As I read Bill Bryson’s “One Summer: America 1927,” I realized that our history is comprised of an amazing number of knuckleheads and heroes. And sometimes, they are one and the same.
Charles
Lindbergh, for instance. He became a hero overnight when he flew The Spirit of
St. Louis over the Atlantic Ocean, the first solo flight by airplane. Many had attempted
it. This scrawny bland fellow from Detroit accomplished it. Thousands of Parisians
swarmed him when he landed at Le Bourget Airport. Ticker-tape parades in the
U.S. followed. Crowds greeted him everywhere. He often took to his airplane to
escape into the wild blue yonder.
By
the time the U.S. entered World War II, he was disgraced by his embrace of
eugenics and Nazism. He participated in the first “America First” campaign and
proudly wore an air medal awarded him in Berlin by Herman Goering, one of the
architects of the Nazi scourge. He survived to be one of the defendants at the
Nuremberg Trials. “Lucky Lindy” tried to redeem himself by training American
pilots in the Pacific during the war. But damage had been done. His name was
stripped from all those streets and schools and airfields named in his honor.
You
can still see The Spirit of St. Louis displayed at the Smithsonian’s Air and
Space Museum along the National Mall in D.C. I’ve taken my family there many
times. The plane, so flimsy and tiny when compared to modern aircraft. It’s
quite possible those other aircraft wouldn’t exist without it.
Bryson
has been one of my favorite writers since his 1989 book, “The Lost Continent:
Travels in Small-Town America.” Writing humor is no mean feat and he does it
with aplomb in so many books. Humor helps you understand contradictions such as
Lindbergh, Babe Ruth, and Al Capone. But that’s why I read, to be entertained
and educated in the ways of the world. This book did that. I almost quit
several times.
My
sister Eileen gave me the trade paperback a month ago. She enjoyed it and knew
I was working on novels set in the 1920s. I am of an age where reading big
books with small type is difficult. I read to page 80 in bright light but put
it down. Then I remembered I have a Kindle Reader for such challenges and I
borrowed the book from Libby. Ah, a lit screen and large type. Heavenly. I still
put it aside for other things until Libby warned me that I had only five days
left on my loan. I hunkered down and read the rest, including a bit of the back
matter. So much research!
Sitting
in front of another lit-up large screen, I wonder about a century from now,
2125, when a book comes out about 2025. The year of Trump and A.I. Who will be the
heroes and villains? As someone who’s been resisting Trumpism since 2016, you can
probably guess my answer. “One Summer: America 2025.” A nonfiction tale, told
with panache by someone. First we have to survive this period of U.S.-bred
fascism and racism. First that. Will books survive?
Big
Bill Thompson was mayor of Chicago in 1927. Chicago is in the Trump crosshairs
as are all cities in blue states. Big Bill knew that to rule the people must be
kept clueless so, writes Bryson, “he started a campaign to remove unAmerican
books from Chicago libraries.” He even scheduled a bonfire to burn “treasonous
books.” One city employee upped the ante:
“The
head of the Municipal Reference Library announced that he had independently
destroyed all books and pamphlets in his care that struck him as dubious. ‘I
now have an America First library,’ he said proudly.”
America First? Will that be the fate of Chicago’s libraries now that Trump’s goon squads are on their way?
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