In 1963, Barry Goldwater, Arizona's senior senator, declared himself a candidate for the presidency. His campaign slogan was: In Your Heart You know He's Right. Aghast Liberals did not actually disagree, but in their hearts they knew he was wrong. Stockbridge, being a very liberal prep school, was just as convinced. The mere mention of Goldwater's name caused people to roll their eyes and make various articulations of disgust. Goldwater was that than which nothing more disparaging could be said.
After several weeks of this, I and a fellow classmate, Jerry Johnson, who haled from Darien, Connecticut, got disgusted in turn by what we called Lockstep Liberalism. Stockbridge prided itself on a culture of mature, informed, democratic discussion and deliberation in all things, from how to organize KP to civil rights and arms control. And yet, despite all that, Goldwater was a priori bad, with no further discussion required. Jerry and I decided to found a Students for Goldwater Club.
So, we posted an announcement on the large marble slab over the fireplace in the Main House, where the most important announcements were stuck up. We appended a manifesto singing his praises and explaining why Goldwater was the Best Choice for America. This actually took a bit of doing but it worked. If there was a hint or two of irony, it went unnoticed and people were convinced that we were genuine.
They were also aghast. Seriously aghast. If I recall, someone tore the announcement down and we had to put up a second. Then a protest was lodged with Hans, a refugee from Nazi Germany and the school's headmaster. Now, Hans certainly believed in “open discussion” but he also made clear that the school's adolescent democracy was “guided.” I don't recall if he initiated a closed discussion with us or if we complained to him about the announcement being taken down. In all events, we made clear that if the school itself were genuine about its principles there could be no objection to a Goldwater Club. We did not let on that it was a joke but the way we phrased it left Hans to conclude that what we really were about was testing the school's avowed democracy. He reluctantly agreed that we had a “right” to start the club and that others had a “responsibility” to lock horns on the merits.
In the days leading up to the date of the announced meeting, our fellow students either avoided Jerry and me or gave us scowly looks. A few berated us with remonstrances. How could anyone possibly support such an extremist and lunatic who was clearly beyond the Pale!
 |
| Jerry Johnson (at right) |
Jerry and I became quite adept at maintaining the appearance of sincere conviction. At least until at length, Robin Kerner, a girl who was a close friend, came up to me with very evident distress and asked me if I was really, really for Goldwater. Her eyes were begging for a certain answer. I could not bear to cause her such anguish and the cat was out of the bag.
Serenity and the assurance of liberal righteousness were restored to the little campus.
A couple of times, in later years, Jerry and I joked about the episode. We agreed that liberals were clueless. It was not that we disagreed with any of their objectives; it was rather that their objectives were choices made in a kind of disconnected fog. For the greater part, liberals were drawn from the upper middle or professional classes. They had their pet oppressed groups (Negroes, mostly) and their Guthrie-esque fantasies about workin folk, but were really clueless when it came to understanding the economic insecurities and emotional resentments of the lower classes. They wanted an “improved and better world” which somehow never compromised their own privileged status.
As for 1964... they ended up casting their votes firmly for Johnson and bought themselves a 10 year war. But most of them never served anyways.
No comments:
Post a Comment