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January 2011
Among the questions raised by historians in December’s “Mysteries of American History” is James Madison’s turnaround in pushing the Bill of Rights through Congress after resisting it at the Constitutional Convention. This does not seem much of a mystery to me. Madison had always been a champion of liberty and religious freedom and was outspoken on the subject as a Virginia legislator. But his goal at the convention was the enactment and ratification of the Constitution. He regarded a formal bill of rights as not particularly essential in popular governments such as that which the Constitution was to provide, and he opposed its inclusion for fear that this issue might jeopardize the fragile agreement. It was not that he opposed the concept, and once the Constitution was ratified over almost insurmountable odds and conflicting state interests, Madison was free to use his energies in behalf of the Bill of Rights.
I found all but one of the twenty mysteries of American History worthy entries. John Kenneth Galbraith’s penultimate contribution, however, struck a dissonant note. In particular, Professor Galbraith cannot seem to resist taking advantage of any opportunity given him to disparage those who have, over the last half-century, opposed his failed brand of leftist economics. That American Heritage should provide yet another forum to this socialist anachronism to comment on contemporary American politics is, in my view, regrettable.
As the only Yale man among the founding trio of this magazine (outnumbered by Harvard), I have been asked to offer a few personal thoughts on the subject. Carte blanche! Start, perhaps, with why I picked Yale. Propinquity was a reason; my parents lived only fifty-two miles away in New London. Paternity also, for my father (Class of 1907) and his father (Class of 1889) had gone there too in the dark ages, although they seemed to remember them with gusto. Even more likely was the fact that I had prepared at Andover, the old Massachusetts school that seemed to specialize in sending her sons to Yale. More than sixty of my Andover Class of ’32 went on to pack Yale ’36, a source of reassurance in the perilous waters of a huge university. There is a British limerick that rather well applies to such choices: “There once was a man who said, ‘Damn! / It is borne in upon me I am / An engine that moves / In predestinate grooves / I’m not even a bus, I’m a tram.’ ”
New Mexico has a vigorous office of tourism, and it will send you all the information you need for a visit if you write New Mexico Tourism & Travel Division, Joseph Montoya Building, 1100 St. Francis Drive, Santa Fe, NM 87503 or call 800-545-2040. To follow Billy’s trail, contact the Billy the Kid Outlaw Gang, Inc., Historical Society, P.O. Box 1881, Taiban, NM 88134 (Tel: 505-355-9935).
"That building on the left,” said the tour guide, “is William L. Harkness Hall. It was given by Mr. Harkness in 1926 and completed in 1927. It is built of Aquia sandstone with Ohio sandstone trim. It has a lecture hall seating two hundred and forty-nine persons. It has classrooms and faculty offices. Shall we move on?”
I was kibitzing, shamelessly. It was a hot July morning. Some 20 tourists were being introduced to the glories and mysteries of Yale. Traffic was busy on College Street, and I doubt if they heard more than half of what was said. The guide had studied his lesson, all right, but it seemed to me that he grossly overestimated the interest of his audience in sandstone.
Of all the material published in recent months on the S&L debacle and the so-called banking crisis, John Steele Gordon’s article entitled “Understanding the S&L Mess” (February/March) is by far the most useful. Those of us who deal with the current calamity can benefit from Mr. Gordon’s clear and concise historical perspective. I have commended it to all my members, more than four hundred California banks, as part of their required readings.
I am hopeful that the public policymakers who have the opportunity, born of crisis, to make our national banking system rational will also read this extraordinary issue of American Heritage.
Thank you for this truly remarkable commentary.
I found Frederick Allen’s article on his journey through historical New Castle, Delaware, (September/October) to be right on target. I only worry that too many people may discover New Castle. The other problem is that I spent two successive nights reading every word of every article in American Heritage. This is a tribute to your magazine, but it sure plays havoc with my schedule!
The oldest golf joke I know is one about the player who threw his clubs into the ocean after a terrible round and the next day was drowned trying to get them back again. To people who don’t play golf, this is a silly story; to those of us who do, it isn’t. Trying to comprehend the appeal of this frustrating game has engaged the interest of poets and lunatics for centuries with limited success. Passion cannot be explained, only endured.