Category Archives: Election of 2016

Peer Review Excerpt 2

This post comes from a full stage play titled Peer Review. It was composed during DJT’s first term and serves to illuminate the contrast to earlier presidencies.

SCENE TWO

The stage lightens in a mix of gold and white. A bed and two arm chairs made in the same colors sit center stage, The New York City skyline is projected on the back curtain. The sound of papparazzi and cameras snapping is heard offstage. An elevator dings. After a moment the President enters stage right with two men in suits wearing earpieces. The men walk around the area and bed. The President turns and speaks.

THE PRESIDENT
Call maintenance, that damn elevator shouldn’t stall between floors. That was a good ten minutes, dammit. I’m gone a few weeks and the building goes to hell. There’s nothing in here. Get out.

The men exit. The President removes his jacket, and walks to the dresser. He peers down in a drawer, then finds what he is looking for. A file of yellow and red.

Except this little gem and it’s really something.

He lies on the bed reading and chuckles happily. His cell phone plays “Hail To The Chief.” The President answers.

Where are you? I just got here, great crowd outside. Yeah, I’ll get it done. Hey, I said I’d do it. What do you mean you don’t trust me? Give me a break, That whole Stormy Daniels garbage is . . . No. Don’t hang up. We’ll sit down with the lawyers and renegotiate the whole deal. But then you will join me in DC, and the boy, too. This staying in New York is no good, makes me look bad to the country. Yeah, yeah, I’ll get Reince on it today. Hey, I said I will.

He tosses the phone on the bed and resumes reading.
Huh. Erdogan didn’t tell me this. How does the CIA find this crap out? I need some Putin-Ukraine stuff. Who woul’da thought I’d read something?

He chuckles, and soon grows sleepy. The President drops the open file and closes his eyes. After a moment a spot rises on a figure entering the stage.

He is tall, wearing a 18th Century blue and buff military uniform, knee breeches, white stockings and carries a sheathed saber. His white hair is combed back, and tied with a black ribbon at the nape of his neck. Standing near the bed, he speaks slowly with elegance.

THE GENERAL
I am very fond of New York City. During the War for Independence I maintained camp nearby for much of the duration.

The President sits upright, and reaches for a pillow to shield himself. He squeaks.

THE PRESIDENT

Shit!

THE GENERAL
Congress had directed me to burn Manhattan ahead of invading British Regulars. You see, Congress wished to leave nothing of use for the Redcoats. Destroying the city left me conflicted, and alas, that order I could not obey. As fate would have it, a fire did erupt in the chaos, demolishing vast tracts of the city. A very regrettable situation.

The General poses regally, glancing at the president. He continues.

Sometime later I returned to serve as President here in New York.

He gestures with his saber to the skyline.

Concerning the demands made upon me as I served those first critical years, none resolved easily, nor without great cost. But our fledgling nation teetered on dissolution and we, as the first government under new Constitution, had to stand resolute.

The President lowers his pillow to speak in a forced, but faltering menacing tone.

THE PRESIDENT
I don’t know who you are, or how you got in here, but this is my room, and my 30,000 square foot apartment, in my extremely valuable building. So clear out!

The General appears not to hear, serenely seating himself in an arm chair. He levels his gaze at The President.

THE GENERAL
My colleague said you were tiresome, however, I am staying.

THE PRESIDENT
Who said that? What colleague . . .oh, jeez, him. Well I’m important NOW. So you and that other fossil can beat it back to central casting.

THE GENERAL (Untroubled)

I, too struggled with grandiosity. In my youth I pined for the advantages of wealth and status that surrounded me. Stately mansions dotted the inlets and vast river systems of Tidewater Virginia, the place of my birth. I longed for a life of importance, gentility, and of wealth. I would be an English gentleman residing in elegance upon his landed estate.

THE PRESIDENT
The English are wusses, and you’ve blah blah’d enough. I’m in New York to get away from all that history garbage. That old dump where I have to stay is filled with that crap. So goodbye Rambo.

The General waits, then rises and un-sheaths his blade. The President again grasps his pillow. The General resumes his story.

THE GENERAL
Born the first son of a second family, I fell heir to nothing but my father’s name. Augustine and Lawrence, my older brothers, received all the honors of a gentleman’s life. I loved them, idolized them, especially dear Lawrence, and begrudged him nothing of his inheritance. However, I cannot deny the depth of my anguish as a second class Virginian.

THE PRESIDENT (To himself)

When my Father died I stuck it to my brother. He couldn’t handle money, the guy was a drunk.

THE GENERAL
Another temptation concerned a young matron, the wife of my best friend. Sally was her name, and I loved her very much. Our correspondence, especially while I served in the war against the French was perhaps too forward, and flirtatious. I longed for Sally, but she was not, nor ever could be mine.

The General sighs, deep in thought.

THE PRESIDENT
I never let any marriage license stop me. Mine or any available broad. That’s all they’re good for, arm candy and a roll.

THE GENERAL
We are all too aware of your misogyny, and absence of propriety. Even Mr. Kennedy said he attempted more discretion in his dalliances. I’m reminded of a letter from the Marquis de Lafayette informing me of his wife’s passion for me. Amused, I replied youthful women are inclined to youthful men, not those of graying hair. And still it is so.

The president sits up with his pillow on his lap.

THE PRESIDENT
Younger women love me. They really do. I’ve dated some beauties, too. You should see some of the pageant contestants I’ve bagged-and Playboy bunnies, too.

From the wing a soldier in Continental uniform approaches the General handing him a dispatch. The General reads the parchment, and marks it with a quill pen. The soldier leaves.

THE GENERAL
Sir, I do not believe ‘love’ is quite the term for what you’re describing. unbridled debauchery perhaps is more precise?

THE PRESIDENT

What the hell? How did he . . .?

THE GENERAL
It is the disciplined man who owns his passions. Decorum is what separates us from animals, wouldn’t you agree?

The president sits mouth agape at the soldier. The General continues.

THE GENERAL
Elegant balls were quite popular venues for young people to meet. I don’t mind saying that I may have been one of the finer dancers in the Tidewater. Those evenings were grand; dinners, music, and refinement in abundance. Oh, how I yearned to rise in social rank.

THE PRESIDENT
I hear ya. Those Manhattan snobs, that artsy-fartsy Met crowd, boxed me out. Treat my kids that way, too. Jerks.

THE GENERAL
Envy did little to further my integrity as a gentleman. In the war against the French the royal governor entrusted me to offer land patents to volunteers willing to join the Virginia militia. Over the course of the conflict I made many of those acres my own. You see land was the mark of a gentleman, but I was an imposter. That villainy has troubled me for an eternity. I pray my service to my nation has polished away some of the tarnish.

THE PRESIDENT
Don’t sweat it, business is business. Regulations are a pain in the ass. If you have an opening take it. Never hesitate. I’d a done the same thing.

The soldier-courier again appears on stage carrying more documents and a feather pen. The general agains peruses the contents, and marks the paper. The president raises his hands in a questioning gesture. The courier disappears.

THE PRESIDENT
There is a squadron of Secret Service out in that living room! How does that guy just walk in here?

THE GENERAL
Colonel Hamilton? He is a very clever young man. A great mind, that one. (Pauses) I disagree with your assessment of regulations. Had it not been for the rigor used to organize the army, particularly at Valley Forge, America would not exist. Good order was the key to eventual victory.

THE PRESIDENT
But you were the boss, right? You made the rules. Everyone I brought in has stabbed me in the back, didn’t follow my rules. Bunch of lowlife. Tillerson, Bolton, Mulvaney.

THE GENERAL
Perhaps those staff members possessed standards and realized you were not a leader worth following.

The president stands up outraged, the general stares him back down.

THE GENERAL
Those of my staff earned positions through merit. Tallmadge, Knox, and Hamilton, here, were gentlemen I trusted with my life. The hangers-on, the men who conspired for my command eventually revealed their ineptitude, and villainy. Those characters fell by the wayside.

THE PRESIDENT
A lot of people don’t realize this, but I don’t know American history. How did you win that war?

THE GENERAL
I never confronted the Regulars unless I had an advantage, like at Trenton, though I detested avoiding any fight. (Pauses) I kept the Continental Army together, and out of British hands. I knew the King could not fight forever. And I knew history was watching our every move, and we owed the future to never give up.

THE PRESIDENT
What the hell does that even mean? History watching! I could care less what happened before me, or when I go out.

THE GENERAL
And I am sorry for that, as will be your grandchildren. The family name is disgraced for all time. The rest of us, those whom I am representing, all understand this. Each chief executive found inspiration in taking part in something greater than ourselves. This, (he gestures toward the window) the United States of America has never been attempted before, a people’s government. The world is housed with predictable despots stealing from, and brutalizing the powerless.

THE PRESIDENT
Oh, come on, give me a break, everybody cheats and steals. Especially here in America.

THE GENERAL
Indeed. But we try to be better. We all have tried. President Chester Arthur felt you ought to know that he, too, served the monied interest. But once president, Mr. Arthur left the grift behind. Like the rest of us he found humility understanding all citizens, for all time would weigh his executive stewardship. He treasured America more than money and power.

The president slumps into a chair. He jabs a finger at the general, changes his mind and lowers his hand.

THE PRESIDENT
I didn’t take a salary. My people liked that, makes me look like a good guy.

THE GENERAL
All the while, behind the scenes, you pilfer on a grand scale. (The General glares) The Continental Army did not suffer want and cold at Valley Forge and Morristown for you to overcharge the federal government for lodging Secret Service at your resorts. Nor did they starve so guests at your Washington hotel could be egregiously overcharged.

The general continues to glare for a long moment and slowly cools down.

THE GENERAL
After Yorktown, and the surrender of Lord Cornwallis, hostilities slowly began to quiet. Royal ships, loaded with Redcoats set sail for England and our land stood liberated. Many difficulties remained such as discharging soldiers, and securing their long overdue pay for services nobly rendered.

The general again looks out at the New York skyline.

THE GENERAL
Word arrived that officers, also unpaid, had set into motion a plot to overthrow the slow-moving Congress and make me king. The ring leaders, encamped north of here in Newburg, awaited my arrival to complete the conspiracy.

THE PRESIDENT

King, huh? I like the sound of that.

THE GENERAL
As I had hoped the plot came to nothing, and that is when I resigned my commission and returned home to Mount Vernon.

THE PRESIDENT
Resigned? Went home! What is wrong with you? You had the whole deal on a plate!

THE GENERAL
Why? Because I am an American. We have no need of kings here, and I longed for home, longed for my wife and family. I’d been away for seven years and I yearned for my farm.

THE PRESIDENT
You could’a had the whole country at your feet and you went home to your farm? Gave up power for cowpies and dirt?

THE GENERAL
“’Tis not in mortals to command success. But we’ll do more, Sempronius, we’ll deserve it. When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway, the post of honor is a private station.”

The general sits down on the edge of the bed. The president, in his bed again clutches his pillow closer.

THE GENERAL
It’s a quote from my favorite stage play, Addison’s “Cato.” As Julius Caesar amassed growing power in the Roman empire, Cato the Younger, a lover of Republican virtue, stood in opposition to Caesar’s tyrannical grasp. When Cato could not accept life under extravagance and corruption he took his own life rather than submit to depravity.

The president stifles a yawn, shakes his head to clear it then speaks.

THE PRESIDENT

I liked the musical, “Cats.”

THE GENERAL
This work had a deep impact upon me and upon my generation. Patrick Henry’s “Give me liberty” quote reflects lines from the play, as does poor Nathan Hale’s last words regretting to have “only one life to give for his country.” During our miserable winter camp at Valley Forge I saw to it the play was performed for the men. We too, were confronting an extravagant and tyrannical empire.

The general rises and returns to the window.

THE GENERAL
And that is why I returned home. My duty had been fulfilled, and my services were no longer required.

The courier returns, this time in civilian garb, the general removes his hat, pistol, and sword. He examines the paperwork, scribbles, and the courier departs. The president stands, holding his pillow, watching the courier, then shrugs. He moves back to his bed.

THE PRESIDENT
Now just hold on. You, I mean, you’re the guy who became president, right? The first one?

THE GENERAL

Yes.

THE PRESIDENT
You should’a just grabbed power in the first place. People wouldn’t have cared. I can say or do anything, and my people love me for it. They’re a sad bunch of losers, really.

THE GENERAL
America did not, and does not now, need a king. I only returned to the public arena because my country called. An uprising in Western Massachusetts pitted war veterans against the state legislature in Boston. Vessels exchanged gunfire on rivers over navigation rights-Americans were battling Americans, again.

The general approaches the president who places his pillow over his face.

THE GENERAL
In Philadelphia a convention was set by Mr. Madison, and Colonel Hamilton to strengthen the national government. Though I was weary, short of funds, and reluctant to leave Mount Vernon, I eventually consented to join the assemblage.

The president lowers his pillow and speaks.

THE PRESIDENT

That sounds boring. But farming sounds boring, too.

THE GENERAL
America’s future rested upon what you term as boring. (He pauses) Though stifling hot that Philadelphia summer, with tempers running high, all members resolved to see the convention through. Unrest across this new country lent a sense of urgency, and we could not fail.

The president appears to not listen, fusses with his hair, staring at the ceiling.

THE GENERAL
Listen when I am speaking. Incorrigible halfwit. Leadership requires listening.

THE PRESIDENT
I’m listening. I give myself an A+ on listening. By the way, do you put powder or something on your hair? I worry mine doesn’t look natural in some light.

THE GENERAL
Addle pated oaf! Colonel Roosevelt cautioned me of your conceit. But I will not depart until I have spoken my piece. The Constitutional Convention labored from May, 1787 until September, and in all those sessions only one day concerned the role of the president, Article Two to be precise. And the reason so little time was allocated to this subject? Because I was, whether I wished it or not, the model for the chief executive.

THE PRESIDENT

One day?

THE GENERAL

One day.

The general pauses, then steps over to the bed. He leans over the intimidated president.

Delegates determined the age requirement, the rule for candidates being native born, with four year terms.

THE PRESIDENT

One day, huh. How come so short?

THE GENERAL
Please listen the first time! Because the office was designed for me. I gave up rank, and returned to civilian life, I could be trusted with power. My successor, later wrote, “May none but Honest and Wise Men ever rule under This Roof.” Since that blessing, with one exception, men of political restraint have served as Commander In Chief. Until you. A greedy, self-deluded dunce. Your infamy will never be forgotten, becoming instead a catchphrase for colossal incompetence.

The general rises, adjusts his hat, retrieves his gun and sword, then turns to the president.

THE GENERAL

When my dearest Martha died after my own passing, she was interred beside me, not in a New Jersey sporting green for a tax deduction.

As the general steps offstage an elevator ding is heard again, then a knock on the president’s door. A voice calls out.

SECRECT SERVICEMAN

The elevator issue is fixed, sir. We can go now.

The president adjusts his hair, and straightens his tie. He rushes off stage. A moment later a spotlight catches him hurrying back, picking up the security file, and placing it under his jacket, and again scurries offstage.

The stage goes dark.

END OF SCENE

Gail Chumbley is the author of the two part memoir River of January, and River of January: Figure Eight. She has also authored three stage plays, Clay, Wolf By The Ears, and Peer Review. Chumbley is the co-writer of Dancing On Air a screenplay based on her River books.

If interested in developing any of these pieces reach out at chumbleg.blog

Peer Review One: A Play

Peer Review One

__________________________

10 Minute Play

By Gail Chumbley

SCENE 1

The stage lights rise. Two wingback chairs sit closely on the stage, and a table. Two men, both marines, stand on either side of the stage apron. The sounds of voices are heard off stage. The stage lights shift to blue as a man, The President, steps onstage. The Marines salute, and the president salutes impatiently. The guards disappear in darkness.

THE PRESIDENT
I can hear them. Tourists. Here to see where I, their President lives.

Three girls enter giggling and taking cell phone pictures. The president fusses with his hair.

THE PRESIDENT

And where are you girls from?

The girls move on without noticing him.
Wait! I’m here. Your president. I’m here.

A couple appear looking about, pointing toward “walls,” chatting quietly. The president straightens his tie, and again touches his hair.

THE PRESIDENT
Welcome to my White House. Wanna a picture with your President?

The couple murmurs quietly, indifferently looking around. They turn and stroll offstage. The president follows a few steps.

THE PRESIDENT

You people deaf? What is wrong with you? This is disgraceful. I’m President of the United States, for god’s sake.

A man appears on stage left. He wears a top hat, mustache, pince-nez spectacles and cutaway jacket with tails. He carries a cane. The man approaches the president from behind. He speaks in a patrician voice.

THE MAN

Am I to understand that you are a New Yorker?

The president startles.

THE PRESIDENT
Um, hello. Are you here with a tour group? Bet you want a picture with me, your president.

THE MAN
I ask a simple question, and you reply with a question. I understand you are a New Yorker. Are you or are you not?

The President attempts to walk to no avail. The man stands uncomfortably close.

THE PRESIDENT (Looking around)

I can’t move! My feet are frozen to the floor! Where is my security detail! Where are my marines?

THE MAN
We have all been watching you, and even Mr. Nixon is appalled. Once again, are you a New Yorker? Speak up when I’m addressing you.
THE PRESIDENT

Mr. Nixon? How did you get in here? Are you a re-enactor?

The muted sound of tourists continues off stage.

Yes. Yes. Everybody knows me. I made my fortune in New York real estate, if you must know. I’ve heard many people say I’m the best businessman ever . . .

The man begins to pace and speak at the same time.

THE MAN
From my understanding you are nothing beyond a scoundrel from the wealthy criminal class. I made a career of exposing popinjays like you.

THE PRESIDENT
Well, you’re a nasty piece of work. I am the President of the United States. I won the election by the biggest margin in American hist . . .

THE MAN
Poppycock! We have come to find that result came about due a mere tilt in the electoral count, and foreign interference. Russians, no less. After the revolutionary stirrings in 1905, I feared Russian unrest would spread to the United States. Conditions in mines, shops and factories here were inexcusable. Strikers shot down in the Pullman Rail Strike, vile conditions in Chicago’s meatpacking industry, sweatshops forcing 12 hour work days. Labor agitators pushed for reform, and I agreed. In Russia, Bolsheviks never did extend justice to the working class, only more oppression. They were not, and are not America’s friend, and intend only to destabilize this nation. Through your absence of character, and love of money they have succeeded.

THE PRESIDENT

You are wrong. That’s a lie. A lie.

THE MAN
You foolish pip. Inviting Russians into the West Wing? Unacceptable! Never should foreign adversaries be permitted to enter the inner sanctum, nor rioters in the Capitol. Mr. Lincoln will have more to say on that particular travesty.

The President appears shocked. He mouths “Lincoln.”
You have besmirched America before the world. I’d say you are a compromised pawn of foreign meddlers, and their graft. You give not one whit for America.

THE PRESIDENT
You can’t talk to me like that. My security will be back and you’ll be thrown out.

THE MAN

Sergey Witte.

THE PRESIDENT

What? Who? Just get out!

THE MAN

Hold your tongue! When you are in the presence of a gentlemen, behave accordingly. Witte was a Russian, so you will approve. The Japanese inflicted the most impressive defeats upon the Tsar’s navy in 1904-05. America then had no quarrel with Japan or Russia, however, I was asked to arbitrate peace negotiations. My view of the Russians changed with Witte. What a crude, unmannered man, unlike the thoroughly well- mannered Japanese delegation who comported themselves so gracefully! This so-called “diplomat” grew belligerent during peace talks insisting Russia be awarded more largess from the treaty. That villain stalled and argued for adding more claims, despite losing the war. I gave that knave a piece of my mind.

The man removes his top hat and sets it on a table, and checks his pocket watch.

Good I have time.

THE PRESIDENT
Time? Don’t stay on my account. I’m a busy man. Meetings, briefings.

THE MAN

Sit down this instant.

The president instantly sits. Looks alarmed.

Witte is the point! The Russians only look out for Russia, not you, the bankrupt fool who fell backward into the presidency.

THE PRESIDENT
I’m being pranked. Some a-hole is filming this. Where is the camera? I hate pranks. Meadows is going to hear about this.

The muffled sound of passersby continues. The president sits uncomfortably, and shuts his eyes.

I’m dreaming. That’s it, I’m asleep. When I open my eyes he’ll be gone.

To the man.

I’m opening my eyes now and you better not be here.

The man leans over the sitting president. He opens his eyes face to face with the man. The president startles again.

THE MAN

I am not finished.

The man again paces and speaks.
Bribery does not belong in foreign policy. And America still has a grand future on the world stage. We show strength through integrity–not by shaking down America’s allies for political favors.

THE PRESIDENT

Stop right there, that was a perfect phone call . . .

THE MAN
In foreign affairs we must make up our minds that we are a great people and must play a great part in the world. Nothing less.

The man turns toward an imaginary window. The president attempts to stand, but only succeeds in moving the chair a little. He utters a grunt.

THE PRESIDENT
I have great knowledge of foreign policy. And despite what some people say, I was always against the war in Iraq, and a lot of people weren’t.

The man shakes his head in disbelief. The President continues.
Look, Obama left a foreign policy of one disaster after another. We don’t win anymore. . .We’re going to win big now.

The man looks around the Blue Room.

THE MAN
Talleyrand, Napoleon’s minister once remarked that though President Jefferson loved France, he was still an American first. I do not believe you are first loyal to America, only to your feral, financial instincts.

THE PRESIDENT

TalleyWho? Everyone knows I am the greatest Americ. . .

The man sighs, and with a turn of his hand silences the President.

THE MAN
It appears you have no pets. Quite revealing that-regarding a man. We moved into this house with dogs, cats, and other pets, including a pony. How the boys loved their animals. Our pets were considered part of the family. They and the children’s presence made the White House feel like home.

The man returns his gaze to the president, and smiles.
I would play a bear, and my two youngest would hide under the bed. I pawed and growled, and they giggled and shrieked for joy.

The president is defensive. He speaks.

THE PRESIDENT
Kid’s. The hardest thing about raising kids is time. I know men who leave their businesses so they can spend more time with their children, and I say, ‘Gimme a break!’ My children couldn’t love me more if I spent fifteen times more time with them.

The man watches the president doubtfully.

THE MAN
No pets. Not even for your youngest. And it appears the boy and his mother live separate lives. Your adult children keep their distance, as well. You have squandered a man’s real treasure for an artificial image.

The president wiggle-walks his chair still stuck.

THE PRESIDENT
First of all, I would feel like a phony having a dog. I don’t like dogs. And, so you know, my children love me, and my wife, too. They are so proud of me, so proud. I’m President. And most Americans love me. Those liberals are the problem.

The man snaps, waving his cane.

THE MAN
Is that why thousands of migrant children were separated from their families? Caged? Liberals are not, as you say, the problem!

The man clears his throat, and quietly speaks.

President Grant requested I touch upon the subject of military service. My father did not serve in the War between the States, leaving me a confused boy. I could not understand why. For me soldiering is the highest service a patriot can perform.

THE PRESIDENT
And now you’re going to tell me how great the military is. I really don’t care. Look, Sean Hannity is calling my office.

THE MAN
His decision concerned my mother. Lovely woman, my mother, she hailed from Georgia, and her brothers were serving the Confederacy. You see, my father loved her–simply loved her. He hired a substitute in his place, and aided President Lincoln in other ways.

The man taps his cane and smiles.

Still. I idolized him. He believed so much in public service. He cared about children, orphans living on the streets. Father founded the Newsboys Lodge, the Children’s Aid Society, and the American Museum of Natural History. The last he did for me.

The man strokes his mustache lost in thought.

THE PRESIDENT

On Central Park West?

The man nods.
Been there. Your father had it built? Seems like a big waste of money to me. Bunch of bones and dead animals.

THE MAN
Serving others is our obligation to the less fortunate. To me bad trusts exploited the poor for profits. We regulated fair rail rates for farmers, passed the Meat Inspection Act, and the Pure Food and Drug Act, to make all Americans safer.

The president looks bewildered.

THE PRESIDENT

Why? There’s a lot of money in big pharma.

THE MAN

Not listening.
As president, I never made a decision without wondering what my father would think.

THE PRESIDENT

Yeah, me too.

The president chuckles. The man shakes his head.

THE PRESIDENT
Still, I don’t care. Times have changed. Gotta get what you can when you can.

The man whips around.

THE MAN

Which is why I am here.

The President’s smile disappears.

THE MAN
All four of my sons served in the Great War, and fulfilled their duty. We paid the ultimate cost-our youngest, Quentin, in an aerial fight over Germany. So difficult to lose such a dear, sweet boy.

The man draws close to the president.
And Quentin was neither a sucker nor a loser! He believed in America, they all believed. Quentin held fast to the tenets of our noble land and answered the call.

The man flashes disgust toward the President, then becomes thoughtful.
In 1898, I, too, served as soon as I could. President McKinley named me under-secretary in the Department of the Navy, until I resigned to join the war against Spain. That decision led me to assemble the Rough Riders and ship out to Cuba. Most exhilarating. My father would be proud, of that I’m certain.

THE PRESIDENT
I’d like to do my duty too. But the political establishment trying to stop us is the same swamp responsible for our disastrous foreign policies.

The man frowns, then and continues.

THE MAN
We were on foot in Cuba, a cavalry without horses. We lined up at the base of Kettle Hill, and charged. The moment jolted electric, and my crowded hour began. Lifting my carbine in the air, I rallied from the front, showing the men they had nothing to fear.

THE PRESIDENT
And see, that’s the problem. That is why the military is a chump’s game.

The man shakes his head.
And who needs soldiers? I can do foreign policy, it’s easy. I know because I have a very good brain. I am very rich, people admire me.

The man gives the President an incredulous glance.

THE MAN
Are you deranged? Tossing about words, making no sense? And as for rich, I understand your father earned the fortune, and you have frittered away much of it.

THE PRESIDENT

Wrong. Lies.

THE MAN
Nouveau riche, new money. Gaudy, vulgar, pretentious, and hungry for the validation and acceptance that you will never receive.

The president audibly snores. The man continues to speak over the noise.

When I held office I used my “bully pulpit” in the best sense of the term. Once I believed as you, that the natural world existed to enrich man. But that is false. In my administration Congress approved five new national parks, protected bird sanctuaries, and game preserves. The intrinsic value of our land cannot be found in stock indices or business transactions.

The president snorts
Nowhere else in any civilized country is there to be found such a tract of veritable wonderland made accessible to all visitors, not only the scenery, but wild creatures of the parks are scrupulously preserved.

THE PRESIDENT
Well mister tree hugger I have gutted much of your precious protection and opened land for logging, mining, and drilling. Say goodbye to the Grand Staircase in Utah, well, half of it, anyway. Roads are being cleared as we speak, and off-road vehicles are roaring in. And that goody two shoes, Barack Hussein Obama created the Bears Ears National Monument. I chopped it up for developers. Because that is profit. Profit is real.

THE MAN
You are nothing new, but the only plunderer to reach the presidency. New York City has produced a long line of blackguards such as yourself, criminals like Boss Tweed, and George Washington Plunkitt. Driven by greed and power these men fleeced the public.

The man walks around the chairs still looking about. He speaks.

For the benefit and enjoyment of the people.

THE PRESIDENT

I’d enjoy getting the hell out of here.

He snores louder

THE MAN
Quiet you insolent twit. Those words are inscribed on the arch at Yellowstone Park. Now you shall no longer interrupt.

The man gestures, watching the president who is now unable to speak.
I, too enjoyed a life of affluence. However, with that wealth came obligations to the less fortunate. Doors down from our home on 57th Street the poor struggled in wretched poverty. And much like my father I possessed a troubled conscience.

The man strolls with his cane, and continues.

As Commander in Chief, our charge is to work for the people. All the people. Withholding aid to states you did not carry is a dishonorable breach of that trust.

The man touches the president’s chest with his cane, then resumes his pacing.

My love of justice and fair play may sound naive to you. But your blatant cheating, while pretending you haven’t, is shameless.

The man strikes the president’s chair with his cane. The president sits straighter.
My administration was known as the “Square Deal,” and we, my cabinet and I, kept that promise.

The man taps his cane on the floor again.

My father once counseled me to look after my morals, my health, and my scholarship. And that, I did. And your father? Raised you to love money and value nothing. Had you not been desperate to become president, you might have continued to lead this predatory life of grift and debauchery.

The president fixes his eyes on the man. Angry.

Much like King Midas, or a Greek tragedy, this fatal flaw, your infinite vanity, will now cost you your liberty.

The president struggles, mutely hopping his chair a bit.
You should not have run for office, where dignity and tight scrutiny are the norm. Unable to resist the lure of power, you are the catalyst of your own downfall.

The man puts on his top hat, and gestures. The president bursts free from his chair.

It’s time for me to leave, the others will join you presently.

THE PRESIDENT

Others?

THE MAN
Most assuredly. And the name of that national park is pronounced Yo-sem-i-tee.

As the man stroll off in one direction, the President runs off the other. The stage goes dark.

The Dramatists Guild of America was established over 80 years ago, and is the only professional association which advances the interests of playwrights, composers and lyricists writing for the living stage. The Guild has over 6,000 members nationwide, from beginning writers to the most prominent authors represented on Broadway, Off-Broadway and in regional theaters. To learn more about the Dramatists Guild of America, please visit http://www.dramatistsguild.com

Gail Chumbley is the author of the two-part memoir, “River of January,” and “River of January: Figure Eight.” Both are available on Kindle. In addition Chumbley has written two full-length plays, “Clay,” and “Wolf By The Ears.”

Splintered

This post is part of an essay from May, 2016.

So what can we make of this 1860 fiasco today, after 2016? If I could attempt a bit of divination I would suggest that the political party that can present the most united front will prevail in the general election. If current Republican candidates continue to employ such wide-ranging, and scorching tones to their rhetoric, and stubbornly defend the innocence of their loose talk, the party may run head long into oblivion, as did the Democrats of 1860. If the roaring factions, currently represented by each GOP aspirant goes too far, the fabric of unity will shred, crippling the Republican’s ability to field serious candidates in the future.

Looking at the past as prelude much is at stake for the unity of the GOP. In 1860 party divisions nearly destroyed the Democrats, propelling the nation into a bloody civil war. And though Republicans at that time elected our greatest Chief Executive, Abraham Lincoln, the Democrats suffered for decades, marginalized as the party of rebellion. And even the best lessons left by the past are still forgotten in the heat of passion, by those who know better. (The Democrats shattered their party unity once again a hundred years later, splintered by the Vietnam War.) This is truly a cautionary tale for today’s turbulent Republican Party.

Zealots do not compromise, and leading GOP candidates are spouting some pretty divisive vitriol. As southern Democrats self righteously rejected their national party 1860, certain it no longer represented them, and ultimately silenced the party of Jefferson and Jackson for decades. The lesson is clear for today’s Republicans. By tolerating demagoguery, extremism, and reckless fear-mongering in their field of contenders, the RNC may indeed face a similar demise.

Though it is true that no party can be all things to all citizens, malignant splinter groups should not run away with the party.

The American public demands measured and thoughtful candidates—and both parties are expected to field candidates of merit and substance.

We deserve leaders worth following.

Gail Chumbley is the author of the two-part memoir, River of January, and River of January: Figure Eight, both on Kindle. Chumbley has written two plays, “Clay” regarding the life of Henry Clay, and “Wolf By The Ears,” a study of racism and slavery.

Atomic Toothpaste

The recent news concerning Republican reluctance to fund Ukraine’s defense against Vladimir Putin is a stunning turn of policy. More disconcerting is that reluctance has come from the party of once hardline cold warriors, the GOP. When asked, Margery Taylor Greene remarked, “Under Republicans, not another penny will go to Ukraine,” and “President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, who is Jewish, has a “Nazi army.”

WWII ended in Europe in May, 1945. Almost at once America shifted from Hitler’s defeat, to curtailing the Soviet Union. Figures like General George Patton insisted the Communist threat required serious attention. General, turned President, Dwight Eisenhower had no love for Stalin, nor his ultimate successor, Nikita Khrushchev. 

During the war Soviet operatives in the United States had collected sensitive intelligence regarding the A-Bomb, and later the Hydrogen Bomb. Though the United States had allied with Stalin during the war, he trusted no one, least of all the Americans.

Thus began the second Red Scare. (Yes, there was a first.) 

Senator Joe McCarthy of Wisconsin made his name in Washington as a fearless Commie fighter. Senator McCarthy (along with counsel Roy Cohn) accused the US Army of harboring Communists until his alcohol driven antics destroyed his career. 

Another Republican hardliner, Richard Nixon of California, joined the House UnAmerican Activities Committee (HUAC) exposing other suspected Liberals. Nixon gained national exposure sniffing out academics, artists and federal employees. This California representative sent Alger Hiss, a left leaning aide of FDR’s to jail. The Hollywood Ten were a subpoenaed to testify before the Committee regarding their political activities. Many had their careers and lives ruined as most ended up on a black list of actors and writers.

Russian aggression solidified the backdrop of my childhood, as well. The Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962 (I remember studying my saddle shoes in a crouched position) through the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991. Those were turbulent years of the Iron Curtain, the Berlin Airlift, and later the Soviet shooting down of the KAL Flight 007 over the northern Pacific. 

In 1991 the world celebrated the collapse of the Soviet regime hoping it would usher in a new era of amity, and peace. Republican Presidents Reagan and George HW Bush are credited with the downfall of Communist Russia.

The conflict unfortunately, had not ended.

The dangerous arms race that had pitted the United States and the Soviet Union still remained. Over the years of escalation has challenged our very existence. As stockpiles of nuclear arms increase in numbers and size the world is as vulnerable as ever. The atomic toothpaste is out of the tube. New terms have developed during the modern era, such as Mutually Assured Destruction, Nuclear Winter, Brinkmanship, and the chilling advent of the Doomsday Clock, all characterizing the uncertainty that still exists. 

And even now the arms race continues to intensify across the globe. 

A quick glance at the America’s arsenal looks to be somewhere around 4,000 warheads and bombs. In Russia the estimate is nearly 6,000. And remember these radioactive weapons are either stored or deployed, and that would be a catastrophe. The one-upmanship is clearly ongoing.

The stockpile is no longer limited to Russia and America. China, the UK, France, India, Pakistan, and North Korea all have or will have completed weapons of their own.

Proxy wars flamed up after World War Two, with large conflicts in Korea and Vietnam. Battling the Russians permeated American culture. Examples of this phenomena include bomb shelters, Dr Strangelove, duck and cover, James Bond films, and even Boris and Natasha. And there were spies, on both sides, the CIA’s Aldrich Ames, and Robert Hanssen of the FBI come to mind.

In my dad’s time the Korean War witnessed over 30,000 American deaths, and in Vietnam 58,000. Some of the best of my generation and before, stood up for America in freezing winters and insufferable jungles. The majority came home with physical and psychological disorders to serve us. We are obligated to remember and honor that sacrifice.   

So understand the rest of us who lived through these perilous years. Watching clips of an American president cozying up to a Russian strongman in Helsinki, and pronounced that autocrat did not hack our elections, based on Putin’s denial, or when he invited a group of Russian operatives into the Oval Office to show off, is jarring to say the least, a real gob smack.

So the warm fuzzies Republican President Trump extended to the Russian President are shocking betrayal. First, in Langley, he whined to CIA operatives in a speech regarding, what else, himself. Later the old boy absconded with a library of national security documents and refused to relinquish them to the National Archives. 

The greatest and most egregious failure of the GOP is kneeling to an immoral Trump, as he kneels to serial murderer Putin. Richard Nixon remarked, “The Cold War isn’t thawing; it is burning with a deadly heat. Communism isn’t sleeping; it is, as always, plotting, scheming, working, fighting.”

The Republicans have forgotten what they stand for, and have become the betrayers.

Gail Chumbley is the author of a two-part memoir “River of January,” and “River of January: Figure Eight.” Chumbley has also penned two stage plays, “Clay” regarding the life of Statesman Henry Clay, and “Wolf By The Ears,” regarding slavery and racism.

Lost Their Way

In spite of fascist aggression in Europe the Republican Party of the 1930’s opposed foreign intervention even in the face of world war.

Staunchly isolationist, Republican members of Congress, particularly Senators William Borah of Idaho and Arthur Vandenberg of Michigan, carefully crafted legislation to block aid to democracies under Nazi threat. When World War Two did erupt in 1939 and blitzkrieg shrouded Europe isolationists refused to act. While England stood alone and fearfully vulnerable Franklin Roosevelt sent Churchill what he legally could, but certainly not enough.

Not until December, 1941 did Congress approve a declaration of war, however, not against Germany. The warlords of Japan had launched a direct air assault upon US bases on the island of Oahu, and only then did America rise to the moment.

Ironically, one week after Pearl Harbor it was Hitler who declared war against the US, and that freed FDR to channel significant aid to Great Britain, and to new ally, the Soviet Union.

Four long years of bloody trial and sacrifice finally ceased with the detonation of the Fat Man Bomb over Nagasaki. Hitler was dead, Mussolini was dead, and the Japanese islands quelled.

The war years left in its wake massive changes reshaping America. In point, no group emerged more transformed than the Republican Party. The postwar GOP fully embraced internationalism, no longer obstructing foreign aid, either military or humanitarian.

A fateful change in the aftermath of war was America’s important wartime alliance with the Soviet Union. In an ominous move Josef Stalin did not, and would not withdraw his Red Army dominating Eastern Europe. Any hope of a peaceful postwar world quickly faded. A paranoid despot, Stalin flatly refused aid from the United States for Russia and Eastern Europe, though the entire region had been shattered.

In place of the alliance a perilous atomic arms race, a Cold War, commenced between the two nations.

However, this time around a bipartisan Congress took action.

When Russian expansion threatened Greece and Turkey, President Truman quickly dispatched money and matériels, as did later President Eisenhower, who extended US support to Southeast Asia, and the Middle East.

In Congress no group took the fight against Russian aggression more seriously than the Grand Old Party. Chastened Republicans had learned well the lessons of prewar isolation and stepped up aggressively to check Soviet expansion around the globe.

Influenced by Secretary of State John Foster Dulles, and red baiter, Senator Joe McCarthy, the Republican Party pursued a dogged response to Russian aggression at home and around the globe. Risking a nuclear showdown America went toe to toe with the Soviets from the 1948 Berlin Airlift to Korea, to Vietnam.

American presidents and leaders in Congress kept up the pressure until Presidents Ronald Reagan and George HW Bush aided the 1989 fall of Russian and Eastern European Communism, ending the Cold War.

Through all of these episodes and so many others, the GOP stood tall in the fight against all foreign foes threatening the United States.

Where once Dwight Eisenhower faced down the Russians, and Nixon defended America directly with Beijing and the Kremlin, Republicans now kneel before a man who, in Helsinki, privately had unrecorded talks with the current despot of Russia, and publicly took sides with Putin at the cost of American security. Moreover, this same man, a grifter, attempted to extort Ukraine’s new President, Volodymyr Zelenskyy in order to smear his own stateside political rival. After the end of his first term the freeloader stole thousands of sensitive intelligence documents from Washington, wedging American secrets among toilet paper, plungers, and plumbing fixtures.

It’s a bit of a gob smack that older hands, men who lived through the Cold War years, Senators Mitch McConnell, Lindsay Graham and Chuck Grassley, among others, excuse and downplay 47’s outrageous, dangerous, and treasonous conduct.

So it’s easy to understand mainstream America’s distress over today’s Republican stances. (Especially Putin’s aggression into the Crimea and the war in Ukraine.)

Welcomed by the GOP, cyber interference from Russia continues to spread misinformation to undermine our elective democratic process. This party and its messiah has opened the inner sanctum of national security inviting thugs into the Capitol, and outsiders to destabilize the United States.

Where once Republicans defended America from all foreign threats they are today passively holding open the door. The party of Eisenhower and Reagan is filled with cold opportunists coddling an overgrown toddler with neofascist leanings.

The Kremlin has not changed, nor have the Chinese. And though symbolized by an elephant this Republican Party has clearly forgotten who they are.

They have lost their way.

Gail Chumbley is the author of River of January, and River of January: Figure Eight. Chumbley has also penned two historical plays, Clay and Wolf By The Ears. A third play, Peer Review.

A Bright Side

Donald Trump, without a doubt has answered the centuries old question of the worst president in American history. His standing as the biggest moron lends Harding, Buchanan, Pierce, and other lackluster presidents a step up from the cellar. 

Is there a bright side to the bedlam unleashed by 45’s insanity? I believe so. Americans have witnessed how not to preside over our democracy in real time. Now that’s a powerful civics lesson. 

Once misunderstood, most American’s were reminded how the Electoral College functions—a big deal demonstrating how a candidate can win the Electoral College, but not the popular vote. From irregularities identified in the 2016 race, shocked citizens across the country wonder if this election procedure has a purpose in the 21st Century. 

The legal tradition of checks and balances took a rough bruising with Congressmen and Senators scurrying to the Oval Office to kiss the ring of their messiah. Two clearly illegal actions by the President; pressing Volodymyr Zelensky of Ukraine to open an inquiry on Hunter Biden, and Trump would offer an invitation to Washington.The second came after the January 6th insurrection using violence to disrupt the ceremonial certification of Electoral College. The House impeached both times, and the Senate refused to convict. The moral of that story? The Executive Branch went rogue and the upper chamber of the Legislative Branch failed in their duty. However, both branches somehow remained intact and horrified voters learned what they didn’t want. 

That elections and voting truly matter may be the most profound lesson of the Trump years. The right to vote is power, and denying citizens of that power became the GOP’s endgame. Even now, the far right longs to deprive many of us, especially minorities from exercising that power. The lawsuits are still flying to undermine our most sacred right under the law.

Another teachable moment touched on the Supreme Court. The 2020 death of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, and the retirement of Anthony Kennedy in 2018 shed light on manipulating the Judiciary. Senate Majority Leader, Mitch McConnell lobbed the first volley through the customary practice of filling Supreme Court vacancies. Before 2016 the sitting president had the privilege to put forth judicial nominees. That had been a long tradition. But the sitting President happened to be Barack Obama. So of course McConnell blew that up. Obama’s choice for the court was Merrick Garland, and McConnell would not hear of it.

Following the 2016 election that tradition resumed. Trump put forth Amy Coney Barrett, and later Brett Kavanaugh. Both lied in hearings to the Senate Judiciary Committee, Barrett testified she would allow Roe to remain, and Kavanaugh was a reputed date raper. The clause allowing lifetime terms for judges added gravity to Trump and McConnell’s shenanigans. 

Perhaps the Trump fiasco holds a silver lining. Americans have become more aware of the workings of our democracy, what functions under the hood, so to speak. Perhaps democracy is indeed fragile, but our near collapse into tyranny has forced us all to wake up and pay attention.

PS contact your Representative in Congress. Request a hand pamphlet of the Constitution like the one above. They have them in their DC office or their home office. We’ll show ’em.

Gail Chumbley is the author of the two-part memoir River of January, and River of January: Figure Eight. Chumbley has written two plays, Clay about 19th Century Statesman Henry Clay, and Wolf By The Ears exploring the genesis of racism and slavery in America.


The only thing new in the world is the history you don’t know

Harry Truman

Peer Review #1

Marines manned numerous doorways along the wide hallway, as clusters of tourists wandered through colorful rooms. Upstairs the President listened to the public commotion with satisfaction, not for the house, not for the job, which, in truth, had become tiresome, but for the knowledge he could drop down and set all their bourgeois hearts aflutter. 

After a moment, he made his decision, slipping down an interior stair case, stepping into the Blue Room.

As his hands automatically fluffed his hair, the President sidled up beside a class of wiggly school children snapping cell phone pictures.

“And where are you from?,” the president teased with pleasure, anticipating an excited response. He half closed his eyes, and paused, waiting for the gratifying answer.

But he heard nothing.

Bemused, the President opened one eye, then the other. The chatty children paid him no mind, in fact were moving away, following their guide into the hallway.

“Wait,” he found himself calling. “It’s me, your President. I’m here.”

He repeated, “The President of the United States.”

But the children didn’t hear. He remained alone in the Blue Room, his hair acceptably coiffed.

No further tourists entered, though dozens drifted past the doorway. He didn’t understand and he thought very hard, seeking a rational explanation.

It was at that moment that he heard a voice, quite close, and quite annoyed. 

“Am I to understand you are a New Yorker?” 

The President wheeled around toward the sound. Before him, no more than an arm’s length away stood a mustachioed gentleman, wearing pinz nez spectacles, sporting a shiny top hat. The man’s eyes blazed behind the thick round lenses, and the astonished President detected a trickle of cold sweat trace down the back of his thick neck.

“I say, are you, or are you not, a New Yorker?” The stern man spoke in a nasally, patrician voice.

“Ahh. How did you get in here,” the President stammered. “Where is my secret service protection?”

“Supercilious pup,” the man in the top hat snapped. “They tell me that YOU are from New York, and are president! A common side show huckster, President.”

The President, though alarmed, replied reflexively, “I’m in real estate. I . . .made my fortune in New York real estate.” Only the muffled din of passing tourists kept the President from panic.

“Real Estate!” The man in spectacles scornfully shouted. “I’d say you are just another scoundrel from the wealthy criminal class. In New York, swindlers like you are a dime a dozen. I made a career of exposing rascals like you.” 

The man, attired in a three-piece suit, a watch fob draping his ample waist, bore a deep scowl. “And you found your way into this office of trust. Intolerable.”

Though bewildered, the President, unaccustomed to such personal insults, felt his pique rising. “I was elected President by the largest margin in American Hist . . .”

“Poppycock,” the specter interrupted. “It is my understanding the decision rested upon a mere tilt in the Electoral system, and that outsiders interfered to make certain of your victory.” 

The strange visitor moved closer. “I’d say that you are a compromised pawn of foreign meddlers, and give not one damn for the American people.”

At this point the President had heard enough, and attempted to move his legs. He wanted very much to escape the Blue Room, but his feet remained rooted. 

“I have important things to do, you need to go,” the President’s voice trembled, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

The apparition narrowed his intense eyes, and took another step toward the unnerved President. 

“I claim more authority to this revered House and Office than your mercenary greed could ever comprehend. You belong with Tweed, Plunkitt, Fisk, Conkling, and the rest of New York’s good-for-nothings. Dishonor has followed you to the Presidency, what, with your womanizing, graft, and unsavory business connections.” The fierce apparition fixed an intense, menacing gaze. “You do not belong here, nor your parade of lackeys and opportunists.

The buzz of foot traffic grew louder, and when the President again glanced toward his unwelcome visitor, he found him gone, the Blue Room empty.

Gail Chumbley is the author of the two-volume memoir, “River of January” and “River of January: Figure Eight,” both available on Kindle.

Hard copies are available at http://www.river-of-january.com

 

They Were Wrong

“Slave owners and white racists were afraid that the world they had always known was slipping away from them. Fear was a great motivator—fear of change, fear of losing power, fear being that they were wrong. The roots of white anxiety over threats to enslavement and to legalize white supremacy ran deep.”

John Meacham, And There was Light. Random House, 2022, page 55.

Reading this passage last night stunned me. A myriad of thoughts rushed at once, promptly crystallizing into one central truth; racial dynamics in America have not changed. Not. One. Bit.

Meacham’s book, a biography of Lincoln, focuses on the shaping events that made Lincoln arguably America’s greatest President. However, those same circumstances left the Southern slave power angry, and lethally dangerous. This metastasizing rancor ultimately exploded into Civil War, and to Lincoln’s 1865 murder.

The Missouri Compromise triggered the first alarm below the Mason-Dixon Line. That slavery could be limited through any federal legislative act left slavers touchy and suspicious. Sensitive to any criticism Southern owners  (as Mr. Meacham pointed out), viewed any outside opposition to their standing as a dishonorable insult.

Congressmen and Senators frequently squared off years before soldiers manned battle lines. A Massachusetts Senator suffered a severe beating on the Senate floor for an anti-slavery address. So volatile became the rhetoric that the House chamber finally adopted a “gag rule” prohibiting any mention of slavery in any deliberations.

As Northern abolitionists grew more strident, Southerners grew more militant. A flash of arms became only a matter of time.

Any abolitionists tracts, or books, such as Uncle Tom’s Cabin quickly landed in the trash bin, tossed out by local Southern officials.

The politics of race entered houses of worship with church leaders twisting the Bible inside out to oppose or justify slavery. Today the Southern Methodist and Southern Baptists churches are evidence of the war before the war.

After the guns silenced, into the Reconstruction era the newly emancipated found protection only through Yankee bayonets. Outraged and unrepentant Southern whites waged guerrilla warfare with violence and terror. The Ku Klux Klan, the Knights of the White Camelia, and the White League galloped through the night spreading fear and intimidation to any black-man who dared claim the blessings of liberty. 

Contrasting the 21st Century to the 19th provides strikingly similar dynamics.

In 2008 Barack Obama became 44th President of the United States, and white power interests again lost their minds.

Though at first it appeared that America had turned a positive corner in race relations, Senator Mitch McConnell quickly reacted decreeing the GOP would not work with the new president. Soon after the Congressional Republicans sunsetted a clause in the 1965 Voting Rights Act. Signed into law by Lyndon Johnson, the act protected black voters from discrimination at the polls. McConnell’s handy work placed the onus on the voter to prove they were illegally denied. (Much like the old poll tax and literacy tests days.)

Once again white supremacist perceive their alpha-position slipping away, and they, too, are suspicious and lethally dangerous. The hate group names have changed, but not the mission. Proud Boys, Oath Keepers, neo-Nazi’s, MAGA, and Christian Nationalists gallop now through the internet on the dark web, surfacing to attack as was done on January 6th, 2021.

The signs are all there, fear of a changing America, fear of being wrong, and fearful of losing control.

Those who witnessed the dissolution of the Union believed their blood-soaked sacrifice had settled for all time the issue of race in America. But that is clearly false.

But then is now. Now is then. Eras are intricately and forever intertwined. This nation has remembered nothing and again defaulted to the same old norms of hate and boastful ignorance.

And though those same feelings run deep, and they are still wrong.

The only thing new in the world is the history you don’t know. Harry Truman

Chumbley is the author of the two-part memoir, River of January, and River of January: Figure Eight. She has penned two stage plays, “Clay,” exploring the life of Henry Clay, “Wolf By the Ears,” a study of racism in America, and “Peer Review,” where 47 is confronted by four past presidents.

Fighting Bees

Young Abraham Lincoln came of age, politically speaking, during the administration of Andrew Jackson. And the rough, aspiring frontier politician did not approve of the Democratic Party and their blind, cult-like dedication to “Old Hickory.” Speaking first in New Salem, Illinois, then in Springfield, Lincoln held forth on the subject of Jackson’s arbitrary and autocratic style compared to his man, Senator Henry Clay of Kentucky.

Young Mr. Lincoln viewed Henry Clay as a true statesman. He admired Senator Clay for his rational, stable economic plans to nurture a growing America bursting with potential.

Central to Clay’s program was a bank, a central depository to finance new infrastructure projects like roads, canals, and railroads. Senator Clay championed the Federal Government as the best instrument to plan and carry out public works, improving commercial activity across the young nation.

To Lincoln scratching out a life in a muddy, stump-ridden western wilderness, Clay’s American System of improvements was welcome. Clay’s platform would bring order, jobs, prosperity, and hope to Lincoln’s own rough-hewn region.

Young Lincoln also shared Clay’s conviction that slavery did not belong in new western territories. All Lincoln wanted was a fair chance for all Americans, and that slavery impeded human talent, and he believed, like Clay, that slavery also devalued free labor. Free market capitalism and slavery could not co-exist.

To Lincoln, President Jackson’s mercurial style of leadership did not serve America’s future either. Jackson not only vetoed many improvement bills, arguing one state benefiting from federal funds was unfair to others, he in one instance vetoed a road bill because the project lay entirely in Kentucky, Henry Clay’s home state.

Excessive emotional discord in politics caused more problems than it remedied, and impeded national growth. Nation building wasn’t a sectional competition, a personal challenge, nor a game to pit political egos.

At the time of Jackson a religious revival burned hot across the country. Known today as the Second Great Awakening this movement, foaming over with emotion, had drenched politics as well, with candidates often taking on an evangelical, absolute tones.

Lincoln’s once joked he didn’t much like these stump orators unless they looked like they were “fighting bees.” To Lincoln, such emotional public displays had no value in advancing America.

So what did Lincoln believe? In the founders ideals of the United States of America. Embracing presidents as religious, messianic manifestations had no purpose, and produced only the tainted fruit of extremism.

Lincoln was, above all else, a moderate, logical, and measured man. His inspiration, his convictions, centered on a secular faith in the ideals of America.

Mr. Lincoln like to think of the Declaration of Independence as a golden apple, (equality and rights) set in the silver frame of the Constitution (the law). In other words certain inalienable rights protected by We the People.

Former President Obama exemplified Lincoln’s America in so many ways; relying on his cabinet, advisors, or his own formidable intellect to govern. And Lincoln’s Jackson nightmare repeated when a dumber version of Old Hickory proclaimed America is a terrible place.

Today the United States’ perpetual election cycle keeps emotions raw, but accomplishes little else. Mr. Lincoln would take a dim view of today’s constant political turmoil, arguing that we need to keep our wits about us and vote with our heads.

More infrastructure needs attention as well as national security, civil rights, and climate change. Instead a thin-skinned ego maniac welcomes billionaires to pilfer and taint good government. And the computer age has presented a complicated network neither Lincoln nor Clay could have imagined. We rely on those cooler heads to prevail, making policy, and conducting the people’s business, or we end up paying homage to wannabe dictator who is as arbitrary as he is vacuous.

Today, at this moment, in a country full of pointless Jacksons, be a thoughtful Lincoln. There is no need to fight bees all of the time, over and over, when the real work of America needs to be done.

Gail Chumbley is the author of “River of January,” and “River of January: Figure Eight.” Chumbley also penned two stage plays, “Clay,” examining the life of Senator Henry Clay, and “Wolf By The Ears,” a study of racism and slavery in America. Currently Chumbley is working on “Peer Review.” This piece is a cross of Dickens A Christmas Carol converges with presidential history.

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