Truth, Justice, and the American Way

A hodgepodge of recent winter—but not especially wintry—photos accompanies this essay on what is George Washington’s actual birthday. He would have been 287 today had he not passed away 220 years ago in the presence of eighteenth-century doctors performing eighteenth-century medicine. One solitary neighbor of mine had his flag flying in honor of the Father of Our Country. But I’d hazard a guess that the majority of locals didn’t make the connection. If they know of Washington at all, it’s probably because his regal visage is on the dollar bill and that a nearby bridge—and very busy one at that—is named after him.

When I was a boy, the George Washington-cherry tree tale—“I cannot tell a lie”—was widely disseminated as testament to the man’s impeccable character. No longer one, I suspect that even he may have fibbed a time or two in his life. And who could blame him? But one thing leads to another here in the virtual ether—one George to another in this instance. Reruns of the Adventures of Superman, starring the ever-agreeable George Reeves, were must-watch television during my grammar school days in the 1970s. The show’s memorable opening theme, which I’ve almost certainly seen several thousand times, famously climaxed with a confident of Man of the Steel—hands on his hips—proudly standing in front of a furiously flapping American flag. This evocative visual was the picture-perfect backdrop for an overly solemn announcer’s intonations as to how Superman “fights a never-ending battle for truth, justice, and the American Way.”

Of course, when the series was filmed in the 1950s, truth, justice, and the American Way excluded a fair share of the population. Still, when George Reeves perfected his patented “Superman trot” just before becoming airborne, things were clearly looking up. The American Way was pointed in the right direction and becoming slowly but surely more inclusive. The passage of time and the passage of legislation eventually transformed the landscape for the better.

Fast-forward sixty years and kryptonite—or some such mysterious thing—has apparently found its way into our water supply. There’s a Wrong Way signpost up ahead and then another one and another one after that, but all too many Americans—of varying political stripes—are ignoring them. And that’s not a good thing! I would strongly recommend heeding the signs’ warnings—both the real and metaphorical ones—on life’s highways and byways. But, sadly, that's unlikely to happen. Political agendas now trump—no pun intended—truth, justice, and the American Way. Due process and innocent until proven guilty have been supplanted by mob rule—by shoot first and ask questions later in an increasingly hysterical court of public opinion. I think it best that we remember that while George Washington wasn’t a proponent of lying, some individuals are—and I’ve known a few of them. 

From George Washington to George Reeves to The Three Stooges we go for one last lament. I recently came upon a recommended video on my YouTube homepage. It was a Three Stooges compilation clip of their best slaps, smacks, and pokes. Now, Moe, Larry, and Curly—and later Shemp, my personal favorite—were the antithesis of Supermen. Their various shorts were, nevertheless, television staples—just like the Adventures of Superman—during my youth. Introduced by an imposter policeman, “Officer Joe” Bolton, WPIX in New York regularly aired the Stooges. And without fail, Bolton supplied a preamble before each viewing, grandfatherly explaining to us boys and girls that Moe, Larry, and Curly were not really poking each other in the eyes and violently slapping and punching one another. I must say that in my Three Stooges rewind, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed watching Moe employ a blowtorch on Curly’s backside to encourage him to climb a telephone pole. While the threesome panned for gold, I’ve likewise relished seeing Moe bash Curly on the head with a pickaxe. The blow, by the way, damaged its blade. What struck me most about his over-the-top slapstick is that The Three Stooges are, actually, too hot for contemporary television—not politically correct in the new American Way—the Wrong Way. The question of our time: Would Superman still be willing to fight for it?

(Photos from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)