Honoring America's World War II Air Forces on V-E Day

Today, the capital witnessed a once-in-a-lifetime display of dozens of America's most famous WWII warplanes. In honor of the 70th anniversary of V-E Day, the skies over the National Mall were filled with amazing aircraft like the P-38, F4U, B-17, and B-29 for the "Arsenal of Democracy: World War II Victory Capitol Flyover." Thousands turned out to watch, and I sat just in front of the U.S. Capitol, cheering like everyone else. It felt like being a part of the history which is so much still in our national consciousness. I write about it in more depth over at National Review.

On Human Origins, Neanderthals, and Dogs

As a relatively new dog owner, one of the most fascinating areas of anthropological research to me is the human-canid connection. I had a beagle growing up, in middle and high school, but was a typically disengaged teenaged owner. Now, however, as the "father" to a German Shepherd-Lab-Border Collie mix, I'm surprised to have developed very strong and personal feelings that unless one owns a dog, in some ways one is not fully human. I don't mean in a biological way, of course, but in an anthropological or sociological way, the same way I feel about having children. To me, that unit of parents-children-dog seems perfectly balanced, even natural, though I certainly wouldn't criticize anyone for having neither children nor dog (nor for being unmarried, for that fact).

There is a reason, however, that we call dogs "man's best friend." And science has steadily been providing the supporting evidence to understand what that really means. It is closer to being proved that the human-dog relationship did in fact help make us human. A brand-new book by Penn State anthropologist Pat Shipman, The Invaders, makes that case that a homo sapiens--wolf-dog alliance during the late Pleistocene Era helped ensure the survival of modern humans, and thereby of human civilization.

The book is primarily an attempt to answer the question why did the Neanderthals go extinct in Eurasia, thereby leaving the recently-arrived Homo sapiens as the only hominin on earth? Shipman's argument turns in no small part on the partnership between two apex predators: early humans and wolf-dogs. This allowed for more efficient and lethal hunting, which benefited both species, and permanently altered Eurasia's ecosystem.

I will be doing a full review of the book for The Claremont Review of Books later this year, but for now, I walk my dog in full appreciation that we are carrying on an alliance that may be as old as 40,000 years.

Mad Max at the Baseball Dome

What would it be like to live in a dystopic future? To play professional sports in an empty stadium, like Rome after the fall?

Yesterday, America found out, as the Orioles and White Sox contested in front of 45,000 empty seats in Baltimore. A failure of governance that caused the shut down of a major American city, and the bizarre spectacle of baseball with no fans allowed inside the park, for their own safety. A one-time occurrence or a harbinger of the future? I write about it here.

HistoryWatch: Gibbon's Birthday

On this day in 1737, Edward Gibbon, the greatest Enlightenment historian was born. Last year, I was in Rome on the 250th anniversary of the famous day he decided to write a history of the "decline and fall of the City."

You can find a brief celebratory piece marking that anniversary here. 

Nuclear Deja vu

What could possibly be the odds that the grandson and namesake of the man who dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima is now in charge of America's nuclear bombers? This takes historical rhyming to a new level. A short piece on Brig Gen Paul W. Tibbets IV is here. 

Some Life Lessons, Courtesy of Baseball

Every spring, hope returns to millions of baseball fans. Growing up a Chicago Cubs fan, that moment of expectation was particularly powerful, given what usually transpired during the rest of the Cubs' season.

Yet the real hope that baseball gives is tied to life lessons: on hard work, responsibility, and the occasional heroics. At no time do these lessons, and the optimism that comes from them, appear more powerful than when a heralded rookie gets his shot in the Major Leagues. Early this year, that lesson was provided by the Cubs' Kris Bryant. I wrote about him and the larger meaning of his call-up to the Show here. 

A Visit to Georgetown's Tocqueville Forum

Last month, I gave a talk at my alma mater, Georgetown, to its Tocqueville Forum. I recently wrote about the experience, and explained the mission of this wonderful intellectual society here. 

The Tyrant's Hopelessness

Another outstanding article by Jakub Grygiel, of Johns Hopkins' School of Advanced and International Studies, this time on the pathology of tyrants. As usual, Grygiel plumbs classical authors to look at the mindset of those seemingly without political restraint. It's well worth a read, as is everything Grygiel writes. You can find the article, on The American Interest, here.

New DNA Evidence on the Origins of Indo-European Languages

Interesting article from Nature on new DNA evidence of a hitherto, unknown "third wave" of Eurasian steppe invaders into Europe, from 5,000 years ago. How researchers are able to make the leap from DNA to linguistics is beyond me, and not explained in the article, but it's fascinating, nonetheless. The article is here.  

Following in Hadrian's Footsteps

Historians and archaeologists are kindred spirits, the former just like to stay clean and dry. But my admiration for those professional and amateur archaeologists know no bounds. One of the most fascinating examples of archaeological passion I've seen recently is from Carole Raddato, who has been following in the footsteps of that most peripatetic of Roman emperors, Hadrian. She has a blog that is well worth following anytime, but she is now starting an innovative and ambitious "Hadrian 1900" project, in which she will follow all of Hadrian's travels around his empire, on their 1900th anniversary. She plans to do this for the next 31 years, exactly tracking him according to his anniversaries! It's an amazing adventure that can be followed at (appropriately enough) followinghadrian.com. You can also follow her Twitter account @carolemadge. 

OnThisDate: Michaelangelo's Death

On this day in 1564, Michelangelo Buonarroti died in Rome.

A Ramble Through Old London

A great Twitter account of old images of London is @londonerwalking. Highly recommended as one part of a healthy diversion from daily concerns. 

Meeting The Man Who Saved Reagan's Life

If you were an adolescent newshound in the late-70s or early-80s, some events probably had an outsized influence on shaping your worldview. Some were frightening and you didn't understand, like Jonestown, John Wayne Gacy, or the crash of American Airlines Flight 191. Others, however, were heroic and inspiring, and made you think, this is what is good and right, and how men are supposed to act. At the top of that list for me are the actions of the Secret Service agents who saved Ronald Reagan's life on March 30, 1981. I was in the 8th grade, outside Chicago, and the video on the broadcast news shows looped over and over again became an indelible image in my mind. To this day, I still watch the tape with fascination.

At the core of the heroics that day were Jerry Parr, Special Agent in Charge of the Presidential Protective Division, and Agent Tim McCarthy. The fact that would-be assassin John Hinckley, Jr., was able to fire off six shots just yards from the president as he exited the Washington Hilton represented a massive security failure, but the response of the entire team, and especially Parr and McCarthy, was textbook perfection. At the first crack of the pistol, Parr is moving, grabbing Reagan and starting to shove him into the presidential limousine. McCarthy, meanwhile, etched for himself a place in history by turning his body towards the sound of the gunshots, opening wide to shield the president, and taking a bullet in the chest (and surviving). The clip above has one of the best angles on the assassination attempt (another one that has a wider angle is here; note that the limousine you see pull away in this clip is not the presidential limo, but the Secret Service follow-up car). 

I've thought about that day, and those men, a lot over the years. Thinking about how they acted right when they needed to, how they never hesitated or wavered, how their actions were the most complete fusion of man and mission possible. It is a moment of horror, but also of almost transcendental clarity. 

Thanks to social media, I recently learned that Jerry Parr is still living in the Washington, D.C. area, and I reached out to see if he would meet with me. I had no reason to do so, no article that I wanted to write. I just wanted to meet a boyhood hero. And he graciously agreed. 

Jerry and his lovely wife, Carolyn, a retired U.S. Tax Court judge, asked that I keep our conversation off the record. But I don't think I'm breaking any confidences by revealing that he is an inspiring and humble man with a great sense of humor. And for an 84-year old, he has a iron handshake that instantly reminds you why, even when he was 50-years old, he became the senior guardian for the president of the United States. 

Best of all, perhaps, is that Jerry and Carolyn have told his story, and you can get (almost) all of the anecdotes he told me in his autobiography, In the Secret Service (the book's website is here). The book gives a great snapshot of the personal side of American politics in the 1960s and 1970s, as Parr saw the private lives of America's most public men. 

Yet what is perhaps most fascinating about Parr's story is what he did after retiring in 1985. Instead of signing up for a huge salary doing security for a financial firm or sports team, he found his calling in God, became an ordained minister along with Carolyn, and spent years helping the poor in both Washington, D.C. and El Salvador. A man whose hands had literally had been on presidents now put them out to the neediest. It is hard to know which is more inspiring, what he did as an agent or as a minister.

We still throw around the word "hero" too much, though I think we're getting better at not pretending sports stars or celebrities deserve the title. Jerry Parr is an authentic hero, however, as were the men he served with through those years and especially that day in March. It was an honor, and a thrill, to meet him. 

Revised from a post originally at National Review

Finding Optimism at the Reagan Ranch

This piece was first published at The Week.

“It casts a spell. There’s such a sense of seclusion. And, I suppose, it’s the Scriptural line, ‘I look to the hills, whence cometh my strength.'”

That’s how Ronald Reagan described his beloved ranch in the mountains above Santa Barbara — Ranch of the Skies — to his close friend, British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher.

More than three decades later, the spell still exists, instantly showing a visitor to the ranch why Reagan loved this place more than any other. A drive up a winding, narrow road, past other ranches, fruit groves, gullies, and arching trees suddenly opens up onto a beautiful vista of rolling hills and woods. Stepping out of the car, the air is so crisp, it’s like biting into a thin lemon wafer.

The Reagans lived here part time for more than two decades, then sold the ranch in the mid-1990s, after the president was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. The Young America’s Foundation bought the entire property and restored it to the exact state as when the Reagans owned it, including only original items, many donated by Nancy Reagan. Closed to the general public, it now opens for special events and visits.

More than any other presidential site I’ve visited, Rancho del Cielo seems a living place, inhabited by the spirit of its owner. In fact, the site is so perfectly preserved, not as a museum, but as a home, that it seems to be waiting for him. Ronald and Nancy Reagan should be riding horses over its 688 acres, or walking the trails, staff and Secret Service bustling about, media lurking nearby. I kept expecting Reagan to appear from around the tack barn or tool shed.

The centerpiece of the ranch, at least for visitors, is the small house, up close by the interior gate. Outside of a Lincoln-era log cabin, it is hard to imagine a more modest setting for the leader of the free world. No Hyannisport or Kennebunkport or Oahu mansion. This is a small, intimate adobe house originally built in 1871. The efficiency kitchen is filled with 1970s Harvest Gold appliances, and the Reagans’ master bedroom is downright tiny. A prefab shower stall with a Liberty Bell showerhead and a tiny, antique toilet sufficed for the nation’s 40th president, and his creature comforts extended to a few stuffed armchairs and a small television set.

It would be easy to read too much into Reagan’s character from this ranch. Yet the stubborn facts of how he chose to live his private moments cannot be denied. 

Whether or not he was emotionally distant from his family or the pawn of others in his administration, the reality of his ranch, its very ordinariness, must be a key, not only to his personality, but to his worldview, a man who preferred building telephone-pole fences and cleaning brush to celebrity gatherings.

Perhaps enough time has passed since his contentious and historic time in office that he can be seen in a less partisan light. Maybe some of the works of Peggy Noonan and the recently passed Martin Anderson and his wife Annelise have helped counter the once popular narrative of Reagan as an unintelligent actor, so that his deeply thought and long-held beliefs can be respected as genuine, regardless of whether one agrees with them or not. But even for someone who lived through the last two harrowing decades of the Cold War, the confused and frightening world since 2001 brings out perhaps Reagan’s most enduring characteristic and legacy: his optimism.

We seem to be such a pessimistic people now. Nearly 15 years after 9/11, terrorism threatens us even more. The real economy, the one that most of us have to live in, is still struggling. The meanness of our politics cannot be denied. The unrest in Ferguson and the Boston Marathon bombing frighten us by what they say about the hidden cracks in our society. The telegenic elite scream and yell at each other while pocketing millions to live in enclaves, safely walled off from their fellow citizens.

Reagan’s years were no panacea. But he had an unshakeable vision and optimism that itself created a hope to hold on to. How much hope do any of us have for today’s politicians, or even for the country’s future?

Congress is supported by 15 percent of the country, and nearly 60 percent say the nation is on the wrong track. A poll last year by CNN found that over 63 percent of Americans don’t believe their children will be better off than their parents, and 59 percent said that the American dream is impossible to achieve. Smug elites may say “good riddance” to the American dream, and that it’s time to redefine it, but the rest of us lament its passing because we know why it is good and why we want it for ourselves and our family. At the same time, we all know that crony capitalism rigs the game against those of us who play by the rules and don’t get special treatment.

A visit to the Reagan ranch reminds us that there are other paths, and unearths long-buried optimism. Reagan had an immovable belief in citizens, not technocrats; in more freedom, not greater government control over our lives; in civility at all times. He did not achieve all his goals, and some things went terribly wrong, but when was the last time we had a real, not poll-tested or media-manufactured, beacon of hope? A leader who truly pulled himself up by his bootstraps and is content to be himself, to forgo ostentation and pomp, and find true comfort in what some may see as eternal truths?

“It’s people, not government, who create wealth, provide growth, and ensure prosperity.”

Some truths don’t change, regardless of who’s in office, how bad things get, or how powerful the voices lecturing to us become. A trip to the Reagan ranch revives a sense of American exceptionalism, reminding us that nothing is ordained, that self-dependence is empowering and noble, and that our future is worth fighting for.

Maybe that’s where we should hold the next State of the Union address.

It's Okay to Laugh: SNL's Big 40th Anniversary Bash

Michael Auslin

Like a good chunk of American adults, I watched the whole “Saturday Night Live 40” special on Sunday night. Since I haven’t seen a show since sometime in the mid-1990s, and only very occasional clips since then, much of the retrospective went over my head. There was enough of the old stuff, however, to trigger a bunch of thoughts. Yes, it’s largely liberal, lefty humor, but it’s an indelible part of American culture, and a lot of it makes me laugh, especially the non-political sketches.

For a show considered at the cutting edge of entertainment, it’s hard to remember how primitive it, and our media world, was. When it debuted, on October 11, 1975 as “NBC’s Saturday Night,” there were no VCRs, tablets, YouTube, iPhones, personal computers, everything we use to share media today. There was just the show, on at 10:30 Central Time, and if you missed it, that was it, except for reruns in later years. Last night, I live tweeted throughout the show, like thousands of others, and many more used other social media I have no idea about, the evolution a lot of which has been driven by aims no more lofty than to share clips from shows like SNL.

When Don Pardo mangled the premiere of the (in his words) “Not For Ready Prime Time Players,” it was just 18 years since the great Sid Caesar had hung up his spurs on the classic Caesar’s Hour. In the interregnum, there was Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In and The Carol Burnett Show, along with the occasional skits on Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show. But Lorne Michaels broke open the paradigm with guest hosts, singer-only numbers (as opposed to big dance pieces), and the fake commercials.

Last night was like every SNL I remember, a mixed bag. No need for Miley Cyrus or Kanye West, even Paul McCartney was unnecessary. But Paul Simon closing the show with “Still Crazy After All These Years,” was simply perfect.

Why didn’t they have the surviving original cast gather on stage, along with Albert Brooks? There have been many great talents over four decades, but Aykroyd, Chase, Curtin, Morris, and Newman were pioneers, and they should have been recognized.

Speaking of which, was I the only one thrilled to see Dan Aykroyd and Larraine Newman recreate the “Bass-o-matic” sketch? It was that type of gentle, yet spot-on satire (remember “Bag O’Glass” on “Consumer Probe”?) that made SNL the real successor to Caesar’s Your Show of Shows.

Why wasn’t there an homage to the great fake commercials (except “Colon Blow”?), like the classic “Royal Deluxe II,” with a ride smooth enough to perform a circumcision.

The hates and spites among the show’s cast members were legendary, but it would have been timeless to see Chevy Chase or Dan Aykroyd reunite with Jane Curtin to re-anchor “Weekend Update,” instead of having the mediocre impersonation of past characters. But that was almost made up for by Bill Murray’s rendition of the love song from Jaws, as lounge lizard Nick Ocean, and the brief re-emergence of King Tut.

Kudos to SNL for having Garrett Morris once again portray the shouting headmaster of the New York School for the Hard of Hearing, during Chase’s brief appearance. Ditto for the clip of “Point-Counterpoint,” with Aykroyd’s classic, “Jane, you ignorant slut” line. It was nice to be reminded when we could have satire without protests.

My gripes were probably like everyone else’s: why nothing more from Chevy Chase, Candace Bergen, or Christopher Walken? Why no Dennis Miller or Albert Brooks? Trying to get everyone on stage for at least 5 seconds may have been the logical move, but it made for a disappointing mess of a show.

I didn’t expect to get so nostalgic. The beautiful photomontage set to music showed the cast in their prime, especially the first cast sitting in Central Park before becoming famous. That was particularly poignant, full of such hope and in retrospect, such achievement ahead. But seeing how poorly Chevy Chase and Paul Simon have aged, Steve Martin with granddad spectacles as King Tut, even a middle-aged Adam Sandler and David Spade, was another undeniable reminder of time’s march. Maybe because I see them forever young on the videos, I expect them to have remained that way.

Someone tweeted, after the Bass-O-Matic sketch, when did Dan Aykroyd become so unfunny? He hasn’t, he’s just the same. It’s we who’ve changed, however, become coarser and more cynical. And the irony is, it’s due in no small part to the success of Saturday Night Live. The law of unintended consequences. It could make for a good sketch next week.

UPDATE: Recently posted on National Review. 

From a Common Spectator

Welcome to the Common Spectator.

There are lots of Spectators out there, from the great British publication, The Spectator, to The American Spectator, but the inspiration for this blog comes from the original, and greatest, Spectator, that of Joseph Addison and Richard Steele, which published in London from 1711 to 1712. To read the height of early 18th century commentary, you can find the original Spectator (and its predecessor, The Tatler) here.

Thinking I needed a place to put all my publications, write some pieces that don't quite fit anywhere else, and to dredge up some from the past, I've jumped into the blog world. Most of these pieces have been published since 2007 in National Review, Commentary, The Week, as well as in my biweekly column for The Wall Street Journal.

Like many, I hope this will be a virtual coffeehouse, welcoming, inspiring, and thought-provoking. I thought of calling this blog "Pangaea," since it will cover just about everything I find interesting, from American politics and society to the classics, from aerospace to Asian security. It will be a huge mixed bag, but at the least, it will be a fairly full archive of my work, and links to all the things I find interesting and important. And I hope you do, and comment on it, too.