A Fever in the Heartland

Timothy Eagan’s “A Fever in the Heartland: the Ku Klux Klan’s plot to take over America, and the woman who stopped them” (2023). Yes, this is a true story. 1920s. Indiana. D.C. Stephenson. Madge Oberholtzer. And 250,000 white male Hoosiers who paid $10 plus annual dues to join the newly resurrected KKK with the privilege of wearing a white sheet and cone hat to hate anyone different from them — in Indiana this included Blacks, Jews, Catholics. Membership was 30% of the native born state male population. There were also a woman’s and children’s divisions established.

Actors dressed in full Ku Klux Klan regalia for scenes in 1915’s The Birth of a Nation.

I knew about the resurgence of the KKK during the 1920s. American life wasn’t just the era of the roaring, carefree, prohibition, flapper, stock market, giddy, fling after the trauma of World War. In my Holy Ghost Prep film course, I often showed “Birth of a Nation” (1915). D. W. Griffith landmark epic that glorifies the Confederacy, Jim Crow, and the KKK. The characterization of Blacks displayed every possible negative stereotype — backward, lewd, dishonest, lazy, dirty, lusting for white women and political power. It is a silent film with a powerful soundtrack and title cards, some displaying racist quotes by President Woodrow Wilson. For me “A Fever in the Heartland” writes a new, extremely detailed chapter to the decade. Although the setting is Indiana where the KKK flourished, Colorado, Oregon, Ohio, Pennsylvania and many other states had lots of Klan activity. I recall reading about Klan cross burnings in Bucks County where I live.

D. C. Stephenson moved from Texas/Oklahoma to Indiana in 1920. He was a Democrat. He soon became a Klan recruiter and in 1922 supported Hiram Wesley Evans as Imperial Wizard. Evans looked forward to a Klan with national power and influence. He appointed Stephenson in 1923 as Grand Dragon of the Indiana chapter and head of Klan recruiting for other Northern states. He grew wealthy, taking a cut of membership fees and uniforms. He paid Protestant ministers to support and encourage Klan membership. Klan ranks swelled; in Indiana more than any other state. Stephenson soon became a major political power in Indiana as Klansmen began to be elected and appointed to political offices, bank and business CEOs, police officers, lawyers. Since Indiana was Republican, he changed his registration and supported Republican Ed Jackson for governor. He won and Stephenson’s power grew. He was fond of declaring, “I am the law.” And talked about a run for U.S. President. Sound familiar.

Ku Klux Klan members hold a march in Washington, D.C., on Aug. 9, 1925.

Stephenson purchased a large mansion and hosted wild, alcohol and sex laced parties. He drank heavily (remember it’s the prohibition era) and became sexual violent, had several wives and many “girl friends.” He was known to beat them. At the same time he joined forces with the Anti-Saloon League, a powerful lobbying group, and helped pass one of the strongest anti-liquor laws in the country.

Egan writes about many examples of KKK secrecy and rituals and attacks on enemies, religions other than Protestant, particularly Catholics, Blacks, immigrants with dark skin tones. They used intimidation, cross burning (maybe buildings), terrorizing, threats, beatings, and lynching. There were thousands of lynchings across the country.

Madge Oberholtzer was an average working woman from a German-American, Methodist background. In 1925 she worried about losing her job working in an adult literacy program. She met and befriended Stephenson who could be well spoken, a good dresser, smooth. Maybe he could help with her job. In March 1925 she was abducted by D.C. Stephenson who held her captive in his private train car. She was raped and tortured —- he bit and chewed her entire body. Sick.

From the Smithsonian:

“On March 16, 1925, in the muted morning light of a hotel room in Hammond, Indiana, 29-year-old Madge Oberholtzer reached into the pocket of the man sleeping next to her. She found the grip of his revolver and slid it out, inch by inch, praying he wouldn’t stir. The man was D.C. Stephenson, political power broker and Grand Dragon of the Ku Klux Klan in 23 Northern states. With shaking hands she aimed the gun between his closed eyes. What passed for a lucid thought came to mind: She would disgrace her family if she were to commit murder; instead, she would kill herself.

She crept into an adjoining room and faced a full-length mirror. Beneath her dress chunks of her were missing. Bite marks covered her face, neck, breasts, back, legs and ankles, a macabre pattern of polka dots etched along her skin. She was bleeding from the mouth; he had even chewed her tongue. Her hand was steadier this time, lifting the gun to her temple, when she heard a step outside the door and the squeak of a turning knob. It was one of Stephenson’s associates. She buried the gun into the fold of her dress and slipped it back into the sleeping man’s pocket. She would find another way to kill herself, if he didn’t kill her first.

It was the beginning of the end, in different ways, for both Madge Oberholtzer and D.C. Stephenson, although the politician had long believed himself infallible. “I am the law in Indiana,” he famously declared, and with reason. At age 33, Stephenson was one of the most powerful men in the state, having controlled the governor’s election and the movements of several state legislators, influencing bills on nutrition, steam pollution, fire insurance, highways and even oleomargarine, all of which would line his pockets with graft. His hand-picked candidate for mayor of Indianapolis seemed certain to win election, and Stephenson himself dreamed of running for the U.S. Senate, even president.”

Madge was allowed to go to a drug store with one of Stephenson’s body guards. She buys and takes a poison. It doesn’t kill her immediately but begins to eat away at her internal organs. Stephenson returns home and locks her up, refusing medical help. Finally he gets one of his thugs to take her to her family house. A doctor predicts that it’s too late to counteract the poison. Before she dies she writes up the abduction to use in court case filed by her family.

In court Stephenson is calm, well dressed. Although there were women supporters in the courtroom, he feels he is protected by his political connections. His hope to bribe jurors but it doesn’t happen and he is eventually convicted of second degree murder despite the fact that she had tried subside with the poison.

The Governor declined to intervene. The negative Klan publicity contributed to the decline of the Klan, in Indiana and nationwide. Several Indiana politicians were arrested. Stephenson was paroled in the 1950s, but in 1961 ended up in court on another sexual assault charge. The charges were dropped due to insufficient evidence. He died in 1966.

Although there have been attempts to revitalize the KKK, it’s membership is nothing compared with the 1920s.

“The organized Ku Klux Klan movement saw a boost in its membership in 2017. In fact more than half of today’s Klans formed in the last three years. 

Some 42 different Klan groups were active in 22 states as of June 2017, a slight increase from early 2016, according to a report from the Anti-Defamation League, a nonpartisan civil rights advocacy group. The Klan, known for promoting white supremacist and white nationalist ideas, has captured recent public attention amid fallout from a weekend marked by race-fueled clashes.

President Donald Trump mentioned the movement by name on Aug. 14 during a speech from the White House in response to the violent white nationalist rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, to protest the removal of a statue of Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee. The rally resulted in clashes with counterdemonstrators that left one woman dead and more than a dozen injured. 

“Racism is evil, and those who cause violence in its name are criminals and thugs, including the KKK, neo-Nazis, white supremacists and other hate groups that are repugnant to everything we hold dear as Americans,” Trump said. 

The president’s comments followed mounting criticism of what many considered a weak initial response to the weekend violence, and several politicians called on Trump to explicitly name the KKK and other white nationalist groups. Current KKK groups have continued to be linked to criminal activity and violence reminiscent of the earliest waves of the Klan. 

In addition to the more than 40 identified Klan groups, the ADL tracked Klan activity to 11 other states during that same time, including some states perceived to be more liberal, like California. The ADL tracked the movement from January 2016 to June 2017. 

Nationwide, there are still an estimated 3,000 Klan members and unaffiliated people who “identify with Klan ideology,” according to the ADL. Membership, though, remains spread across dozens of groups. The largest Klans reportedly don’t have more than 50 to 100 active members, and most have fewer than 25.” (SPLC)

That is not to say that White Nationalism is not a serious threat to American democracy. SPLC documented:

“With 109 chapters in 2022, the number of white nationalist groups has stabilized after reaching a historic high of 155 in 2019. The movement has not been able to mobilize grassroot networks to the same degree as during the Trump presidency, but white nationalist rhetoric and policies – including a belief in a so-called “great replacement” of white people, strict opposition to immigration and a belief that national belonging should be determined by race – have become even more deeply embedded the United States’ broader political right.

Many of the most prominent leaders in today’s white nationalist movement define their primary goal as challenging what they call “Conservatism Inc,” or the neoconservative wing of the American right. Figures including Nick Fuentes, a livestreamer who was present outside the U.S. Capitol at the Jan. 6 insurrection, are trying to harness the grievances of white, right-leaning Americans into an openly ethnonationalist political movement, one they hope will become the core of the Republican Party.

Fuentes has made allies within the political mainstream, including U.S. Representatives Marjorie Taylor Greene of Georgia and Paul Gosar of Arizona, who both spoke at Fuentes’ annual America First Political Action Conference in February 2022. Later in the year, Fuentes had dinner with former President Trump alongside the rapper and designer Ye (formerly known as Kanye West), who has proudly expressed antisemitic views.

Patriot Front and Active Club, both of which place a heavy emphasis on hypermasculinity, are currently among the most active white nationalist groups. Both are militant, openly fascist and extremely image conscious. Members stay within strictly defined aesthetic and rhetorical boundaries, making them appear at once intimidating and polished. For Active Clubs, which rose to TKTK chapters this year, their emphasis is especially on creating a white nationalist counterculture where young men can be socialized into adopting the group’s racist politics. Patriot Front favors highly stylized public spectacles, which feature uniformed members marching and chanting fascist slogans.

Members of white nationalist groups, including Patriot Front, participated in the broader attack on LGBTQ people that defined 2022, often by joining in anti-LGBTQ demonstrations. Their homophobic and transphobic attacks highlight the movement’s broader agenda, which aims to exclude and harm not only Black people and other people of color but also immigrants, LGBTQ individuals, religious minorities and others whom white nationalists consider inferior.”

I highly recommend Timothy Eagan’s “A Fever in the Heartland.” A frightening chapter in American history that we cannot let be repeated.

A Fever in the Heartland, AFever in the Heartland, anti catholic, anti semitism, birth of a nation, KKK, maga, Racism, white supremacy

A Fever in the Heartland, AFever in the Heartland, anti catholic, anti semitism, birth of a nation, KKK, maga, Racism, white supremacy

A Fever in the Heartland, AFever in the Heartland, anti catholic, anti semitism, birth of a nation, KKK, maga, Racism, white supremacy

Cape May, NJ

In early March we did a two night stay in Cape May. We’d intended a February trip but the restaurants at Congress Hall were closed for cleaning so we postponed. We were invited to stay at the vacation home of friends on the way to Cape May Point. As long as it wasn’t rented, we were welcomed. Jenny decided to go with us.

The predicted weather wasn’t the best. In fact on Tuesday we left amid a light snowfall. The wind was fierce. But a windy shore day can be exhilarating; onward and upward.

My first memory of Cape May was a weekend gift B and B my parents gave us in the 1970s. We stayed at the Queen Victoria. I think it was our first visit to the Cape and our first stay in a Bed and Breakfast. It had been recently renovated, exterior green with a red hip roof, lots of Victorian gingerbread, relaxing porch, within blocks of the commercial mall. The owner I recall was a leader in Cape May restoration; lobbying for historic preservation and “authentic” colors. We were impressed. I think several years later we gifted my parents a weekend in a different B and B. We spent much of the weekend walking the neighborhood, being awed by the architecture, and color. I believe I shot a lot of photos. Need to locate them. I don’t remember where or what we ate beyond the Victoria’s breakfast.

Since our regular Jersey shore destination was my Aunt Ellen and Uncle Frank’s oceanside house at Harvey Cedars, we didn’t go to Cape May very often. We made a few day trips. One was with the Bucks County Audubon Society. The destination was the bird sanctuary at the lighthouse. Immediately leaving the van, we joined 2 dozen on more birders with binoculars and scopes focused on one small carmel-black duck. It was identified as a Fulvous (or Whistling) Tree Duck. More at home in Florida it was a rare Cape May find. To my dismay, the Bucks birders swarmed over the dunes looking for birds. I was horrified having recently read Ian McHarg’s “Design With Nature” which included a chapter on sand dunes — “ don’t trespass.” It was my last trip with Bucks County Audubon for many years.

We did return to the Cape May some day trips, some overnight trips. One year we visited with Kate and Jerry Alonzo who were renting a house. I was struck that Jerry ordered several pants from LL Bean, different sizes. He would return those that didn’t fit. But my best memory from that trip was soft shell crabs. I’d recently read “Warner’s “Beautiful Swimmers” about Chesapeake Bay blue crabs. The soft shells sounded delicious but were out of season when I read the book. Jerry took me to a food truck and I had my first soft shell crabs. I was hooked.

On another trip, I recall joining others in the fall on the hawk watch platform at the observatory. Once we walked a long trail around the lighthouse pond with a variety of waterfowl. I always enjoyed views of the lighthouse. One trip we took was guided by Peter Dunne, who organized the World Series of Birding and was director of the observatory. He led us on a tour. We bought his book “Pete Dunne on Bird Watching,” just got it from my shelf of NJ books. It’s a basic introduction for bird watchers or birders. What’s the difference?

In 2008, we visited during the Cape May Fall Birding Festival. We stayed at the Fairthorpe Inn and ate at the Washington Inn, Marian Inn and Lucky Bones. I recalling talking to a guy at the Lucky Bones dock. He had a bucketful on conchs to sell and said the harvest was good. Registration for the convention exceeded our budget but we visited various sites and always found a group and a guide. We did get in a room at the convention featuring binoculars and I bought Ken Kauffman’s “Kingbird Highway: the biggest year in the life of an extreme birder” (1997). In it he describes how after a year of total bird mania he abandoned the “how many can we see, life list” obsession. I’m ready for a re-read.

In July 2006 we rented a house on Alexander Street at Cape May Point, overlooking the bay. We’d lost our annual Nantucket rental and we’re looking for a new place. My parents joined us; Jenny and Liz visited. Of course we did some birding; walks to the red general store; bicycle riding; tours in town. We ate at Mad Batter and Louisa’s. Probably the Oyster House. My parents loved the trip but for us it wasn’t Nantucket. We would chose Cape Cod for our annual summer trip.

In June 2018 we did another weekly rental. This time in a dog friendly cottage, 219 Shore Road in Town Bank or North Cape May. There were two houses on the fenced property, fortunately the larger wasn’t occupied until the weekend. We poked around a lot. Visited the Cape May distillery, Willow Creek winery. Beach Plum farm which has trails for hiking, dog friendly, a small take out, farm stand style shop. We went to the Observatory but also spent a lot of time sitting in front of our cottage, birding, enjoying the sea breeze. On Sunday there was the Cape May triathlon to keep us entertained. We ate at Louisa’s (OK); Black Duck (fantastic); H.H. Seafood (good find); Oyster House (standard).

On this March 2023 trip we stopped in Somers Point, Anchorage Tavern for lunch. It’s a historic building, view of water, good food. I began my seafood days with local clams (huge) and fried oysters. Onward to Cape May. We drove around town before driving to the house. It’s new, modern, spotless, on a quiet street. The views aren’t anything great but the Meadows, part of the bird sanctuary is within walking distance. Jenny braved the winds and walked to the beach. She returned with some great photographs. That night we ate in the Blue Pig in Congress Hall. I started with a Manhattan and dozen oysters. My main was a chicken pot pie — probably the best I ever had.

Wednesday morning Jenny pushed us to brave the winds. They were strong. We walked to the sanctuary trail, the bird lookout, bird blind and finally the ocean. There were times I thought I would be blown over. Winds were high 30s. But I was so glad we walked. Bracing. We then drove to the winery, Beach Plum farm, and down to the Lobster House dock. Then we headed back to town and had a relaxing lunch at the Mad Batter. Corn beef hash, um good. The afternoon consisted of a drive around town, a stop at the Hawk lookout near the lighthouse, walk to the beach, a drive to Sunset beach, wind still blowing. We had dinner at Lucky Bones. Not as elegant as the Blue Pig but down home, locals. I had more clams. We drove to the lighthouse in the dark missing sunset.

The next morning we packed up, drove into town, parking at the pavilion, and then walked the promenade to Congress Hall. Lunch. It was chilly but the wind died down. We sat on the porch a bit. I had a blue crab sandwich for lunch. I thought we’d drive along the bay to Philadelphia but it was getting late. We did avoid the AC expressway choosing back roads.

The trip reawakened my interest in Cape. It’s relaxing, good seafood, birding, and great architecture. I think we will return.

Rock Hall, MD

In the 1980s we made several trips to Rock Hall, MD on the eastern shore of the Chesapeake Bay. With Jenny (10 years plus) and friends, Susan and Jerry Taylor. We were headed for the Sailing Emporium on the edge of a sleepy bayside village. We might drive down Friday night for a regular or extended weekend; once I believe for a week; and for two weeks with Marylee (my sister) and Norval Goe. We chartered a 32’ or more sail boat. Jerry had some as sailing experience.

On various trips we visited Oxford, St. Michael’s, Chesterton, Cambridge, Annapolis. Some nights we docked; maybe had a restaurant dinner. Or we threw anchor on a river or side creek — Sassafras, Chester, Wye!, Tree Avon — there are so many. Swimming was sometimes a problem — jellyfish. We might crab. And we enjoyed thrill of sailing in good winds. Crossing the bay was always a challenge. I remember running aground once; waiting for tide to change. Once I was listed as Captain but I depended on Jerry in tight situations.

The night we returned to Rock Hall we cracked blue crabs and drank beer at a worn picnic table at Waterman’s. Since our sailing days we’ve made several overnights in the area, always stopping for Waterman crabs. The most recent was May, 2017. This year in June we had a great three night stay awash with memories from the 1980s.

On Sunday, Father’s Day we stopped for lunch in the Kitchen at the Imperial Hotel in Chesterton. I recalled it from the 2017 trip where we stayed outside of town in a Brampton Inn cottage with Nala. We ate outside at a dog friendly table. This trip we sat on a back patio, had house made corn beef hash and eggs (fantastic) and chatted with the owner. Onward to Rock Hall.

We arrived at our destination (always amazed we are only a bit over 2 hours from Yardley) The Inn at Huntingfield Creek. The innkeepers Jim and Joanne Rich were laid back, friendly, warm. We chose Huntingfield because for Christmas I bought gift cards from Select Registry, a B and B agency. There was a 20% bonus. $2,000 got you $2,400.

The Inn was a hunting manor. Seventy acres, some farmed, some wooded. A 1/4 mile walk through the fields to a dock on the bay. Kayaks if you can get in and out. Sadly I have to pass. On Monday morning we did sit “on the dock of the bay” for over and hour. Total serenity; no bugs. I particularly like the patio in the back of the main inn, there are several cottages. It’s shaded, tables, easy chairs, and a gurgling water fountain. Oh birds. When alone it’s a zen experience.

For Sunday dinner we ate at the Osprey Point restaurant (inn and marina). In the 1990s a developer from Philadelphia led what I’ll call a gentrification of Rock Hall. There were and are an amazing number of mostly sailboats in several marinas. More shops and restaurants now than we experienced in the 80s. I think Osprey Point is part of that change. The main building has a colonial feel, not at all a typical marina. Locals, some guests, are greeted by the staff. These are boating people. I had fried oysters and a soft shell crab sandwich. The bun was too much so I abandoned it, enjoying the crab. It was good not great. My cocktail of choice during the trip was Vodka Tonic. We held off on dessert; housemade cookies at the Inn (but sorry, all were gone).

Monday morning I followed my routine but in a new venue. So pleasant. Coffee, iPad, journaling, a bit of reading, day planning. I liked how breakfast was one time (8:30), family buffet. You got to meet others, talk. We actually had a lively, friendly group which added to the experience. Solid traditional breakfast, eggs, bacon, sausage, home fries, fruit, juice toast, sweets. And coffee. Jim was reflecting on the amount of bacon he has fried over the years?

We spent the morning sitting on the bay.

Lunch was at Harbor Shack, a run down, beer signs studded bar and tables. I had a Sakura yellowfin tuna and seaweed plate. Diane had salad, maybe with shrimp. We spent several hours exploring Eastern Neck Wildlife Refuge and the end of the Inn road. Or the end of the Sailing Emporium (now Haven Harbor, South) road. Whatever. There is a small quaint bridge I remember to the island refuge. A wooden walk to a bird blind. Unfortunately we’re here at the wrong time for birds. Our only interesting bird during the trip was a Night Heron along the harbor. Overall the refuge was quiet, it was very hot. We went back to the Inn.

The first floor has a lot of public space. I loved the library and started, tried to read a book on pirates in the Chesapeake. It was slow. So many names of people, places, little I identified. There was also complementary wine and beer. A nice touch.

Around 5:30 we headed to the Waterman. As I mentioned it was almost the only, certainly the most well known restaurant during our sailing days. It’s changed; under new management. Traditionally at the entryway were women picking crabs. You could buy containers of meat to go. From there you went down a hallway with bathrooms to get to the deck; there was an inside room with tables but the deck was the place to be. The hallway remains; the pickers are gone. This trip our waitress asked us if we wanted crabs. “Yes, probably.” We were led to a tented area and told this was for crab pickers. “We don’t want to mess up and dirty all the tables.” Wow. New management. Locals laugh at the $34 pork chop on the menu. This is crab pickin territory. Crabs were expensive, $30 for 1/2 dozen medium; $60 for large. Then there were combo seafood in the $100 plus. Enough. I went for the mediums.

Eating blue crabs takes a lot of work. But old bay, maybe butter and slivers of meat make it worth the effort. For us Waterman was always the brown paper on picnic table, a bucket of crabs, pitcher of beer (not craft), pincers, pickers and small wooden hammers. Maybe bibs if you were worried about a clean shirt. My real introduction to crabs was reading “Beautiful Swimmers: waterman, crabs and the Chesapeake Bay” by William Warner. I found the book in John Wanamaker’s in the early 1980s and fell for blue crabs, truth be told, soft shell blues. I wasn’t clear why but soft shells not available at Waterman’s. Something about new management.

As I sucked down the last morsel of sweet meat, wiped my fingers and face, I was so glad I ordered the crabs. With new management and pork chop people, they may soon disappear from the Waterman’s picnic tables.

Tuesday was overcast. After our morning rituals and breakfast we headed north to Betterton Beach. Driving the Eastern shore, it’s flat open farmland. Corn, wheat, soy. Trips ago, probably some November, we were here during the migration of the snow geese. Thousands filled the fields. It was an unforgettable sight. None in June. As I verbally navigated for Diane she responded when I mentioned Still Pond. “That’s where we me that potter,” she said. Sure enough, on the 2017 trip during a rainstorm we had stopped at the intersection of decaying buildings called Still Pond. We met Doug Sassi . At the time we bought one mug, blue with a rippled texture. We also recalled Doug’s side business taking people on tours to Italy. There he was outside lamenting the possible loss of a large walnut tree. He is in his 80s but still producing. As we probably did years ago we mentioned Bonnema Potters who he’d met in Bethel in the 1970s. I’m kind of sorry we didn’t buy another mug.

We continued on the Betterton Beach and immediately recognized it as a previous picnic lunch stop. I’d brought my beach chair so despite the cloud and chill, we sat on the fairly empty beach for a bit. One of the Inn guests had talked about her mother living or vacationing at the ferry at Betterton. I recalled reading about the history of the beach.

“Betterton’s attraction and popularity grew from the wives of local watermen, who prepared food and lodgings for boats coming into port, eventually leading to boarding houses and hotels being built to accommodate the increase of visitors. During the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Betterton was one of several very popular vacation destinations for Marylanders, especially the middle class families from Baltimore and parts north, including our very own Cecil County. Coming every summer by the thousands on the ever popular steamboats of the Chesapeake, vacationers from all over the state made Betterton quite the little beach resort. At one time, the town boasted having upwards of 18 hotels and boarding houses, a dance hall, a movie theater, casino, billiards, and a bowling alley. It also hosted multiple passenger steamboats each day that conveniently dropped vacationers off at the pier, which was just a short walk to their hotels. If you have been to present day Betterton, it is hard to imagine this all fitting into the tiny little town.” Cecil Whig, 2020. ;

We decided to go to Chesterton for lunch. I’d identified a few choices. As soon as we saw Luisa’s in a shopping mall we remembered eating there in 2017; then Uncle Charlie’s Bistro. Neither appealed to us. Should we go back to Rock Hall. Our Inn hosts own a small coffee shop, Java Rock. Then serendipitously we discovered Cafe Sado and Sushi Bar. A small, modern, room in an old mill. We settled in for sushi. I’ve been wanting to learn more about sushi offerings. Here was another opportunity. I had several rolls but new for me was the tuna tartar with avocado and lemongrass served in a crisp shell. Excellent.

About three we settled into a quiet few hours at the Inn. A glass of wine with our new friends and then off to Bay Wolf for dinner. Marylin Mignoni Tierney from Bristol has a house in Rock Hill and recommended it. Fortunately we were there lobster night. In fact when I called for reservations, I was asked about lobster, there were only 14. I said to reserve at least one. It was small but only $28 and delicious.

We drove around town a bit checking out Rock Hall beach and the Sailing Emporium. Unfortunately it was too cloudy for a memorable sunset. The following morning we pulled together for our departure. It’s pretty obvious that food is a major part of our travels. Jim didn’t disappoint with corn beef hash and poached eggs for breakfast, of course bacon perfectly fried. I always look for alternate routes and decided on a slight detour to Wye Island with its historic mill. Our new friends Judy and Roger told us Clinton had a peace Israeli-Palestinian peace conference on Wye. Roger was a history professor and quite glib about history and current events.

Rain was predicted for the day but we’d pushed forward. In Chesterton we stopped at the Evergrain Bread Company. Neat stop. Then off to Wye Mill. It was a small mill claiming to be the oldest continuing operating mill in the country. One volunteer was cleaning the stone; another gave us a tour. The mill continues to grind corn and flour. We bought a small sack of Einkorn wheat presumably an heirloom variety from biblical times. I like historical connections. And I need to get back making bread.

We could have driven straight home, just over 2 hours, but I decided on a lunch stop. I found Jessops Tavern in New Castle. It sounded familiar and later my sister Vicky said she’d been there several times and that we’d cancelled a visit with her. It was built in 1674. A cooper Abraham Jessop had a barrel making business in 1724. It was small, large bar and row of tables. Great craft beer stop. I had a Yard’s Jefferson wheat and a crab pot pie. Tasty although crab, chicken, it was hard to tell. Diane was back to salad and shrimp. I was amazed we’ve never been in this old New Castle neighborhood. It’s where Penn landed on his way to Philadelphia. Worth another visit.

I also think we’ll get back to Rock Hall, Chesterton, maybe a cottage at the Inn at Huntingfield Creek. It’s not Cape Cod or Maine. But there is a vibe I like. It’s close. The seafood is great. If only we could sail again. Maybe ?

Chesterton, crabs, lobster, MD, Rock Hall

Chesterton, crabs, lobster, MD, Rock Hall

Chesterton, crabs, lobster, MD, Rock Hall

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american history Ayudanica Birding books bristol Bristol PA Bucks County Cape Cod Children's Literature Christmas Coronavirus Delaware Canal Delaware River family HGP History Holy Ghost Prep John McPhee lobster local history Long Beach Island Maine Movies Nantucket New Hope New Year Nicaragua oysters Peace Corps Pennsylvania Hospital perspective Philadelphia Photography Politics Reading retirement Seafood Sherlock Holmes thoreau Travel Trump truth vacations Winter Yardley

american history Ayudanica Birding books bristol Bristol PA Bucks County Cape Cod Children's Literature Christmas Coronavirus Delaware Canal Delaware River family HGP History Holy Ghost Prep John McPhee lobster local history Long Beach Island Maine Movies Nantucket New Hope New Year Nicaragua oysters Peace Corps Pennsylvania Hospital perspective Philadelphia Photography Politics Reading retirement Seafood Sherlock Holmes thoreau Travel Trump truth vacations Winter Yardley

The Greatest Generation

As I grow older I become more reflective. My present seems to always link with my past. Ceremonial Time, when past, present and future blends. It intensifies on holidays. This past Memorial Day weekend I decided to reread “The Greatest Generation” (1998) by Tom Brokaw. Reading it I recall my parents lives, it could be a chapter in Brokaw’s book. They like those he profiled were ordinary Americans. I reflect on their generation, their lives. How different from our life today? Unfortunately I know so little about their experience during the war years.

I’ve previously written about “the greatest generation” and my father. “See my 2022 blog “ Fathers and Memory.” https://vprofy.wordpress.com/2022/12/23/fathers-and-memory/ At the time I reviewed several books, Jonathan Kozol’s “The Theft of Memory: losing my father one day at a time.” and “Duty: a father, his son and the man who won the war” by Bob Greene. In 2014 I wrote “Remembering Father” – https://vprofy.wordpress.com/2014/10/15/remembering-father/

In “The Greatest Generation,” Brokaw wrote:

“In the spring of 1984, I went to the northwest of France, to Normandy, to prepare an NBC documentary on the fortieth anniversary of D-Day, the massive and daring Allied invasion of Europe that marked the beginning of the end of Adolf Hitler’s Third Reich. There, I underwent a life-changing experience. As I walked the beaches with the American veterans who had returned for this anniversary, men in their sixties and seventies, and listened to their stories, I was deeply moved and profoundly grateful for all they had done. Ten years later, I returned to Normandy for the fiftieth anniversary of the invasion, and by then I had come to understand what this generation of Americans meant to history. It is, I believe, the greatest generation any society has ever produced.”

I don’t think growing up in the 1950s I thought my parents were anything special. They were good, average, “ordinary” people. For years I’ve liked to repeat Mark Twain, “When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven year.”

Brokaw interviews many from my parents generation. They were born in the 1920s, grew up in the 1930s, and went to war in the 1940s. In 1970 I was teaching American History in an elementary school. My parents lives were history. The roaring 20s, stock market crash, speakeasies; the thirties and the depression. Then they went to war. It was all a part of my lessons.

I remember my father telling me he heard of the attack on Pearl Harbor while sitting in Pall Mall Sos a fountain on Mill Street, Bristol, PA. He would soon enlist in the Navy. He served on a tanker, the Rapidan, in the Pacific most of the time. He worked in the engine room. On several occasions he recalled being in Seattle. But he never provided much detail. Several years ago I sent for military records. They provided some new information, not a lot. On his discharge he returned to Bristol. Went to watch school in Trenton on the G.I. Bill, got a job in Rohm & Haus. His father however wanted him in the family appliance (General Electric franchise) store. I suspect the fact that he was allowed to open a jewelry- watch counter in the store was an enticement. So he joined his brothers, Tom and Frank. Around this time the store moved from my grandfather’s building to a large corner first floor store, with apartments above that were owned by my mother’s mother. Her father William Gallagher haberdashery had been in the building the building. He died when Mom was young and I guess my grandmother inherited the building or at least his portion.

It was during this period the my father and mother were married. September 7, 1946. I was born in July 1947. We lived in one of the apartments above the store for several years until with a third child was on the way. Father took off time from “the store” to rebuild a property my grandfather had purchased. It had thee small store fronts; the second and third floors would be the apartment where we lived for almost two decades.

My parents were hard workers, with strong family ties, local friends, dedication to their children, sense of community, religious faith (both were practicing Catholics), loyalty to country. They fit the profile Brokaw presents in “The Greatest Generation.”

They could have been featured in his first section, “Ordinary People.” They would join Thomas and Eileen Broderick, Chicago, Insurance Agency Owner; Lloyd Kilmer, Omaha, County Clerk and Real Estate; and Wesley Ho, Falmouth, MA, Printing Business. He also profiles those who served on the home front. Dorothy Haener, a UAW women’s organizer and Charles Briscoe, Wichita, a Boeing engineer who developed the B-29. My mother and her older sister, Ellen, worked in the Kaiser shipyard in Bristol. I can’t believe I have no idea what she did.

Brokaw has a section on “Heroes.” Those who receive commendations and medals but would say “ it wasn’t me, was the unit.” He explains their training, units and action during the war. Women’s roles were undergoing major changes. They were working in factories but also serving in the military. Brokaw writes about “Women in Uniform and Out.” In “Shame” he doesn’t ignore the discrimination and prejudice faced by African Americans and Japanese Americans who so often served with honor, love of country and courage.

“Love, Marriage, and Commitment “ explores the strong marriage bonds, dedication to family that characterized those that lived through the war. Divorce wasn’t generally acceptable. The last sections deal with famous people who served — George Bush, Ben Bradley, Art Buchwald, Andy Rooney, Julie Child, Robert Dole, Daniel Inouye, Casper Weinberger, George Shultz and Arthur Schlesinger.

Was the generation, my parents generation, who grew up during the Depression, lived through and served in World War II, raised and nurtured a family, rebuilt the economy, practiced their religion (my parents were both Catholic), created new communities, supported their country, lived good, honest lives — were they “the greatest generation.” When I first read “The Greatest Generation.” I think I unquestionably accepted Brokaw’s analysis. Now I’m not so sure. “Great” yes; “Greatest,” just maybe at best. There is no question they united against a fascist threat to world peace and democracy. They sacrificed. For many they sacrificed their lives; for others years filled with the repercussions of war.

There were times when my parents generation uncritically accepted American, right or wrong. They were willing to proceed with a war in Vietnam that many of my generation believed was totally wrong. They retained lingering racism, Jim Crow, red-lining, racial profiling. For some white supremacy was normal and accepted. Rebuilding the economy could be at the expense of the environment. You get my point. The WWII generation was far from perfect. But . . . but they (many of them) had qualities that would make our lives better today.

Brokaw’s “greatest generation” put family, community and country above personal self interest. They were honest, lived up to their word, a hand shake meant something. So did listening to the other guy. They didn’t grandstand; were humble. They were willing to sacrifice for their beliefs. They looked for and supported the truth.

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When I reflect on Brokaw” “Greatest” I reflect on my parents, Cecelia and Vincent Profy. They were good people; enough for me. Thanks.

John Adams by David McCullough

When I taught American History at Holy Ghost Prep I wasn’t a big fan of John Adams. I was not a fan of the Federalists but was drawn to Jefferson’s “yeomen farmer.” As for the other Federalists, Washington was a war hero, rather formal and glum he seemed. Hamilton was sinister; was he just out for himself. I didn’t even find Hamilton very attractive when he made it to Broadway. I always taught about the Adams administration’s disgraceful Alien and Sedition Acts. Anti-immigrant and you can’t criticize the government — sounds like today’s Trump world. I taught more about Jefferson, his Democratic- Republican notions, agrarian yeoman philosophy, Declaration of Independence writing, Louisiana purchase, cultured interests, gardening, and food and of course there was his contradictory attitude toward slavering, including his relationship with Sally Hemings.

In 1915, the year this photo was taken, liquor vendors were still allowed to use the cool, dark chambers under the bridge.

My recent reading of David McCullough’s “John Adams” (2001) has brought me to reappraise Adams. Of course McCullough is an amazing historian writer. I first discovered McCullough in 1986: “The Great Bridge: the epic story of the building of the Brooklyn Bridge”. What a story with a local, Trenton character, John Roebling. I later visited the Roebling plant site in Trenton and still enjoy crossing his cable suspension bridge at Rieglesville, PA (1904). I’ve also read McCullough’s “The Johnstown Flood” (1987), “Brave Companions: portraits in history” (1992), and “1776” (2005). I enjoyed hearing McCullough from Jim Wallace, former owner of the Continental Tavern in Yardley, who went to school with him in Pittsburg. My son-in-law, Rob took a college course with him Cornell.

John Adams was a graduate of Harvard, a lawyer, farmer, resident of Braintree, MA southwest of Boston. He was a simple, honest man far removed from the more aristocratic founding fathers of Virginia. Although he fully supported the revolutionary break from England, he successfully defended British soldiers charged with murder in the Boston Massacre. McCullough starts the Adams story as he travels to Philadelphia as a delegate to the Continental Congress. He becomes a major advocate for the Declaration of Independence. It’s interesting to imagine and speculate what it was like being part of the Revolution in Philadelphia leading up to and just after July 1776. Such a heady experience. A historical footnote: both Adams and Jefferson died on July 4 lending weight to our July 4 celebration of Independence Day.

Although they had competing political views on many issues including the role of the federal government and the American relationship with France after the revolution John Adams and Thomas Jefferson respected each other (most of the time) and we’re friends (usually, despite periods of estrangement).

Adams life would be devoted to public service. He was born in 1735, so was 41 in 1776. For years care of the family farm would be Abigail’s responsibility. He would serve as minister to Great Britain, minister to the Netherlands, and envoy to France. It’s amazing how long Adams and others were separated while serving in Europe. No internet, email or telephone. Letters. Jefferson held his own abroad, actually bringing home lots of French culture and wine. Franklin was adored by the French, particularly the ladies. Adams was not as comfortable nor accepted.

He was Washington’s Vice President. He followed as second President to the United States but lost to Jefferson after one term. It was a rancorous election full of accusations and lies — echoes today. At the time he was in total conflict with fellow Federalists including power hungry Alexander Hamilton. Federalist (hear Republican) inter fighting.

It was interesting to read that Adams wasn’t fully supportive of the Alien and Sedition Acts but he did and enforce signed them. His Presidency was driven by American policy toward France. The Jeffersonians supported the French against Great Britain. The Federalist leaned toward Great Britain and some were willing/wanting to go to war with France. Adams resisted the calls for war but supported an increase in the military, particularly the Navy.

Abigail and John were the first occupants of the White House in Washington, D.C. It was pretty crude by current standards. But an important symbol of the new government. Abigail is a fascinating character. In March 1776 for instance she wrote John in Philadelphia:

““I long to hear that you have declared an independency. And, by the way, in the new code of laws which I suppose it will be necessary for you to make, I desire you would remember the ladies and be more generous and favorable to them than your ancestors. Do not put such unlimited power into the hands of the husbands. Remember, all men would be tyrants if they could. If particular care and attention is not paid to the ladies, we are determined to foment a rebellion, and will not hold ourselves bound by any laws in which we have no voice or representation.” I might follow up my read of “John Adams” with a biography of Abigail Adams.

After one term, Adams retired to his farm Peacefield in Quincy, MA. He returned to the soil, a quiet life, but continued to monitor the political landscape and correspond with his political friends, including Benjamin Rush, and sometimes Thomas Jefferson. He started writing an autobiography was it was put aside, never finished. Lafayette on an American tour visited him. Only his one son John Quincy Adams followed him into politics, becoming President in 1824.

Both Adams and Jefferson died on July 4, 1826 the 50th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence.

McCullough’s biography, “John Adams” led to a review of his legacy. A 2008 miniseries “John Adams” directed by Tom Hopper and staring Paul Giamatti won critical acclaim and continued the reexamination of an important founding father. Unfortunately I’ve only seen one or two episodes.

I like to experience, explore, related intertwined threads of life and history. Building one experience on another. I’ve been to Mount Vernon (Washington), Monticello (Jefferson), Montpelier (Madison), it’s time for a trip to Peacefield (Adams). I can borrow the Adams mini series from the Bucks County Library. I also want to continue reading McCullough, “A Man of Iron” (Grover Cleveland), “Mornings on Horseback” (Theodore Roosevelt), “Truman” and “The Greater Journey: Americans in Paris.” That should keep me busy. I might add the Roebling Museum outside of Trenton, a trip to Johnstown, and a walk over the Brooklyn Bridge.

David McCullough died on 2022.

John Muir wrote, “When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe. “John Adams” by David McCullough leads me on.

MAY 01, 2015 – BOSTON – MA- historian Davuid McCullough in his study where he types on his 75 year old manuel typewritter. (globe staff photo :Joanne Rathe reporter: Genie Williamson section: : books topic: writers1)