Sickening Doubts About Value of Publicity by H.L. Mencken

This is the second in a series of essays by H.L. Mencken written during the Scopes Monkey Trials that pitted Christian fundamentalists against Darwin's scientific Theory of Evolution. For all his prejudices (of which he had many), his trenchant observations retain vitality and relevancy today.   

This is the link to the first essay, "Homo Neanderthalis". 

Sickening Doubts About Value of Publicity

The Baltimore Evening Sun, July 9, 1925

Dayton, Tenn., July 9. -- On the eve of the great contest Dayton is full of sickening surges and tremors of doubt. Five or six weeks ago, when the infidel Scopes was first laid by the heels, there was no uncertainty in all this smiling valley. The town boomers leaped to the assault as one man. Here was an unexampled, almost a miraculous chance to get Dayton upon the front pages, to make it talked about, to put it upon the map. But how now?

Today, with the curtain barely rung up and the worst buffooneries to come, it is obvious to even town boomers that getting upon the map, like patriotism, is not enough. The getting there must be managed discreetly, adroitly, with careful regard to psychological niceties. The boomers of Dayton, alas, had no skill at such things, and the experts they called in were all quacks. The result now turns the communal liver to water. Two months ago the town was obscure and happy. Today it is a universal joke.

I have been attending the permanent town meeting that goes on in Robinson's drug store, trying to find out what the town optimists have saved from the wreck. All I can find is a sort of mystical confidence that God will somehow come to the rescue to reward His old and faithful partisans as they deserve -- that good will flow eventually out of what now seems to be heavily evil. More specifically, it is believed that settlers will be attracted to the town as to some refuge from the atheism of the great urban Sodoms and Gomorrahs.

But will these refugees bring any money with them? Will they buy lots and build houses, Will they light the fires of the cold and silent blast furnace down the railroad tracks? On these points, I regret to report, optimism has to call in theology to aid it. Prayer can accomplish a lot. It can cure diabetes, find lost pocketbooks and restrain husbands from beating their wives. But is prayer made any more efficacious by giving a circus first? Coming to this thought, Dayton begins to sweat.

The town, I confess, greatly surprised me. I expected to find a squalid Southern village, with darkies snoozing on the horse-blocks, pigs rooting under the houses and the inhabitants full of hookworm and malaria. What I found was a country town full of charm and even beauty -- a somewhat smallish but nevertheless very attractive Westminster or Balair.

The houses are surrounded by pretty gardens, with cool green lawns and stately trees. The two chief streets are paved from curb to curb. The stores carry good stocks and have a metropolitan air, especially the drug, book, magazine, sporting goods and soda-water emporium of the estimable Robinson. A few of the town ancients still affect galluses and string ties, but the younger bucks are very nattily turned out. Scopes himself, even in his shirt sleeves, would fit into any college campus in America save that of Harvard alone.

Nor is there any evidence in the town of that poisonous spirit which usually shows itself when Christian men gather to defend the great doctrine of their faith. I have heard absolutely no whisper that Scopes is in the pay of the Jesuits, or that the whisky trust is backing him, or that he is egged on by the Jews who manufacture lascivious moving pictures. On the contrary, the Evolutionists and the Anti-Evolutionists seem to be on the best of terms, and it is hard in a group to distinguish one from another.

The basic issues of the case, indeed, seem to be very little discussed at Dayton. What interests everyone is its mere strategy. By what device, precisely, will Bryan trim old Clarence Darrow? Will he do it gently and with every delicacy of forensics, or will he wade in on high gear and make a swift butchery of it? For no one here seems to doubt that Bryan will win -- that is, if the bout goes to a finish. What worries the town is the fear that some diabolical higher power will intervene on Darrow's side -- that is, before Bryan heaves him through the ropes.

The lack of Christian heat that I have mentioned is probably due in part to the fact that the fundamentalists are in overwhelming majority as far as the eye can reach -- according to most local statisticians, in a majority of at least nine-tenths. There are, in fact, only two downright infidels in all Rhea county, and one of them is charitably assumed to be a bit balmy. The other, a yokel roosting far back in the hills, is probably simply a poet got into the wrong pew. The town account of him is to the effect that he professes to regard death as a beautiful adventure.

When the local ecclesiastics begin alarming the peasantry with word pictures of the last sad scene, and sulphurous fumes begin to choke even Unitarians, this skeptical rustic comes forward with his argument that it is foolish to be afraid of what one knows so little about -- that, after all, there is no more genuine evidence that anyone will ever go to hell than there is that the Volstead act will ever be enforced.

Such blasphemous ideas naturally cause talk in a Baptist community, but both of the infidels are unmolested. Rhea county, in fact, is proud of its tolerance, and apparently with good reason. The klan has never got a foothold here, though it rages everywhere else in Tennessee. When the first kleagles came in they got the cold shoulder, and pretty soon they gave up the county as hopeless. It is run today not by anonymous daredevils in white nightshirts, but by well-heeled Free-masons in decorous white aprons. In Dayton alone there are sixty thirty-second-degree Masons -- an immense quota for so small a town. They believe in keeping the peace, and so even the stray Catholics of the town are treated politely, though everyone naturally regrets they are required to report to the Pope once a week.

It is probably this unusual tolerance, and not any extraordinary passion for the integrity of Genesis, that has made Dayton the scene of a celebrated case, and got its name upon the front pages, and caused its forward-looking men to begin to wonder uneasily if all advertising is really good advertising. The trial of Scopes is possible here simply because it can be carried on here without heat -- because no one will lose any sleep even if the devil comes to the aid of Darrow and Malone, and Bryan gets a mauling. The local intelligentsia venerate Bryan as a Christian, but it was not as a Christian that they called him in, but as one adept at attracting the newspaper boys -- in brief, as a showman. As I have said, they now begin to mistrust the show, but they still believe that he will make a good one, win or lose.

Elsewhere, North or South, the combat would become bitter. Here it retains the lofty qualities of the duello. I gather the notion, indeed, that the gentlemen who are most active in promoting it are precisely the most lacking in hot conviction -- that it is, in its local aspects, rather a joust between neutrals than a battle between passionate believers. Is it a mere coincidence that the town clergy have been very carefully kept out of it? There are several Baptist brothers here of such powerful gifts that when they begin belaboring sinners the very rats of the alleys flee to the hills. They preach dreadfully. But they are not heard from today. By some process to me unknown they have been induced to shut up -- a far harder business, I venture, than knocking out a lion with a sandbag. But the sixty thirty-second degree Masons of Dayton have somehow achieved it.

Thus the battle joins and the good red sun shines down. Dayton lies in a fat and luxuriant valley. The bottoms are green with corn, pumpkins and young orchards and the hills are full of reliable moonshiners, all save one of them Christian men. We are not in the South here, but hanging on to the North. Very little cotton is grown in the valley. The people in politics are Republicans and put Coolidge next to Lincoln and John Wesley. The fences are in good repair. The roads are smooth and hard. The scene is set for a high-toned and even somewhat swagger combat. When it is over all the participants save Bryan will shake hands.

Denouement

 

Harold Levine

January 10, 2021

  · 

Shared with Public

As we approach the denouement, and Trump leaves the White House for the last time,* I recall several core beliefs that sustained me these past 4 years. Among them:

1. Peace loving people of good will outnumber those of evil intent.

2. The Federal Judiciary can be trusted to uphold the law. (Bingo).

3. The self-destructive man will always fulfill the design of his own nature.

4. When the pressure reaches its zenith, every coward quits.

5. Trump is a self-destructive coward who will never complete his term of office. (You read it here first!)

6. If we can't find comedy in the midst of tragedy, we haven't got a prayer. (That’s science.)

* Update: The Trumps left the White House 10 days later. To date, they have not been invited back. HL 12.26.22

On the murder of Jamal Khashoggi

October 18, 2018

I am not naïve. 

I understand there is a deep, enduring chasm between this nation’s founding principles of liberty and equality for all versus our collective history of genocide, racism and oppression. 

I have heard a lifetime of lies told by our government to conceal a myriad of sordid transgressions committed in the name of “freedom” and “national security”. 

Because I had always believed a clear majority of US shared a common striving for justice that would ultimately defeat tyranny, I suspended disbelief, adopting self-deception to believe the lie that our rulers cared for justice – if only when they could. 

Now, we confront the reality that a “treasured ally” has committed murder, the venality of which every moral being should recoil in horror. 

Jamal Khashoggi was assassinated by agents of the Saudi government on orders from Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman. 

Donald Trump, our presumed head of government, casually dismissed this atrocity in the name of corporate profiteering, ripping away any pretense that this nation stands for human rights and justice here or abroad. In this rejection of decency, he is joined by a corrupt and complicit political party, and a wide swath of a cynical, crude, stupid, vulgar and violent populace. 

There is no longer any illusion. As the lamp of justice dims, we stand exposed for what we are; purveyors of global warfare, division, and strife, that subjugates and oppresses millions, sacrificed to the pursuit of greater corporate wealth and the consolidation of power within a ruling class that despises US all. 

Between the reality and the promise falls the shadow. Within the darkness of that shadow there are no noble verities. There is only a lie agreed upon. For my country, I am profoundly heartbroken.

DONALD TRUMP'S TOILET SOLILOQUY

GREATEST MOMENTS IN PRESIDENTIAL ORATORY PROUDLY PRESENTS

DECEMBER 6, 2019

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oFhUqUTfljY

PEOPLE ARE FLUSHING TOILETS 10 TIMES, 15 TIMES

by DONALD J. TRUMP

Oscar Brown, Jr. sang with a true voice

Oscar Brown, Jr.,(1926-1995), was a political activist, musician, and writer who spoke directly and openly of the black experience in America in the 1960's.

His 1960 debut recording, "Sin & Soul" is a masterwork in which he contributed lyrics to Herbie Hancock's "Watermelon Man", Mongo Santamaria's heartbreakingly lovely "Afro-Blue", and Nat Adderley's "Work Song" performed by many.

He also wrote a song titled "The Snake" which was a minor hit for singer Al Wilson. Coincidentally, or not, given his penchant for projection, Donald Trump, frequently recited the lyrics to The Snake with the closing refrain at his rallies, "You knew I was a snake before you let me in".

Brown's daughters objected to the use of their father's song by the Trump campaign and asked him to stop using it. Trump refused. That's one more reason why he is The Snake.

Following the 1960 release of Sin and Soul, Brown remained active in the struggle for equal rights even as his recording career went into eclipse when Columbia records withdrew their promotional support for his records - no doubt due to the controversial content of his songs.

Below are examples of why Oscar Brown, Jr., still matters, beginning with his recreation of a slave market in, "Bid 'Em In."

"Afro-Blue" was an instrumental composition by Mongo Santamaria best known for John Coltrane's rendition. The lyrics are from the heart of Oscar Brown, Jr.

Dat Dere was an instrumental composed by pianist Bobby Timmons. Oscar Brown's lyrics speak to the minds and hearts of wondering children the world over.

"The Work Song" was inspired by those who had a deep concern for time.

One leaf at a time

One year ago, as he prepared to graduate from college, my son, Jack the Younger, (also known as "That Guy" not to be confused with "The Other One", AJ the Elder), sat me down for a chat to discuss his career plans.  

Derek Chauvin on Trial

I regret the social myopia that leads us to assign our own apocalyptic nightmares to the outcome of the Derek Chauvin trial. Trial courts are where Constitutional rights of both the accused and state are redeemed. But each trial is self-contained and unique unto itself. Courtrooms are not referendums on social policy or racial injustice. Verdicts are nothing more (or less), than a particular jury’s response to a limited set of facts when measured against the relevant law.

A guilty verdict for Chauvin may satisfy our appetite for immediate vengeance, but the battle for equal rights does not end if, and when, one rogue cop is removed from civil society. There will be many more trial verdicts. Some will seem just. Others, not. When the shouting over the Chauvin verdict is over and those who feel the need to fill the streets have all gone home, the work to insure equal justice will remain.

We are not at an end in the struggle for equal rights; we are at the beginning.

April 20, 2020

"It's about Character." - Caroline Kennedy on Joe Biden

Whether Joe Biden is a man for the times or a man out of time, when his role ends and he bows and leaves the stage, he will be remembered for a life of compassion, kindness, family devotion, and the humility born of soul crushing pain. In a word, decency. For that, he has earned something no lesser man can take from him: True Friends. - HL

This is Caroline Kennedy's endorsement of Joe Biden for President from The Boston Globe. Travel Safely, Joe.

On the passing of the last lion

ON THE PASSING OF THE LAST LION BY JOHN McCCAIN.  

Ted Kennedy was my Senator for 37 of the 47 years he served in the Senate. He never had to ask for my vote. His life was haunted by tragedy including that for which some will never forgive, but in his many years of public service there was nobility, honor and finally, redemption.

This is the text of United States Senator John S. McCain's eulogy on the passing of United States Senator Edward M. Kennedy on this same 28TH DAY OF AUGUST, 2009. Take them both for all and all, they were men and we shall never look upon their like again.

"I was last in this wonderful library ten years ago, when Russ Feingold and I were honored to receive the Profile in Courage award. Ted was very gracious to my family on that occasion. It was my son, Jimmy’s, 11th birthday, and Ted went out of his way to make sure it was celebrated enthusiastically. He arranged a ride for us on a Coast Guard cutter and two birthday cakes, and led a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday, with that booming baritone of his drowning out all other voices, as it often did on the Senate floor.

"He was good company, my friend, Ted. He had the Irish talent for storytelling and for friendship. At the lunch he hosted for us, in the family quarters on the top floor of the library, he recalled an earlier episode in our friendship, a story he delighted in retelling. It occurred on the Senate floor, when two freshman senators, one a Democrat and the other a Republican, neither of whom would remain long in the Senate, were getting a little personal with each other as they debated an issue, which must have seemed important at the time, but which neither Ted nor I were paying any much notice to.

"We both happened to be on the floor at the time, and the heat of our colleagues’ exchange eventually managed to get our attention. You might think that two more senior members of the Senate would in such a situation counsel two junior members to observe the courtesies and comity, which, theoretically, are supposed to distinguish our debates. But Ted and I shared the sentiment that a fight not joined, was a fight not enjoyed. And irresistibly we were both drawn into a debate we had no particular interest in, but which suddenly looked like fun.
"I struck first, castigating the young Democratic Senator for abusing my Republican colleague. Before she could respond for herself, Ted rode valiantly to her rescue. And within minutes, he and I had forgotten why we were there, and what the debate was all about. We had probably even forgotten the names of our two colleagues. As one of us spoke, the other would circle the floor, agitated and anxious to fire back.

"After a while, we must have thought the distance between our desks too great for either of us to hear each other clearly or that the presence of the clerk transcribing our exchange had become too distracting. And as if we had both heard some secret signal, we set down our microphones simultaneously and walked briskly to the well of the floor, where we could continue in closer quarters, and in language perhaps too…familiar…to be recorded for posterity, which, regrettably was still audible enough to be overheard by a few reporters, who were now leaning over the railing of the press gallery trying to ascertain just what the hell was going on between McCain and Kennedy.

"After we both were satisfied we had sufficiently impressed upon each other the particulars of proper senatorial comportment, we ended our discussion, and returned to the business that had brought us to the chamber in the first place. And, I’m happy to report, we succeeded in discouraging our colleagues from continuing their intemperate argument. They both had deserted the chamber with, I was later told, for I did not notice their escape, rather puzzled if not frightened looks on their faces.

"When I next saw Ted, ambling down a Senate corridor, he was bellowing laughter, that infectious laugh of his that could wake the dead and cheer up the most beleaguered soul. He was good company. Excellent company. I think I’m going to miss him more than I can say.
"We disagreed on most issues. But I admired his passion for his convictions, his patience with the hard and sometimes dull work of legislating, and his uncanny sense for when differences could be bridged, and his cause advanced by degrees. He was a fierce advocate, and no senator would oppose him in debate without at least a little trepidation, often more than a little. We all listened to him, of course. He was hard to ignore.

"When we were agreed on an issue, and worked together to make a little progress for the country on an important issue, he was the best ally you could have. You never had even a small doubt that once his word was given and a course of action decided, he would honor the letter and spirit of the agreement. When we worked together on the immigration issue, we had a daily morning meeting with other interested senators. He and I would meet for a few minutes in advance, and decide between us which members of our respective caucuses needed a little special encouragement or on occasion a little straight talk. If a member tried to back out of a previous commitment, Ted made certain they understood the consequences of their action. It didn’t matter to him that the offender was a member of his own caucus. He was the most reliable, the most prepared, and the most persistent member of the Senate. He took the long view. He never gave up. And though on most issues I very much wished he would give up, he taught me to be a better senator.

"After Labor Day, I’ll go back to the Senate, and I’ll try to be as persistent as Ted was, and as passionate for the work. I know I’m privileged serve there. But I think most of my colleagues would agree, the place won’t be the same without him."
Permalink: https://www.mccain.senate.gov/…/post-70fa80b8-e62c-423e-dac…
August 25, 2018

The Devil You Say

Four years under the rule of The Usurping Serpent have seen US battered by: Hurricanes. Earthquakes. Floods. Fire. Dissension. Division. Treachery. Extortion. Bribery. Kidnapping. Hatred. Fear. Murder. Assassination. Riots. War. Facts denied. Truth destroyed. Cruelty and Criminality beyond measure. All in service of treacherous scoundrels and villains; shameless curs whose very existence defiles nature. If I believed in the Devil, I would swear that slithering Son of a Bitch was sent here to unleash the Plague.

HL 9/16