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| Berea Triangle, postcard circa 1960. |
There's a line in the Pete Townshend song "White City Fighting" that crosses my mind every time I find myself back in my hometown of Berea, Ohio. Standing in its little downtown triangle featuring one monument to the Bereans who fell in the Civil War and another to the USS Maine, blown up in Havana harbor in 1898, helping spark the Spanish-American War, made of steel recovered from the doomed battleship.
"I couldn't wait to get out, but I love to go home."
That's true. To pass the familiar stores — and the increasing mix of unfamiliar ones. To mark the spots where something once stood — here was the Berea movie theater, with its green and yellow marque. Here was Southwest General Hospital, now a nursing home. This was Wallace Lake, now a silted in, half muddy field, half swamp.
Meatloaf's "Bat out of Hell" came out when I was a senior at Berea High School, and as much as I loved the MetroParks, running a few blocks from my house, and the bone deep block by block, almost foot by foot familiarity that comes from growing up in a place, I just knew that my life, whatever it would be, would not unfold here. Eighteen years and out.
"And maybe I'm damned if I never get out, and maybe I'm damned if I do..."
Not that the departure was without melancholy. I remember, the summer before I left for college, standing in the dry cleaner's — there was only one — and rotating the little metal rack with all the yellow tickets and reading the last names, the Campbells, the Cherrys, the Corenos. I knew them all, and I realized, with a certain indelible sadness, that I would never again be in a place where that would be true.
I wasn't attuned to Ohio politics beyond what I gleaned from my mother being a member of the League of Women Voters — the name itself vibrating with 19th century idealism. The mayor of Cleveland was the homunculus Dennis Kucinich — he's still on the political scene, a member of the shabby crew of third-rate failures surrounding Robert F. Kennedy Jr. His wife Sandi was a teacher at our high school, and he showed up before the performance of "The Wizard of Oz" and I noticed that students, teenagers, were turning away and busying themselves with makeup and such rather than notice him and shake his hand.
But I thought of Ohio as a fairly down-to-earth place. We made stuff — in US Steel, the Ford Plant and the Chevy Plant, Youngstown and Lordstown. Glidden, General Electric, and Goodyear in Akron. Ohians farmed, and fed the world. So yes, we had Republicans, naturally, but they were of the Robert Taft Jr. variety — our senator. I still have the letter that my class at Fairwood School received from him after we sent letters expressing our concern about pollution "It is admirable that so many young people are concerned about this problem," the grandson of President William Howard Taft wrote.
That was back long before the the Republican Party had swapped business for fantasy and become a cult, dancing around the golden calf of Donald Trump, buffing his statue with their long hair. Now a Republican star, Ron DeSantis, can declare war on one of Florida's largest employers, Disney, basically over a few press releases, and nobody bats an eye. Crazy is the new normal.
Now the junior senator from Ohio is the loathsome piece of shit named J.D. Vance, who parlayed "Hillbilly Elegy," his book celebrating Appalachian poverty, into election to the senate. Cosplaying as a regular working person, the hedge fund investor became the first Ohio senator to take office with zero government experience. The graduate of Yale Law School at first saw Donald Trump clearly enough, expressing valid concerns that "he might be America's Hitler." Then he smelled personal advantage, and got in line for the proto-fuehrer's benediction. "The best president in my lifetime," Vance gushed, while Trump ridiculed him. "J.D. is kissing my ass he wants my support so much,” Trump sneered, before giving it, lowering his ring to waist level for Vance to smooch. And he did. And does.
It saddened me that my home state could slide into nationalistic fervor. Ohio seemed so grounded in practicality — home to eight presidents, the aforementioned Taft plus William Henry Harrison, Ulysses S. Grant, Rutherford B. Hayes, James A. Garfield, Benjamin Harrison, William McKinley and Warren G. Harding. Not exactly an honor roll of excellence. But more commanders in chief than any other state, and not a radical among them. Warren G. Harding, long considered a nadir of corruption and cronyism, was Cincinnatus compared to the 45th president.
But maybe the days of Ohio as a bastion of stability and decency are not forever lost. Hope flickered anew Tuesday, with Ohio's referendum on whether the citizens could mute their ability to amend the constitution — a Republican ploy to game the system, and prevent voters from controlling their lives, trying to keep Ohio from following other states in enshrining women's reproductive rights constitutionally. A referendum would move the vote needed to amend the constitution from 50 to 60 percent. Beyond the reach of the current divide.
Not that the departure was without melancholy. I remember, the summer before I left for college, standing in the dry cleaner's — there was only one — and rotating the little metal rack with all the yellow tickets and reading the last names, the Campbells, the Cherrys, the Corenos. I knew them all, and I realized, with a certain indelible sadness, that I would never again be in a place where that would be true.
I wasn't attuned to Ohio politics beyond what I gleaned from my mother being a member of the League of Women Voters — the name itself vibrating with 19th century idealism. The mayor of Cleveland was the homunculus Dennis Kucinich — he's still on the political scene, a member of the shabby crew of third-rate failures surrounding Robert F. Kennedy Jr. His wife Sandi was a teacher at our high school, and he showed up before the performance of "The Wizard of Oz" and I noticed that students, teenagers, were turning away and busying themselves with makeup and such rather than notice him and shake his hand.
That was back long before the the Republican Party had swapped business for fantasy and become a cult, dancing around the golden calf of Donald Trump, buffing his statue with their long hair. Now a Republican star, Ron DeSantis, can declare war on one of Florida's largest employers, Disney, basically over a few press releases, and nobody bats an eye. Crazy is the new normal.
Now the junior senator from Ohio is the loathsome piece of shit named J.D. Vance, who parlayed "Hillbilly Elegy," his book celebrating Appalachian poverty, into election to the senate. Cosplaying as a regular working person, the hedge fund investor became the first Ohio senator to take office with zero government experience. The graduate of Yale Law School at first saw Donald Trump clearly enough, expressing valid concerns that "he might be America's Hitler." Then he smelled personal advantage, and got in line for the proto-fuehrer's benediction. "The best president in my lifetime," Vance gushed, while Trump ridiculed him. "J.D. is kissing my ass he wants my support so much,” Trump sneered, before giving it, lowering his ring to waist level for Vance to smooch. And he did. And does.
It saddened me that my home state could slide into nationalistic fervor. Ohio seemed so grounded in practicality — home to eight presidents, the aforementioned Taft plus William Henry Harrison, Ulysses S. Grant, Rutherford B. Hayes, James A. Garfield, Benjamin Harrison, William McKinley and Warren G. Harding. Not exactly an honor roll of excellence. But more commanders in chief than any other state, and not a radical among them. Warren G. Harding, long considered a nadir of corruption and cronyism, was Cincinnatus compared to the 45th president.
But maybe the days of Ohio as a bastion of stability and decency are not forever lost. Hope flickered anew Tuesday, with Ohio's referendum on whether the citizens could mute their ability to amend the constitution — a Republican ploy to game the system, and prevent voters from controlling their lives, trying to keep Ohio from following other states in enshrining women's reproductive rights constitutionally. A referendum would move the vote needed to amend the constitution from 50 to 60 percent. Beyond the reach of the current divide.
About 57 percent of Ohio voters said, "No, we'd like to keep our ability to decide how we live our lives." Some 43 percent voted to have that power taken away (Good thing they have those notional babies they can pretend to be saving, because otherwise, I'd think they're just hot to meddle in the sexual choices of women they've never met).
My general relief that the totalitarian charge might be turned away was mixed with nostalgic pride. “You can fool all of the people some of the time," begins a popular 19th century saying variously attributed to Abraham Lincoln or P.T Barnum. "You can fool some of the people all of the time, but you can't fool all the people all the time.”
Ohioans, having been fooled for a while — they threw their support behind Trump twice — seem to be moving from the second to the third category. Whether they stay there, and whether the rest of the nation follows them, is an open question. But it is good to see Ohio back in the fight, on the side of the good guys once again.
Ohioans, having been fooled for a while — they threw their support behind Trump twice — seem to be moving from the second to the third category. Whether they stay there, and whether the rest of the nation follows them, is an open question. But it is good to see Ohio back in the fight, on the side of the good guys once again.
Ohio seems to be split between the poor in the south that are farmers & miners & the wealthier cities that actually make things.
ReplyDeleteThe only thing Vance has going for him is that Tuberville, Graham & Rand Paul are far, far worse than he is!
As for Harding, he was the opposite of Wilson, he wasn't a Southern racist like him, but then my favorite quote about Harding came from his father, who supposedly told him: "Warren if you was a girl, you'd be pregnant all the time", as Harding apparently was a sex addict!
And there are still the rumors that his wife murdered him because of that.
Supposedly, that line meant more that he was like the girl in "Oklahoma" who "Cain't say no." If someone wanted a favor from him, he could never refuse.
DeleteA political opponent in his hometown of Marion, Ohio, started a rumor that one of his great-grandmothers was Black. Testing of his descendants, a century later, proved the rumor to be false.Supposedly, he challenged the other guy to a duel, but it never happened.
I found that story ironic. In the late 70s, I dated a woman who shared his last name, and who claimed to be a distant relative. She was gorgeous...looked a lot like Sally Field, the actress. She had a huge and excellent portrait of Harding, painted in oils, on her wall. Then she showed me something that she claimed had belonged to old Warren G. It was a KKK robe. She even had the hood, too.
I believed her at the time, but she turned out to be a compulsive liar...and very promiscuous. If she was his descendant, then the peach didn't fall far from the tree. But I think she was just...um...yanking my chain. I played with fire...and I got scorched. Keep saying that I'll drive down to the Harding Museum one day, but in 31 years, I never have.
Back to the peach tree references from Tuesday, I see, Grizz. ; )
DeleteThere is a bizarre pamphlet put out by by a guy named JA Rogers who claimed that there were five presidents who had black ancestry. He names four of them, but not the fifth, who apparently he claimed was Harding but never actually named him.
DeleteYeah. I see you saw what I did there. On purpose, too.
DeleteShe was a peach. And August is the heart of peach season in Ahia.
The hopeless pedant in me is peeking out. White City Fighting is a song from Pete Townshends solo effort White City: A Novel. I'll show myself out now....
ReplyDeleteHere's a not-funny joke: What do you call a loathsome piece of shit; and what do you call a loathsome piece of shit untethered from reality?
ReplyDeleteRepublicans, before and after Drumpf. (I mean, look at the rogue's gallery you lined up as examples of Ohio's contribution to national governance. Kucinich looks pretty good with that crowd, LoL)
Anyway, another great piece, Neil, especially the musings on home. Really spot on, describing that knowing in your bones feeling "home" gives you.
One tiny correction, however. "White City Fighting" was actually released on a Pete Townshend solo record ("White City: a Novel", 1985). Co-written with David Gilmore, it was never released under the aegis of The Who proper.
"Gilmour". DAMN YOU AUTOCORRECT!
ReplyDeleteYou obviously don’t need me to tell you — but man, you write well.
ReplyDeleteActually, I do (need to hear it). It helps. Thanks.
DeleteThis has been a great read. Loathsome piece of shit is pitch-perfect for Vance. And I got to learn a new word, homunculus. Gotta file that one away for future use. BTW, the wife of a dear friend went to school with Kucinich, claims he often tried to cheat off her tests.
ReplyDeleteA great piece of writing with the look back at your hometown a musing on cities and towns across america. I had to look up "homunculus", that's a great word!
ReplyDeleteEvidently you don't read Charlie Pierce's blog. Used that word to describe Scott Walker
DeleteSo align with you on your description of JD Vance! I was so misled by his book. And I love that you’re from Berea. Isn’t that where the first college in the south enrolled and invited African Americans to pursue their college educations with tuition and living expenses paid?
ReplyDeleteI live just up the road from Berea, Ohio, a Cleveland suburb. It's the hometown of Mr. S, and the home of Baldwin Wallace University, which is known for its Conservatory of Music. You are thinking of Berea College...in Berea, Kentucky. .
DeleteBerea College admitted both black and white students,, making it the first non-segregated, coeducational college in the South...and one of a handful of institutions to admit both male and female students in the mid-19th century. Another was the notoriously Christian and ultra-conservative Hillsdale College, in Michigan.
That is where I met my wife, on a blind date, in 1965. She got her BA there. I lasted a year. How a third-generation pinko like the Grizzster ended up at "Happydale"--and how we finally reconnected, 27 years later--is another story for another time.
Did I miss an early version of today's post where you attributed White City to The Who rather than Townshend? Who cares? More important, the state that gave us JD Vance and Blind Eye Jim Jordan, just got caught in a major hypocrisy. After outlawing August referendums, in fear of democratic initiatives, Ohio Republicans backtracked to hold their own vote on a decidedly undemocratic proposal. Isn't it ironic that yesterdays vote to raise the ceiling on referendums from fifty to sixty percent only required Fifty Percent to pass?
ReplyDeleteYesterday, you were either "Spot on" or "Part of the problem" so I was sensitive to quibbling from the peanut gallery. Love the small town picture. Did you keep the materials Taft included with the letter?
DeleteI am hopeful too. Thanks
ReplyDeleteI too, grew up in a small town and left. Your feelings of the ultimate familiarity with every square foot of that space rings so true. But as the years go by (I’m about your age, NS) it becomes less and less familiar when I do return. It makes a little nostalgic, but not really sad as I see how the town has devolved. Glad to be outta there. Bit good luck with Ohio - like Chrissy Hynde and the Pretenders sing, “Hey, ho, way to go, Ohio!
ReplyDelete"Hey ho, way to go, Ohio," would have been a good headline.
DeleteWell, that's a pretty substantial post for a Thursday, and a welcome one!
ReplyDeleteI had much the same feeling about the Ohio town I grew up in, though it had about 3 times the population of Berea. I felt like I needed to get out after college, but, though time and the late-stage-capitalist economy have not been kind to it, I always enjoy going back. Even as I left, I appreciated its good points.
It always annoyed me that many in Chicago misconstrue Ohio and Iowa as being interchangeable fly-over states whose names are 75% vowels, when the Buckeye state had so much more going for it, as you point out!
While I'm encouraged by the vote Tuesday, I'm not sure that it necessarily portends that "Happy Days Are Here Again" in the now-red state. It's still overwhelmingly run by Gym Jordan-style Republicans in the Ohio House and Senate to go along with the governor. I find it hard to believe that the presidential race there will feature a different result than the last two. Seems to me that a more significant test will be whether Sherrod Brown can be reelected in a state that fell in line for the disgustingly opportunistic and "loathsome piece of shit named J.D. Vance."
re your noting of buckeye born presidents "But more commanders in chief than any other state, and not a radical among them." you might want to take a slightly deeper look at grant. his opposition to slavery as both a general and president ran quite deep, firmly putting him in the radical wing of the republican party. for his times, he more than walked the walk.
ReplyDeletepaul w
roscoe village
Grant might have been opposed to slavery, but he was a flat out anti-Semite, as he gave an order banning Jews from all the territory the Union Army had conquered at that time.
DeleteWhen Lincoln heard of that obscene order, he immediately countermanded it & ordered Grant to apologize!
As many of you already know, I live just up the road from Berea. It’s changed a lot since Mr. S. grew up there, but in some ways, it hasn’t changed at all. What has changed completely are Ohio’s politics. From pale blue to purple to red to deep red. Since 1992, Ohio has gone for Clinton twice, Bush twice, Obama twice, and Trump twice. The 2020 election was the first time since 1960 that Ohio failed to pick the winner.
ReplyDeleteState Issue 1 was rejected was due to overwhelming turnout from the cities…the three Cs of Cleveland, Columbus, and Cincinnati. But support also came from suburban and rural counties, contributing to the 57% that voted against changing the state constitution.
In 2020, Trump captured all but seven of Ohio’s 88 counties .He won by eight points. Issue 1 failed in 22 counties. producing a 14-point loss. The highest HELL, NO vote was in my own Cuyahoga County, where 76.5% voted negatory. But the urban counties needed backup from some other counties in the state. They got it from the suburbs. The yokels in the rest of the state went 61-39 the other way. Deep red? Damn betcha.
Ohio’s flip from an eight-point Trump victory to a 14-point Issue 1 defeat represented a 22-point swing, and it suggests that a bipartisan coalition of voters formed to defeat it. Several counties that voted to elect Trump in 2020 voted against State Issue 1 in 2023.
And, yes, J.D. Vance is a total shitbird. He parlayed that stupid book of his into winning a Senate seat by a six-point margin last year. But the junior senator from Ohio is also something of a ghost senator as well. Thankfully, we hardly ever hear much about him, or from him. He only opens his pie hole when it’s time to parrot another orange platitude, thus allowing him to toe the Repugnant party line.
I’m happy in my blue heaven, one of a handful of urban Blue Islands in a vast and dark Red Sea. We got congratulatory texts and e-mails from friends and relations in other states. There’s still hope for Ohio at the national level. We will probably uphold the right to bodily autonomy this fall, and maybe, finally, legalize recreational weed. But at the local level, and especially culturally, Ohio still has a long way to go. The future may be dicey. Do not forget that Ohioans are also those wonderful people who gave us Kent State.
And Putnam County voted 82% in favor of the issue on Tuesday.
DeleteThe quote about fooling people may be credited to PT Barnum but the line about all of the people all the time is forever etched in my brain in Bob Marley's phrasing.
ReplyDeleteCincinnatus - thank you, Neil
ReplyDelete