A Brief Encounter

Twenty years ago I attended a book party for a friend of mine, Nancy Holmes, who had just written a novel. She was being honored by an old acquaintance who had booked the party room at Chasen’s in Beverly Hills, one of the long standing celebrity restaurants of that era, now defunct. It wasn’t a large group, no more than forty people, many of them celebrities and former high officials of the government.

The atmosphere was friendly and congenial. One of the guests was James Stewart, an iconic figure who had graced the silver screen for most of my life. He put out his hand and introduced himself to me.

“I’m James Stewart,” he said, as if I didn’t know.

Of course, I knew a lot about James Stewart and I was tempted to show my knowledge of his background by addressing him by his military title, General. I demurred and in those few brief moments of conversation, we touched on a topic that, for some reason, engaged us both in a strange male bonding experience. I can’t remember how we got into it, but it concerned the Boy Scouts. Imagine, here was one of the iconic figures of American movies, a decorated General in World War II and me, a former corporal and novelist drifting into a conversation about, of all things, the Boy Scouts, going back in decades of time.

Stewart seemed to light up when he recalled his Scout experiences which, like mine, continued to resonate in our lives as a quintessentially happy moment of adolescent camaraderie and joyful male bonding. The actor had been an Eagle Scout, the highest achievement attainable in scouting. I hadn’t made Eagle, only Life Scout, one rung below Eagle. I guess he was always a super achiever.

Being a serious Boy Scout required an enormous commitment for a boy, which for most of us was of a five year duration starting from age 12. There were numerous meetings, band rehearsals if a Drum and Bugle Corps was involved, day hikes, overnight hikes, summer camp and home study to learn the ropes for acquiring merit badges in numerous disciplines from outdoor cooking, bird study, first aid, camping, and the like.

During the discussion, my imagination conjured up a picture of a proud Jimmy Stewart as a lanky skinny teenager festooned in his Eagle Scout merit badge sash and his neat Boy Scout uniform. We took a great deal of pride in that uniform which announced that we were something quite special, and we believed implicitly in the values that the organization espoused, values that continued to resonate in the zeitgeist of our world view. It is no surprise that James Stewart was the first famous Hollywood star to enlist when America went to war against the Nazis and the Japanese. Unfortunately, I was too young to have made such a grand gesture.

It was obvious that both of us really loved the experience. I had no doubt that his memory recalled halcyon youthful days when the world, to both of us, was still a young and hopeful place. Indeed, we shook hands again with the Boy Scout handshake as if all the years between then and now never happened despite the fact that his scout troop was in the Midwest and mine was in Brooklyn. Such is the power of connection, especially when it comes to adolescent memories.

The sense of commonality continues to connect and whenever I see an old movie with James Stewart or hear his name, that odd experience pops into my mind.

I can still recite the scout’s oath and the scout law. I bet James Stewart could as well. Against the background of what the world has gone through since Stewart and I were Boy Scouts, the 12 points of the scout law are worth revisiting again, after years of maligned neglect and criticism. Indeed, to many, the Boy Scouts have often been dubbed as a relic, a naive anachronism that had long been left behind in the laissez-faire new world of anything goes. I fervently disagree.

The 12 points of the Scout Law were quite simple and usually recited with a three finger raised right hand to brand it as a solemn pledge. It went like this: A scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent.

Recite that to a rebellious hippy of the sixties or a hip hop singer of the new millennium or the gaggle of misanthropic and boneheaded executives and politicians involved in guiding us through the shoals of our recent past and current misfortunes, and they might regurgitate at what they deem as empty clichés. Maybe it’s time for them to swallow a vatful of antacids and confront the real source of our national folly, their own timid politically correct rejection of these values.

However you might characterize these 12 points of the Scout Law, I have come to believe that, despite what a rough ride they have gone through in my lifetime, they represent the magnetic arrow of the moral true north. In an age when we are confronted with daily affronts to these bedrock virtues, they somehow seem stronger and more resilient than ever.

Think of how the moral compass struggles against the magnetic north. While our language is lofty and inspiring and we thrill to read such titles as “The Audacity of Hope” and “The Purpose Driven Life” and the inspired stories they represent, the moral compass at times seems to have lost its bearing.

How is it possible that our financial system which must operate on trustworthiness, the first point in the scout law, has produced such tawdry violators such as Bernard Madoff and his ilk, and the liars and greedy fools who operate the systems we all must depend on like the banks and brokerages on main street and Wall Street.

And look at all the Hail Mary passes being handed out by Congress, even as our new President struggles to maintain a high moral tone. A treasury secretary who evades taxes, a secretary of state whose husband accepts donations from countries of dubious moral intent with whom she must negotiate, the head of one of the most crucially important committees of Congress avoiding taxes and soliciting funds for a personal venture on the people’s stationary. And on and on.

I don’t mean to be partisan or nasty minded, only contemporary. There is enough moral baggage floating down the Potomac in the wake of the last administration that would be too numerous to mention in a limited essay. But there are moments when I do gulp hard and try my best to believe in redemption. The memory is long and if the name Chappaquiddick still resonates, you know what I mean.

I like the idea of being courteous, helpful, kind, friendly and cheerful, five other points in the Scout Law. Witness the way people reacted during the inaugural of our new President. That enormous crowd that shoehorned their way into Washington D.C. was a real tribute to these qualities. Indeed, it is possible, to obey these simple virtues.

Obedience, another point in the law has its place. Ask any teacher. And being thrifty has been a virtue ever since old Ben Franklin championed the process back before we were a country. As for clean, my generation was brought up on the idea that cleanliness was next to godliness. I never quite knew what that meant, but apparently my mother knew since she repeated the phrase ad nauseam and I can still feel the pressure of her washcloth on my ears.

And what of bravery? Are we not the land of the brave and the free. Anything wrong with that concept? There are lots of ways to define bravery. We who served in the Armed Forces know its meaning but there are millions of brave acts being carried out each day by ordinary people acting out of simple and unheralded dedication, decency and self-sacrifice. Who doesn’t believe that being brave means being noble and fearless in the face of adversity?

As for reverent, there is room in our system for both believers and non-believers as our new President intoned in his inaugural speech. Indeed, as a lover of words, I am a great fan of lofty rhetoric, although I do occasionally listen with a jaundiced ear as I beat down a tendency to be jaded and somewhat cynical at times.

I am well aware that in certain sophisticated circles, this essay might sound cornball and naïve. Who cares. Yes, I do know how conflicted the Boy Scout leadership is on the issue of gays and I don’t pretend to have a solution. But I believe in my soul that the Boy Scouts gave me something precious which has stayed with me throughout my life and I, along with the great James Stewart of blessed memory, knew it in the marrow of his bones.

Its just strikes me as strange and wonderful how a Midwestern bred film star and a kid from the roustabout streets of a vanished Brooklyn had a brief encounter, a moment of commonality that continues to linger in memory as an odd personal beacon of light in a troubled world.

Who Can We Trust?

My normal level of skepticism is reaching paranoid proportions. Who can one trust, truly trust?

Can you trust the regulatory agencies charged with protecting you from thieves like Bernard Madoff who got away with his Ponzi scam for decades?

Can you trust the idiots in Congress who allowed Fannie and Freddie to get away with buying mortgages that were clearly credit unworthy, while the executives of these institutions enriched themselves with giant-sized compensation?

Can you trust the incompetent government intelligence services who failed to detect the truth about Saddam Hussein’s weapons of mass destruction programs?

Can you trust the bankers and brokers who sliced up credit unworthy mortgages, packaged them with allegedly more secure mortgages and sold them off to other banks and investors who are equally guilty of stupidity?

Can you trust the pharmaceutical companies who pay off doctors to plug their wares, doctors who don’t reveal their ties to these companies? Worse, can you trust them to advertise their products on television with the absurd caveat to consult their doctors on the basis of their advertising claims? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

Can you trust the endless barrage of propaganda coming from governments that manipulate photos and create vast fictional accounts to promote their point of view?

Can you trust the media to tell you the truth about anything?

Can you trust most of the advertising with which you are bombarded on a daily basis, especially those who use celebrities as spokespersons who are merely paid to lie about the wonders of the products they are endorsing?

Can you trust the endless stream of misstatements and a vast array of misguided opinions proliferating on the Internet, where anyone who can speak or type can offer anything as if it were the truth? (I yield to the judgment of the readers of this blog. Nevertheless, I cling to the belief that my essays are more questioning and cautionary rather than bombastic or ideological.)

Unfortunately, buried in this clutter of outright lies, half-truths, obfuscations, exaggerations, canards and deceptions are some genuine bedrock truths that get short shrift in the avalanche of what passes for information. How is one to separate the wheat from the chaff?

Remember the days when most of us gave our unqualified trust to priests, politicians, stockbrokers, scoutmasters, teachers, doctors, and a whole array of authority figures? Who has not been shaken by recent revelations and discoveries of malfeasance, manipulation and downright cruelty and deception by those who once basked in our confidence?

This doesn’t mean that there aren’t people out there: our parents, grandparents, siblings and others in our extended families and social circles who have our interests at heart and whose trust and love we treasure. Nevertheless, even in these relationships, trust often goes awry and there is enough evidence of horror and betrayal to question one’s absolute devotion to the idea of the loyalty of friends and family. I’ll drop anchor on this one. It is just too scary and dangerous to surrender to total cynicism. Once you lose your optimism even Little Orphan Annie won’t be singing about the sun coming out tomorrow.

Short of dispensing truth serum to the chattering masses or planting a lie detector chip in everyone now living, I offer my own protective prescription.

Believe nothing at face value. Do as much due diligence as possible. Attempt verification. Ask questions. Get second opinions, third and fourth if you are not completely satisfied. These activities are time consuming and perhaps wasteful, but think of yourself as being a perpetual target who must protect yourself from harm and the deliberate rifling of your money and trust.

Beware of the proverbial “man on the white horse” who has the solution to all the ills of mankind. He or she doesn’t exist. Everyone is fallible.

Recognize that human nature has its dark side. Think of yourself as a human junk filter, not unlike the junk recognizer in your computer program. It may not catch all the junk, but at least it tries.

Of course, you are still subject to be fleeced and manipulated. I know I’m being preachy and have painted this essay with a very broad brush. Sometimes I feel that I’m baying at the moon, merely making sounds of anguish into the night sky.

So who can we trust?

I call your attention to the motto on our money, “In God We Trust.” Substitute whatever non-human supernatural force that suits your faith or fancy and keep your eyes open and your fingers crossed.

The E-Book Vindication

The recent front page story in the New York Times confirming that the e-book concept has finally caught on and is surging, has prompted many of my friends, colleagues and readers to e-mail me expressing kudos and congratulations for my so-called perceptive insight, expressed a dozen years ago, that electronic books will one day dominate the publishing world.

Yes, I have been flacking that concept for a little more than half a generation, ever since I re-acquired my entire published library of 30 novels and short stories and digitized them in every known format. In that time, I have been excoriated by my foolhardiness, castigated for daring to predict the ultimate demise of the paper book, and being cast as a pain in the butt by the publishing establishment.

In that time I have watched the body count of like-minded advocates, as they lay strewn along the highway of commerce like insect infested logs. As the numerous essays in my long catalogue of blogs will attest, I have been hammering this drum relentlessly despite the cacophony of naysayers whose vision was inhibited by nostalgia and stubborn resistance to the notion that, in the end, content would trump its delivery system.

What was wanting in this scenario was a more reader comfortable device that would be competitive to the long dominance of the paper book. With the Kindle and the SONY Reader, and more gadget makers joining the fray, the sun has at last risen on the concept and it will remain in the sky forever.

Some publishers still cling to the notion that sales of e-books are still a fraction of total book volume and continue to resist the conversion to digital, which brings to mind the image of the fiddling Emperor Nero ignoring the destruction of Rome. They are, as they say, dead men walking.

As a long time lover of the paper book and a practitioner in the supply of fictional content, I had little doubt that the swift emergence of digital technology would, one day, supplant the paper book. In fact, I used to predict that by the middle of the 21st Century the paper book would be a relic, a collectible antique, as dead as the record and tape industries.

I am now revising my estimate by twenty five years. At its present speed of acceptance, I predict that the paper book’s demise will be at the tipping point by 2025. With other book lovers, I will mourn its passing in advance. Being right has its satisfactions. It has its downside as well. Yes, I will miss the tactical feel of the paper book and its unique effluvia of ink and cellulose. I will miss the views of my old friends who will no longer be stacked like retired soldiers on my bookshelves, which even now groan with the weight of years of collecting.

The ramifications of this revolution will be profound in many ways. The impact on brick and mortar stores will follow the well-trodden path of retailers in the Tower Records mode. The visual displays of book covers in these stores will be sorely missed, as will the joys of browsing the stacks and sampling at leisure the content of the displayed books.

Although the digital devices like the Kindle cleverly offer sample chapters before making a purchase and are an excellent form of browsing, they come up short against the physical act of browsing allowed by the bookstores. Nevertheless, this form of browsing electronically will prevail. While the initial investment of upwards of three hundred dollars to buy these devices seems pricey, the cost of the content is lower by more than half and on the Kindle, never exceeds ten dollars and, for classics, much less.

Major publishers will seriously have to revise their business plans and pricing. While they will garner extraordinary savings by severely reducing warehousing and productions costs, they will encounter marketing obstacles because of the severe reduction of newspaper space and the proliferation of the Internet and television channels. This means that there will be no giant all encompassing conduit for advertising their wares. This will not be merely an obstacle in the book business but a severe rethinking for all products seeking to attract ears and eyeballs.

On the other hand, there are many who believe that the marketing of books among battalions of readers is far more dependent on word of mouth than on advertising and publicity. They may be right. While there is no scientific measuring stick to prove the point, I am inclined to believe that there is a mysterious content recommending virus that passes from inspired reader to inspired reader that may be the reason some books get read more than others.

Publishers generally will, if they choose to stay in the business, become primarily the gateway to content and will have to concentrate on developing more innovative ways to market their wares through digital channels if they want to stay financially viable.

The entire system of textbooks will be totally revised to accommodate the electronic publishing revolution. The day of the backpack will disappear. Libraries, too, will revise their programs in ways that will result in a radical change of services. The breathtaking plan of Google to digitize every book ever published is certainly a broad clue to the future that is fast engulfing us. But while these changes are obvious, the rules of unintended consequences will kick in and further embellish the profound changes in store for us.

Indeed, even I have discovered an unintended consequence in the use of these devices. I have, for example, bought and read more books since acquiring the devices than I have ever read before. They seem easier to read and faster, but this could be my imagination.

From the point of view of economics, a dedicated reader like myself who can purchase as much as 50 books a year, both fiction and non-fiction, the cost of the device becomes a minor expense and the convenience and immediacy of the purchase cannot be matched. Indeed, the Kindle download takes less than ten seconds for most books, there is no hassle or lines at the cash register and one does not have to use a connection to a computer to search the Kindle store. The SONY reader still requires a computer connection to its store to make a selection, although a new model has been promised that will eliminate that inconvenience. Also, the SONY is not yet connected to the Apple platform, but I assume that, too, will one day be corrected. The exclusivity of these devices will change as well as more and more competitors join the fray.

Futurists will, of course, have additional ideas on how digitization will affect the publishing business, but these few prognostications are pretty obvious and absorbing its meaning will be the challenge of every one involved in the business evolution of publishing. Pervading these predictions is the prevailing opinion and hard research that young people are reading less and less, and this will have grave implications for the future of content, however it is delivered.

Despite the surveys, I do not share the gloom and doom that predicts the further diminishment of the reading public, especially among the young, who have sold their souls to computer games and the visual arts.

I have great faith in the ultimate future of literature and the value and importance of storytelling and acquiring knowledge through the artful use of words, now migrating from paper to electronic screens. So far, I have not seen a replacement for the human imagination, the so-called theater of the mind, which embellishes and enriches the word and spins its yarns in ways that cannot be replicated by any man-made visual contrivance.

What Was Madoff Thinking?

While the curious, the inquisitive, the lascivious and the various investigators and detectives of enforcement focus on what Bernard Madoff was doing as he bilked investors out of billions, I have been exercising my novelist’s prerogative by concentrating my speculations on why Bernard Madoff was doing it.

Just in case you were vacationing on planet Mars in the last few weeks, Madoff is the 70-year-old con man who is the mastermind behind the bizarre Ponzi scheme that cost friends, family, clients and charities 50 billion, give or take, in vanished funds. The scheme, named after a former practitioner of the racket pays out alleged dividends not from legitimate earnings but from fresh funds contributed by new “investors.”

By all accounts Madoff was a pleasant looking, low-key, soft-spoken fellow who oozed integrity and modest authority. He was apparently regarded as a financial whiz and a man of great wisdom and compassion by his peers, who inhabited his social realm of country clubs and philanthropies. He was worshiped by an army of sycophants who sought his counsel, market wisdom and especially access to his remarkable investments that returned fabulous steady earnings in good times and bad.

He had earned the trust of numerous fund operators who used his alleged expertise at getting high returns as their calling card to lure huge international players into the Madoff net. A kind of sucker virus took hold and spread across borders.

So what was he thinking as he doled out these lavish returns knowing that he was cheating family, friends, charitable institutions, banks and countries? Did he believe he was helping people by providing returns that actually dwarfed what similar investments were paying? Did he revel in the praise of his peers as he basked in their awe and respect? Did his ego require such constant iteration?

What was his justification? I am tempted to think that he might have actually convinced himself by simple arithmetic that he was doing good deeds. If, for example, one had “invested” a hundred million with Madoff say ten years ago, one would have garnered, at a minimum, a hundred and twenty million return. Who would not think that Madoff was a genius? A charity might be doing somersaults having such wonderful returns to dispense their good deeds.

An elderly couple, who had placed a large sum with Madoff and lived prosperously off the proceeds, might have felt that they had discovered nirvana by this association with the mild mannered super fellow that befriended and supported them. And Madoff might have told himself how wonderful he was to supply these people with such largesse, enjoying the applause and believing, really believing, that he had become a human Santa Claus.

Did he have trouble sleeping nights? Did any ripple of conscience disturb his tranquility as he enjoyed the proceeds of his own entitlement, the numerous lavish homes, the yachts, the jets, the joys of being a generous respected Dad and Grandad, the recipient of kudos and awards for his celebrated contributions to the downtrodden and diseased? Once a lifeguard, he might have easily believed that he was still in the business of guarding lives.

Did the joys of oversized respect and admiration trump any tiny pangs of guilt, as he knowingly screwed his new “investors” by using their money to provide a continual flow of cash to his older investors? Was it not one happy family, his own included?

He was, of course, a man who knew the markets intimately. Perhaps he had reasoned that at some point in time, he would find a way to refund the coffers that he had rifled with his own bloated assets and what must have been optimism gone amuck. Perhaps he had tucked away huge bags of gold coins and artwork, waiting for the moment that he might cash in his horde and repay his funds. Perhaps he had stashed billions in overseas accounts or secret vaults hidden from investigators that he planned one day to retrieve and pour back into his empty money pit?

Touted as a family man, can one believe that he was really outed by his two devoted sons or, as many have speculated, a plot was contrived by the three of them to have good old Dad take the rap for the kids? Every avenue remains open in trying to assess how this man’s devious mind operated. Is it possible that behind the façade lurked other gossipy scandals, mistresses with outsized appetites, mafia dons who found ways to launder money through Madoff and other strange encounters with a shadowy underworld? Who knows?

Think, too, of the so-called “respected” money managers who begged him to take them on, throwing due diligence to the winds in the race for greater and greater returns. And what of the money managers who put all their clients’ funds with Madoff and took their usual commissions while doing not a lick of work to earn them? Never mind the obvious losses, think of the massive amounts of legal fees that will be enjoyed by that profession as everyone sues everyone else. The dominoes will fall for years as the big ego guys who made piles of money try to reclaim their tattered reputations in the law courts, a dubious proposition at best.

Most of all, people are speculating how Madoff was able to concoct such a massive fraud right under the noses of what could only be characterized as the brain dead SEC. If your own ox wasn’t gored, watching this crime unfold can be a form of entertainment. It would not surprise me if Madoff is currently fielding massive publishing and movie deals to satisfy the public curiosity about how he did it. And why? Look at me. Here I am spending time and mental treasure trying to figure out his motives?

Does Madoff feel any remorse? Perhaps this requires more expertise about the criminal mind than I possess? Interpreting the pictures of him being accosted by reporters and cameras as he walks along Madison Avenue, I see a cryptic little smile as if he is laughing at these hordes of busy bodies trying to probe his innermost secrets. From seeing that picture and my own reading of events surrounding Madoff, I’m willing to bet that in his heart of hearts, he feels no remorse or pity for the broken promises and wounded lives his scam has caused. I doubt if he feels anyone’s pain.

On the contrary, he may feel elation at having carried out this cleverly orchestrated scheme that escaped detection for decades and drew in people who considered themselves brilliant winners in the game of life, especially in the amassing of giant fortunes. Was he laughing at their greed and stupidity, celebrating his guile and cunning with his own internal laughter?

As for the ruined lives floating aimlessly in his wake, one cannot help but feel sorry for those who depended on these so-called returns to maintain their lifestyle. If they had any doubts about the origins of their good fortune, the avalanche of fat checks surely tranquilized their doubts. Indeed, if they had the temerity to question the source of their good fortune, Madoff was quick to cut them out of the roster.

To further prove his “integrity” he eagerly refunded principal, the origins of which came from entry-level investors. Wasn’t that a brilliant ploy to advertise his sterling reputation as a man of honor? This man was beyond shame.

As for the super rich who got their various appendages caught in the ringer, I feel no empathy for their bruised parts and crumbled egos. In fact, one has to cheer for their comeuppance and the explosion of their self-righteous worship of the Gods of Greed.

There is, however, a subliminal casualty of this strange affair and that is the earthquake of distrust that Madoff has inspired in these hard times. Without trust, we are all doomed to suffer the arrows of misfortune that people like Madoff take from their quiver to arm their bows. Without trust, the foundation that underpins our lives becomes a vulnerable house of cards.

Unfortunately, the punishment of Madoff will never fit his crime. His cunning lawyers paid for with the fruits of his ill gotten gains will game the system, and Madoff will become a star and advisor to fellow cons in the country club prison circuit devised for white collar criminals during what is sure to be a short penal vacation.

Perhaps it might be worth quoting the parting wisdom of that old rascal Carlo Ponzi, whose dying words characterized how he viewed the experience of his victims and sundry observers.

“Even if they never got anything for it, it was cheap at that price. Without malice aforethought I had given them the best show that was ever staged in their territory since the landing of the Pilgrims! It was easily worth fifteen million bucks to watch me put the thing over."

Was it worth fifty billion? You tell me.

The Fallout

With the elections over and interest in news faltering, the media has suddenly gotten lucky and like sharks converging on blood, they have found a new killing field that will keep them chomping on raw meat for months if not years.

I refer to the appalling shocker of Illinois Governor Blagojevich offering, among other abominations, to sell the Senate seat made vacant by President Elect Obama. It is manna from heaven for the beleaguered journalists and their vast army of wannabes who seek the fame and fortune of Woodward and Bernstein.

No amount of media bias of whatever flavor is going to keep this story under wraps. Journalist ambition always trumps ideology. Think of all those ambitious journalists suffering from job anxiety and election withdrawal in a declining industry, who are suddenly confronted with an opportunity to make their bones and secure lucrative publishing contracts and movie deals to tide them over the present bloodbath in the news business.

The aftermath of this once in a decade story has all the temptations and insinuations of a potential Watergate, Lewinsky or OJ tsunami. I pray I am wrong, but my gut instinct is that there is no way to contain it. Even if it rises to the level of Whitewater which nearly crushed the early days of the Clinton administration, it will register high on the journalism Richter scale.

While every effort will be made to keep the new President from the quicksand and stench of the Chicago politics that nurtured him and, indeed, everyone involved has gone out of their way to keep him free from the predicted fallout, proximity alone will seduce every investigative journalist assigned to the story to look for a connection. We hope none is ever found, but the very fact of the probing could open wounds where none existed before. Yes, life is unfair. But politics in America, especially at this point in time, is a cruel and ruthless blood sport.

Just look at the initial cast of characters. A neanderthal Governor from a state and city where political corruption is a way of life and the main exit strategy of that office is to keep from exchanging the State House for the Big House. Names like Rostenkowski and Rezko, familiar with the interior furnishing of a jail cell, have already surfaced. Perhaps people of long memory will invoke the name of another Chicago celebrity, Al Capone.

Chicago is home base of the President elect, his new Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel and the mastermind of his political fortunes David Axelrod and others in their circle, including Congressman Jesse Jackson, Jr. President Obama’s campaign co-chairman and others yet to be revealed.

The sad fact is that all of these people have political and social ties to the actors in this tragic drama, and, however much they attempt to dig a moat between themselves and the governor, the ambitious media battalions will throw anyone under the bus if it inhibits their search for the story that could assure one’s future fame and fortune. As if that were not enough, slings and arrows to point in the direction of our new President, think of all those on the rightist side of the media continuum sharpening their knives and probing for the soft underbelly of the new folks about to operate the levers of national power.

It is, indeed, sad that the promise of this new administration and this young man, who offers so much hope for change and decency in government, has to be distracted by such a sordid story. He doesn’t deserve it. Worse, the once admiring media, in my opinion, will show him no mercy. The mere fact of his association by geography and occupation will draw him into the bonfire. Our hope, of course, is that the smart people who surround him will shield him from the heat, a tough chore in today’s laissez-faire information roundelay.

Perhaps I am overreacting to my own personal experience and memories. I lived in Washington during the Watergate fiasco. Every day a front-page story bylined by two young reporters appeared in the Washington Post, revealing some new aspect of the situation. It started out as a minor irritant to the people in power, at first speculative and only vaguely accusatory. It was doled out by the Post editors like a suspense thriller, which it was. The exposure was a weapon in itself. More people stepped forward with more information. Other news organizations joined in the fray. The law of unintended consequences kicked in. An ex-boxer judge got suspicious and the elaborate protective hull of the ship of state sprung leaks.

Richard Nixon, who knew he was being recorded since he was instrumental in setting up the system himself, was a willing participant in his own political assassination. He began to panic, confessing to his tape recorder. His people panicked. Some jumped ship. Like Blagojevich who suspected also that he was being recorded, he was not constrained from engaging in his own political self-annihilation.

Such stories are mother’s milk to journalists who are a driven lot. They will spare no energy or expense to crawl into every dark corner to satisfy the insatiable public maw for this sinister type of public entertainment. The fact that there is a connection, however dubious and unfair, to the highest political officer in America, whets the appetite of the media fame seekers who seek to expand such stories into Shakespearean epics.

These scandals have a tendency to become an industry. Watergate spawned hundreds of millions of dollars in publishing and movie deals and made Woodward and Bernstein and others rich men. Having observed the Watergate story first hand from its inception, having known most of the actors including the principals of that great political drama, some intimately, some peripherally, and having written my own fictionalized spin off of the event, “The Henderson Equation”, I can say without reservations that this story, unless contained at its root, a Herculean task, has an ugly potential to distract the new administration at a time when all their energy and concentration must be focused on righting our faltering ship of State.

It is highly doubtful that Blagojevich will go quietly into the night. It seems obvious that he will be just as reckless in his defense as he has been in perpetrating his own criminal intent. He will not be above attempting to involve Obama and many of his Chicago people. He will make wild allegations and they are bound to spill their poison over the new administration.

It will take great skill and candor on the part of our new President to protect himself from the fallout. I’m sure most Americans, as I am, are rooting for him and hoping that this ugly incident will leave him unscathed. I know, too, that such thoughts offered at this sensitive time in our national history will be considered feckless and inflammatory by many. Perhaps I am exercising too much blogger’s license, but I am certain that as this story unfolds this aspect of the drama will be injected copiously into our national conversation.

Obama and his Chicago friends can expect no mercy. Journalists are bloodhounds. Right, left or center, they will follow the story where it goes or where they want it to go, taking no prisoners as they burrow in to get out what they believe is the so called truth or their version of it. Expect every scandal mongering detail to emerge. Where there are allegations of corruption, sex is sure to follow. The media will spare no expense of their dwindling purse to search for ears and eyeballs.

Unfortunately in the rush for exposure and revelation, everybody will try to get into the act. Hearsay and lies will appear within quotes. Everybody and their brother who had even the most trivial and dubious tie to this story will seek his or her fifteen minutes of fame. Some people will believe them. Conspiracies will be hatched. Reputations made and lost.

Perhaps there might even be a silver lining to all this. Obama could seize the opportunity to mount a massive, gargantuan, monumental campaign against all political corruption, not merely as an empty gesture but with the kind of sharp teeth commitment to an ethical standard and punishment that can truly eliminate the power of money from the political equation. Fat chance you think? Here again the laws of unintended consequences might work in the new President’s favor.

But then, given the present national climate, it is very difficult to be optimistic. At best the fallout from this mess will be, for lack of a better word, challenging.

Some Ivy is Poison

As the Obama transition team announces their appointments of people to run the government in the next four years, I note with dismay and a shiver of jealousy, that the preponderance of his picks are mostly graduates of the Ivy League colleges. Indeed, an Ivy League education is undoubtedly an automatic leg up and a badge of entitlement signifying to those in this elite cadre that they are superior in intellect and achievement and truly fit to enter the exclusive domain of the group that runs things for the rest of us.

After all, these are the golden boys and girls who probably got double 800’s on their SAT’s and were surely valedictorians or close to that vaunted status when they graduated high school. Unquestionably they are the celebrated best and brightest, vetted by their peers and the parents of their peers, polished and preened to be the chosen ones. Admittedly some of them are heritage kids, automatic enrollers into the high precincts of Ivyhood by blood lines, and the sons and daughters of super wealthy contributors to their bloated endowments.

Throw all those egalitarian pre-election promises into the rubbish heap Barack. These are your guys and gals right out of the elite and super-achiever playbook, your ex-classmates and the ex-classmates of ex-classmates who attend their self-congratulatory reunions and toast themselves on their achievements in the real world. Many of them quite marvelous. Indeed, note how they dub each other “brilliant.” To be a graduate of these schools is the highest honor to be bestowed, a charter membership in America’s most exclusive club. It's hard to argue the contrary.

I guess that most of the rest of us are considered the dumb kids, especially those of us underachievers who never could get into the Ivy League schools, who had to take second, third or fourth best, who labored in two year community colleges or State Universities because of some perceived shortage of brainpower, aptitude, funding or background.

Just look at the lineup of Ivy League graduates that have held high office and you’ll see a preponderance of Ivy Leaguers bunched at the top. Obama, Bush, Clinton, are just the last three. Take a tiny peek at the roster of their wannabe opponents of recent vintage, Senators Kerry and Clinton for starters. At times in some past elections, Kerry versus Bush for example, resembled a fraternity food fight between Yalies. And Obama’s drumbeat against Bush could be likened to a lethal spitball attack at a Yale -Harvard football clash.

And if you want to really nitpick, take a peek into the educational backgrounds of the people in the media, another aspect of our society where the Ivy League network and the old school tie is alive and well. How is that for diversity?

If some disgruntled reverse snob wanted to prove his point, he could take the time to research all government appointees and business movers and shakers in American history, and come up with a vast majority of Ivy Leaguers that would make one’s head swim. No wonder their endowments are bursting with billions.

The Obama team is stacking up to be no exception in its appointment strategy. Is this what is called ready on day one, to pack the team with Ivy Leaguers, a safe credential bet since some of those hayseeds in Congress, many from State schools, are roundly intimidated by this elite cadre of super-achievers? Hell, if they graduated from one of those big shot schools, don’t they have to be smarter than the rest of us? Not that our dismal recent history and screw-ups led by battalions of Ivy Leaguers is any guide to future success.

Strange isn’t it that many of the architects who helped create or at the least passively approved those wacky financial derivatives and other risky instruments, are now the principal economic advisors to the new President. You guessed it. Most are Ivy Leaguers. When they screw up big time, their brothers and sisters in the media hasten to forgive them, and a recent New York Times editorial proclaims a fervent hope that “they learn by their past mistakes.” If they had graduated from Squeedunk U, you can bet your booty that the Times would have called for their permanent exile to purgatory.

As every parent knows an Ivy League diploma puts you immediately at the head of the line, and they will try, short of murder, to get their kids into the Ivy League feeder private schools. Who can blame them?

Put me down as a disgruntled reject from the Ivy League culture, riddled with jealousy and green-eyed envy, resentful that I am not eligible for their charmed circle, or considered the best and the brightest by the Ivy elite. Can you feel the moisture of my crocodile tears?

To tell you the truth, my marks in high school were lousy and I was too busy working odd jobs after school to find the time for extra-curricular brownie points. My chances for admission to an Ivy League school were somewhere short of nil. With the exception of English, my college transcript is an embarrassment. How can I make my point without revealing my credentials?

The fact is, I was an underprivileged, unfunded and odd job working depression kid who lived at home and traveled to college by subway at a time when the only school that deigned to enroll me was NYU, now a hot number in the University pantheon.

Nevertheless, I loved my teachers at NYU, particularly in the English department, the subject of my major, and I am eternally grateful that I was inspired by my freshman English Professor Don Wolfe to be a lifetime novelist. Bless him through all eternity.

I’ll bet that most of the Wall Street geniuses who screwed up the economy were mostly graduates of the much touted Ivy League business schools. Now there was a badge of entitlement. What the hell did they teach in those schools? Was there a course in greed? What hot B school Professor taught how to con the suckers or some polite version of same? It sure as hell worked, at least for them, but not too well for us dumb guys who couldn’t survive the admission process and entry into the network.

In all fairness, while I cannot ignore the outstanding achievements of the vast pool of Ivy Leaguers who have contributed to our country’s greatness in every field of endeavor, I am not prepared to worship at the Ivy League shrine on all matters, especially government service. I’m sure the defenders of the Ivy League culture can topple me easily with their eloquent debating skills, their airs of elitism and entitlement, and put me down as a resentful ingrate. But then, not all Ivy is verdant and pretty. There is such a thing as poison ivy.

I am here to cheerlead for the rest of us, we unwashed and unpolished lessers who never graced their pristine lawns, and for whatever reason were forced to be educated down a rung or two from the great spires of their campus culture. Nevertheless, I’d like to leave this field of contention, surely pursued by the invective and insult of the vast battalions of aristocratic and haughty Ivy Leaguers with the following parting thoughts.

Our two greatest Presidents, George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, never went to Ivy League colleges. Indeed, they never went to college at all and were both self-educated. And the two Presidents who made the most important decisions in recent history: Harry Truman, who authorized the use of the atomic bomb that ended World War II and saved Europe from soviet domination with the Marshall Plan, never went to college, and Ronald Reagan, who graduated from tiny Eureka College, an institution that most Ivy Leaguers would dub as far below their lofty standards, was instrumental in helping to crush the Soviet Union. To borrow a show business phrase; “that’s achievement!”

Before the Ivy leaguers screw it up yet again, I would suggest to the President elect that it might be a good idea to expand his vision and put some folks on the payroll who went to school in the boonies and maybe even a few from that most famous college where three out of four of our greatest Presidents aforementioned got their degrees, The College of Hard Knocks.

The Obama Miracle

Whatever your political leanings, there can be no question that the election of Barack Obama is a miracle of self-realization, an inspiration to all that self-discipline, singleness of purpose and creative imagination can achieve astonishing results.

The arc of Barack Obama’s narrative is dazzling in its implications. We all know the story and marvel at its denouement. One can find parallels in history, both ancient and recent, in which the will and determination of a single individual finds a way to achieve what is truly an impossible dream.

“Yes, we can,” was exactly the right slogan for the Obama campaign. He certainly proved that he can indeed and his victory against extraordinary odds is a historic event that will be cited and celebrated for years to come. If all of the self-help and inspirational books ever written were piled to the moon, they could not convey how this man achieved the most powerful and most coveted political prize in history.

While we marvel at his achievement, many of we questers who seek through art or science to find the key to human behavior, puzzle over this miracle of aspiration. How the hell did he do it? To me, discovering that link to his inner world is the most interesting aspect of his victory.

Like most of us inspired by his journey, I yearn to know the crucial secrets of the inner man. Who on earth wouldn’t want to emulate him? To all of us, he is the ultimate role model.

I look for clues, unique symbols, characteristics, actions, words, body language and relationships. After all, I am an outsider to his world. I never met him and all I know about him is what his campaign let us know, what was reported to us through various information outlets, the television images of him in action as a campaigner and through his interviews and speeches.

Admittedly, my analysis of the inner man is purely subjective, reflecting my own life experiences and the projection and insight that is fundamental to the novelist’s art. Taking a crack at what goes on in the mind and heart of another human being is a risky endeavor indeed and I do it with some trepidation, although there might be an attempt to put a political spin on my analysis. No way. I assure everyone reading this essay that it is politically neutral.

For some odd reason I find Obama’s choice of clothes, particularly the white shirt, the ubiquitous white shirt he wears, one of the most important clues to his character. A white shirt is a unique symbol of self-discipline. Making color choices detracts from focus. It tells me that anything that interferes with his single-mindedness is simply unworthy of his time.

I’m sure a psychoanalyst might find another explanation, but I cannot get away from the notion that this is a man whose determination is so acute that anything that does not serve his focus is rejected. I do not say this in a pejorative way. Nothing great is achieved without total focus and I frankly and enthusiastically admire him for such discipline.

Then there is the matter of his exercise routine. He knows the true meaning of keeping his body tuned and alert and what we have learned is that nothing, absolutely nothing interferes with his exercise routine. How many of us yearn for such physical discipline?

I am also fascinated by his walk, the cool graceful manner of his walk. There is something totally unique in the way he moves. In some ways, he reminds me of the late John Wayne, an actor with a manner of moving that stands as a marker of his heroic character.

Observe his cool demeanor as he slowly moves to the stage to confront countless thousands. Imagine your own reaction when faced with such a normally intimidating and formidable situation. Think of the self-confidence required to perform this feat. What does he feel inside of himself? I truly believe that his self-confidence knows few bounds. Here is a man who truly believes in himself and is completely comfortable in his own skin.

His facial presentation is also unique. His smile is broad, attractive and exudes charm and ingratiation. It captures his magnetism and allows him to be self-deprecating about his big ears and other features of his face. I found it perfectly acceptable and interesting to characterize himself as a “mutt”, citing a biological diversity that we know from our DNA, is ubiquitous in all of us.

His speech is deep and soothing and the delivery of his words and phrases is impeccable. His oratorical ability has surely been carefully self-trained and his eloquence is formidable. With his resonant voice and phrasing, his speeches have been honed to hit the right notes at the perfect moments and they truly move people, an absolute attribute for a great leader.

It is also worth noting that his choice of mate offers yet another lesson in discipline. He is matched with a formidable, brilliant and strong woman who has quite obviously been extremely helpful in his rise, someone who is a true believer in his uniqueness. You can easily see that the discipline and work ethic that they have lived by is being transferred to their two daughters, both of whom they are trying to make as super achievers as themselves.

As a role model to all of us and especially to people of color, he can be inspirational by showing us what self-discipline can achieve, how a focused outsider who believes in himself and his mission can, with luck, astonishing luck, make it to great heights of success. He shows us by example that the two parent family offers the best alternative to rearing the next generation, a severe dysfunction in the African American community where most child rearing is done by a single parent. If his example makes even a small dent in this area, he will have gone a long way to improve the lot of his brothers and sisters of color.

Whatever he achieves in his governing, his message to all of us is profound. Indeed, he has already carved his legacy into the public consciousness.

It is no wonder that people are clamoring to witness his inauguration. If I were a person of color, considering their horrendous history, I would be camping out in front of the White House even now to get a glimpse of this man in his moment of glory.

When I think of the daunting problems that face him as President, I begin to despair for him and the rest of us. At this moment in our national history, the act of governing seems untenable. The issues debated during the campaign did not even begin to address our problems, some of which may be impossible to solve.

For example, the population of this country doubled in the last 50 years and is likely to double sometime in the next four decades. How can a country that is now 300 million cope with a population that will be 600 million in the lifetime of many of those now living. When you contemplate that situation, you realize that our country’s future is in peril and we will have to be enormously creative when we consider immigration, health care, our economy , our infrastructure, energy and the big elephant in the room, terrorism.

Worse, there are so many people needlessly slurping in the public trough, locked into entitlements that are not sustainable and others who are dependent on the public purse, that extracting them from this habitual form of largesse will be close to impossible. A largely incompetent and unpopular Congress is facing an avalanche of states, corporations and seekers of all stripes with tin cups looking for handouts.

Obama will need to call up all his reserves of self-discipline and persuasion skills to tame the appetite for giveaways by a dysfunctional Congress and the greed and endemic selfishness that is corrupting every aspect of our system. Shifting the balance to protect the truly needy will be a challenge, requiring steel nerves and restoking the talent of persuasiveness Obama brought to bear during his campaign.

For the record, I did not vote for Obama. As someone even older than John McCain I am, admittedly, locked into the ideas that have sustained us through the great Depression, World War II and the Cold War. I understand that mindset and the echoes and slogans of those historical moments. In that arena I was in sync with McCain. Unfortunately, my idea of change is to look backward and contemplate the changes that have occurred in my lifetime. Future change is not a happy concept for a senior citizen whose stake in the future is in the worrisome fate of his offspring, rather than the prospects of his own life on which the curtain is descending.

Nevertheless, the old fashioned verities still persist in my zeitgeist. One of these is respect for our President and the patriotic notions of flag and country. As a soldier I marched under that flag and followed the orders of my Commander in Chief and I will continue to do so under our new President.

With all sincerity, I wish him Godspeed and good luck on the treacherous journey ahead of him. …and us.