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  • It Shall Be Sustained

    Posted by David Foster on July 3rd, 2010 (All posts by )

    For the last several years, I’ve put up Fourth of July posts featuring the Stephen Vincent Benet poem Listen to the People, which was first read over nationwide radio on July 7, 1941–five months before Pearl Harbor. The link I’ve been using for the full text of the poem doesn’t work anymore, but Google Books has the original Life magazine issue in which the complete poem appeared. It’s on pages 90-96…link here.

    Last year, I also linked a post by Cassandra which remains highly relevant. See also her post for this year.

    Interesting item here on a significant terminology change between an early draft of the Declaration of Independence and the final version.

    Since the Life version of the Benet poem is a little cumbersome to read on-line, here’s the beginning part as simple text…

    Narrator:

    This is Independence Day,
    Fourth of July, the day we mean to keep,
    Whatever happens and whatever falls
    Out of a sky grown strange;
    This is firecracker day for sunburnt kids,
    The day of the parade,
    Slambanging down the street.
    Listen to the parade!
    There’s J. K. Burney’s float,
    Red-white-and-blue crepe-paper on the wheels,
    The Fire Department and the local Grange,
    There are the pretty girls with their hair curled
    Who represent the Thirteen Colonies,
    The Spirit of East Greenwich, Betsy Ross,
    Democracy, or just some pretty girls.
    There are the veterans and the Legion Post
    (Their feet are going to hurt when they get home),
    The band, the flag, the band, the usual crowd,
    Gppd-humored, watching, hot,
    Silent a second as the flag goes by,
    Kidding the local cop and eating popsicles,
    Jack Brown and Rosie Shapiro and Dan Shay,
    Paul Bunchick and the Greek who runs the Greek’s,
    The black-eyed children out of Sicily,
    The girls who giggle and the boys who push,
    All of them there and all of them a nation.
    And, afterwards,
    There’ll be ice-cream and fireworks and a speech
    By somebody the Honorable Who,
    The lovers will pair off in the kind dark
    And Tessie Jones, our honor-graduate,
    Will read the declaration.
    That’s how it is. It’s always been that way.
    That’s our Fourth of July, through war and peace,
    That’s our fourth of July.

    And a lean farmer on a stony farm
    Came home from mowing, buttoned up his shirt
    And walked ten miles to town.
    Musket in hand.
    He didn’t know the sky was falling down
    And, it may be, he didn’t know so much.
    But people oughtn’t to be pushed around
    By kings or any such.
    A workman in the city dropped his tools.
    An ordinary, small-town kind of man
    Found himself standing in the April sun,
    One of a ragged line
    Against the skilled professionals of war,
    The matchless infantry who could not fail,
    Not for the profit, not to conquer worlds,
    Not for the pomp or the heroic tale
    But first, and principally, since he was sore.
    They could do things in quite a lot of places.
    They shouldn’t do them here, in Lexington.

    He looked around and saw his neighbors’ faces…

    An Angry Voice:

    Disperse, ye villains! Why don’t you disperse?

    A Calm Voice:

    Stand your ground, men. don’t fire unless fired upon. but if they mean to have a war, let it begin here!

    Narrator, Resuming:

    Well, that was that. And later, when he died
    Of fever or a bullet in the guts,
    Bad generalship, starvation, dirty wounds
    Or any one of all the thousand things
    That kill a man in wars,
    He didn’t die handsome but he did die free
    And maybe that meant something. It could be.
    Oh, it’s not pretty! Say it all you like!
    It isn’t a bit pretty. Not one bit.
    But that is how the liberty was won.
    That paid for the firecrackers and the band.

    A Young Voice Radical:

    Well, what do you mean, you dope?
    Don’t you know this is an imperialist, capitalist country, don’t you?
    Don’t you know it’s all done with mirrors and the bosses get the gravy, don’t you?
    Suppose some old guy with chin whiskers did get his pants shot off at a place called Lexington?
    What does it mean to me?

    An Older Voice, Conservative:

    My dear fellow, I myself am a son of a son of a son of the American Revolution,
    But I can only view the present situation with the gravest alarm,
    Because we are rapidly drifting into a dictatorship
    And it isn’t my kind of dictatorship, what’s more.
    The Constitution is dead and labor doesn’t know its place,
    And then there’s all that gold buried at Fort Knox
    And the taxes — oh, oh, oh!
    Why, what’s the use of a defense-contract if you can’t make money out of your country?
    Things are bad — things are very bad.
    Already my Aunt Emmeline has had to shoot her third footman.
    (He broke his leg passing cocktails and it was really a kindness.)
    And, if you let the working-classes buy coal, they’ll only fill bath-tubs with it,
    Don’t you realize the gravity of the situation, don’t you?
    Won’t you hide your head in a bucket and telegraph your cngressman, opposing everything possible, including peace and war?

    A Totalitarian Voice, Persuasive:

    My worthy American listeners,
    I am giving you one more chance.
    Don’t you know that we are completely invincible, don’t you?
    Won’t you just admit that we are the wave of the future, won’t you?
    You are a very nice, mongrel, disgusting people –

    But, naturally, you need new leadership.
    We can supply it. We’ve sent the same brand to fourteen nations.
    It comes in the shape of a bomb and it beats as it sweeps as it cleans
    For those of you who like Benito Mussolini, we can supply him
    (He’s three doors down to the left, at the desk marked second Vice President).
    Now be sensible — give up this corrupt and stupid nonsense of democracy.
    And you can have the crumbs from our table and a trusty’s job in our world-jail.

    Radical Voice:

    Forget everything but the class-struggle. Forget democracy.

    Conservative Voice:

    Hate and distrust your own government. Whisper, hate and never look forward.
    Look back wistfully to the good old, grand old days — the days when the
    Boys said “The public be damned!” and got away with it. Democracy’s a nasty word, invented by the Reds.

    Totalitarian Voice:

    Just a little collaboration and you too can be part of the New Order.
    You too can have fine new concentraion camps and shoes made out of wood pulp. You too can be as peaceful as Poland, as happy and gay as France. Just a little collaboration. We have so many things to give you.
    We can give you your own Hess, your own Himmler, your own Goering — all home grown and wrapped in Cellophane. We;ve done it elsewhere. If you’ll help, we can do it here.

    Radical Voice:

    Democracy’s a fake –

    Conservative:

    Democracy’s a mistake –

    Totalitarian:

    Democracy is finished, We are the future.

    (Music Up and Ominous)

     

    4 Responses to “It Shall Be Sustained”

    1. david foster Says:

      Roger Simon is very worried about our future:

      “Worst of all, however, may be the growing cancer inside our own house. Difficult as our problems may be, they can be resolved democratically in a society under the rule of law. But we have reason to believe that these days, that most basic of all our legal principles, that keystone of our system, one which was fought for by generations of Americans, equality before the law, is under attack at the center of our government.”

    2. Tatyana Says:

      It was frightfully long, David, but I read it (and before my coffee, too!)

      It was worth it. Thank you.

    3. david foster Says:

      You’re welcome, Tatyana.

      Note the last lines of the poem:
      **
      We made it and we make it and it’s ours
      We shall maintain it. It shall be sustained
      **

      I worry about the decline of the sense that “we made it and we make it.” Antoine de St-Exupery wrote: “A civilization is built on what is required of men, not on that which is provided for them.” The idea of people as passive recipients of things to which they are entitled, rather than as co-creators, is doing great harm. The growth in use of the term “consumer,” which I’m pretty was once merely a technical term in economics, is illustrative. What was wrong with the old-fashioned work “customer,” which denoted a freely-chosen relationship of mutual benefit?

      St-Ex also wrote: “If you would have them be brothers, have them build a tower. But if you would have them hate each other, throw them corn.”

    4. Tatyana Says:

      Re: the Conservative voice in the poem. I came across somewhat similar pov, albeit in satirical form – here, attributed to Franklin. Food for thought.