Russ Kick (editor), �Everything You Know Is Wrong�
[Ed note: This was written after President Reagan�s death. Originally, I wasn�t going to say much if anything, but then others wanted my thoughts on the matter, for whatever reason.
Ok, one person wanted my thoughts. So here you go, Carter.
When I started this, I figured I may as well shoot for publication, hence the campus reference.]
In death, you are as you were in life � a piece of shit.
It seems silly to write a eulogy for Ronald Reagan in this day and age, for a campus where the majority of the students, if shown a picture of the Gipper, would think it was a promotion for Bob�s Big Boy. They�re not to be blamed, really � there are similarities. The jet-black dye job. The vacuous, fatuous grin. The insatiable thirst for money and power by means of becoming a whore spokesperson for corporations.
And now they share one more trait � They�re both dead. But their evil grins still permeate our memory, bringing aromatic recollections back in a flash. They both hold warm spots in our collective hearts. But do we remember anything of substance about the man, as we read and watch the retrospectives, or is it all empty calories?
My first concrete memory of Reagan came back in March 30, 1981, when I was attending my 4th grade class in Hawaii. The teachers were called out of the offices en masse. When our instructor returned, she looked as if somebody had just shot her pet dog.
That image wasn�t far from the mark. With her voice shaking, she called us to attention. �Class,� she said, �I have some terrible news. Your president, Mr. Ronald Reagan, has just been shot.� The class fell into a stunned silence.
And then, from the back of the room, one boy started to applaud.
I was that boy. I didn�t know anything about Reagan at that time, all I knew was that my father didn�t like him. That was good enough for me. But I barely made it out of that room alive, with many promising to �get� me later. I cut through a river and up the side of a mountain to get home that day, and told my father what happened, expecting to be congratulated. Instead I received a lecture on the sanctity of human life.
Later, after learning the ways and means of Reagan�s rise to power, I thought back to that day in Hawaii, and I�ve since realized that my action was the proper response. And that�s exactly why I responded the same way on June 5, when I read about the former president�s passing.
People say it�s not nice to speak ill of the dead, but it always made sense to me, as they�re less likely to punch you in the face. Of course, this doesn�t make me safe from the hordes that love and revere him. They tend to remember the kindly old man who looked like your grandfather, a reason my roommate used for voting for him. He even had the quirks of a grandfather: forgetful, a strange affection for astrology, a shrill shrieking shrew of a wife who would admonish those who dared question her man in public while ordering their �removal� in private.
Reagan was folksy. Down home and down to earth. The ultimate good-natured cowboy. At least, that�s how his eulogies are reading in the major press. But who was he really? How did he get to be so adored? And what, in our teary-eyed tributes, are we forgetting?
In Dark Victory: Reagan, MCA and the Mob author and former Reagan staffer Dan Moldea meticulously detailed the President�s rise to power in the entertainment industry. Long before he became Governor of California, he was made host of General Electric�s Television Theater, as well as president of the Screen Actor�s Guild. When his studio, MCA, was brought under congressional investigation for corruption, Reagan appeared for questioning � and said he couldn�t remember the specifics. He wasn�t aware of any dirty dealings that would have happened right under his nose, making more than one member of Congress wonder what duties he did oversee. It was the same kind of questions that came up 20 years later in the Iran-Contra scandal, whereupon Reagan offered the same answers.
To quote Reagan himself � There you go again.
Moldea�s wasn�t the only tell-all scandal book on the Reagan era. Indeed, aside from the slew of books recently published about our current commander-in-chief, no president has had as many trees felled in order to besmirch his name.
There were books on �The October Surprise,� where the Ayatollah Khomini received gifts involving a cake, some Bibles, and some automatic weapons from a certain presidential hopeful. In return, Iran held onto U.S. hostages, making then-president Jimmy Carter look like a bumbling fool. The hostages were eventually released unharmed - 10 days after Reagan�s inauguration.
Mark Hertsgaard�s book On Bended Knee: The Press and the Reagan Presidency details the media�s complacency to make The Great Communicator the Teflon president that he became. Press favoritism wasn�t anything new � the press unanimously agreed to hide FDR�s infirmities in order to keep morale up � but Hertsgaard shows Reagan to be a tyrant in the matter of PR relations. Make fun of the President for calling ketchup a vegetable, and see how quickly you are shut out of the inner press circle, until your only choice is reassignment.
Hell, even crackpot astrologer Joan Quigley wrote a book claiming her predictions were instrumental in White House policy. But do we see these incidents mentioned in papers like the New York Times and The Mercury News? Hardly. Instead, we�re treated to a fawning tribute to a man whose cheeks we�d love to pinch while we talk about the good old days.
Everything you know is wrong indeed.
But now he�s gone. And while you�re thinking about that over the next couple of days in a moment of silence, don�t be surprised if you don�t hear one boy in the back, applauding.
