Inn was a way of bringing that aspect of my life to an end (though I would work for two more restaurants) and reorienting it to the nursing homes to which I would henceforward be committed.

I began reading when the catering department was in a slow period. The only job I had was to set up a tea that was served in the front room of the Inn by a French woman who, as I recall, had come to this country around the time of the Second World War, probably a bit after. She still retained a strong French accent and looked as if she had been quite attractive when younger.

The tea took about two hours to serve, and I had nothing much to do during that interval, so I read Proust until it was time to break the tea down again and go home. I managed to read the first section of the book, Swann’s Way or Swann in Love, but when my work life got busy again I decided I didn’t have time to read it anymore–until recently.

While I was reading it years ago an acquaintance told me he was reading a very bourgeois novel, which I later decided had been my cue to tell him I was too, which I omitted to do. And indeed, In Search of Lost Time has a narrator from a wealthy family, and the only character who is poor is a servant. When I began reading it again I reflected on that, and it occurred to me that the era in which the novel takes place is precisely that in which some of the great artists in French writing, painting, and music were living and working. A friend reminded me that this time was known as the Belle Epoque, a time in which there was a confluence of good things in France, though France was no more perfect than any other country then or any other time.

So I wrote a blog about that time, and published it. I was a bit surprised to get negative commentary about it from a man with whom I often vociferously disagree on political matters, because the blog didn’t contain anything overtly political, at least not about the United States. My Facebook acquaintance took the opportunity to denounce modern art, which immediately reminded me of how Hitler and Stalin had enjoyed denouncing various artists for being degenerate and censoring their art, and sometimes “canceling” them.

Osip Mandelstam was perhaps the most famous poet destroyed in Soviet Russia. He had written a poem denouncing Stalin as a murderer, prudently taking the precaution of not putting the poem on paper, but someone must have disclosed it, and Mandelstam was sent to a prison camp in the far east, where he apparently didn’t survive long. He was merely one of the artists we happen to know about. Others include (allegedly) Gorky and Isaac Babel. Poet Marina Tsevetaia committed suicide, and many others were put under tremendous pressure. Many of the names are unfamiliar to Americans, and there were plenty of others whose names we’ll never know.

Ironically, the very beginning of the Soviet regime saw a flowering of artistry often protected by important Bolsheviks like Trotsky and Lunacharsky, but when Trotsky was first exiled, then deported, and Stalin gained ascendancy, practicing art became very dangerous.

Artists weren’t especially safer in Nazi Germany, but the names of those who perished may be a bit less familiar. The Nazi government exhibited a great many paintings dubbed degenerate art and destroyed all they couldn’t sell. They sold a great many, Un-American would be the equivalent of what degeneracy meant in German, though Hitler also meant that such art works were either composed by Jews, or by people behaving like Jews.

Hitler, however, had an ulterior motive. He considered himself an artist, but had a realistic style of painting, while it was abstract art that had become more popular, especially among critics. I can’t say I particularly care for abstract art myself, but I don’t hate the people who practice it. There is a lot of art available in one form or another, and I’m not in the market for original paintings.

It’s a bit jarring, though not entirely unexpected, to find that conservatives are echoing what Hitler said about art. Not just my Facebook acquaintance, but Dennis Prager too, who is a conservative who pronounces about a variety of issues, and who my acquaintance considers an authority. He may or may not be one, but I often disagree, with him.

For instance, Prager mentions the artwork Piss Christ. I had considered that a gratuitous provocation of Christians until I spoke to a friend who is very Christian, and with a conservative point of view. He said he took that work as an expression of Christ’s suffering before and during his crucifixion. So not everyone, including conservative Christians, sees it as an affront. It’s always possible to take offense, but sometimes it’s more productive to think about the work that offended and ask one’s self why one feels that way. One of the functions of art is to probe things that many people feel uneasy about. Susan Sontag said that art is a form of liberty. Conservatives tend to idolize liberty above most other things, so conservative outrage about works of art seems not quite to fit the ideology.

Of course there’s nothing wrong with wanting art to inspire. That’s what I would prefer too. But art also echos what society is. If much of today’s art is offensive, what about the art of Bosch and Breughel, whose paintings portrayed sadistic actions? Or Goya’s Saturn Devouring His Son? Although, according to Wikipedia, an earlier painting with the same title by Rubens may have been even more horrifying. Painters centuries ago weren’t necessarily apolitical. Breughel’s Triumph of Death could be construed as a comment on war, which was far from uncommon during his lifetime, and often inspired by religion.

And even if one can categorize art as “degenerate”, what is anybody supposed to do about it? Should we follow the lead of Hitler and Stalin? My acquaintance’s solution would probably be to get rid of “leftists”, something Hitler would certainly agree with, having been anti-Communist. Stalin might too, although he was a leftist himself, but having also been in respect to art a cultural conservative. But how do you persuade artists to paint “inspiring” paintings rather than “depressing” ones? You could refuse to reward them financially, of course, but great painters don’t paint just for money. They paint what they’re inspired to paint, and that’s what authoritarians object to. It’s not that they want to reform the aspects of modern life that inspire artists to create depressing works. They just want artists to shut up. Which is why it seems a bit odd for conservatives to object to artists exercising their liberty.

Henry Miller, in a book about Arthur Rimbaud, points out that many writers in the 19th century were registering the sickness of society, and includes numerous titles as examples: The Sickness Unto Death, Les Fleurs du Mal, The Light That Failed, A Season in Hell, The Serpent in Paradise, The House of the Dead, and quite a few others. Those are writers, not painters, but writers are artists just as much. As Miller notes, the things artists were warning against happened in the 20th century, beginning (in Europe) quite dramatically with the First World War. But that doesn’t count all the wars against European colonies waged during the 19th and early 20th centuries. The World Wars were when the methods practiced against colonized people were employed against fellow Europeans.

As far as I’m concerned, Impressionism remains my favorite period of painting, and I like quite a few of its descendants, too. I don’t much care for the abstract impressionism exemplified by Jackson Pollock, or the pop art of Andy Warhol, but there are other artists, even if not famous, who still paint traditional kinds of paintings–though I can’t afford to buy those either.

I used to go to art museums when I visited Europe (very little in this country in the last decades), and every now and then I would come across a painting that would absolutely thrill me. That’s what I want from any form of art. The thrill that makes me take a deep breath.

The Belle Epoque

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It was in the 1860s that the Impressionist school of painting began. Claude Monet, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Alfred Sisley, and Frederic Bazille met while studying painting and found they all liked painting outdoors instead of in studios, and that they didn’t care to make their paintings as much like photographs as possible, as painters of the Academy did.

Instead, they especially liked the use of bright colors–theirs was the first generation in which paint was being manufactured, so that painters didn’t have to fabricate their own–and to allow plenty of light into their paintings. This (at least in my opinion) was a welcome change from previous paintings, which used a great deal of black and brown. Not in every case, but in many. The Impressionists changed that. They also laid the groundwork for future innovations, such as Cubism, Surrealism, abstract, and conceptual art. I have little affection for the latter two of these, but great liking for the two former.

From the 1860s to the First World War was a particularly good time for France, in a number of ways. Not only were French painters arguably the best in the world at the time, but French composers were innovative in ways others weren’t. Claude Debussy and Maurice Ravel had found a different sense of harmony and orchestral color than the predominantly German music of 19th century Europe. France also had other notable composers in that period, like Camille Saint-Saens, Gabriel Faure, and Emmanuel Chabrier, but I’m less familiar with them.

France was also very prosperous, probably largely due to new technologies, as in England, Germany, and the USA, and they were in an unprecedentedly long period of peace in most of Europe. A friend reminds me that this era was known as the “belle epoque”, though it may not have been so beautiful for all of the French.

At the same time, France had a literary renaissance: Victor Hugo, Balzac, Flaubert, and Stendhal in prose, and Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Verlaine, Mallarme, and others in poetry. This was particularly the case in the years after the Franco-Prussian war of 1870. There was an almost total lack of war in Europe between then and the First World War, though it would be inaccurate to say there was peace. Many of the above poets were referred to as “Poetes Maudits”–accursed poets. These were poets living in contention against society, many of them alcoholics or drug addicts. This category of poets (and artists in general) spread from France to other countries as well. All sorts of artists became vulnerable to addiction of one sort or another, and so eventually did large numbers of ordinary people. Artists, being more sensitive and susceptible, may have reacted in this way to the problems of modern life earlier than others.

One of the things that initiated the modern world was the entrance of Europe and the Americas into the age of revolution. The American revolution came first, and was arguably the most successful, but it was followed by the French, the Haitian, the Greek, and eventually the Russian. Other European nations rebelled, especially in 1848, but those revolutions were put down. Karl Marx took the revolutionary view that history is determined by economics, while Charles Darwin took a different revolutionary view: that humans, animals, and plants had all evolved from much simpler antecedents. And Sigmund Freud became a pioneer in the study of psychology, which changed perceptions throughout Europe and the USA, if not other parts of the world. With the modern age came a variety of new ideas that weren’t always well-received.

There was a religious revival in the 19th century, but it was largely fundamentalist and advocated faith more than wisdom. It tended to deny scientific ideas, and specifically those relating to the Bible, the origins of Man, and the history of both the planet and the human race. This led to odd ideas like dinosaurs coexisting with humans in the Old Testament and that the day of Creation was sometime in the fifth millenium BC in accordance with an interpretation of the Biblical record by an English clergyman in the 18th century, which seems to stretch the idea of the inerrancy of Scripture further than it can validly go. Many were uncomfortable with the idea of history stretching back millions of years, and that the world and humanity had been created gradually instead of all at once, and–not least–that humans were most closely related to apes. But it’s noticeable that the behavior of chimpanzees is very similar to human behavior, though in a less than flattering way.

So some people were inspired as the 19th century began, while others were appalled and intimidated. Scientists and industrialists were inspired, and there were suddenly a variety of inventions that transformed life sometimes, but not always, for the better.

Nor were all the transformations from inventions. Opposition to slavery doesn’t seem to have begun earlier than the late 17th century, but it was abolished relatively quickly. The American Civil War abolished the institution of slavery in the United States, while Brazil abolished it in 1888. Russia abolished serfdom (not greatly different from slavery) just before the American Civil War. And the vote in the United States was extended from white male property owners first to less wealthy white men, then to black men (though that remained theoretical for most of a century), and then to women. Changes came so fast that many people didn’t know how to adapt.

Some changes weren’t so very positive. Military technology, for instance, advanced rapidly from the American Civil War on, and made it almost hideously easy to kill great numbers of people very quickly. Soldiers entering World War I believed the war would be over quickly and easily. They soon found out otherwise. Machine guns were one of the new inventions that few were familiar with before the war began. So were bombs, explosive shells, and poison gas. Tanks were another innovation, and so was the use of airplanes and balloons. We hear little about what came to be called PTSD before the 20th century, but it’s a common part of the war experience from World War I on. Magazines decided not to publish many battlefield pictures because too many separated body parts were included in the photographs. It’s unlikely that war was less brutal before these inventions, but war became impersonal with them. Maybe that’s what soldiers found so demoralizing.

But not all the innovations of the 19th century were so obviously negative. The characters in Marcel Proust’s In Search of Lost Time, set in the later 19th century, don’t seem to be very conscious of these conflicts. They’re conscious primarily social distinctions. One character spends time with a group who seem to be of a somewhat lower class than his, and persuades himself that he enjoys their company, at least until the woman he had become involved with in relation to the group begins to be untrue to him. But almost all the characters are relatively well off if not wealthy, not because nobody in France was poor, but because the wealthy and well off preferred not to pay attention to them. The only poor person appearing in the novel so far (I haven’t penetrated too far into it yet) is a servant working for the narrator’s aunt. An account by George Orwell some fifty to sixty years later in Down and Out in Paris and London of a job he held in a Paris restaurant shows that a person on that social level had to work extremely hard to survive. I doubt that lower class employees had a much easier time 50 to 60 years earlier.

And most, though not all, the Impressionist painters painted middle or upper class people at the beach or having a picnic in a park. Lower class people are relatively invisible. That’s less the case with the paintings of Vincent van Gogh, who I guess is classified as a post-Impressionist. One of his early paintings was of a family eating potatoes, presumably because they couldn’t obtain anything else. And they’re not a very pretty group, which is common in poverty. A later painting is of a billiard hall at night, obviously not a venue for the upper class. He also painted a postman and a doctor, both living in southern provincial and rural France where the elite are unlikely to go. The poor and other members of the lower classes usually inspire the more fortunate to avert their faces, if not actively blame these people for their situations. Not many are willing to try to change the circumstances of poor people to any extent, at least in a positive way.

What Debussy and Ravel seem to be portraying in the late 19th and early 20th century is dreams. One of Debussy’s early successes was Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun (somehow fitting because as a young man he looked very much like a faun as portrayed by ancient Greek statues). It is an orchestral piece which immediately struck me when I heard it because it was so different from the mostly German pieces I’d been listening to, which usually are developed in ways that sound very different. Woodwinds were the spotlighted instruments rather than pianos or violins, and it sounded very much like a hot quiet summer afternoon. His later La Mer gave a great impression of the sea (which he probably never saw), again very different from German orchestral music. I remember reading that he was influenced by jazz, and that later jazz musicians were influenced by him.

Ravel started out very influenced by Debussy, but took his music in a somewhat different direction. Debussy frequently gives the impression of being sloppy and arbitrary in his compositions, especially in his solo piano music, even when this is not so; Ravel is much more obviously interested in form. One of his suites, composed first for piano, and then for orchestra, Le Tombeau de Couperin, is a set of compositions in the style of various dance forms of the late 17th and early 18th centuries, when the composer Francois Couperin lived. Each segment of the suite is dedicated to one of his friends who died in World War I, and the atmosphere of the suite is generally melancholy, even when musically lively. But one of the points of the piece is taking forms the past and making something new of them. So are the moods of Pavane for a Dead Princess and Ma Mere l’Oye (My Mother Goose). Ma Mere l’Oye recalls the poem by Arthur Rimbaud in which he assigns a color to each letter of the alphabet, colors which correspond to a those in a book he had as a child. They seem to be portraying childhood, as a nostalgic time, but not as a particularly happy time. The people in Impressionist paintings seem happy, but that may be only their surfaces. We are asked to believe that wealth will make us happy, but many people testify that it won’t alone. Was Ravel unhappy? I don’t think anybody knows for sure, but his music suggests it, though it doesn’t seem angry or bitter. Proust’s In Search of Lost Time begins with the narrator telling how much he desired his mother to come upstairs and kiss him goodnight. The above pieces by Ravel seem to have a similar feeling.

I don’t know where Proust goes after the beginning of the work, but things I’ve read about it suggest it may be a long soliloquy on various forms of love. Love of the child for its parents, boy for girl, man for woman, and man for man. I’ll find out if that’s accurate later.

But being part of the wealthy class then, as later, provided a degree of safety that may have included more then than previously. The world portrayed by the Impressionists is a largely bourgeois one, and looks quite attractive in paintings of Sunday picnics. But humans are always insecure, and French people of that time were as concerned about finding love and about their social status as anyone today. Remember that near the end of the 19th century the Dreyfus case caused great upset in France.

Alfred Dreyfus was a Jewish French soldier accused of betraying military secrets to an enemy nation. It took much time for the facts to emerge, and was a problem of great contention. It turned out that the guilty party was a Christian, but this result was initially suppressed by the army, and that didn’t prevent some from blaming Jewish people in general and Dreyfus in particular. I didn’t realize until recent years that Dreyfus’s granddaughter, Madeleine, served in the French Resistance during World War II, and was arrested and sent to Auschwitz, where she died. Nor had I realized that, after his exoneration in 1906, a right-wing journalist had attempted to murder Dreyfus in 1908. One can’t say that all France was harmonious during and after the late 19th century. Marcel Proust was a supporter of Dreyfus, as was Author Emil Zola, and painters Claude Monet, Degas, and Cassatt. Cezanne, Renoir, Rodin, Degas, and the poet Paul Valery were against him.

The late 19th and early 20th centuries may have been idyllic in France especially, but the period was also a peaceful and prosperous time for much of the rest of Europe, though Europe had been free of war for much of the early 19th century too, as the countries who had defeated Napoleon came together in 1815 to arrange things to prevent further warfare, and especially revolutions. They weren’t entirely successful in the latter attempt: the French rebelled in 1830, installing a new regime after the one established after Napoleon, and there was a general wave of revolution across Europe in 1848, though most of those failed. But there was very little war during that period. Just the Crimean war, war between Austria and Germany, and the Franco-Prussian war. Then nothing except the Serbian wars before 1914. In Europe, that is.

Elsewhere, European countries were fighting battles (often unequal ones) in their colonies in Africa and Asia. Germans conducted genocide in Namibia in southwest Africa, the Belgians are reported to have killed some 8 million in the Congo, the French were less than peaceful in their colonies in west Africa and Southeast Asia, while the English fought wars in Africa and India and reportedly destroyed 100 cities in Africa. The violence these countries refrained from imposing in Europe they practiced in their colonies. By the time of World War I they were very good at it.

Most of the Impressionist painters (Monet was the exception) had died by 1920. Few of the famous French poets of the 19th century lived into the 20th, but Proust did, dying in 1921. By that time the prewar world had been destroyed by war, and what Gertrude Stein characterized as the “Lost Generation” had begun to become famous, though I’m not sure she meant the French as much as the Americans. There were still notable French authors, poets, and musicians, but the time after 1920 was a good deal less peaceful. The Belle Epoque is a period for which many people probably still feel nostalgia, though many of the problems of the modern age had begun by that time, even if they weren’t as obvious as now.

But as beautiful as the epoque may have been on the surface, there were many writers testifying to a great lack of ease in the 19th century. Henry Miller, in a book about poet Arthur Rimbaud, lists titles of books of that century: The Sickness Unto Death (Kierkegaard), Dreams and Life (Gerard de Nerval), Le Fleurs de Mal (Baudelaire), The Birth of Tragedy (Nietzsche), The Conquest of Bread (Kropotkin), The Serpent in Paradise (Sacher-Masoch), Les Paradis Artificiels (Baudelaire), Dead Souls (Gogol), The House of the Dead (Dostoievsky), The Inferno (Strindberg), A Rebours (Huysmans)…

As Miller remarks (about more books and authors than I have included), “What revolt, what disillusionment, what longing! Nothing but crises, breakdowns, hallucinations, and visions. The foundations of politics, morals, economics, and art tremble. The air is full of warnings and prophecies of the debacle to come–and in the 20th century it comes! …The moral crisis of the 19th century has merely given way to the spiritual bankruptcy of the 20th. It is the “time of the assassins” (a phrase of Rimbaud’s) and no mistaking it. Politics has become the business of gangsters….”

It’s a shame that there was so much promise in the 19th and early 20th centuries, and the outcome was, all too often, horror. Remember that as science was discovering exciting new things about humanity’s past, about bacteria and how to defeat them, about thrilling new concepts about the world and universe, heroin and cocaine were first being formulated, ready to enslave thousands, if not millions, in the new century. And the new style of war first unveiled in 1914, led to the new movement of Communism taking over first one country, then more, which set off more wars. And the “civilized” countries got caught up in the blame game: Look what you made me do.

Is the 21st century going to be better? We can hope, and work to make it so, but it would be unwise to assume so.

Old Time Baseball

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David Halberstam may be best known for his book about the Vietnam war, The Best and the Brightest, but he was also a sports fan, writing at least two books about basketball, two about baseball, and one that looks to be about a football coach. The two I’ve read recently are about baseball. One, coincidentally, about the season of 1949 (my birth year), is about the pennant race between the Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees, as well as the World series against the Brooklyn Dodgers.

The other is, coincidentally again, about the season of 1964, the first season I closely followed the Major League baseball season, as well as other sports. Both have to do with the evolution of baseball into the modern game. Halberstam went into great detail about different personalities on each team, some of them players, some team officials, and some ordinary workers in stadiums.

One of the central characters of the New York Yankees was George Weiss, the general manager, whom the players loathed because he always had a reason not to pay them as much as they thought they deserved. One reason for holding down expenses was because he was given a certain amount out of which to pay players salaries, and was allowed to keep a percentage of however much of it he didn’t spend. One can imagine what the players thought of that when they heard of it.

Weiss had built the Yankee farm system in the 1930s, following the lead of Branch Rickey, whose innovation had been to buy minor league teams instead of buying players from independent minor league teams. When players were signed they were sent to the minor leagues to learn how to play the major league game and were promoted to teams in that played a higher of standard of ball until they reached the major leagues. As Yankee general manager Weiss still inspected the minor league teams, and always had something negative to say about how they kept the stadiums they played in. It’s also interesting that Weiss felt very threatened when Yogi Berra became one of the first major league players to hire an agent. Others followed his lead, and began to have access to income outside the control of the major league teams.

The farm system had been very good to the Yankees, as it had also been to the St. Louis Cardinals, and later the Brooklyn Dodgers, after Rickey went to run that team. Lefty Gomez, Joe DiMaggio, Phil Rizzuto, and Yogi Berra were all products of the farm system, as well as less prominent players like Tommy Henrich and Charlie Keller. Weiss and Rickey both used the farm system to keep their teams competitive, either trading major league players while they were still productive (and before they could demand higher pay) and bringing up players from the minors to replace them, or trading minor league prospects for major league players still able to help the major league team. There are now very few independent minor league teams, and major league teams didn’t much like one that was active in the 1970s, intervening to keep it from winning a minor league championship.

Tom Yawkey had bought the Boston Red Sox in the 1930s when they weren’t a very good team. A previous owner of the Sox had been more interested in producing Broadway shows than running a baseball team, and had sold off many of the players of the very good team he owned, who had won two recent world championships. Babe Ruth was the most famous of those players, and Boston hadn’t won a World Series since he’d gone to the Yankees. Yawkey had slowly rebuilt the Red Sox, acquiring Ted Williams, Dominick DiMaggio (Joe’s brother, also a center fielder), two very good pitchers, and Bobby Doerr, who was almost as clutch a hitter as Williams.

But World War II prevented the Red Sox from winning any pennants. It also prevented Williams, considered by many to be the greatest hitter in baseball history, from getting 3,000 hits, the career goal of elite hitters. Halberstam recounts how Williams complained to a teammate after he struck out, and the teammate asked him what the pitcher had thrown him. When Williams told him it was a curve, the teammate asked, What do you think he’ll throw you next time? Williams was waiting in his next at-bat, and hit a home run off the curve the pitcher had previously struck him out on. He then began obsessively studying pitchers to know what they were likely to throw in any situation.

Williams had a difficult relationship with Boston fans because they got on him, often encouraged by Boston sportswriters. He had a thin skin, partly because of his family situation. His father was a drinker, and his mother (who was Mexican) was a religious fanatic, going door to door to convert people. He got little guidance from them. Because of their neglect, he pursued baseball obsessively. Not the fielding part, but the hitting part, which fascinated him. He joined the San Diego Padres, the minor league team of the city in which he grew up, and it didn’t take long for him to make the majors.

Joe DiMaggio was also a California boy. His father had come over from Italy and had decided San Francisco was a good place to be a fisherman. He was successful at that, and had many children, three of whom became major league players. Vince DiMaggio was the oldest, and also a center fielder, but he was the least gifted of the three. He hit for some power, but not for a very good average. Dominick hit for a good average, but didn’t have much power, though he was possibly the best fielder of the three. But Joe was the complete player, hitting for great average (he had a 75 game hitting streak in the minor leagues several years before setting the major league record with the Yankees), for great power, fielded center field immaculately, and had a powerful throwing arm. He was on many World Series-winning teams, something Williams wanted desperately to do, but was never able.

Yogi Berra was another product of the Yankee farm system, and was quickly recognized as being a very good player, even though he didn’t LOOK like a Yankee. Yankees were supposed to be tall and handsome, and Berra was neither. But he was a very good hitter, and able to play more than one position. He often played left field, as well as catcher–he wasn’t the best catcher in terms of fielding, but was a clutch hitter.

He was also smarter than he appeared. He got a reputation for saying funny things which was only partially deserved. Writers sometimes made up things they attributed to him, and he usually went along with it, but he also DID sometimes say amusing things. But though he didn’t look athletic (but was), wasn’t handsome, and didn’t seem articulate, he was smart about making money outside of baseball, and later was a successful manager. More of that later.

The Yankees continued to be successful in the 1940s, in spite of World War II when many of the best players were fighting overseas. They won pennants 1941-43, and again in 1947 and 1949. The Red Sox got a lot of players back in 1946 and won the pennant that season. They played a very good St. Louis Cardinals team in the World Series, and lost in the seventh game after Dom DiMaggio got injured and had to leave the game. Enos Slaughter then scored from first base on a single, which he probably couldn’t have done had a healthy DiMaggio been in center field. The two good Red Sox pitchers were less effective in following seasons. The Red Sox tied the Cleveland Indians for the pennant in 1948, but lost a playoff game. In 1949 they wanted to win it all.

Their manager was Joe McCarthy who had been very successful managing the Yankees. He had also been successful with the Cubs, earlier. Whether he was beginning to be in over his head was a question, though. Times were changing, McCarthy was a relatively rigid man, and that eventually hurt his team.

Mel Parnell was a very good young pitcher in 1949. He had had a good rookie year the season before, and was part of a pitching staff that had potential, but that was something of an unknown quantity, which is what pitchers often are. All athletes are subject to injury, but in baseball pitchers are more vulnerable than any other position.

Ellis Kinder was an older pitcher who hadn’t had a lot of success, having been stuck in the minor leagues for a number of years. This was at least partly because he didn’t recognize the team’s right to tell him what to do at night. Nights before he pitched he would be out drinking and chasing women, and that didn’t prevent him from pitching well despite having only a mediocre fastball. The Red Sox had traded for him with the St.Louis Browns, one of the teams in the league who had to sell off their best players to survive. When it wasn’t the Red Sox taking advantage of them it was the Yankees. At this time the Washington Senators and Philadelphia Athletics were also in this position. Kinder had pitched well in the past, but not very consistently. 1949 was going to be different for him.

Joe DiMaggio was reaching the end of his career. He started out the season with severe pain in a heel, for which he had to have an operation. But the operation didn’t help the pain. There was very little he could do to keep in shape, so he mostly stayed in his apartment. He was very uncomfortable with socializing at all, even with his teammates. He had people who would go to movies with him, for instance, or to restaurants, so he didn’t have to be alone, Partly this was because of his stardom. He was by far the most talented Yankee, and considered it his responsibility to play hard because, as he said, somebody in the ballpark might never have seen him play before. He was uncertain about Casey Stengel, his new manager, who didn’t have a great reputation in that role. But mainly, he was waiting, that year, to become healthy enough to play. Luckily, his patience was rewarded. One day he was suddenly pain-free, and was able to begin playing again.

Major League Baseball was a whole different world then from what it is today. There were only eight teams in each league, and baseball was an industry always close to the edge of failure. Even the successful teams rarely drew much as many as a million paying customers, in a year though tickets were a lot cheaper then, and that was virtually the only revenue stream teams had–except selling players. Games were almost universally played during the day, so ordinary people could go after work. George Weiss, the Yankee general manager, didn’t like the idea of the games being broadcast over radio. He thought that was giving away his product. He wasn’t any more enthusiastic about TV, either.

Nor had he realized the way in which black players were going to change the game. He didn’t want black players (neither did the Red Sox). He didn’t want to attract black fans because he thought they would upset the middle-class whites who might have to sit near them. These attitudes weren’t unusual. Owners of major league teams could have made it much easier on the black players they signed by having them play north of the Mason-Dixon line, but many were sent to minor league teams in the South, often by themselves so they had almost nobody to help them get through seasons in which they were constantly abused by white fans. Halberstam comments that the Yankees were used to signing tough kids who were warriors as much as athletes, but that they didn’t realize that the kind of young men they were used to signing were now more often black than white in a country that was suddenly much more affluent than before. The Yankees (and the Red Sox) fell behind in finding and signing the tremendous black talent that became available after Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier. In 1949 the Yankees were just entering an era in which they would dominate even more than before, but because they failed to sign great black athletes, they were going to miss the World Series for a long time after their era was over.

The Yankees had great pitching in 1949. Vic Raschi, Allie Reynolds, and Ed Lopat were all quality starters, and Joe Page was the best relief pitcher in the league in an era when relief pitchers weren’t yet a separate category from starting pitchers. Page had a great fastball, but this was disregarded by Joe McCarthy, the Red Sox manager, who said he wanted pitchers with great fastballs to start for him, not pitch relief. Raschi came from the Yankee farm system. Reynolds and Lopat had both been traded for. All of them were tough-minded, and would be joined by Whitey Ford the following season, one of the all-time great Yankee pitchers.

Casey Stengel was the new manager of the Yankees, and many wondered about him as a choice. He had been managing only second-division teams in the National League and in the minors, but when he took the job over he showed that he had his own ideas. He was one of the first managers to platoon players as a regular thing. Most had a set lineup that they didn’t vary much, but Stengel believed that left-handed batters hit better against right-handed pitchers, and vice versa. Players on his team didn’t appreciate being platooned, but he told them that if he was going to lose his job he would do it by doing what he thought would work best. He liked to court the writers, who would make him seem to be a genius, which he was, to some extent. He didn’t necessarily treat his players very considerately, often making fun of them. He had been born in 1890, had had a fairly undistinguished career as a player (though he had starred in a World Series in the early 1920s), and was thrilled to have Yankee talent at his disposal.

One of the differences between the first half of the 20th century and today was that the sportswriters were almost as much a part of the team as the players. The teams paid for their food, drink, and and their rooms (alcohol was the drug of choice in baseball) when the teams traveled. Thus, sportswriters were (and were expected to be) loyal to the teams, and didn’t reveal all they knew about players and managers. That Joe McCarthy of the Red Sox liked to drink, for instance. Sportswriters at that time believed their jobs were the most desirable, and wanted to keep them. That often meant getting to be friends with players (although some Boston sportswriters went the opposite direction with Ted Williams) who were very often from the rural South and were Protestants, while the sportswriters were usually urban, Irish, and Jewish. Players could be made to feel inferior, which would make it difficult to get them to talk and provide stories for the writers. There would be conflict between the earlier era of sportswriters and the later ones who had a different and more sophisticated point of view.

Travel was much different then, too. It was exclusively by train, and the trains were rarely air conditioned, much less the hotels. St. Louis was the furthest west the major leagues extended, and it was brutally hot and humid in the summer. Players, managers, and writers drank and played cards on the trains, and talked baseball probably almost exclusively. That picture would change radically when the Dodgers and Giants moved to the west coast.

The Yankees, as usual, had great pitching in 1949. They were best known for their home run power, but that was never enough by itself to win games. They also had consistently great pitching and consistently great middle infield play. Somebody said it wasn’t the Big Dago (Joe DiMaggio was subject to ethnic slurs, just like every other player) who was the key to the Yankees of the 1940s, but the Little Dago (Phil Rizzuto). But it was also the starting pitchers: Vic Raschi, Allie Reynolds, Ed Lopat, and Joe Page, the best (or one of the best) relief pitchers in the game. The Red Sox had Bobby Doerr at second base, but Junior Stephens at short. Stephens was a powerful hitter, but not a great fielder. Jerry Coleman was a rookie second baseman for the Yankees in 1949 and was terribly worried about being able to hit enough, but eventually was told that his job was to field. If he hit some too, that would be gravy.

Although DiMaggio wasn’t available to start the season, the Yankees began pretty well. The Red Sox took some time to get going, but became hot in the second half of the year. Then the Yankee pitchers began getting tired in August, the hottest time of the year, by which time they had all thrown a lot of innings. The Red Sox began catching up, and first tied, then went ahead of the Yankees right at the end of the season. The pennant came down to two games at the end.

In the first one the Red Sox scored four runs early, but were then unable to score any more. The Yankees came back and won. In the second, the Yankees got one run early, and Vic Raschi made it hold up. In the eighth inning Ellis Kinder, who had had a great season and was pitching very well, was lifted for a pinch hitter who did nothing. Kinder was furious, and so were other Red Sox. Kinder believed he could pitch better against the Yankees than any bullpen pitchers, but McCarthy believed left-hand hitters would hit right-hand pitchers, so brought in Mel Parnell, who had also had a great season, but had recently been overworked. Parnell gave up four runs. The Red Sox scored three runs in the top of the ninth, but it wasn’t enough. The Yankees won the pennant.

In the first game of the World Series, which was also the first World Series game to be televised, Allie Reynolds pitched for the Yankees against Don Newcomb. Newcomb was the first great black pitcher in the majors, not counting Satchel Paige, who had won several key games for the Cleveland Indians the previous year, but was no longer at his peak. Newcomb thought he’d never been faster, and he held the Yankees scoreless until the bottom of the ninth, though he gave up more hits than Reynolds did. But the leadoff hitter was Tommy Henrich, one of the Yankees’ clutch hitters, and a power-hitter. He hit a home run, and the game was over. The Dodgers won only one game in the Series.

Fifteen years later the environment of the game had evolved. The St. Louis Cardinals had a very good team that hadn’t won a pennant in 18 years. The Yankees had only lost the pennant twice in those fifteen years, but they were coming to the end of their dominance. They still had tremendous talent, though.

Bing Devine, the St. Louis general manager, had been building the team for seven years. He had decided Ken Boyer should play third base as a regular, though he could play any position. He also traded for Curt Flood, who became the premiere center fielder of the National League, and a good hitter, though he didn’t have great power. He traded for Bill White, too. White had come up with the Giants, who had moved from New York to San Francisco in 1957, and had Orlando Cepeda and Willy McCovey coming up as first basemen, White’s position. He asked for a trade, and got traded to St. Louis, which he wasn’t immediately enthusiastic about because St. Louis was essentially a southern city, and very racist.

But National League teams had been much more interested in pursuing black talent than had the American League. The first generation of great black players, Jackie Robinson, Willie Mays, Hank Aaron, and Ernie Banks (naming only the best) had all been signed by National League teams. American League teams had had their chances, but weren’t interested. The National League had become a much deeper league which played a more interesting game than did the American League. In 1964 the Cardinals had four black or Latin players who made significant contributions, and their manager was wise enough to encourage friendships between black and white players and not to treat the black players as second-class citizens.

Devine had traded for Dick Groat, the shortstop for the Pittsburgh Pirates in 1960, when they won the pennant and beat the Yankees in the World Series. He was an older player, but very professional. He didn’t have great range, but knew how to position himself for each batter, and was good at hitting behind runners and moving them up. Solly Hemus, his manager in St. Louis when he first arrived, had a problem with him hitting and running without authorization, but Johnny Keane, who succeeded Hemus, was fine with it.

Keane was also fine with putting Bob Gibson in the starting rotation and letting him figure out how he needed to pitch. Hemus hadn’t liked Gibson (there was some debate whether Hemus was racist or just expected black players to pay the same kind of dues he had), and took him out of games more often than Gibson liked. Gibson was a great all-around athlete, who could hit as well as pitch, but had tremendous pitching talent, which he was just beginning to completely put together. He had won 13, 15, and 18 games in the previous 3 years, but was still having control problems.

Devine and Keane believed they were one player away from having a contending team, so they decided to trade for Lou Brock early in the season. Brock had great talent, but hadn’t shown much of it in three previous years with the Cubs. Devine and Keane made the risky move of trading Ernie Broglio, who had won 18 games for them the previous season, for Brock. They had other pitchers, but none was absolutely dependable. When Brock reported to the Cardinals Keane told him to run whenever he thought it was right. Brock was tremendously fast, but the Cubs had wanted him to steal only when they told him to. Being given the green light was liberating for him. He began hitting and fielding better, too.

White was more secure than many black players, and was kind of father-confessor not only for players on his team, but visiting players too. He wanted to make sure black players didn’t blow the chances they had, so gave advice to them. After his playing career was over he eventually became president of the National League.

The Yankees were still powerful and talented, and nobody in their league could quite imagine beating them. Their pitching was still good, and so was their fielding and hitting. But their farm system had gotten thin because they’d been cutting back on it. They had also missed on many talented black players because they weren’t interested. They could have had Ernie Banks, but weren’t interested enough to pursue him. They did sign Elston Howard, a very good player, but Banks was the better hitter. And they weren’t interested in making life any easier for Howard in the minor leagues, either. Howard’s wife felt he died young because he swallowed so much of his anger at his treatment.

Of course Mickey Mantle was the great star of the team. He had as much talent as anyone who had been in the majors, but had frequent injuries that handicapped him. He also didn’t take care of himself as he could have. He drank a lot after games and didn’t stay in shape between seasons, but he was as fast as anyone in the majors and could hit the ball further than anyone. Casey Stengel wanted to teach him everything he knew about the game, but Mantle had had to live up to his father’s expectations, and didn’t want a second father.

The Yankees had fired Stengel after he lost the 1960 World Series, and replaced him with Ralph Houk. Houk had immediate success in 1961. Mantle and Roger Maris began a chase after Babe Ruth’s record of 60 home runs in a season. Maris was the one who hit 61, but he wasn’t very happy about it.

He was a small-town boy, and didn’t like the big city. What he valued most was his privacy, and he lost that in 1961. He didn’t mind telling writers what kind of pitch he’d hit, but wasn’t willing to speculate about whether he could hit 61, and got tired of being asked the same questions over and over. What was worse was that the fans decided it was okay for Mantle (whom they had often booed in previous years) to break Ruth’s record, but not for Maris. Worse still was the season of 1962 when Maris came nowhere near to hitting 61 again. He had often had injury problems before, and 1961 was an unusual year for him because he had few. After that he got frequently injured again–nothing serious, but injuries that kept him from playing at his best. Despite his successful quest to pass Babe Ruth’s record, and the fact that the Yankees drew more fans than in the previous ten years, the team did nothing for Maris. He thought he deserved a large bonus, but didn’t get one. They could also have protected him from the press by scheduling times for them to talk to him, and prohibiting their bothering him at other times, but didn’t bother doing that either. Maris had never much liked New York, and that made him like it even less.

Jim Bouton had had a great season in 1963, winning 21 games and pitching well in the World Series. He would pitch well again in 1964, but had little margin between being successful and not. His fastball was his best pitch, but he had to put everything into throwing it for it to be effective. That would become a problem.

Al Downing was the first black Yankee pitcher, and the second black player to make the Major League team. The scout who signed him was black and gave him good advice about how to organize his career. He had had a good rookie season, winning 13 and losing five.

Pete Mikkelson was a relief pitcher who had hurt his arm and had had to stop throwing overhand. When he did, his fastball began sinking, and Yogi Berra liked sinker-ballers who could make hitters hit the ball on the ground instead of in the air.

Tony Kubek and Bobby Richardson were the middle infielders on the team, Kubek at short and Richardson at second. Kubek didn’t look like a great shortstop, but made the plays, and was very tough. Richardson was a great fielder and good clutch hitter, coming close to being MVP of the league.

Yogi Berra was the new manager after Ralph Houk became the Yankees general manager. It wasn’t a very comfortable fit. Houk had been a players manager, but couldn’t be that as general manager, since he was the one who had to negotiate their contracts. And Berra had recently been a player, which made it difficult for him to enforce rules. Mantle and Ford pushed limits with him, not because they didn’t like him, but because it was more fun for them. When they got away with things, other players thought they could too.

Neither the Yankees nor the Cardinals were great at the beginning of the season, but neither was too bad. Early in the spring Bing Devine, the Cardinals general manager traded Ernie Broglio, who had won 18 games for the team the season before, to the Chicago Cubs for Lou Brock, an outfielder who hadn’t accomplished much in the previous three seasons. It was a risky trade because the pitching staff wasn’t seen to be totally dependable, and pitchers are more susceptible to injury than every-day players. But Devine and Johnny Keane, the manager, believed the team needed more offense. When Brock reported, Keane told him he was going to play every day and that he should steal bases whenever he thought he could. Brock had wanted to steal bases before, but the Cubs had put restrictions on his running. Now he felt liberated, and his hitting and fielding also improved. He hadn’t been taught how to use sunglasses in the outfield, so had lost lots of balls in the sun.

The Cardinals began playing better after the acquisition of Lou Brock, but it still took time for them to start playing really well. Bob Gibson was unable to pitch consistently well for some time. A pitching coach was brought in, and decided he was kind of “pushing” his slider (a slider is like a curve, but breaks less, and more suddenly–Gibson preferred it to his curve) which made it too easy to hit. Gibson worked at throwing it better, and began pitching much better in August.

The Yankees were enduring injuries. Tony Kubek, who Ralph Houk had made the everyday shortstop when he took over from Stengel, had suffered a cracked vertebra in a touch football game in 1962, and in 1964 it was really bothering him. Kubek wasn’t obviously talented, but made all the plays at short, and was very tough. The Yankees lost something when he couldn’t play, and he was unable to play much in 1964.

Mickey Mantle was injured a lot too. He had a hard time batting left-handed (his father had insisted he become a switch-hitter) because of knee problems.

Jim Bouton had had problems throwing his fastball early in the season. It wasn’t because he was having pain, but because the ball simply wasn’t going very fast. Later he was diagnosed with a condition in which the muscles of his arm got so large that they interfered with his circulation. That was why he lost his fastball for good the next season. James Rodney Richard had a similar condition about 15 years later, and suffered a stroke because of it. But Bouton regained his fastball in 1964 and pitched very well in the second half of the season.

Whitey Ford seemed to be having a good season, but in realty his arm wasn’t what it had been, and he was getting by on guile. He and catcher Elston Howard would cut the baseball to make it break in unexpected ways. His won-lost record was good, but the end of his career was in sight.

The Chicago White Sox and Baltimore Orioles were challenging the Yankees in 1964, but didn’t yet know how to win when they had to, though Baltimore was about to become one of the perennial powers in the American League. One of the things that enabled the Yankees to win the pennant was the acquisition of Pedro Ramos from the Cleveland Indians. Ramos had always had a good fastball, and he became the Yankees primary reliever in the last month of the season. Unfortunately for him, he had been acquired too late to be able to play in the World Series.

The other key move was bringing Mel Stottlemyre up from the minor leagues. Stottlemyre was very mature for his age. He had a sinking fastball, and understood that trying to throw it too hard wouldn’t work. The important thing about the pitch was the break rather than the speed. He won nine games in the second half of the season.

Al Downing was the first black pitcher for the Yankees. The scout who discovered him talked to him about how he needed to develop, and he had a very good rookie year, winning 13 games. He won 13 games in 1964 too, but was less consistent than in the previous season. One of the problems was that Johnny Sain had been replaced as pitching coach on the team by Whitey Ford, who was still an important starter. He didn’t have time for the other pitchers, since he was concerned about his own performance, nor was he as insightful about pitching as Sain. Managers often became impatient with pitchers, and Sain would protect them. Pitchers appreciated that, and generally pitched better when he was around. But he wasn’t in 1964.

Meanwhile, in the National League, the Philadelphia Phillies were having an excellent season, leading the league most of the way. They had very good infielders, with two who could play shortstop, and two who could play second, giving the manager more flexibility than managers usually have. They also had an outfielder, Johnny Callison, who was having a career year, and was a prime candidate for most valuable player, as well as Richie Allen, a third baseman who looked like rookie of the year. Besides them, they had acquired Jim Bunning from the Detroit Tigers, who almost immediately became the ace of the staff. That took pressure off of Chris Short, who became a very good second starter that season. The rest of the pitching staff was very deep. It looked like they might win the pennant easily.

The Cardinals became a very hot team in the second half of the season. Bob Gibson, Ray Sadecki, and Curt Simmons were all pitching very well, as was knuckleballer Barney Schultz, who became the Cardinals main relief pitcher. Lou Brock was hitting well and stealing bases with abandon, and the rest of the team were also playing well. Gibson in particular was becoming the intimidating pitcher he would be for the rest of the decade, one of the elite in either league.

But the Cardinals turnaround came too late to save the job of general manager Bing Devine. August Busch, owner of the team, had been frustrated that the team hadn’t gotten better quicker, and had hired Branch Rickey, who was then in his eighties, but still power-hungry and ambitious. He made it his business to undermine Devine with Busch at every turn, and Devine was finally fired before the end of the season. Johnny Keane, the manager, knew he was also in danger of losing his job.

When Pedro Ramos joined the Yankees they went on a long winning streak, partly because he was saving games, partly because Mel Stottlemyre was winning games, and partly because Roger Maris caught fire, began hitting better than in the past two seasons, and because he also started playing center field, since Mantle was unable to play. Besides being an outstanding hitter, he was also a great defensive player.

In the National League the Phillies wanted to clinch the pennant as quickly as possible. Their two best pitchers had been Jim Bunning and Chris Short, and manager Gene Mauch asked each of them to pitch with two days rest. Unfortunately for the Phillies, that didn’t work. Almost thirty years later Bunning was asked whether he had any misgivings about pitching that way. He said he hadn’t, and that top-level athletes love that sort of challenge. But apparently he and Short were more tired than they knew. The Phillies went on a long losing streak just as the Cardinals were playing better than they had all season. They had to fight off the Reds as well as the Phillies, but managed to clinch the pennant on the last day of the season, using Bob Gibson in relief of Curt Simmons. The Yankees also clinched right at the end of the season, at home against the Cleveland Indians, the team from which Ramos had come. Ramos saved the game and then made a rude gesture at the Cleveland manager, who had told him nobody wanted him.

In the first game of the World Series the Cardinals had to battle not only the Yankee myth, of the team that was always in the Series and usually won, but also the myth of Whitey Ford, who had always been a big game pitcher, and especially in the World Series. But Ford didn’t have much that day. Ray Sadecki wasn’t sharp either, but the Cardinals were able to out-slug the Yankees, and won the first game. And Ford wasn’t able to pitch again. He had great pain in his arm because his circulation was bad, and had to have surgery after the season, though the Yankees didn’t announce that.

The second game was Bob Gibson against Mel Stottlemyre, and Stottlemyre won. Gibson wasn’t completely rested, and Stottlemyre pitched well. The Yankees won the third game too. Curt Simmons pitched very well against Jim Bouton, but Barney Schultz, who had been almost automatic as a reliever in the second half of the season, gave up a home run to Mantle near the end of the game.

In the fourth game Sadecki was shaky again, so Roger Craig came in to pitch. He had pitched the previous two seasons for the New York Mets, and had lost a lot of games despite pitching well. For him it was a treat to pitch for a contending team, and when he came in he had good stuff and good control. But Al Downing had both too–until the sixth inning, when the Cardinals began hitting. They loaded the bases and, with Ken Boyer, one of their power-hitters up, Downing threw him a change of pace that he got in the wrong place. Boyer hit a grand slam home run, and the Series was tied at two games apiece.

In the fifth game Bob Gibson was excellent, holding the Yankees scoreless until the ninth inning, when they tied the score at two. But in the next inning catcher Tim McCarver hit a three run home run to win it. That gave the Cardinals a three games to two lead, but the Yankees tied it up again in the next game, leaving the Series to be decided in a seventh game.

Gibson pitched that game on two days rest, and his stuff wasn’t very good, but the Yankees made a number of bad fielding plays, and gave up six runs in one inning, then another. In the bottom of the sixth inning Mickey Mantle hit a three-run homer, though, which made him the all-time leader in World Series home runs. It was 6-3 then, but the Cardinals scored another run to make it 7-3. Gibson was talking to himself on the mound, telling himself not to give in and give anyone a good pitch to hit. He didn’t like to be relieved at any time, but especially not in the seventh game of the World Series. Many tired pitchers take more time between pitches, but he didn’t want to do that, because he didn’t want the other team to think they could get him, even though his fastball and slider weren’t as good as usual. He got to the ninth inning without giving up any more runs, and manager Johnny Keane told him he was going to pitch the ninth inning because he couldn’t give up four home runs. He did give up two, though, but then got the side out. His arm was hurting a great deal, but he wouldn’t have to pitch again until the next season.

There were unusual happenings after the World Series. August Busch, owner of the Cardinals, planned to offer manager Johnny Keane a two-year contract, but just before the press conference Keane handed him an envelope, and insisted on him reading it. In it, Keane wrote that he was resigning as manager of the Cardinals. Unknown at the time was that the Yankees had offered Keane the manager’s job, and he had accepted. Unfortunately for him, it was the wrong job. Keane was a better manager for young players than veterans, and the Yankees had almost no really good players left. He lasted barely more than one season, and died of heart attack in his early fifties. Managing a baseball team is a stressful job. The Cardinals job was more stressful than it should have been, and the Yankees job was an unfortunate mistake. Bing Devine was named manager of the year in 1964, after having been fired. Busch later said he shouldn’t have fired Devine.

And Yogi Berra was taken by surprise too, because he thought he’d done a pretty good managing job, and he got fired. He managed the Mets in 1973, and took them to the World Series. He also managed the Yankees in the 1980s, but was abruptly fired, and decided not to come back to Yankee Stadium. He made a lot of money from commercials, though, with “Yogiisms”.

Bob Gibson went on to become a Hall of Fame pitcher, probably the best and most intimidating pitcher in the National League after Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale retired. In 1968 he won 22 games, pitched 13 shutouts, and had the lowest Earned Run Average in about 55 years, since Walter Johnson. In the 1968 World Series he struck out 17 in the first game, to set a record that still stands.

As much as anything the two seasons Halberstam portrays are about the transition from baseball as played and as an industry in the first half of the 20th century to the way it would be played in the second half, and today. Many of the Red Sox and Yankee players from their 1949 teams were successful after their baseball careers were over, in baseball or not. Some became uncomfortable with the attitudes of younger players who arrived with an entitled attitude, unlike the players who had grown up during the Depression. One such player decided that the owners had asked for it, though. They had wanted to control their players lives and pay them as little as possible, often feeling threatened when players could find ways of making money outside of the game. In the 1950s the balance of power was just beginning to shift to the players and away from the owners (who still made good profits if they were smart about how they ran their businesses).

Of course the superstars, Joe DiMaggio and Ted Williams, were secure after they retired. Williams managed the Washington Senators for awhile, but after that spent most of his time fishing in one place or another. DIMaggio appeared in commercials, but otherwise didn’t do other work. But when he was inducted into the Hall of Fame he said in his acceptance speech that the Hall of Fame should also honor the great black players who hadn’t excelled in the major leagues only because they hadn’t been allowed. It wasn’t many years after that some of the Negro League players began to be inducted. Halberstam thinks Williams did this, at least in part, because his mother was Mexican (though this may not have been generally known).

By 1964 power had shifted still more, though the teams had mostly not really confronted it yet. The Cardinals were an exception, and Bing Devine and Johnny Keane deserved a lot of credit for that, though August Busch deserved some too. Players were treated equally regardless of color, and often became close friends across color lines. The Cardinals won two more pennants and one more World Series in the 1960s, and were proud of their achievements.

But when the players wanted to get paid for what they had accomplished, Busch took it personally, and begged them not to be greedy. Curt Flood, by the end of the sixties, had become the best center fielder in the league, and wanted to be paid $100,000. Busch didn’t want to give it to him. Steve Carlton, who had become an outstanding pitcher, quarreled with Busch over a difference of $10,000. Busch decided to trade the two of them, plus catcher Tim McCarver, to the Philadelphia Phillies. Carlton went on to become a Hall of Fame pitcher, and later talked about what a positive influence Bob Gibson had been on his career. McCarver was Carlton’s personal catcher through most of the time that Carlton was winning over 300 games, and then became an excellent TV announcer on the Game of the Week for many years.

Flood, though, refused to report to Philadelphia, and sued Major League baseball over the reserve clause, which prevented players from offering their services to other teams, a right most other workers already had. That was the preface to the way athletes are paid now. It was also the preface to the 1994 season when the players went out on strike and were unable to settle with the owners until the following years. Both sides were surprised to discover that fans didn’t sympathize with either. Flood ultimately lost his case, but the reserve clause’s days were numbered. He had some problems in later life, but eventually righted himself.

Mantle hung in another four years with the Yankees, but later said he wished he had retired after 1964. He was never physically able to have another great season after that. And after he retired he became an alcoholic until, in his sixties, he quit alcohol and was publicly open about his regrets about his behavior. He eventually died of liver cancer.

Whitey Ford only had one more pretty good season, and two more when he was unable to pitch very much. Mel Stottlemyre became one of the best pitchers in Yankees history, but never pitched in the playoffs again. Jim Bouton lost his fastball because his blood circulation got compressed. He learned to throw the knuckleball and continued to pitch for sometime. He also wrote the famous Ball Four as a diary of the 1969 season, and became well-known for that. Al Downing never became the pitcher the Yankees had hoped, and was traded. He did win twenty games for the Dodgers one season, but didn’t have a distinguished career.

Tony Kubek retired soon after 1964, and became an announcer on TV games. According to Halberstam, he often upset Yankees owner George Steinbrenner with his calls. Clete Boyer, Tom Tresh, and Bobby Richardson didn’t play much longer either, all becoming college baseball coaches.

Bill White, Cardinals first baseman eventually became president of the National League, and retained his friendship with Harry Walker, who had been his hitting coach, despite Walker’s southern upbringing. Lou Brock also went to the Hall of Fame after breaking Ty Cobb’s single season and career records for stolen bases–until Rickey Henderson broke his.

How Major League baseball is run has changed tremendously since the 1960s, strongly influenced by television and by the baseball players union. Players used to get jobs in the off-season in order to support their families. Now, when even the most marginal players are paid hundreds of thousands a season, that isn’t necessary. But ordinary fans are now shut out of the ballparks because it will usually cost a hundred dollars or more to visit. The game now caters to the elites, and the kind of relationship fans had to the Brooklyn Dodgers players are a thing of the long past.

How the game is played has changed a lot too. Until about the 1970s hitters were concerned to keep their strikeouts minimal. Then they began swinging for the fences every time up, which meant many more strikeouts. Joe DiMaggio is an example of the difference between hitters from the early 20th century and modern hitters: he hit 361 home runs and struck out 369 times in his CAREER. For some hitters that’s just two seasons.

Modern pitching has changed even more. Pitchers used to be judged on complete games (before relief pitching became a specialty on every team). Now pitchers rarely complete games. Six innings is often the most they pitch, unless they’re far ahead. In part, this is to save the pitchers arms, since they’re more vulnerable to that kind of injury than other players. But it seems a shame to routinely have a bullpen pitcher finish a game instead of letting a starter finish if he can.

The game is unlikely to change back anytime soon, and another reason is that there are other sports competing with baseball. In the first half of the 20th century the NFL wasn’t watched by very many people. TV changed that, just as it did for baseball, and NFL players are now paid much more, too. The NBA wasn’t even founded until 1946, and it took more than two decades to really get off the ground, and become the mammoth sport it is now. And there are other sports like hockey, soccer, wrestling, golf, and racing that people follow. It’s possible to be nostalgic for baseball as it was played in the 1920s, 30s, and 40s, but it’s not coming back. Those times, and the personalities who played the games, managed, and coached the teams, and covered them in the papers were fascinating, though, not least because much of what happened didn’t happen on the field.

Intense Music

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The concerts I’ve enjoyed most have been those in which I’ve been unfamiliar with the form. The first popular music concert I attended was one by Phil Ochs, whom I think I’d heard of, but whose music I didn’t know. It wasn’t bad, but I wasn’t that impressed.

Less than a year later I went to a club near where I was working in Cleveland, Ohio, called La Cave. There I saw the Kweskin Jug Band. I didn’t know anything about jug band music, nor about the band, but I enjoyed it somewhat, especially being impressed by an electric violin (or viola) solo near the end.

But my next concert, in the same place, was by the Butterfield Blues Band. That was the first electric concert I’d been to, and that time I WAS impressed. Maybe blown away would be a better way to put it. I had heard some of Butterfield’s music before, but he wasn’t playing anything I was familiar with. The band had had two guitarists, now there was only one, and a trumpet and two saxophones had been added. I wasn’t crazy about the sound of horns in those days, but these weren’t bad. I was especially impressed by their last song, Tolling Bells, originally played and recorded by Lowell Fulson. I subsequently got the band’s third album on which that song was recorded, but it didn’t come across very well there. I went to a lot more concerts in the next couple of years, but there was only one other concert that impressed me very much.

That was by Canned Heat, a band I didn’t even like. They were opening for Blood, Sweat and Tears, a band led by Al Kooper, which added a number of horns to guitar, keyboards, bass, and drums. I was prepared to like the band because I’d fallen in love with the Blues Project, a band he’d been a member of. I liked them initially, but they didn’t wear well, and the horn players rebelled because they thought they were better musicians than Kooper. I saw them after they replaced him, and the band seemed to enjoy what they were doing much better, but I didn’t like it much. And Canned Heat, when they opened for them, practically blew them off the stage. I don’t know how they did it, but they did. They didn’t do it by introducing new material; I’d heard everything they played before, but that time they had more intensity somehow.

I saw some very good bands in the next couple of years, but nothing that really knocked me out, even though I got to see Muddy Waters at the college I was attending and Crazy Horse (minus Neil Young) in a venue in town. Crazy Horse was doing Young’s songs, as I recall, and they sounded very good, but I wasn’t amazed by them. I’d heard Muddy Waters’ name before, but didn’t understand his context at all. I enjoyed the concert well enough, but wasn’t thrown into the stratosphere by it.

I was, early in 1973, when I went to a concert to which I was invited by friends. I’m not sure I even knew who was playing.

The opening act was a black guitarist playing electric guitar solo for about 15 minutes or so. He played very well, but I’d never heard of him before, and don’t think I heard of him again. Too bad.

Next was the Mahavishnu Orchestra, whom I don’t think I’d heard of before, much less where the musicians had come from, and they were nothing short of amazing. John McLaughlin was the guitarist, and played a double-neck guitar, which I’d never heard of before, much less seen. I found out later he’d played with Miles Davis on Bitches Brew, perhaps Davis’ most famous album. The violin player, Steve Goodman (I think) had played with the Flock, whom I’d never heard. There was a very good bass player, Jan Hammer the keyboard player who subsequently performed the theme music for Miami Vice, and Billy Cobham, who was the fastest drummer I’d seen. I thought they played like they could play anything in the world.

Then came Frank Zappa and his band, which was large and VERY well rehearsed. I’d listened to his early Mothers of Invention albums, but hadn’t kept up with what he’d been doing since, and I was even MORE amazed. I didn’t expect to hear two bands playing on such a high level in the same concert, and I didn’t feel like I could comprehend it.

When I used to go to art museums I used to feel that I could absorb what I was seeing for maybe two hours, but after that it was no use trying. I felt the same about what Zappa’s band was doing, and my friends and I walked out of the concert early. I wish now I could have absorbed more, but I just didn’t feel able to. A real shame.

The next amazing concert I attended was by the Cleveland Orchestra in Akron, Ohio, where I was then living. I went to it because they were playing two of my favorite pieces: Ma Mere l’Oye by Ravel and Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, by Rachmaninoff. I immediately noticed the keyboard player, an attractive woman who was playing an instrument I wasn’t familiar with in the piece by Ravel, then was the pianist in the Rhapsody. Rachmaninoff didn’t write easy piano parts, as he was himself a piano virtuoso with very big hands, but the pianist was up to it, and I was very happy with the performance.

But it was a weeknight, and I had to work the next morning, so I began walking out as the next piece began. That was Shostakovich’s Fifth Symphony, which comes with a story.

Shostakovich had written an opera, Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk District, which got him into trouble with Josef Stalin. This was sometime in the 1930s when it was clear that trouble with Stalin could be fatal. But Shostakovitch knew what to do: he wrote a symphony and dedicated it to Stalin, which got him out of trouble. This was the first piece of Shostakovitch’s I’d heard, though I knew his name. And the early part of the first movement of the symphony sounded very strange in the concert hall, almost hallucinogenic, as if I was seeing distorted people, and I wish I had stayed for the rest of the symphony.

I’ve listened to recordings of the symphony since, but when listening recently realized I hadn’t ever gotten a real idea of its shape. I remembered it as having loud and raucous horns, which it does in some sections, but not a lot overall. There are as many strings as horns, and I remember the pianist playing in the first movement (unusual for a symphony) as the orchestra seemed to be trying to blow the hall apart. I didn’t have a similar experience again for some time, partly because I went to very few concerts.

I did go to a performance of Hummel’s Trumpet Concerto at Dartmouth College, in which the trumpet soloist was a student, and had very obviously not mastered his part. A more satisfying concert there was a performance of De Falla’s Nights in the Garden of Spain, another favorite of mine. But perhaps the dominant impression I got from that concert was the pomposity of the solo pianist, an older man whose name I don’t recall, if I ever knew it.

But the last amazing concert I attended was also at Dartmouth College, a performance by Sun Ra and his Arkestra. I worried at the beginning of it that I wouldn’t like the music; instead, I was again blown away, first by a saxophone solo early in the concert. I don’t recall the name of the soloist, but when I told a friend about it, I told him he seemed to be white, though he looked very weather-beaten. My friend corrected me, and said he was a red man (biracial). More than a decade later I was telling someone in a chatroom about it, and he said he’d fairly recently seen the band. I didn’t think that could be so, as Sun Ra had died six or seven years after I saw him, but apparently the band had stayed together after his death.

I’ve gone to occasional concerts since then which I’ve enjoyed, but have never experienced being thrown into another and more beautiful world again. I probably won’t experience that again in a concert context.


Beethoven

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I was about ten years old when I began paying attention to classical music. My parents (especially my mother) played classical music on the record player quite often. One night I began actually listening to the record playing in another room. It was Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto, I fell in love with it, and began listening to all the records we had.

From Tchaikovsky to Beethoven, Bach and Mozart (I didn’t particularly like them), Mendelssohn, Schubert, Brahms, Dvorak, Smetana, Debussy. And eventually others.

But Beethoven was one of my favorites. I loved the 5th and 6th symphonies–we didn’t have any of the others at the time–and the piano sonatas we had: the Moonlight, the Pathetique, and number 24. That’s all the Beethoven we had them, but when I could I began buying books and music, and am still expanding my collection.

It must have been a year or two later, at the house of my aunt and uncle that I first encountered Beethoven’s Ninth symphony. I put it on, and almost immediately realized that this was something much different from what I’d heard before.

And two nights ago I came upon a documentary about the Ninth told from a variety of viewpoints.

From a Chinese composer working on a piece inspired by the Ninth, from Gregory Prokofiev (grandson of composer Sergei Prokofiev) also working on such a piece, from a musician born deaf (how one gets to be a musician when born deaf I have no idea), from two deaf people attending a performance in Barcelona, rehearsal of an orchestra at a music festival in Salzburg Austria, rehearsal of an orchestra in an obscure town in Japan which was where German POWs performed it and introduced it to the Japanese. Now it’s performed annually (maybe not this year) with a chorus of 10,000. Also an orchestra in Kinshasa, capital of the Republic of the Congo.

An awful lot of people are moved at least as deeply by it as I am.

Most probably know (but not necessarily) that Beethoven was stone deaf when he wrote the piece. He was nearing the end of his life and career, and many composers (and creative artists of all sorts) are no longer as good at the end of their careers as at the beginning. Beethoven went against that stereotype. He also wrote his Missa Solemnis and his late string quartets, which many believe to be among his greatest works.

The deaf pianist pointed out that at least Beethoven had had normal hearing at the beginning of his life, had become an extremely fine pianist, and had experience with composition. But he began to lose his hearing about age 28. It’s not hard to imagine the difficulty of deafness for a musician, and especially for a composer. But Beethoven didn’t begin writing his really great works until he was past thirty, having decided to continue composing despite his deafness.

Because of it he became increasingly isolated. He still had friends, but it was harder and harder for him to communicate with them. And he had very little money. About 1810 or 11 he had considered going to work for a nobleman (as Joseph Haydn had done), but was dissuaded by three noblemen who lived in Vienna and promised to subsidize him.

Alas, that never happened. One of the noblemen unexpectedly died, and Beethoven’s period was also that of Napoleon, –and the Napoleonic wars, an unstable time. He never got the subsidies he needed.

He also spent about six years writing almost nothing. During that time he became guardian of one of his nephews, which may have been a way of giving back for the gift of his tremendous talent. The period doesn’t seem to have otherwise have been very rewarding: he and his nephew didn’t get along well. Beethoven seems to have been a very difficult person.

He also yearned to be married, but probably could never have found a wife willing to live with him, even if he could have supported a wife. One biographer says he did find someone willing, but was too afraid to take the plunge and marry her. We know that his father abused him, trying to make him into another Mozart. Maybe this had something to do with his unwillingness to take that chance.

He began thinking about the symphony in 1818, but didn’t actually write it until 1823. It took time to arrange for a performance–it was canceled and rescheduled several times. But when performed, in 1824, Beethoven conducted, and it seems to have been an immediate hit. Beethoven’s friends had to turn him around, though, or he wouldn’t have known the whole audience was applauding.

This wasn’t his last work, though. He wrote his last five string quartets after that before becoming sick and dying in 1827. Many think these to have been some of his greatest works.

I listened to his Fifth Symphony recently, and found again that it doesn’t wear as well as some of his other works. It’s dramatic enough, but seems kind of disconnected to me. I don’t really care for his first four symphonies, either. I love the first movement of his Seventh, but the rest of it I’m less thrilled with. The Eighth is nice enough, but short. That leaves the Sixth, the Pastoral, which is my favorite, except for the Ninth. I like to listen to it every spring, but didn’t get around to it this year.

Beethoven is kind of an anomalous figure. Not as prolific as Haydn, Bach, or Mozart, but more emotionally accessible than they. He wasn’t a Romantic composer, though. He was still influenced by the Classical and Baroque periods, so he stands somewhere between. He tried almost every genre of classical music: a ballet, an opera, an oratorio. It wasn’t that he couldn’t write for voice, as witness the Ode to Joy that ends the Ninth symphony, as well as his opera and his Choral Fantasy. I think he also wrote songs, though one hardly hears about them.

But he was much more comfortable with piano, cello, and violin sonatas, as well as string quartets, though he never managed to write as many of them as either Mozart or Haydn, both prolific to a truly amazing level. Beethoven struggled with his compositions, and arguably wrote more profound music than the other two because of that.

His life was more dramatic because of that too. Few would have blamed him for not continuing composing because of deafness, but he did continue, and suffered from poverty and isolation because of that.

He might have been able to make more money if he’d been willing to write to order, but he never was. In his later career he was promised a large sum by a wealthy Englishman who wanted him to write a symphony in his earlier style. He denounced the man, and declared he would never write anything but what he was inspired to write.

Everyone was influenced by him, but also intimidated. Brahms took a long time, and made a couple of practice attempts with two Serenades before producing any symphonies. The practice seems to have been worth it, though, as most agree that his symphonies can stand comparison with Beethoven. Not that there were no symphonies worth hearing between Brahms and Beethoven, but there were very few. And few if any with the kind of immense talent that could produce such a symphony as the Ninth.

As it was, at least according to some, Beethoven spent his last years writing profound music almost without exception. Something few others could ever do. And he was able to write an ode to joy even though his life wasn’t (at least not obviously) very joyful. He wished for company in the high reaches of the spirit, and it seems unlikely he ever found it.

But he left the evidence of his search to inspire others two hundred years later.

Separate Worlds

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Some years ago I read an autobiography by the wife of Nikolai Bukharin, one of the Old Bolsheviks who had joined the party before the revolution of 1917 in Russia, had taken part in it, and then risen to prominence in the government. He eventually  became one of the victims of Josef Stalin, who purged many of the oldest members of the Russian Communist party in the 1930s.

Anna Larina was Bukharin’s  wife, much younger than he was, and married to him not many years before he was purged. After that, she was sent into the Gulag for some years. Early in her stay there she was mistreated by another woman prisoner, and didn’t at first know why. It later emerged that the woman hated her because she was a Communist. Anna Larina was amazed because the woman was the first person she had ever met who WASN’T a Communist. By the 1930s members of the Communist party had become privileged people in the USSR, isolated from ordinary people.

A parallel situation has developed in the United States, according to an article I read recently that detailed how wealthy people get preferential treatment in, particularly, flying, amusement parks, and baseball stadiums.

When flying, one can travel much more comfortably if one can pay for one of the more expensive class seats in the plane. If one can’t, one’s seat will probably be less comfortable, and one will probably have to pay extra to carry on any luggage, as well as for other services. Paying one large fare can bypass all those inconveniences.

Similarly, in amusement parks, if you can afford it, you can pay one large fee, and bypass long lines that less wealthy people have to wait in.

In baseball stadiums, only wealthy people can sit in the most desirable seats along the first and third baselines. Or in the luxury boxes that are prominent features of new ballparks, where one can get fancy meals and drinks. Once upon a time only hot dogs, peanuts, and beer were served in ballparks. People my age interested in baseball can remember when the stadiums were pretty grimy with old ground-in dirt, but were within the reach of ordinary fans, some of whom would attend games several times a week. Those days are over.

The above arrangements are very profitable for the airlines, amusement parks, and baseball stadiums. The comparison that leaped to my mind was with the US Congress, whose members generally prefer to serve the wealthy individuals and corporations who can afford to pay them in the style to which they’ve become accustomed.

Of course these examples are only the most recent of how wealthy people can acquire things others can’t. Wealthy people have always been able to pay for goods and services inaccessible to others. At one time college was available almost exclusively to wealthy people’s children, especially the elite colleges of the eastern half of the country.  It wasn’t until the GI bill that college became possible to a wide range of American citizens, many of whom then became able to get good jobs in the expanding economy and became part of the largest expansion of the middle class in this country’s history. College seems to have become, again, something only the wealthy can readily afford.

That doesn’t count the luxuries wealthy people can enjoy that others can’t, like fancy houses and cars, membership in country clubs, yachts, and other symbols of ostentation.

Lucky for me I’ve never been interested in those kinds of possessions. My car is a nice one, but not a status symbol like a Cadillac or Rolls Royce. I’ve never been interested in country club membership either. It’s been about 35 years since I attended a Major League baseball game, 19 since I flew anywhere, and I haven’t been interested in amusement parks since I was in my teens. I attended college and got an Associate Degree. My luxuries were books and music. That was enough f

But the luxuries wealthy people can command come at a price. Like the Communists in the USSR, wealthy people in the United States live in what seems like a whole parallel universe. They don’t have to struggle to survive financially the way others do, for instance. But are they happy?

Some phenomena suggest they are not. If the American Dream was something real and valid, why were business people so afraid of their employees in particular and Communism in general? Wealthy people seem to be terribly afraid that someone will take their wealth away.

Do poor people have a similar fear, or is their fear simply that they won’t be able to survive? That seems like a more valid fear to me.

The article I read stated that 2 in 5 Americans would be unable to raise $400 in an emergency. If true, that’s an attention-catching statistic because 2 in 5 Americans are an awful lot of people, and because $400 really isn’t that much money. Does America really have that acute an imbalance of wealth? That means that wealthy people are in danger of deciding (if they haven’t already) that they have no interests in common with poorer people, especially if those people are ethnic or religious minorities. Abraham Lincoln pointed out that a house divided against itself cannot stand. I suspect there are people calculating the possible profits to be made if our national house doesn’t continue to stand.

Some will automatically assume such people are Marxist revolutionaries. I think it’s a lot less simple than that. Yes, Marxism has sometimes been a temptation for poor people who believe they haven’t been treated fairly, but there are also wealthy people who believe they would have an advantage if this country ceased to be a democracy and if poor people had no possible avenue to redress their grievances. They might be able to achieve such a state of affairs without resorting to overt violence, but one might suspect they wouldn’t be shy about using violence if they thought it more practical.

A government dedicated to serving only the wealthy might assuage their fears–for a little while. And perhaps that’s essentially what we have, considering the country supposedly dedicated to liberty imprisons more people than any other country on earth, or in history, including such libertarian countries as Communist Russia and China. That’s another statistic worth considering.

Wealthy people like having servants, if not slaves, but they can never count on them to be absolutely loyal–unless they’re willing to serve the interests of the less well off as well as their own.

That seems to be an idea difficult to absorb. The familiar tactics of propaganda and repression seem easier to employ than implementing a system in which everybody (or almost) can find a job that will support them and their families.

Wealthy people feel little responsibility to provide jobs, unless it serves their purposes. In recent decades it has better served them, from their point of view, to export manufacturing jobs to Mexico and China, among other places, because that was a way to cut the expense of employment as well as that of complying with environmental regulations.

No doubt this approach is more profitable in the short run. In the long run throwing large numbers of ordinary Americans out of jobs they are unlikely to find the equivalent of is expensive, but not to the companies who leave them behind. Those companies manage to avoid taxes and other penalties for their behavior, so they have no motivation to correct it. That a great many American citizens are impoverished, and that this doesn’t have a positive effect on the economy seems either not to occur to them, or not to worry them.

This helps to entrench a segregated society, segregated not only on the basis of race, but on the basis of class, ethnicity, and religion as well. This segregation applies not only to flying, attending baseball games, or visiting amusement parks, which may be beyond the reach of most, but to where people are able to live and go to school, too.

Since there are now black millionaires among professional athletes and musicians, which used not to be true, it probably isn’t only whites who live in gated communities anymore. Which would be no problem if the rest of society had adequate places to live, but there is also less adequate housing than there used to be and, at least in California, an unwillingness to build any close to their wealthier counterparts.

This is another way in which wealthier people are convinced they have something to lose from contact with the less wealthy, who in fact make up more of the population of the country than they. It’s a system that builds resentment between different social classes, probably exacerbated because many of the less wealthy are of different ethnicity and religion than the whites who still retain majority status in this country, but seem to be losing it. Many whites seem to be convinced that the people of darker skin who will eventually be a majority in the country will mistreat them. Why should this be the case?

Because whites have mistreated the dark-skinned people, many of whom profess different religions? If so, the solution would simply be to begin treating them better. It seems to me that the economy works better when everybody’s got some, as was much closer to being the case in the 1950s.

But the last 40 years has seen such innovations as leveraged buyouts, which saddled the companies bought out with debt which often sent them into bankruptcy and destroyed sources of jobs for ordinary people; the relocation of factories overseas where owners didn’t have to pay employees as much; and downsizing, in which companies fired long-term employees and hired younger ones they didn’t have to pay as much.

We’ve also seen the reinstatement of segregation based on race as well as class, signified by increased difficulty in some states for people (especially minorities) to get valid IDs or have polling places they can get to conveniently. It seems clear that for many powerful people democracy is a very inconvenient system. Which also means that the various classes in this country have few interests in common.

If that’s so, how much can patriotism be appealed to? If the American Dream still applied to most people, then most would also see this country as worth being loyal to. But if wealthy people don’t, why should poor people?

Maybe they still do. But will that last?

In historical cycles one thing leads to another. If the wealthy (or anyone else) become too oppressive, that can lead to revolution. When enough people decide they have nothing to lose, look out. And the pandemic could be just the thing to light the fuse. It’s nice that the government paid people extra unemployment–for awhile–and gave most adults $1200–once. But $1200 doesn’t go very far (less than a month’s rent in many places) and many of the jobs the pandemic has wiped out aren’t coming back soon. What will the people affected by them do?

By contrast, it’s the wealthy corporations the government is spending money on, just like in the last recession a dozen years ago. CNN has a long list of banks being bailed out. Some are large and famous. Others are less famous, and may be small, but there are a LOT of them. And the BIG companies have the option of using their money to buy back their own stock. One article tells me they are unlikely to invest in anything substantial unless they believe the economy is going to expand.

Do you want the economy to expand? Then how about bailing out ordinary individuals who have lost their jobs and are on their way to losing their apartments and homes, if they haven’t already? One thing we can be sure of is that they’ll spend any money they get because they HAVE to. Not just on rent and mortgages, but on food, gasoline, and healthcare–especially those with Covid in the family, and who may not have health insurance. Corporations prefer to save money by paying workers (especially manual laborers and retail workers) as little as possible. I think that’s short-sighted. Paying workers more would stimulate the economy, wouldn’t it? When people are not only able to pay their bills but pay for luxuries, doesn’t everyone benefit? Or is there something I’m missing, like some deeper reason (or ulterior motive) for not paying people well?

Big companies, though, don’t especially like this idea. The meat-packing industry, for instance, employs a lot of minority workers because (even when the work is fairly well-paid) the jobs are fast-paced and hard, and workers are prone to injuries. Now they’re prone to Covid 19 infection too, since they work in crowded conditions, and because the companies have been reluctant to either provide hand sanitizers, places where workers can wash their hands in warm water instead of cold, soap, and social distancing. They also have been reluctant to shut plants down when their workers get ill, and meat-packing facilities have become epicenters for the virus. Workers feel pressured to keep working, even if they’re sick, because many are undocumented. Why do you suppose that is?

That is because corporations can pay them less than other workers, and now they’re in the interesting position of not being supposed to work in this country, but not being allowed to stop if they or their families get sick. They’re “essential” workers, but are being punished instead of rewarded for that. Is that true of the CEOs and administrators? Their likelihood of exposure is minimal, and they’re not being asked to sacrifice anything of importance to them. Ordinary workers are regarded as unimportant–until they demand that their health be respected.

Is this the economic system that’s supposed to be better than Communism? How, exactly? Both have claimed to be better for ordinary workers at one time or another, but neither have kept their promises. Communism got rid of one elite, but merely traded it for another. Capitalism provided new members to the elite, but didn’t necessarily get rid of the old ones. And people outside the elite are increasingly out of luck. People my age may be relatively well off now, but it’s an open question how long that will last between the pandemic and the trend towards inequality increasing.

Many are willing to do almost anything to be be part of the group able to live comfortably, and a significant number of such people are afraid of immigrants as a symbol of some terrifying force that wants to take things away from them. Considering that we’re a country of immigrants, this seems a very uncharitable position to take. Many of our ancestors were poor, and some were criminals, but arguably the majority helped make the country great. Of course there have been waves of paranoia about immigrants from Ireland, Italy, eastern Europe, China, Japan, Southeast Asia, Africa, and elsewhere, but none of these have destroyed the country as some predict current immigrants will do. The one group that DID destroy what was here before them was our Anglo-Saxon ancestors. Are we having a belated fit of guilt?

There can never be perfect equality, and nobody seriously promises it. People are unequally endowed physically, intellectually, and monetarily, to begin with, and not all have the determination it takes to succeed, let alone become wealthy. Does that mean that people should be scorned for lack of wealth? Or does it make better sense to make sure they have as equal an opportunity as possible?

That would mean education that didn’t depend on funding based on where you live. It would also mean a living wage. If it’s true that the welfare of the country depends on strong families, one thing policy makers can do is ensure that workers get paid enough so they don’t have to work more than one job to make ends meet. If parents are unable to spend time with children, how will children grow up? Neglect is a form of abuse, and making neglect impossible to avert could be seen as unpatriotic, if you look at it right. Just as exporting jobs could be.

So it all seems to come down to patriotism. Is it patriotic to maximize your profits by screwing everybody in sight? I don’t think that’s a necessary corollary to capitalism, but it’s a frequent one.

The price of insulin is a good example. One source says that a month’s supply of Eli Lilly Humalog insulin cost $21 in 1996. In 2001 it cost $35. In 2019 it was said to cost about $275. Another source said that one study estimated that a year’s supply of insulin COULD cost between about $50 and $150, but now costs in excess of $1200. This is particularly ironic since the discoverers of insulin sold their rights to it for about a dollar apiece so that it could be available to those who needed it. One wonders why THAT much of a profit margin is so urgent.

Apparently it’s important to some to make sure lower classes don’t get too uppity. Poverty can ensure that, but that aim conflicts with the aim of conditioning everyone to believe that happiness is a result of buying things. Many of us do believe that, and poorer people not least. That’s another irritation, in conjunction with others, which could cause some to decide they have nothing to lose. If capitalists want to make Communism (or its equivalent) powerful again, I think depriving large numbers of people of the opportunity to buy tempting products may contribute to just that.

There have always been people who believed that segregation was natural, that people only wanted to socialize with their own kind, and that any intercourse between races and classes (especially sexual) was unnatural if not downright immoral.

That seems like an anti-democratic sentiment. If different classes of people live separately, how will they ever find common interests which will encourage them to support the same causes and be patriotic?

Black and Japanese soldiers fought in World War II. Japanese in spite of the Japanese community having been locked up and their property taken away. Blacks in spite of the bad behavior their community had suffered for centuries. When blacks in particular came home from the war and found they were being punished for their patriotism by being murdered (or otherwise mistreated) for expecting to be treated with dignity and respect, that helped stimulate the Civil Rights movement which frightened many whites considerably. J. Edgar Hoover believed that blacks would be tempted by Communism. Why did he think this would be so?

That example doesn’t prevent whites from mistreating blacks in numerous ways now. The present pandemic kills more people of color than it does whites. The reason is that few people of color are able to work from home. Most have to perform manual labor and live in slums. Congress (the Senate, at least) seems uninterested in providing further unemployment benefits, apparently believing that the inability of poor people to pay their bills (including mortgages) won’t have any negative effect on the economy. Who do they believe will benefit from people going bankrupt and/or becoming homeless? The wealthy individuals and corporations being bailed out aren’t afflicted with those problems.

There are at least two different worlds in this country, and probably many more. The big two are the rich and the poor, but these are further subdivided by people of different religious and political beliefs, different ethnic backgrounds, different educational backgrounds, and others. I think the wealthy, who seem to believe that what’s good for them is good for everyone else, ought to take a longer and wider view.

The bedrock of this country’s past has been community just as much as family. As families are destroyed through being unable to support themselves, so are the communities they were once part of. The population has swung from the country to the cities, and large parts of both are less and less able to live healthily.

I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say our country is no longer able to live healthily.