Government Within Our Country

Our Korean professor made his point with utmost certainty:

“The United States of America is a republic; meaning the supreme power is in the hands of the people, and the elected officials said people elect to serve them.”

It was late 1953, or early 1954. The place was a school lecture hall on campus at the University of Seoul, Republic of South Korea, ROK.

PROFESSOR: “Our Korean Republic is modeled much like that of the United States. Because of the United States and the soldiers they have sent in order to help us fight for our freedom, this guarantees that one day our economy and our people will become the safest and most productive in the world.”

Today, more than ever before, I take great pride in the fact that I was one of the soldiers our Asian professor referred to on campus at the University of Seoul in South Korea, so very long ago. Studying Political Science taught by a Korean professor is perhaps best described as an experience of a lifetime. It sticks in my mind how the professor always made it a point to qualify his answers to any questions as either his personal opinion, or a fact that he deemed historically correct.

“When free people struggle to maintain their freedoms, frequent change may reveal itself as the key ingredient for their success. People who find themselves with lasting, prevailing powers, will most likely succumb to the corruption that adjoins their positions of authority. Of great commonality amongst the dictatorial leader is their inability to serve the people as opposed to themselves.”

Note: The South Koreans, on their continual march towards a successful economy as well as a secure freedom for all society, have had many changes in their government since those early days of the 1950’s. Make no mistake, they have had their share of corrupt politicians. They acknowledge that it goes with the territory, a fact of life we Americans have trouble admitting to be it a Democrat or Republican culprit.

At the time, the real significance of what our professor would ultimately impart bordered on the abstract. As time rapidly evaporated during my years on this planet, so did my previous notions of what was or wasn’t an abstraction. While the class being taught was labeled “Political Science,” in actuality, it might have rightfully been titled “World History.”

***

Historical Question: Aside from being dictators, what did Hitler, Mussolini, and Stalin have in common?

Answer:

• All three were socialists.

• All three were progressives.

• All three were opposed to Judeo Christian beliefs.

• All three came into power at a time when the economy of their respective countries was in the doldrums.

• Hitler and his criminal gang hated the rich, the capitalists, the Jews, the Christian Churches, and “ The System.”

• The three gained power through their purposeful support of the unions.

• The association between unions and Leftism is of course historic; Hitler made great efforts to enlist unions as supporters of his party.

• In Chapter 12 of Mein Kampf, Hitler goes to great lengths to stress the importance of unions.

Three separate countries, three separate dictatorships, all shared the same and similar beliefs of the Nazi Party. Praise for strong bodies and strong peoples, developing as a force to rid the world of anything short of Aryan superiority – including the Jews, the mentally ill, the gays, the blacks, and those who bore any code of difference to the rise of the Third Reich. Their credo, “They must be eradicated.”

It’s all there in the history books. Our Greatest Generation stood up behind our red, white, and blue with a common cause. “Not on our watch,” was the verbal hymn of the American masses.

        

Where are they all off to? A little boy of eight wondered.

They’re on their way to enlist in the Army, he was told.

Over night, the neighborhoods’ young men disappeared. It became a city of the old, the impaired, the very young, and the women. Fully, half of the Greatest Generation was away at war.

And across the pond there arose…

Perhaps the most substantive voice of the ages, Sir Winston Churchill fought for and won the right to lead his country, and perhaps the world, towards ultimate victory. The man who would rally England and the world was also renowned for his reflections. Winston Churchill understood and studied history and was able to bring it forward to the present as no other man before him. He believed no real leader would ever step back from the truth of the past, for the past carries with it the dictation of our future.

It may be that the most glorious chapters of our history have yet to be written. Indeed, the very problems and dangers that encompass our country and us ought to make English men and women of this generation glad to be here at such a time. We ought to rejoice at the responsibilities with which destiny has honored us, and be proud that we are guardians of our country in an age when her life is at stake.

-- Winston Spencer Churchill, April 1933

Sir Winston Churchill with FDR

The world around him was a crumbling mess. The folks at his side had witnessed the deceit perpetrated by men who only claimed to be leaders – those who ignored the truth that history foretold – men who succumbed to the false promises of the world’s dictators, hoping against hope for these despots to have their quests satiated.

Churchill warned that a step backwards was a country lost. And, as the bombs rained down on his country’s villages and cities, Winston Churchill walked those city streets, bolstering the spirits of his countrymen. 

“ASK WINNIE” - AN HISTORICAL ADVENTURE

What if Sir Winston Churchill was miraculously alive today? What if we could turn to him? What if we could ask him to draw comparisons of his past to our present and delve well into his thoughts of our future as Americans? What would one of the greatest statesmen of all time have to offer us? What would he say to bolster our spirits?

As a matter of fact, it was just yesterday that I last conversed with Sir Winston. He was with me up at “da villa on da hilla,” as we kicked back with our splendid glasses of thirty-year-old single malt scotch. Since Lady Catherine was not present, I allowed Winnie (he loves when I call him Winnie) to smoke his Cuban cigar as we chatted.

Winnie: Too bad your John Wayne isn’t around to help out.

How so?

Winnie: He was one of us, you know. A real first-class spirited fighter… especially when he got together with his friend Ward Bond.

You knew him?

Winnie: Indeed, we were personal friends and, of course, he was one of us politically. When I came to beg FDR for help, he was one of my biggest Hollywood supporters – him and Jimmy Stewart.

I thought FDR was a big help to England during the war?

Winnie: Not in the beginning. We literally emptied our treasury paying you Yank’s for everything we needed. Even the French emptied their gold storage into the USA. In case you weren’t aware da harv, the United States was in a deep depression at the time. Overnight, the French and us brought you out of it by buying war machine necessities.

All this time I thought we were the ones who offered you the help.

Winnie: Not so. We had to beg. And it’s a sad thing to report, most of our diplomats despised being sent to work at any of the American embassies. Not that we were such nice gentlemen. As another matter of fact, I didn’t care for most of my emissaries either. Almost all of them were lords. Kind of like your Obama – out of touch with the common man. He must one day learn that an enemy’s bombs fall on one and all. 

Were there any Americans that you happened to really like at the time, other than John Wayne and Jimmy Stewart?

Winnie: Yes, without a doubt, Roosevelt’s emissary to Britain at the time, Harry Hopkins, was not only my favorite but also the man who captured the hearts of every Brit he came in contact with. Harry’s official title was Secretary of Commerce. A little known fact was that Harry actually lived at the White House for a prolonged period of time.

 

Sir Winston Churchill says farewell to Mr. Harry Hopkins after meeting about Britain's needs for the war. January 26, 1941.

So you would say he was of value to you?

Winnie: Without Harry Hopkins, there was a good chance I might not have been able to charm the proverbial pants off FDR.

Sounds like you weren’t exactly in love with our then president.

Winnie: Let’s just say your press was more than fair to him. Mr. Roosevelt wasn’t exactly forthcoming about many things.

And speaking of journalism and politicians being forthcoming, or as we put it today, being transparent, how would you handle our current lack of political transparency?

Winnie: Well it is quite a bit different than what we had to deal with in my time. While you have worldwide instant communications, including people taking movies of everything as it is happening, we had nothing of the sort. I remember when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, the Japanese Imperial Armies were taking over the Philippines, and our allied losses were staggering, we silenced the Press reporting to our people – yours and mine – by merely asking them to be silent about the bad news for fear that the public couldn’t handle it.

Your Federal Bureau of Investigation was established to protect the populous. There was little worry about foreign terrorists flying into our buildings. The CIA had not yet been established. There was no cause for the President to attend press conferences because such a thing was not in existence. In our time, a radio address by a head of state was a major accomplishment. FDR was known for his fireside chats with the American public.

I get what you’re saying, but that still doesn’t help me understand our current problems.

Winnie: When we had a scandal, we got to the bottom of it and removed the culprit as expeditiously as possible. It was much easier for us than it is for you. For whatever the reasons may be, your politicians have many more opportunities to color the truth than ours had.  We were busy fighting a war, not spying on our own people. The Chancellor of the Exchequer protects the financial welfare of the British people. It appears your Internal Revenue Service has gone far askew from the original intent of your Congress. The most powerful elected office in our kingdom is that of the Prime Minister – second in line is The Chancellor of the Exchequer who, in many countries, is known as the Secretary of the Treasury. This person answers directly to our Prime Minister. In your case, the Secretary of the Treasury answers directly to the President of the United States.

When you were in office as the Prime Minister would it have been possible for your Chancellor to investigate the opposition party without your knowledge?

Winnie: You mean as is the case with your IRS investigating and disallowing tax relief charters without President Obama being aware? …I think you call some of those souls, “The Tea Party.”

Yes.

Winnie: No. Do you have any more single malt scotch? If not, a rightfully aged Cognac will do.

***

 
Roosevelt and Churchill first met in August 1941 aboard a ship off the coast of Newfoundland. They issued the Atlantic Charter, a statement of the postwar aims of the United States and the United Kingdom. After the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, Roosevelt and Churchill conferred in Washington, D.C. The two leaders felt that Germany was a nearer and far more dangerous enemy than Japan. They decided to concentrate on defeating Germany first.

I've Decided

By executive order, I hereby instruct my newly appointed Attorney General, Catherine Kalmenson, to disband the organization now known as the Internal Revenue Service with total prejudice and malice.

• I hereby immediately dissolve the federal agency known as The Internal Revenue Service.    

• By executive order, I hereby establish a new American Army, to function separately from our existing military.

• Former IRS employees will man this Army.

• Service in this new Army will be mandatory.

• Failure by ex-IRS agents and employees to serve in said military will be punishable by forfeiture of all rights as American citizens.

• Compensation in this new military will be based on the former IRS’ repayment of all monies squandered by said agents during the course of their governmental service.

• All liens enacted by the IRS – on any and all personal property earned by any and all citizens during any form of legal commerce – is hereby removed and forgiven. 

• Personal Income Tax would become a National Consumption Tax levied on all goods and services at point of purchase.

 

After these doctrines, established by my imperial order, have been enforced, I will tender my resignation upon the holding of a new national election.

It was good being KING – don’t you think?

Politically Speaking

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I hate politics with a passion.

The system has turned into one our Founding Fathers could not have possibly envisioned. As I grow older, the despising becomes more intense. Politicians appear to take great pride in their cultivated abilities to never answer questions directly.

Ask a politician a direct question and their first response will be in the genre of seeking clarity. They always want to be advised if the person asking the question is a Democrat or a Republican. Do they honestly think none of us could merely be interested in the betterment of the country and themselves without being a lefty or righty?

I think not.

Politician #1

How are you today?

Politician #2

What do you mean by that?

Everything becomes a pain-in-the-ass cover-their-butt problem. Should they or shouldn’t they respond? What will the outcome be if they give the questioner a direct and straight-from-the-shoulder answer?

And the beat goes on.

Day in and day out, the main thrust of those in the political life is to get reelected. As a businessman, I must follow the credo of always paying attention and serving the needs of my customers. It’s quite a simple premise – they pay us, and we do it.

Within our government, our taxes go towards the salaries of those who are supposed to be working for us. I do believe these folks are referred to as “civil servants.” Of course, elected or appointed politicians are excluded from this premise. Politicians are not civil servants.

As defined:

… the permanent professional branches of a government’s administration, excluding military and judicial branches and elected politicians.

Again – the bottom line – the way I see it is a rather simple premise. I take you back to the oath I swore to when I became an official member of the United States Army. It’s not much different than the oath administered to our congressmen and women or to the big guy who gets elected to the presidency. Personally, I felt duty bound to serve my country even before the oath was taken.

At the time, we all raised our right hand in the air and said: “I, _____, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.”

Never having been a Boy Scout, it still occurs to me that much of what they have those young men agree to as their God-like duties are very similar to those we pledged ourselves to in the Army.

The other day I heard the former head of the Internal Revenue Service say the only wrongdoing he could possibly be aware of was the poor customer service provided under his watch; much of what they did was foolishness.

Being an honest man, and definitely not a politician, I must tell you my thoughts at the moment of the former directors allowance. I feel qualified to debate the term “customer” after going through four audits by our supposed civil servants.

1 a person or organization that buys goods or services from a store or business : Mr. Harrison was a regular customer at the Golden Lion | [as adj. ] customer service.

2 a person or thing of a specified kind that one has to deal with: the fish is a slippery customer and very hard to catch

Each and every time I have been audited by IRS, I never experienced any feeling of being a “customer.” Customer service? Don’t make me laugh. Pep Boys provides me with customer service.

Who in the world is he kidding? From the moment a person receives an envelope in the mail with the ominous return address of the Internal Revenue Service emblazoned on the upper left hand corner, the adversarial relationship is under way. Do any of you out there feel warm and fuzzy tingles about our public servants at the IRS?

Once again, I think not. Without exception, people are fearful of them.

The tables seem to have turned ever so slightly. At long last, the people at IRS are being forced to answer some extremely important and telling questions.

I appeal to all of you who receive this blog – now is the time to step up without fear and perhaps rectify the fearful relationships our servants have been providing. Write to your elected congressman or congresswoman. If you have any degree of displeasure concerning the customer service you’ve received, or have been receiving from our civil servants, speak up. Email, telephone, old-fashioned mail – it will all get there.

Just think of what I’ve done by affixing my hand to this document. It’s almost as powerful as when I stepped forward and accepted my appointment as a member of our United States Army. Take the step. This one is a lot easier – no one will be shooting at you.

There are some fifty thousand who will be reading what I’ve scribed. I know there will be those who will ask if I have gone stark raving mad. The mere thought of challenging the single most powerful group in our country might shiver the timbers of some. Then, there will be others who will enjoy the excitement of a great and single moment that only you are able to take. The IRS has proven to be a world-class big bully. I want them out of my house. How about you?

Not Democrat or Republican, liberal, conservative or an innocent bystander – we’re American people who have become tired of the government intruding into our lives. If you like, forward this blog to your representatives. Not to worry, they already know who I am.

Good day, God bless you and yours, and God Bless the United States of America.

***

         (Sorry, but I just had to a few more words)

When I was a child (eight to ten) and the family attended a patriotic event, it was almost impossible to find anyone who would dare to offer anything but the most positive of thoughts about the United States of America. Our heroes were all in the service of the country. The comic books we read depicted our soldiers as the most invincible in the world. We kids knew the names of anything and everything having to do with the military. World War Two permeated our lives. It was the lead story for everyone, without exception.

Imagine, if you will, a neighborhood where every family worried about a relative or friend who was away in a foreign land. Try it on for size…

While you’re reading this piece, the phone rings – no music or ringtone, just one of the earlier phones with a sound not designed to comfort. You answer. It’s a cousin calling to give you the good, or bad, news. You’re able to tell by the ring what the nature of the call entails.

Today, the news is a welcome relief. The two of you hear each other’s sighs. There’s relief, but it bears no permanence. Tomorrow, or the next day, the tribulation will be relived. And, though the air is fresh with spring this day, somehow the fragrance of all that is new isn’t quite the same. You whisper the words thank God, and move on with your day.

Certainly, it was a different time than the aspects of our lives today. What we had then may never ever be repeated. Never before in the history of the world have the people of any one nation come and banded together in order to purse veer with such great mutuality. Every family had been touched; the epic proportions of the most heinous crimes the world had never seen before, influenced all.

***

It had been just another yesterday…

On May 20, 2013, Cathy and I shared in the patriotic festivities of Memorial Day number 146. Our hillside had been decorated as always, festooned with Old Glory flying and perched in every appropriate space possible.

How would you quantify spirituality? Row upon row of American people sitting together and each in our own way saying thanks to our neighbors for sharing in the love and support of our country. This day I thanked many for their service to our country, and many young and old thanked me in return. We all wore our hearts on our sleeves. There were laughs and an abundance of tears shed by one and all. Those of us who had been in the service took our turns standing proudly when our branch of the armed forces was recognized.

This young woman came by where I was standing, scurrying to get to where her family was seated. I commented on the World War Two Army cap she was wearing.

“It belonged to my Father. He’s been gone for a while now, but I put it on every chance I get. Thank you for your service.”

She had noticed the hat I was wearing and allowed her Father-in-law might have served at the same time I did. We smiled, wiped away yet another tear, hugged, and moved on with our day as strangers with a bond.

Veterans' Circle

It was usually quiet when these gentlemen met to shake hands and to relive some moments of shared sacrifice. It was always the same – in amongst tress and seated around an oversized redwood picnic table. It began with twelve, and now the years had taken half of them away. Nevertheless, each Memorial Day remained theirs to remember the joys and the pains of their camaraderie.

Veterans’ Circle

Some hadn’t cried

up until then

Welled up feelings too frequent

now did abound

A first tear finds its way down

This deepest dam had been breached

Decades of storage released

overdue

Sixty-one years of burden

Questioning

Softly

Why me

some shared

was I the receiver of mercy

Given all of life’s allowances

Forty thousand others… forever stilled

Sitting in a circle

Men of dissimilar cloth

Unmistakably the same

Veterans all

 

Able to speak to veterans

Looks understood

Arms around each other’s shoulders

Comforting

Not needy men

though all in need

It was called the Forgotten War

Fought by forgotten men

each in their own degree

Had bourn witness

Tragedy seen without boundary

Questions forever remaining unanswered

With circle growing smaller

Ever smaller

Fewer left to be understood

Their proud country sent them to war

To a place called Korea

They so gallantly stood

-HK May 31, 2012

There's a Person in Here

Easy, there’s a person in here.

With no inclination to stop, they pushed their way past.

My mind’s eye: “MME”

There’s a person in here.

Who cares anyway? No need to look inside. Judgment is easy when derived by way of the superficial imprint of one’s human appearance.

Calabasas where lifestyles are those most only dream.

I had found a wonderful parking spot directly in front of the Corner Bakery for us and William & Sonoma, for her – the latter being of little consequence as far as I had been concerned. Eating, yes; cooking, not for me! This particular eatery on the other hand was not only a marvelous place for breakfast or lunch, but it also offered a senior discount. On the first day I became aware of the discount, it came as a little bit of a shock to me. I wasn’t in the habit of inquiring about senior discounts. It has always seemed ludicrous for a man as youthful and as virile as I am to have anything to do with the benefits of age. Asking for anything that depicted any form of decay was never part of my makeup. When a person is a modest man, he falls out of the habit of asking for things; people like that often times volunteer.

        

The Corner Bakery is the kind of a restaurant where you wait in a cafeteria-style line to place your food order. The people taking your order stand directly behind individual cash registers and the procedure is extremely convenient. We both ordered our breakfast and listened as the server repeated our order (in case a mistake has been made) before announcing the cost of the meal. It was at this point that my wife, who reads everything having to do with food, announces in a charmingly loud voice (sounding exactly like her Midwest Mother), “Make sure to get your Senior Citizen’s Discount.”

OUCH!

While I usually don’t embarrass easily, the smirk adorning the face of the woman in line with her husband directly to my right did make me a little self-conscious. Not knowing or understanding the prospect of me having a person within me, she blurted out to my wife, “Does he qualify to receive the discount?”

My wife, again, and as stylish as her own Mother would put it, dutifully informs the world that, “Oh, he qualifies.”

I immediately turned to the woman and her husband and said (as a quip), “Only when at least one of the partners has remained sexually active.”

No laugh followed. Not even a smile from either of them. The kid manning the cash register gave me a satisfaction wink.

The Corner Bakery proved itself during the ensuing months as an ideal place for me to refine my self-rewarding game of “There’s a Person in Here.”

I guess it makes me a strange sort of duck, or maybe not. After almost a lifetime of playing my own prescribed games of internal and singular participation, it probably won’t come as a surprise to anyone who knows me that I’ve decided to continue on within my own zone. Going along with the premise that just thinking about something will never cause another any harm, it frees me and allows for a great many of the mystical dreams and assertions I so greatly enjoy.

As an example, my reminder of the fact that there’s a person in here, serves my purpose of justification for the extremes my thought patterns allow. Like anyone else out there, I’m free to think anything I like. This allows me to internalize some of the most exaggerated concepts, as I said earlier, without hurting anyone else.

So there I sat, alone in a corner of the restaurant parked clearly within the sight line of the entry door, where all who entered were in perfect view. They took turns coming in and passing by my seat. Some slowly, some clamored, all with the latest electronics of the day. My coffee was particularly good that day. My thoughts were pleasingly mine, and completely internal.

LET THE GAMES BEGIN

MME

There’s a person in here.

Few if any looked back.

Even fewer returned the least of a passing glance.

I was playing my game again; observing all within my line

There for me to scold as I beheld them

Without gaining their permissions.

There’s a person in here.

What a truly great concept, don’t you think?

Oh, and just in case you’ve forgotten, please say hello to anyone who knows me.

Toughest Assignment

(Be Yourself)

The toughest assignment for an actor is to remain natural. As a young director, I was warned by mentors to try to avoid asking actors to be themselves. I was told that many actors haven’t a clue as to who or what they really are. In fact, I was told that many actors think they know who they are but are under a misguided conception of what their truth really is.

If you don’t want to discover and practice your individual truth, the chance of your becoming a professional actor will never come to pass. As an aside, while it may not make you happy to discover your truth as a human being, it will definitely give you a tremendous leg up as an actor.

In my travels, I have always been blown away when I’ve encountered an actor in an everyday situation. You know, I mean a chance meeting at some sort of function or whatever after which I come away with the feeling that this guy or gal came across as being on the shallow side. Some didn’t even have the ability to share their true feelings with me. When meeting that same person in an actor/director environment, I’m often times elated, as well as surprised, at their totally ability to tell the truth through the eyes of another. That “other person” I refer to is the character they happen to be portraying. What these actors don’t want to give in to is the fact that whatever they may think of as playacting is still a way of telling the truth.

Perhaps one of the greatest actors of all time said it as succinctly as any actor I’ve ever heard when he responded to the interview question: “What is your acting method?”

“Well, I just look the other actor right in the eye and tell them the truth. The truth was always evident in any role portrayed by that actor.” – James Cagney

Many actors who had the opportunity of being directed by Alfred Hitchcock were usually in for a big surprise when they discovered how little he offered in active direction. One day, when Cary Grant asked Hitchcock for some advice on how to interpret the meaning of a particular scene, Hitchcock responded with: 

“You’re here because you’re right for it.”

In his own way, Hitchcock was telling Cary Grant to be himself. And, that was the end of the acting direction. Hitchcock sought the truth and that’s what his actors gave him. During another Hitchcockian incident, a set visitor had the guts – or the stupidity – to endanger their life when he asked Hitchcock – without warning – to explain why he did not look at his actors during rehearsals of a scene. Mr. Hitchcock’s reply?

“I can hear what they look like.”

His response that day has become a major part of my professional career. For many years, I have earned my living listening to actors – being your audience and trying to hear the truth with my ears. If you tell me the truth, I will buy it from you and I will allow you to influence my life.

Just as a reminder, the Kalmenson Method was derived by means of a close study of one of the most successful actors who stayed the course in our industry for more years than I desire to call attention to.

Many of the attributes that the foremost talents have in common have become apparent to me. By and large, these actors weren’t what the general public liked to describe or hold in esteem as celebrities. These actors were – and still are – Journeyman Actors.

John Houseman expounded on his credo for success. He advised us to be journeyman actors, to practice and study our craft, to search for a way to grow everyday, to be an observer with your eyes and with your ears, and to find a way to tell someone – anyone – a story that they might believe.

Nothing we do is in the category of “winging it.” There is a prescribed method. We practice our scales everyday just the same way we’re asking you to practice your scales. Get the basics down. Get ‘em down so cold that ya don’t have to worry about where your fingers are going on the piano keys. Once you’ve achieved that, you will find that you will become very creative again which is, of course, all based on the truth.

Immigrant Heroes

No one loved American comic heroes more than our earliest immigrants. Across the board, almost without exception, the neighborhoods of our new Americans fell in love with the bigger-than-life characters who single-handedly were there, on this good earth, for the sole purpose of protecting them.

CIRCA 1930

At a time when little or nothing was known about birth control, each ethnic group took a special pride in their ability to procreate. The more kids there were, the more necessity for heroes and the widespread practice of hero worship.

First, the comic book depiction of these wonderful bully busters was quickly followed by radio, television, and then the movies.

As young kids in our neighborhood, we placed these gladiators on altars suitable for the greatest leaders the world would ever know. 

Superman, the Lone Ranger, and Batman were the most important protectors of their time. And the silver screen was alive with the heroic likes of Tarzan, Tom Mix, Hop-Along Cassidy, Roy Rogers, and even detectives like Sherlock Holmes, and the inimitable Charlie Chan. All took their respected places on our worship parade.  Amazingly, what began a century ago is still going strong today – look around you, there’s still Batman, Superman, and all the rest who were originated in and at a time when they were as purposeful as any army.

But, what the comics gave all of us was of the greatest importance. And, even more importantly was what the immigrant families gave themselves with those comics – a down to earth richness of purpose. Survival was the most cipherable drive of the day; to make it in the good ol’ USA was indeed a credo. 

And surely, what each and every family had was the family itself. No matter how the day went, there always seemed to exist a comic release. We talked about everything imaginable.

Most families didn’t have a phone. Word of mouth was never taken for granted. By that I mean that wherever you looked on the street, conversations were taking place. Often the conversations would be raging; arguments over who interpreted Dick Tracy the “right way.” What about that Captain Marvel? Who the hell cares about Tarzan anyway? The schmuck lives in a jungle -- but that Jane is some little shtick. If I had a wife like that, I too would be swinging from a tree…

The corner candy stores were the gathering grounds for all the neighborhood big shots. These were the guys who knew absolutely everything about everything. Without question, dependent on the age of those gathered in discussion, there were four main topics: comics, sports, the movies, and girls.

On December 21, 1937, the animated feature film Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs was released for distribution. History reports: it was an instant hit.  Adjusted for inflation, it remains one of the all-time box office smash hits. And, it wasn’t just a financial success – it took the residential neighborhoods by storm. Men, women, and children joined in on a seemingly never-ending discussion. Everywhere you looked an impression of the Snow White characters was taking place.

The main dialects in our area of Brooklyn were Italian, Irish, Yiddish, and a sprinkling of German. Try to imagine the humor in listening to a woman with a rather heavy accent delivering the Evil Queen’s lines: “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?”

At the film's opening, the Magic Mirror informs the Evil Queen that Snow White is now the fairest in the land. The jealous Evil Queen orders a reluctant Huntsman to take Snow White into the forest and kill her…

So on and so on… you get the idea. But now, a new ingredient to our corner -- music in all its glory! Snow White was not only being discussed, but it was also a living, breathing, neighborhood musical.

One of the first songs I was able to sing and whistle as a four-year-old child was….

The bottom line was simple – we talked to one another. What a concept, don’t you think? People actually having conversations. No phones, no televisions, and many families were not yet privy to radio. The neighborhood had a variety of service providers. The Iceman, the Coal Man, the Milkman, the Junkman, and many other men who, more often than not, could all whistle the tune “Whistle While You Work.”

Can you imagine a man dragging a block of ice up four floors? Coming into our modest apartment, setting a forty-pound block of ice in our icebox, and all the time smiling and whistling?

“How are you today, Mrs. Kalmenson? Have you seen Snow White?”

He spoke English, or American as many of them called it with a rather heavy Irish brogue. My Mother was one of those who was multi-lingual, but free of accent. As he left the apartment, he complemented my Mother on how wonderfully clean her home always was. With a charming lilt to go along with his handsome smiling face, it was communication at its highest level. Or, perhaps I should say “blarney.”

        

***

I find myself thinking, and mainly wondering, if there would have been any chance for me to be in this business of mine, if I were to have grown up in today’s era. Would I be able to recapture what I was never privy to? I think not.

Texting is not listening nor is it enjoying the charm of a beautiful smiling face. I grew up admiring the looks of women and the way they sounded whether mad, or happy. The charm of listening to this marvelous dialect of Beatrice Burke (my nanny) was the epitome of Ireland at its very best.

Always, it was the talk. The face-to-face talk. Looking into the eyes of the person you were communicating with and – think about this – sometimes not having to say a word.

My Father purchased his first automobile in 1939. It was a two-door 1937 Chevrolet. No power steering, no air conditioner, heater, or defroster, no power windows, and it held five people comfortably, regardless of what their dialect happened to be.