JFK, Jr. Upholds the Family Tradition

"It was all very careless and confused. They were careless people, Tom and Daisy - they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they made…."
- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Call it bad karma or simply bad judgement. Either might answer the question that lies in the wake of the plane crash that claimed the life of John Kennedy, Jr., his wife and her sister - "Why?"

Why, indeed, did another tragedy befell this American family which, as President Clinton said yesterday, has given so much, yet, endured so much, too.

Amidst the spooky speculation that the Kennedys are "cursed" came an explanation which, for me, seemed to cut through all of that.

"They're reckless people; always have been and always will be, 'cause they think they can do anything they want."

That wasn't some bitter old-school Republican who said that. It wasn’t some new-age journalist with no reasons whatsoever to claim the Kennedys as friends. And it wasn't one of the millions of Americans whose infatuation with all things Kennedy borders on the unhealthy. This lone voice of reason had come simply from a single radio listener somewhere in the Midwest who had somehow figured it out a long time ago.

This is not to diminish or demonize the memory of John Jr. by any means. He was, as a person – as a mere human being – able to raise himself above that lousy bunch on his father's side he was forced to call "relatives." It's often been said that John Jr. inherited his mother's looks and his father's smarts (or lack thereof.) But another aspect of the Kennedy side that missed John Jr. was the out-and-out ruthless mindset possessed by the Kennedy clan. And they are a clan. It's their way or the highway, and anyone who treads in their path be damned. They have always been, in their own minds, above the law and in that respect, they are true villains in society, much in the way that Tom and Daisy Buchanan were the win-at-all-cost villains in The Great Gatsby.

It's been almost 75 years since Scott Fitzgerald gave us these two literary heathens - some three and a half decades before the election of John F. Kennedy - and still we haven't learned from the lesson Fitzgerald tried to teach us.

A prominent historian and Kennedy groupie attempted, via a New York Times editorial, to excuse the family's hi-jinks as an antidote for "useless boredom." But there's a big difference between “useless boredom” and “bad judgment.” And much like the string of his relatives who have made bad decisions, John Kennedy, Jr. made a bad decision. He was reckless and careless and confused; a victim of the hubris and subsequent bad judgment which has been inherently Kennedyesque for half a century. Which is bad enough; but worse when your own bad judgement is responsible for other victims, too. Just ask the family of Mary Jo Kopechne.

Speaking of Chappaquiddick, did anyone else find it strange that the disappearance of John Jr.'s plane took place 30 years to the day (the third Friday of July) that his Uncle Ted drove a car over a bridge near Martha's Vineyard, crawled out and swam to safety, left Mary Jo Kopechne to die, then decided to tell the police about it some nine hours later?

Careless and reckless - the stuff that Kennedys are made of.

For those who understand and trust in the strange powers of karma, it doesn't take much to recognize that these people have taken a whole lot more than they have given, and that from time to time, they must pay the piper.

The sentiment I will concede is that, if nothing else, this family has demonstrated amazing resiliency and I salute them for it. Though given their history of decision-making, they haven't given themselves much choice.

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Clinton vs. The Catholics

Given that pride is one of the seven deadly sins, I’m not usually one to take religious convictions to any sort of obscene level of feverish extreme. But I must confess that after reading the story in this morning’s paper of the stink surrounding President Clinton’s taking communion at a Roman Catholic Church in South Africa, I felt as though I’d never been more proud to be a genuine, baptized Lutheran.

Normally, NOT being a Catholic should be relief enough; being a resident Protestant even more satisfying. But being a Lutheran is the ultimate stab at the demented bubble which has always been and remains the Catholic Church. Martin Luther - a Man of God, himself - was the first to tell the Catholics to take their isolationistic, antiquated practices and shove them where reflections off the Vatican never shine. That was almost five centuries ago. Sadly, things haven’t changed much within the hallowed, prejudiced confines of Catholicism.

I experienced this prejudice first hand some ten years ago when I walked into a Catholic Church, for the first time with a girl I was seeing at the time. When I rose to join her in the communion line, she gave me an uncomfortable look, and said, "You can't; I mean, you're not supposed to go."

"Go where?" I asked.

"Up to the front ..... to take communion. Not unless you're Catholic. It's the church rules."
I sat there alone and pondered this revelation, not really letting it get to me until a couple of weeks later when it came time for communion back in my Lutheran Church.

I got up to approach the rail for communion, but this girl - this same girl - didn't move a muscle.

"Come on. It's okay for you to take communion here."

"No, I can't. We're not allowed."

That was enough. It was one thing for the Catholic Church to say to me, "You're not good enough for us." But it took on a whole new meaning when they said to me, "And by the way, we're too good to commune with the likes of you."

That relationship lasted about six more months and, come to think of it, I haven't the slightest notion why.

But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is that some local Priest had the audacity to blame Clinton's staff for this seeming faux pas.

I've got to tell you - if I'm in a foreign land and find myself in need of a little forgiveness and salvation, and someone offers the proverbial bread and wine to me – especially if I'm in Bill Clinton's moccasins these days – I'm gonna take it. And if that violates some ancient rite of the Catholic doctrine, they have nobody to blame but themselves.

They say it pissed them off because it violated their code of unity. But the last time I checked, the Catholic faith was grouped in with those god-awful Methodists and Lutherans and Baptist and Presbyterian and Episcopalian......it's known as Christianity and it's high time the Catholic Church got a grasp on that.

I guess the most entertaining part of this entire escapade was the cry from divorced Catholics who were moaning because they - as divorcees - couldn't take Communion, but some stinkin' Baptist President could! They obviously fail to realize that they, indeed, have broken a covenant with the Catholic Church which they hold most holy. However, by never making such a covenant (by being possessed of the luck of not being born Catholic), Bill Clinton broke no covenant at all.

Ah yes, another classic case of the Catholics eating their own, so to speak. Of course, therein, lays the subservient, even Orwellian nature of Catholicism. They even find ways to piss off their own. But they’re just not smart enough to stay out of politics.

The Last Trial of Marcia Clark

Marcia Clark is back in the news. Not because of a new hairstyle or a switch from business suits to tail-hugging skirts or that she is once again neither confirming nor denying that she has slept with her infamous locked-at-the-hip imbecile in crime, the disgraced and now former attorney Chris Darden.

The “news” is that Clark's own version of the O.J. trial has finally hit the book racks, one year and seven months after a jury decided O.J. Simpson did not kill his ex-wife and her lover. Clark’s book is the last in a line of many; and once again, and for one final time, she was a step behind the competition.

Clark’s book is called “Without A Doubt;” a fitting title considering that, without a doubt, Marcia Clark and Chris Darden blew the easiest criminal case ever tossed a prosecution team. Much has been said with respect to the opinion that Marcia Clark and Chris Darden didn’t “blow this case - the onus falls on . . . The Department.” Which is bullshit.

The ax must fall on someone and it’s not going to be on the entire department. Had the jury delivered a “guilty” verdict, it would have been "Marcia Clark’s victory." And this is important to note: It would not have been a Clark/Darden victory. While they were happy to team up in defeat for the purpose of sharing the blame, in victory, Marcia would have been a glory hog; reason enough to absolve Darden. In the end, he was nothing more than a second-team scrub who had no reason to be in that courtroom.

Searching for a scapegoat, Clark states in her book that Simpson walked “because American justice is distorted by race....” A sad declaration; there are few acts more cowardly or classless than an attorney blaming society or the system for his or her own failure. In this case, such a declaration is also wrong. The verdict in the civil trial derailed the “blame the jury” theory.

No - the blame for losing this no-brainer falls on the shoulders of Marcia Clark - without a doubt. And while she and many others view her “coming out” as redemption, it hardly constitutes atonement.

In the early days of the Simpson criminal fiasco, yours truly predicted that if she were to lose this case, she would never practice law again. She did, she hasn’t, she won’t and not even a book tour can salvage the remnants of her career now.

And it shouldn’t.

That which deserves to live, lives. - Anonymous

Chuck Stone…The Reader's Advocate?

Now that Election Day in St. Louis has passed, a brutal, long-smoldering feud between incumbent mayor Freeman Bosley Jr. and chief challenger Clarence Harmon draws to a temporary close. However, over these past couple of months, there developed a second battle. I'm speaking of the unprecedented animosity, which was created between the people of St. Louis and a particular newspaper writer, one Chuck Stone.

The first thing I noticed about Stone, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch's "readers' advocate" brought in at the first of this year, is that he's a snob. Or, at least, he thinks an awful lot of himself. The second sentence in his January 5th column indicates as much:

"Do you know why this job is so important?"

He may as well have written, "Do you know why I am so important?"

Now I may have said a lot of things and thought a lot of things, but I have never considered myself to be so important; certainly not in the eyes of the general public. So it won't hurt my ego to amend myself so early in this commentary by saying that I could be wrong; Chuck Stone may not be a snob. Most snobs I know may be opinionated bastards, but each has had the education necessary for expressing him or herself with proper use of the English Language. Obviously, Stone has not as evidenced by his use of the slang terms "dis," "dissed," and "dissing.” Not one of these three terms is found in the 12-volume edition of the Oxford Dictionary of the English Language.

Stone's stated number one reason for taking the job is his relationship with Post-Dispatch editor, Cole Campbell. My guess is that this is the only reason he has the job. (I'm not sure what kind of dirt Stone could have on Campbell to warrant such a cushy [not to mention undeserving] seat, but I’d sure as hell like to find out.)

Chuck Stone was, according to his introduction from the editors of the Post-Dispatch in an early column, hired to "focus on the St. Louis mayoral election." Indeed, he touched on many topics, but the election was rarely one of them. In the first sentence of one column, Stone complained that "the last thing readers of this column had in mind last Sunday was an election." Well, if the columnist doesn't bother discussing the election - which he has rarely done - why should the readers? On separate occasions, he viewed his job as a seat from which (1) to explain various news stories which run in the paper for presumed thick-headed readers or (2) to explain various comments from readers or (3) to report to the rest of us what other readers are thinking. In some instances, he merely used the readers as editors. What he did not do was cover the race for mayor on a consistent basis. His earliest columns were virtually void of the subject. (At one point, he reported from Huntsville, Alabama . . . . was a candidate there on vacation?) When he finally did get around to giving substantial attention to the race, he mocked it by once mentioning Candidate Bill Haas in a particular column, but ignoring co-front-runner Clarence Harmon. This is a bad move when you're hired to analyze the race for The Rest Of Us. Though I must give credit when it's due. At another point in his indistinguishable stay, he did raise one of the much-discussed issues when he seemed to ask, "how much (has) the racial factor . . . (been) turning off St. Louisans from the mayoral campaign?" Wasn’t Stone supposed to be answering that question?

While this is just one thing he failed to do, I must say that Chuck Stone possesses an elaborate style when doing nothing. The fancy language, including the literary quotes, the Latin phrases and the newsroom slang are sharp and, when used by the right people to address the right audience, can have an impact. But failing at simple marketing (learning your audience), Stone forgot that he was speaking to we common folks, not a group of Shakespearean historians. In all of his years, Chuck Stone has yet to learn that simple language is not necessarily the product of a simple mind. I was reminded of this one night last fall as I stood alone in the brisk October air and read the brief but powerful - and effective - Gettysburg Address off the giant limestone walls which line the interior of the Lincoln Memorial. In the end, Abraham Lincoln made his point and it may have saved the union. Meanwhile, Chuck Stone never made a point. By mid-February, it seemed that even Post-Dispatch editor Cole Campbell recognized the futility of Stone's efforts to produce anything containing even a semblance of sense. In the February 16th edition of the paper, Campbell felt compelled to introduce to us Sylvester Brown Jr., who would also – hopefully – be kicking in his two cents on the mayoral race.

* * * * *

I've waited the duration of the mayoral contest before making a comment, figuring to give Stone a chance to . . . . to just do his job. (Which, by the way, he failed to do right up to the very last column. Any summation of the race mentioned?) Maybe even Stone himself didn’t see this column as much of an opportunity to make any contribution. Hell, he seemed to confess as much in his March 2nd column when he wrote, "....this column belongs to you." His February 23rd column had been a terrific example of this. In an approximately 600-word article, he saved any mention of the mayor campaign for the final 48 words:
In the meantime, St. Louisans, I implore you to think, read, talk and argue about only one thing for the next eight days - the election on Tuesday, March 4. If you do nothing else that day, VOTE - as if your life depended on it. Your city's future does.

Well, I wouldn't exactly stake the city's future on the fact that St. Louisans would more readily accept journalistic commentary from one of their own (of which Chuck Stone is not) but suffice it to say that if I were a betting man, I'd all but swear that local folks would probably prefer such commentary from a Post-Dispatch staffer rather than some outsider. Which reminds me - I find it hard to believe that in all St. Louis, the Post-Dispatch couldn't find an adequately qualified person to cover this contest for the mayor's office. Both Jo Mannies and Gregory Freeman delivered fine coverage. And Bill McClellen, who took Stone to task early on, could have, of course, performed the job. All three certainly communicated more about what the hell transpired during this campaign than Chuck Stone did. It's quite clear that Stone spent more time defending himself - basically, fighting with readers - than analyzing the race for city hall. Maybe this was because he really didn’t know what he was doing in the first place, as he essentially admitted in a late column: “It took us 13 columns, but I think we’ve got it, we finally got it.”

“We?” “We” had nothing to “get.” But considering his decades worth of “credentials,” Stone should have “got it” from week one. But he never did. Sure, he is loudmouthed and pious; worst, though, is that he fails as a writer - and remains a brain-dead fool, incapable of making a clear point.

To borrow a phrase - a practice of which Stone is fond - from one of his columns, "what we have here is a failure to communicate."

* * * * *

Webster tells us that an "advocate" is a "defender," which, according to some Post-Dispatch folks, makes Chuck Stone a defender "for all readers."

Well, no thanks . . . not me . . . I will defend myself. And vehemently suggest that the St. Louis Post-Dispatch never again pull such a stunt.

For now, thankfully, there’s relief. After thirteen embarrassing weeks, Chuck Stone is finally going away. Maybe if he’s still bent on becoming a communicator, I could help him.

I’d start by loading one of my old manual Royal typewriters into the back seat of the convertible, drive very fast down to the Post-Dispatch building and launch the thing through the window of Chuck Stone’s office as a reminder of what blunt, effective, crystal clear communication can be.

(Of course, in these modern times, there’s probably no “window of Chuck Stone’s office” or any office for that matter, and it’s doubtful Stone has ever really stepped foot in the Post’s offices. Most likely, he’s sitting in a convalescence home somewhere, possessing just enough mental capacity to dial up Cole Campbell’s extension now and then to remind him of “that incident” so long ago - the one he appears to be holding over Campbell’s head for the twisted sake of keeping a weekly byline.)

But I’m not going to do that. And let me say, for the permanent record, that I would never consider such a deed. That would be . . . . destruction of property . . . . vandalism . . . . a crime. And Chuck Stone’s weekly blathering is probably as much crime as the Post’s staff writers - the ones who were bypassed in favor of Stone - are able to stomach.

No - instead, I’d just stay put and think about Chuck Stone sitting in some cozy North Carolina hideaway, insulated from the folks he's worked so hard to alienate these past three months.