And “The Upset of the Century” is exactly what Truman pulled off in the next room. The museum literally puts the writing on the wall as quotes from politicians and journalists line the entryway, describing the impossibility of a Truman victory and the inevitability of Truman getting embarrassed and smacked around harder than Steve Buscemi in…well, any movie that Buscemi is in. Truman, though, campaigned ferociously while Thomas Dewey (R-NY) sat back and asked his advisers what color the drapes in the Oval Office should be.
The Hall of Failed Campaigns is full of bad hair cuts...
that and crazy people.
Dewey had lost the 1944 presidential election in small part due to his mudslinging and so spent most of 1948 spouting absurdly cautious platitudes, characterized in the press as: "Agriculture is important," "You cannot have freedom without liberty" and "Our future lies ahead." Unfortunately for Dewey, his political moderation regarding Communism and previous support for Truman’s international efforts (the Truman Doctrine, etc.) failed to energize his supporters and Truman got to add a couple more rooms to his presidential library.
However the next few rooms contain hardly anything for Harry Truman to celebrate. Like for many presidents, the next four years proved even more domestically tumultuous than the previous four. Compounding the frustrations, every political, cultural and even moral discussion circled back around to the single issue of the day: the Cold War. The next several exhibits followed the evolution of the Cold War from the Red Scare to nuclear escalation, propaganda films, the trials of Alger Hiss (that snake!), and culminated with the McCarthy investigations.
For the climax of our trip, Tyson and I were subjected to an interactive theater experience titled, “Spies in Government: How Far Do You Go To Find Them?” The point of the show seemed limited, focusing on the hypothetical and generalities rather than the specific history of the singular event. Obviously, it’s important to connect history with modern life, but this presentation failed to go four minutes without noting Internet privacy and wire-tapping. Even when the show stayed historical, it maintained an apologetic tone—again, implicitly rejecting current invasions of privacy.
The film—though it was more dimensional than a film—grudgingly admitted that Truman was just too politically weak to stand up against the blatantly obvious “red baiting.” That he despised communist fear mongering is increasingly regrettable when one remembers he had contributed to the origins by adopting NSC-68. By 1951, Truman was stuck in the, US-led but UN-supported, Korean conflict and had no hope of winning another term, which was still a legal possibility. The man had become a lame duck, plucked by the skyrocketing television news media, an opposition Congress, Supreme Commander General Douglas MacArthur and the administration’s infighting and corruption.
Most audaciously, the video itself repeatedly snapped on bright overhead lights and boomed portentous questions at the audience. Tyson and myself sat subjected to this impersonal interrogation, struggling to cognitively orient ourselves and stammer answers to faceless accusations. Most of the vindictive and belittling questions fell along the lines of, “do you know anyone who has ever expressed sympathy for communist sympathizers,” “have you ever felt hesitation about joining the U.S. military,” and “has the show ‘Amos ‘n Andy’ ever influenced your politics?” The first-hand interrogation experience was jarring, mean-spirited and annoying; which I guess made it fun, informative and sympathetic.
Winding down the energy of being taken out behind the woodshed by a voice recording, our journey led into the exhibit of “America in 1952,” where I really began to feel the evolution of the country’s culture in just the period of one administration. An entire wall was lined, floor-to-ceiling, with Life magazine covers, pictures and articles. Essays, quotes and quips displayed sentiments so much like today’s culture that the sentiments themselves emerged as cliches. We in live in a cynical time, wrote one person, not in 2011, but in 1952. If we are the most powerful nation on Earth, why are we always so scared, wrote another, again, not in 2011, but in 1952. Fortunately, athletes and movie stars stole enough column space to avoid the readership—then and now—from getting too introspective. And just like that, Truman was out of the White House with a sub-30 percent approval rating, which is about the same percentage of modern Americans who have passports.
"There sure are a lot of foreigners in those other countries."
Working as a quiet epilogue, a simple photo gallery transitioned Tyson and myself back into the real world. Perhaps it was because the photos were of Truman in his happiest moments, shared with JFK, Mickey Mantle, Harpo Marx and others that every thing felt proper. The pictures, quotes and film clips showed a nation that forgave, and even praised, the formerly unpopular president; in no small part thanks to his political transparency, especially when compared to the Vietnam and Watergate disasters.
Perhaps the experience felt like waking up because we were finally in the first (and only) exhibit to have windows into the museum’s courtyard; allowing the soft embrace of daylight to nudge us awake from our historic dream. It was like leaving a movie theater, except more gradual and more personal. We weren’t being ushered out by a bunch of bow tie-wearing, snot-nosed, punk teenagers, but rather methodically leaving on our own accord. Somehow, the control meant a lot but still allowed at least myself to feel an emotional toll after two and a half hours of darkness interchanged with artificial light, film strips and back lit displays. I was physically drained, with my brain still running a marathon on nothing more than caffeine pills and a Hi Boy burger.
-So I know this place in K.C., started Tyson, that serves $1 tacos and $2 margaritas on Wednesday.
I had to look at my cell phone to check the day. Forget about the time, it was Wednesday and that was good enough for me. I won’t be president next week. I won’t even be a senator, married, or even able to pass the Army’s physical fitness test. Sighing to myself, I knew I was just going to be some guy who has fun in Kansas City. Then again, at this point in his life, so was Harry Truman. And with company like that, I don’t know, I think just maybe everything’s going to be all right.
No comments:
Post a Comment