“Good Morning, Vietnam”

by William H. Benson

August 9, 2018

     Two Viet Cong terrorists—Hynh Phi Long and Le Van Ray—parked their bicycles on the riverbank across from My Canh, the Mekong Floating Restaurant, in Saigon, and left behind bags strapped to their bikes’ handlebars that contained bombs aimed at the restaurant. The first bomb detonated at 8:15 p.m., on Friday, June 26, 1965, and the second, just minutes later.

     In Vietnamese, My Canh means “beautiful view.” It was a vessel, or a barge, that floated in the Mekong River, in downtown Saigon, connected to the riverbank by a twenty-five foot long gangplank, a popular establishment frequented by the Vietnamese, as well as by the French and American soldiers and civilian advisors. More than one hundred people were relaxing and dining on the barge that night.

     The twin bombs killed thirty-two people at the restaurant, including thirteen Americans. More than forty-two more were wounded. Minutes after the blasts, Maxwell Taylor, the U.S. Ambassador to South Vietnam, arrived at the scene to survey the carnage. “He shook his head, got back into his car, unable to believe what had just happened.”

     Norman Schwarzkopf, a newly-minted officer and a West Point graduate, had arrived in South Vietnam that same day. He and another officer had wanted to dine that evening at My Canh, but due to jet lag they had selected the roof garden cafe atop their hotel, the Majestic.

     “We had just placed our orders when wham,” recalled Schwarzkopf in his 1993 autobiography, “It Doesn’t Take a Hero.” From the roof, he and his friend looked down and saw the wounded customers moving slowly across the walkway to shore. He said, “I watched as the second explosion blasted them from the gangplank into the water. That was my welcome to Vietnam.”

     An American airman name Adrian Cronauer had finished dinner and walked across the gangplank, but was still in the area, visiting with friends, when the two bombs exploded. He worked as a radio announcer, and wanted to report on his next day’s morning show, Dawn Buster, the bloodshed he had witnessed, but his superiors refused, because, they said, “it had not been officially confirmed yet.”

     Cronauer later said, “But I had seen it. I was there. All the news agencies knew! No; censorship ruled.” He decided to “swallow the stupidity and obey.”

     Headlines called it, “The Terrorist Attack that Shook the World.” The horrific crime was an example of maximum impact. “It was a trendy location during prime time, Friday evening, just after 8 o’clock, an international venue, and only a few blocks away from foreign news bureaus.”

     During the previous six months, the Viet Cong had bombed Saigon’s Brinks Hotel, the U.S. Embassy, and the airport terminal, but those terrorist acts had failed to shock the public and ignite the outrage that the bombing at My Canh did.  

     Fifteen years later, in the late 1970’s Adrian Cronauer wrote a script for a possible television show based on his experiences in Vietnam, similar to M.A.S.H. Years passed and his script languished in the reject pile. A movie producer saw the script, and converted it into the 1988 movie, Good Morning, Vietnam, that starred Robin Williams, a fictional account of Cronauer’s experiences.   

     Like Robin Williams did in the movie, Cronauer did stretch out the word “good,” but as a delay so that he could find the next record to play or the next page of news.

     Cronauer admitted that “if I had acted in real life as Robin Williams did in the film, I would still be serving time in the military penitentiary at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.” The one scene in the film not fictional though was the bombing of the restaurant, but called “Jimmy Wahs.”

     Cronauer said, “When I was stationed in Vietnam, I did interviews with the troops out in the field, and one of the reactions I got from them was frustration. They would be in hot pursuit of an enemy unit, but they would have to disengage because the unit would cross over some invisible barrier or border. Vietnam was fought as a no-win war.”

     Adrian Cronauer met Robin Williams at the film’s premiere showing. “The two men shook hands, and Williams said he was glad to meet Cronauer, who replied that he was glad to meet himself too.”

     Adrian Cronauer passed away last month on July 18, 2018, age seventy-nine, and Norman Schwarzkopf died December 27, 2012, age seventy-eight, both men veterans of the Vietnam war.

Liberia and Universal Basic Income

by William H. Benson

July 26, 2018

     According to the World Bank, of the world’s 872.3 million people who lived below the poverty line in 2014, 179.6 million, or 20% of the total, lived in India, and yet the ten poorest countries in the world lie with Africa. Officials in governments across Africa struggle with the rankest forms of poverty.

     For example, the west African country of Liberia ranks as the world’s fourth poorest country with a gross domestic product per capita of $934, or $2.65 earned per day for each of its 4.6 million people.

     Liberia, though, is one of the few countries in the world to experiment with “universal basic income,” a social program designed to help its ultra-poor.

     From 2009 until 2014, the European Union, plus Japan, deposited funds into Liberia’s “Social Cash Transfer Program.” Then, from it, Liberia’s officials issued monthly cash payments, equal to $200 in U.S. money, to slum residents in two of Liberia’s poorest counties: Bomi and Maryland.

     The results astonished officials, who expected people to squander the money on alcohol, drugs, trinkets, or gambling. Instead, the recipients spent the biggest share on food, no surprise there, but also on school, business enterprises, agricultural inputs, savings, and housing. Yes, even savings!

    One-third started their own businesses, and often they succeeded because their neighbors had the funds to spend, to purchase others’ products. The economy expanded with producers and consumers.

     Nathan Heller, author of a New Yorker article this month, said, “Universal Basic Income is, so far, a program that lives in people’s heads, untried on a national scale.” In addition to Liberia, officials in Kenya, Finland, Canada, the Netherlands, Namibia, Uganda, India, and Switzerland have dabbled with U.B.I. on a small and temporary scale, and the results in each are either similar to Liberia’s or mixed.

     Some economists and thinkers approve of U.B.I. They point to the reduced poverty, the participants’ improved health, the new business ventures, the created jobs, the reduced school dropout rate, and women’s expanded power.

     With U.B.I., boys and girls now attend school, whereas before, their parents insisted they help on the farm or in the garden or at a job to produce sufficient food for the family to prevent hunger and starvation. The African country of Namibia ran a “Basic Income Grant” from 2007 until 2012, and witnessed its school dropout rate fall from 40% to 5% and finally to near 0%.

     Because women receive a cash payment from U.B.I. also, they no longer feel helpless and dependent upon a man—father, boyfriend, husband, or lover—for money to buy food or clothing.

     Critics though denounce U.B.I., because the social program takes dollars from the “few” who pay taxes and redistributes it to “everyone.” Heller says, “People have a visceral reaction to the idea of U.B.I.,” and that some “find such payments monstrous, a model of waste and unearned rewards.”

     Critics also say that U.B.I. reduces men and women’s incentive to work, and that the temptation to squander the cash payments on alcohol or drugs remains strong.

     The major criticism though is the price tag. One U.B.I. proponent, Annie Lowrey, “thinks a U.B.I. in the United States should be a thousand dollars monthly. This means $3.9 trillion a year, close to the current expenditure of the entire federal government.”

     In other words, if implemented in the United States, U.B.I. would double the federal government’s current expenditures. How to pay for a social program of that size? Lowrey suggests “new taxes on income, carbon, estates, pollution, etc.”

     Andrew Yang, a Democrat, is running for U.S. President in 2020, and he suggests that the Federal government should adopt U.B.I. Yang is the forty-three-year old son of immigrant parents from Taiwan, and is the founder of the non-profit, Venture for America.

     To pay for U.B.I., Yang suggests a Value Added Tax. Most European countries have now initiated this new tax, that assesses a tax at each step along the production chain.

     In addition to new taxes, some U.B.I. proponents call for a rollback of all existing social programs. They “see U.B.I. as a clean, crisp way of replacing gnarled government bureaucracy.”

     In other words, match new taxes to monthly cash payments and eradicate current Federal programs. This all seems extreme, “a quantum leap in social policy.” Nathan Heller asks, “Will the public stand for such a bold measure—and if so, could it ever work?” He provides few answers.    

J. K. Rowling

by William H. Benson

July 13, 2018

     Recently, I discovered that I can watch on YouTube certain commencement addresses at Harvard.

     In May this year, Mark Zuckerberg spoke, and last year it was Steven Spielberg’s turn. In 2013, Oprah Winfrey spoke, and Bill Gates in 2007. Other speakers include: Michael Bloomberg, David Souter, the late Daniel Moynihan, Alan Greenspan, Al Gore, and Colin Powell. This is a distinguished list, but the best, I think, is Joanne Rowling, aka J. K. Rowling, who spoke on June 5, 2008.

     I admit that I have never read any of J. K.’s Harry Potter books, because I do not enjoy the fantasy genre. A few weeks ago, in June, the media noted that twenty years have passed since the publication of her first Harry Potter book. I have listened to her recent crime detective novels that she writes under the pen name Robert Galbraith. They are ok, but I prefer Sue Grafton, Dick Francis, or Robert Parker.

     Harvard holds its commencement outside, in the Tercentenary Theatre area, between Widener Hall and the Memorial Church. On YouTube, she walks to the microphone and appears frightened, vulnerable, even intimidated, and she admits as much in her opening statement. She does not dwell on her phenomenal success with Harry Potter, but mentions her creation only in passing. 

     She begins with a few jokes about her own college graduation from Exeter College in the U.K., and then she turns serious. “I have wracked my mind and heart for what I ought to say to you today. I have asked myself what I wish I had known at my own graduation, and what important lessons I have learned in the twenty-one years that have expired between that day and this.”

     She thought of two answers: “the benefits of failure,” and “the crucial importance of imagination.”

     To please her parents, she had agreed to study German and French at Exeter, majors that they thought more useful than literature, her first choice, but as soon as they drove away, she said, “I ditched German and scuttled off down to the Classics corridor.” She admits that there is no subject “less useful than Greek mythology for securing the keys to the executive bathroom.”

     After J. K. graduated from Exeter, she worked at a few temporary jobs, and then confessed, “a mere seven years after my graduation day, I had failed on an epic scale. A short-lived marriage had imploded, and I was jobless, a lone parent, and as poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain.”

     She tells the graduates that she “will not tell you that failure is fun,” but that it is “a stripping away of the inessential,” and that for her, “I was set free. I was still alive, and I had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea.”

     She then turns to her second topic, the importance of imagination, but she takes an unexpected turn.

     At one of her day jobs after graduation, she had worked “at the African research department at Amnesty International’s headquarters in London.” It was her job to open the mail and read the letters of torture victims, who begged for help. She stared at the photographs. She read their words. The victims had smuggled the documents out of the African countries where rape and murder were constant terrors.

     She says, “Every day, I saw more evidence about the evils humankind will inflict on their fellow humans, to gain or maintain power. I began to have nightmares about some of the things I saw, heard, and read.” Also, she says, “Every day I was reminded how incredibly fortunate I was, to live in a country with a democratically-elected government, where legal representation and a public trial were the rights of everyone.”

     She wonders about the reasons behind the brutality, and she arrives at the conclusion that “many prefer not to exercise their imaginations at all. They refuse to hear screams or to peer inside cages. They close their minds and hearts to any suffering. They refuse to know.” In other words, they have no empathy, no capacity to know what their victims are feeling, no ability to imagine. They are cruel.

     Near the end of her address, J. K. quotes an ancient Greek, whose works she studied at Exeter. “Plutarch said, ‘What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality.’ This is an astonishing statement, and yet proven a thousand times every day of our lives. It expresses, in part, our inescapable connection with the outside world.”

     She then advises the Harvard graduates of 2008 to stay close to, and remain friends with, their fellow graduates. She says, “At our graduation we were bound by enormous affection, by our shared experience of a time that could never come again.” Indeed, I agree, it will not.

     J. K. finishes with a second quote from a Classic author, this one from the ancient Roman, Seneca, who said, “As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters.”

The Point of Decision

by William H. Benson

July 12, 2018

     In the harsh winter of 1836-1837, the New York City editor Horace Greeley wondered about how the city might rescue the homeless, and the destitute. In his newspaper, Greeley encouraged them to flee the city, to migrate west, and perhaps they might find freedom and opportunity there.

     Greeley said, ”Fly, scatter through the country, go to the Great West, anything rather than remain here. The west is the true destiny. Go to the West; there your capabilities are sure to be appreciated, and your energy and industry rewarded.”

     On July 13, 1865, in the days after the Civil War’s bloodbath had concluded, Greeley said the same thing in a phrase he popularized, “Go West, young man, and grow up with the country!” 

     Was Greeley’s advice wise? One wonders how many young American men and women’s lives were altered, for good or for bad, because they chose to heed his advice? How far west did they go? To the next county west of their parent’s county in Pennsylvania? Or as far west as Ohio, Kansas, Missouri, Colorado, Utah, Nevada, California, or Oregon? Or possibly to Hawaii or Alaska?

     In 1981, the English rock band, Clash, wrote and first performed a now classic rock and roll song, “Should I Stay or Should I Go?” The catchy tune includes lyrics about a man or a woman, who confronts a decision, whether to stay at home, or to move away. To say, “no,” or to say “yes.”

     The Clash’s question is one that most young people face, more so than Hamlet’s “To be or not to be.” Young people wonder whether to stay at home, or to try their luck and talent at a college in another town or city; or whether to stay on the farm, or move to the city to find a job and buy a home. 

     The decision is not always easy. It includes a young person’s hope to seek opportunity, Jefferson’s so-called “the pursuit of happiness.” It also includes a separation from the family’s comfort and security. Some choose to move west, or even east, but then return home.

     In 1947, then eighteen-year-old Warren Buffet left his home in Omaha to attend college in the east, in Philadelphia, at the Wharton School, at the University of Pennsylvania, but after two years he came back home to the University of Nebraska. For graduate school, he attended Columbia in New York City, but then after all that education, he returned to his native Omaha, where he felt more comfortable.

    A favorite Warren Buffet quote is, “The difference between successful people and really successful people is that really successful people say ‘No!’ to almost everything.” To the question, “Should I Stay or Should I Go,” he would answer 99 times out of 100, “Stay. Do not try anything foolish. When presented with a decision, say ‘No!’ almost all the time.” Not what Horace Greeley recommended. 

     The move from rural to urban continues to unfold in our lives. Young people in eastern Colorado migrate west to Denver, Colorado Springs, Fort Collins, or Greeley. Young people in western Nebraska move east to Kearney, Grand Island, Hastings, Lincoln, or Omaha. A long-time Nebraska resident explained that Deuel County exports two things, wheat and kids. Most leave and do not return. 

     Life is never easy, though, wherever a person lives. The city includes daily doses of heavy traffic, pollution, crime, and a feeling of alienation. Rural life means the farm, the fickleness of commodity markets, and less-than-adequate-paying jobs. There is both good and bad on the farm and in the city.

     When fifteen, Alexander Hamilton left his home in the British West Indies, and sailed north, in order to attend King’s College, now Columbia, in New York City. He stayed in the city.

     Years later, Hamilton’s political rival, Aaron Burr, challenged him to a dual, and he chose to go. He and his assistant rowed west across the Hudson River, to Weehawken, New Jersey, and there on the morning of July 11, 1804, Aaron Burr shot Hamilton in the abdomen. He died the next day. 

     Looking back at Hamilton’s decision, historians have concluded that he should have forgotten about pride and honor, and stayed in the city that day, or he should rowed his boat east, across the East River.

     As for Horace Greeley, he failed to follow his own advice. He stayed in New York City all of his life, except for a single trip west in 1859, on a stagecoach. He saw Kansas, Denver, and then on the Overland Trail he traveled to Salt Lake City, and to California, but then he returned to New York City. He had no interest in staying in the west.

     Should I stay, or should I go? That is the question.

John Wayles, Thomas Jefferson, and Sally Hemings

by William H. Benson

June 28, 2018

John Wayles was born in Lancaster, England, in 1715. When a teenager, he sailed to Virginia, and there he acquired vast landholdings, over a hundred slaves, and enormous debts. By his first wife, Martha Eppes, he had a daughter, also named Martha, who in 1772, married Thomas Jefferson. 

After John Wayles buried his first wife Martha in 1748, he married Tabitha Cocke, who produced three daughters, before she too passed away. John’s third wife, Elizabeth Skelton, died barren.

John then took a concubine, a slave named Elizabeth Hemings, and a biracial woman. Her father was an English sea captain named Hemings, and her mother was an African woman. By John Wayles, Betty produced six children: Robert, James, Peter, Critta, Sally, and Thenia, each born into slavery, although each were 3/4’s white.

Thomas and Martha Jefferson were married for ten years, from 1772 until 1782, and during that decade, Martha gave birth to five daughters and a son, but only two of her daughters, Patsy and Jane, lived to adulthood. When Martha died, Jefferson suffered “many a violent burst of grief.”

Before she died, she made Thomas promise that he would never marry again, and he never did.

Most historians now agree that Thomas then took a concubine, Sally Hemings, John Wayles’s daughter by Betty Hemings. Jefferson’s wife Martha, and Sally Hemings, were half-sisters. They shared the same father, John Wayles, but had different mothers, and they may have looked alike.

No complete description of Sally Hemings exists. In 1847, Isaac Jefferson, a Monticello slave, said, “Sally Hemings’ mother Betty was a bright mulatto woman, and Sally mighty near white. Sally was very handsome, long straight hair down her back.”

Sally Hemings gave birth to six children, most likely by Thomas Jefferson: Harriet, Beverly, another Harriet, another un-named daughter, then Madison, and Eston. The four who survived childhood were considered slaves, because of Sally’s status, although they were 7/8’s white. In 1822, Jefferson allowed the two oldest to escape slavery, and by his 1826 will, he freed the two youngest. 

Thus, two Virginia families were intertwined. There was the Wayles-Jefferson family, and there was the Hemings family. When John Wayles died, Thomas Jefferson inherited Wayle’s slaves, including Betty Hemings and her children, who lived and worked in Monticello, Jefferson’s home. 

For decades, descendents of the Wayles-Jefferson family refused to believe that Sally Hemings’s children were also Jefferson’s, but DNA testing proved it true. Markers on the Y chromosome, passed from father to son, confirmed that the sons who claim Field Jefferson, Thomas’s uncle, as their ancestor, match those sons who descended from Eston Hemings.

John Wayles and Betty Hemings, as well as Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings, exemplify the complexities associated with race and slavery in colonial Virginia. The reality was that many women did not survive their child-bearing years, and many children did not survive childhood. The Virginians knew that they had to produce many children, if they wanted to ensure their English colony’s success.

Did Betty and Sally welcome their masters’ attentions, or was it assault? One descendent of Madison Hemings said, “I really don’t think the slave women had a choice.” Another said, “I think it was a love story. Did Sally look like Martha? I think she did.”

On Saturday, June 23, 2018, a new exhibit opened at Monticello, a room dedicated to Sally Hemings. Instead of her picture though, officials will project a shadow of a female slave on a wall.

Each year since 1962, several dozen immigrants have become naturalized U.S. citizens at the “Monticello Independence Day Celebration and Naturalization Ceremony.” This year a federal immigration official will ask each immigrant to, “please raise your hands and take the oath.”

The speaker at Monticello’s July 4th celebration this year is Andrew Tisch. Past speakers have included certain naturalized citizens: Nadia Comaneci, Tracey Ullman, I. M. Pei, and Robert Goizueta. 

On July 4, 1995, Goizueta, an immigrant from Cuba, said, “When a person becomes a U. S. citizen, he or she receives a magical gift, the gift of freedom, and its corollary, opportunity.”

Slavery is the opposite of freedom and opportunity, the most precious of commodities. Betty and her daughter Sally knew only slavery, and they never experienced that magical gift called freedom.

At Monticello this year, visitors will walk into Jefferson’s house, will stare into Sally Hemings’s bare room, and outside they will walk along Mulberry Row, and look into the slave’s huts, a devastating reminder that the writer of the Declaration of Independence owned people. How awful. 

To my readers, enjoy your 4th of July holiday.