John Wayne, American Hero?

John Wayne was an iconic American actor. I never knew why. Actually, I’d never watched more than fragments of a John Wayne movie. He seemed so blustery. When I had the opportunity to read a new book on the actor, I did. The Young Duke: The Early Life of John Wayne was an eye-opener into the life of this larger-than-life man.

Marion Morrison’s mother Molly was a shrew who complained incessantly about her husband Clyde’s lack of ambition. She felt entitled to an aristocratic lifestyle they couldn’t afford. She wanted Marion to be an attorney, successful in business and finance. She resented that he favored his father.

The family moved from Iowa to California for Clyde’s health. Marion had a dog he called Duke, which became his nickname, and he preferred it over his sissy name.

Duke attended USC on a football scholarship. Movie celebrities liked to watch the winning Trojans, and cowboy star Tom Mix exchanged summer jobs for players at Fox Films Corporation for box seats. Duke Morrison got one of the jobs, and Mix suggested Duke work as an extra in his next Western.

Director John Ford got him to appear in Salute. In Ford’s next film, Men Without Women, Duke appeared again and did stuntwork. He didn’t actively seek out roles, but didn’t turn them down.

Raoul Walsh cast him in The Big Trail. Studio executives objected to his name; Duke Morrison didn’t sound American enough. He became John Wayne in 1930.

After he started acting, Wayne studied the craft. Paul Fix taught him what to do with his hands while talking and other basic movement skills. Fix also changed Wayne’s gait, pointing his toes into the ground as he walked, causing a distinctive sway to his shoulders and hips.

Ford got mad at Duke for starring in The Big Trail, even though he had suggested him, and refused to speak to him for seven years. Columbia Pictures president Harry Cohn got mad at him because he thought Wayne had an affair with his co-star, Lara La Plante, whom Cohn liked, and retaliated by casting him in demeaning roles for three years. Cecil B. DeMille asked him to his office in 1937 to discuss Duke possibly appeared in a Western DeMille was producing. DeMille kept him waiting over an hour, and then spent their time together critiquing Wayne’s work and explaining why he would not cast him in the lead.

Ford got over his pique and cast Wayne in Stagecoach, the film that took him out of B Westerns and made him an A star.

Wayne’s marriages don’t cast him in a good light. He didn’t approach marriage wisely and wasn’t a faithful husband.

John Wayne met Josephine Saenz in 1926. Her parents forbade her to see him, an unemployed teenager with no social standing, money, or prospects, a part-time actor who didn’t regularly attend church. After a six-year engagement, they finally married in 1933  in a lavish ceremony at Loretta Young’s Bel Air estate.

Josie organized posh affairs which John was not comfortable with. She was not enamored with the Hollywood scene. They distanced themselves from each other’s lives. Four children were born between 1934 and 1940, but his torrid love affair with Latin actress Chatta Bauer led to a divorce in 1944. Friends and Ford had tried to curb the affair, but Wayne resented their interference. He then wed Chatta in a volatile marriage doomed to fail.

He was a patriotic American, yes, and Congress awarded him a Congressional Gold Medal inscribed to John Wayne, American. (Not the Medal of Honor as reported in The Young Duke.) His personal life wasn’t noteworthy.

I decided the next time a Wayne film was on TV, I’d watch it in its entirety. Maybe a full movie would enlighten me. The Flying Leathernecks aired several days ago. It was okay, but I still don’t know what all the fuss is about. Are you a John Wayne fan?

Ice is Slick

The Olympics take place next month. What’s your favorite sport to watch? Mine is figure skating.

My own skating skills are laughable. I don’t even know how to stop. I haven’t skated in many years, with good reason.

When I was five, a depression in our front yard made a lovely ice rink. One Saturday after Christmas, my older sister and I were skating when our dad came home. “Come skate with us,” we cried.

Before he had a chance to put on his skates, my sister ran into the house. “Terri fell!”

I don’t remember the fall or the immediate aftermath. I do remember sitting on the bench seat inside the back door, my parents looking in my mouth, my mom trying to reach our dentist. He was at a wedding.

Leaving my sister and younger brother with our next-door neighbor, my parents took me to St. Vincent Hospital. X-rays revealed my jaw was not broken. Another dentist, Dr. Krause, performed oral surgery, wiring my teeth and stitching my gum.

Before learning I would not have to stay overnight, my dad went home to take my siblings to our grandparents’ house. He brought back to the hospital a much-loved Christmas gift, my Chatty Cathy.

I remember a nun coming into the room where I sat, clutching my talkative doll. Her eyes opened wide in wonder. “Who do we have here?” I’m sure her expression was exaggerated to amuse and distract a frightened child.

I did go home that night. And when school reopened after the holiday, I went off to kindergarten with a note for my teacher, requesting special consideration for my battered mouth. I remember the teacher inspecting the dentist’s handiwork. And then the principal. They phoned my mom to come and get me. The school didn’t want responsibility for me.

For years afterward, driving past Dr. Krause’s office haunted me. I still remember sitting in his dental chair while he removed bits of wire and thread and dropping them on the paper bib fastened around my neck.

Figure skaters take innumerable tumbles. They suffer injuries worse than mine. When they stand on the podium with their shiny medals, what price did they pay in blood and tears? Their dedication and perseverance is admirable.

But skating is not for me. That ice is too hard and slippery.

Holding West Berlin

Stalin launched the blockade of Berlin to stop the Allies’ introduction of the deutschmark in the city’s western zones, to stop the progress toward the creation of West Germany, and to prevent NATO.

Days before the blockade began, Stalin had expelled Tito’s Yugoslavia from the Communist bloc, Cominform. As a result, the possibility of defection from Moscow was no longer unthinkable. Stalin could not now show any weakness over Germany.

By keeping the western currency out of Berlin, the Soviets would have complete control of the city’s finances. By impeding the progress toward separate Germanys, he could help himself to western German goods.

When Russia banned traffic to Berlin, the Allies counter-blockaded, halting shipments and traffic from western Germany into the eastern zone. To Stalin’s surprise, the East was dependent on coal, steel, machine tools, and industrial commodities from the west. The Soviets also suffered because they had been siphoning food and industrial shipments from western Germany as hidden reparations.

The Berlin Airlift wasn’t seen as a permanent solution. Many in the west believed withdrawing from Berlin would be necessary. They raised humanitarian concerns, saying Moscow would bring in supplies for the city’s western zones.

The United States could not withdraw their occupation troops, however. The Russians could not be trusted. Western Germany’s leaders wanted the troops to stay; they had long experience with totalitarian methods and would never accept Russia’s terms for unification.

The Russians claimed they would not remove their troops because the Germans hated them; as a matter of national security, the must maintain forces in Germany.

The only policy toward the Soviet Union must be firm, vigilant containment of Russian expansion tendencies. The U.S. refused to turn 2,400,000 West Berlins over to the terror of communist rule. And Stalin backed down on the blockade.

Coming in February  The Marshall Plan: Dawn of the Cold War by Benn Steil

The Marshall Plan

President George Washington bid his countrymen to steer clear of foreign entanglements, especially with Europe, whose interests were remote from the United States. Europe was always engaged in controversies irrelevant to American concerns.

After World War II, President Harry Truman took seriously Washington’s warning against foreign alliances, but he was convinced the realities of the late 1940s dictated the necessity of involvement.

Aid to war-torn Europe was the only way to get the shattered countries back on their feet and away from the new enemy, the Soviet Union. The Marshall Plan came to be.

During five years of war, the occupied countries had learned to cheat, lie, and run black markets. Rather than lend them reconstruction funds and wish them well, the United States controlled the purse strings with its blueprints, cash, and security guarantees.

Who would receive the American aid? The British and French believed Russia should be consulted, and held a conference with Soviet foreign minister, Andrei Molotov. Including him carried a high risk. The Russians could have killed the Marshall Plan with their demands and grievances over terms.

Goaded into rejecting the plan, Molotov walked out, making the U.S. the good guys and the Russians the bad guys. The Soviet Union wanted chaos in Europe, not reconstruction.

The recipient countries needed to devise a collective plan for recovery. Twenty-two nations were invited to participate. The Soviets instructed their satellite countries to attend to disparage the plan and prevent its unanimous adoption.

Poland and Czechoslovakia were especially eager to take part in the plan. Realizing they couldn’t be counted on the cooperate, Russia rescinded their order and forbid their attendance.

The western countries presented a plan that would have required continued assistance long after the U.S. wanted. The aim of the Marshall Plan was a self-supporting western Europe. Terms were spelled out: a workable economy independent of outside aid within four years, with demonstrable progress during that period in achieving production targets on essential items, especially food and coal. Greater austerity, not greater demands on America.

Selling the plan to Americans was equally difficult. Congressmen toured Europe and became believers. After a hard-won war, they couldn’t afford to lose the peace.

Coming in February  The Marshall Plan: Dawn of the Cold War by Benn Steil

The Wall Came Tumbling Down

Do you remember much about the end of the Cold War? The significance of November 9, 1989? Such a momentous event as the crumbling of the Berlin Wall came about by accident. I’ve been reading When the World Seemed New; George H. W. Bush and the End of the Cold War, by Jeffrey A. Engel, which details this critical period of recent history.

Eastern Europeans were demonstrating for more freedom. The Soviet Union wasn’t stopping them. The satellite countries’ leaders were in a quandary. With no help from the Soviets, what should they do?

In East Germany, General Secretary Erich Honecker fell from power, replaced by Egon Krenz. Krenz wasn’t popular. He begged Soviet General Secretary Mikhail Gorbachev for help. “After all, the GDR is in a sense the child of the Soviet Union, and one must acknowledge paternity of one’s children.”

All Gorbachev did was advise maintaining East Germany’s integrity, even if it meant loosening the borders.

Hoping new travel regulations would pacify the thousands of protesters, on November 9^th, Krenz gave his spokesman, Günter Schabowski a paper describing the new reforms. They would be released on the weekend.

Schabowski’s news conferences were boring affairs as he plodded through reading pronouncements, capable of putting newsmen to sleep. He stuffed the paper into his briefcase without looking at it and headed to the news room.

Asked about the government’s long-promised travel reforms, Schabowski dug out the paper and stumbled through it, forgetting it wasn’t to be made public just yet. The newsmen perked up. Here was something significant. When would the new regulations go into effect?

Schabowski changed the course of history. “As far as I am aware, immediately. Without delay.”

The news sped around the world. Crowds gathered at Berlin’s crossing points, demanding to cross. The border guards had heard nothing of a new travel policy.

At the Bornholmer Strasse gate, Harald Jäger repeatedly called his superiors for confirmation. He received none, only an insult. Was he “capable of assessing the situation, or simply a coward?”

Not wanting bloodshed, he ordered the gate opened. Hundreds of people streamed through. They danced on the wall. Freedom came to East Germany, all because a spokesman misspoke.

A preserved section of the Berlin Wall is now an art gallery.

Christmas Cards

In 1843 England, Henry Cole had too much correspondence to keep up with. Not answering all the letters he received at Christmastime would be impolite. Then he got an idea

An artist friend illustrated a scene he had in mind, a family celebrating the holiday at the table, bordered by images of people helping the poor. Cole had a thousand copies made by a London printer on stiff cardboard. At the top was the salutation, “To: _____” along with “A Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year to You.” Cole added his friends’ names and sent out the first Christmas cards.

An 1877 card doesn't look Christmassy.

A German immigrant created the first Christmas card in the United States in 1875. Louis Prang’s card featured a painting of a flower and read “Merry Christmas.” Early American Christmas cards were beautiful, but didn’t contain a Christmas or holiday image.

Modern Christmas cards began in 1915, when a postcard printing company started by Joyce Hall in Kansas City, published its first Christmas card. He was joined by his brothers, Rollie and William, and the Hall Brothers Company adapted a four-inch-wide by six-inch-high format, folded once, and inserted into an envelope. Postcards didn't have enough room for folks who wanted to write a short message, but not a whole letter. A decade later, the company changed its name to Hallmark.

The service star was a frequent theme in many WWI cards.

The service star was a frequent theme in many WWI cards.

During World War I, sending cards to soldiers was considered a good way to boost morale. Many combined patriotic and religious symbols, while others sought funds to support war orphans or refugees. Cards sent during World War II differed in spirit and appearance. Many WWII cards made no reference to the war, but conveyed a longing for peace with an underlying optimism.

 Resource: Smithsonian magazine

It Happened One December Blizzard

Danz School had four kindergarten classes, two in the morning and two in the afternoon. I attended a morning class. A school bus brought everyone in K through 6 to school, and at noon, a bus took the kindergarteners home.

That was fine, until one December morning, a blizzard blew in. Schools closed, and the buses came to take everyone home. That was not exactly fine. Used to a single bus, I didn’t know which bus to board. I got on one with my friend, Heidi. That was the correct bus for Heidi, but not for me.

Fortuitously, we were seated on the front seat. The bus driver quickly realized she had a misplaced 5-year-old. Ignoring the worsening weather and her busload of normal kids, she headed for my home.

I don’t remember if I was able to give directions. My sister may have had friends on that bus, but would a second-grader be able to direct the driver to an unfamiliar home? That remains a mystery. This was years before cell phones, and I don’t recall if the driver was able to radio to the bus hub.

My sister, of course, boarded the right bus, and had gotten off at our usual stop, a block up the hill from our home at the dead end. She rushed down the street, anxious to tell our parents that I hadn’t been on the bus. Suddenly, another bus rumbled down the street.

My dad had been in the garage, and heard a commotion outside. Looking out, he found a school bus in our driveway, and I hopped off.

God bless the driver who went the extra mile (actually, probably more like ten miles) to deliver a lost child to her front door.