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By jamie, March 30, 2012 9:32 pm

Big shock – founder of Coca-Cola was an advocate of Prohibition. We all know how much better soda is for us than alcohol. Aside from, perhaps, the women suffragists who felt that alcohol was destroying their families, other prohibitionist groups were at least partly represented by people who personally enjoyed alcohol, but who felt it would either be in their best political or economic best interests (or both) to vote in favor of banishing the stuff. I read through Chapter 7, and, without question, the word of the day is HYPOCRISY.

Some politicians and other wealthy men had no intention of actually quitting drinking; they stockpiled alcohol up until the time they voted to amend the Constitution to outlaw the sale of liquor; some tried to make sure they would never run out of the stuff. It seems there was a great deal of racism in the decision to ban alcohol – African Americans and especially immigrants were seen as not being responsible enough to drink without abusing it.

The following passage was quite surprising to me:

“In Atlanta, a bourbon-swilling thirty-five-year-old knock-about named William Joseph Simmins created the modern Ku Klux Klan just weeks after the lynching of Jewish factory manager Leo Frank, whose wife was the daughter of a former saloonkeeper and granddaughter of a liquor wholesaler. It was a later edition of the KKK that focused its venomous loathing on black people; this version had a special hatred for Jewish and Catholic immigrants. The Klan, which supported woman suffrage in behalf of Prohibition, in turn supported Prohibition as a weapon against the immigrants.”

At the same time, there were politicians in the South who strongly opposed women’s suffrage, not because of the potential for an alcohol ban, but because they thought passing a law enabling women to vote would end up forcing states to enforce the 15th Amendment, which allowed black men to vote. They wanted to make sure they could keep disenfranchising black voters. They needed have worried – they have been able to get away with this far into the future.

They weren’t really crazy about German brewers either:

“We have German enemies across the water,” a dry politician named John Strange told the Milwaukee Journal that month. “We have German enemies in this country too. And the worst of all our German enemies, the most treacherous, the most menacing, are Pabst, Schlitz, Blatz, and Miller.”

Lawmakers met to set the terms – what counts as an alcoholic beverage and what does not. It is said that they decided to count anything containing at least .5% alcohol. The book teases that this definition would exclude some harmless foods due to their naturally occurring alcohol content, including “some recipes” of “German Chocolate cake (.62%) and sauerkraut (up to .8%). I notice that vanilla extract is not mentioned, even though it has a much higher alcohol content. Do you know how to make pure vanilla extract? My mother-in-law bought me a natural vanilla kit one Christmas. – it contained a glass bottle, some long, wonderfully fragrant vanilla beans, and instructions. Can you guess the missing ingredient? Rum or vodka. You put the vanilla beans in the bottle, fill to the top with rum or vodka, close tightly, and place in a dark cabinet for at least three months. That’s it. And as long as you keep the beans covered in alcohol, you will always have vanilla extract.

Other trivia that is far less trivial: It took Mississippi about 15 minutes to ratify the 18th Amendment (outlawing alcohol); it took the state until 1995 to ratify the 13th (outlawing slavery).

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By jamie, March 22, 2012 7:53 pm

So what do you know about Prohibition besides the fact that it didn’t work? I don’t know very much at all. I tell my students that it was, at least in part, an anti-immigrant effort, because immigrant brewers made tons of money selling beer and immigrants used to drink it too, to the annoyance of the “proper” majority at the time. I know that this isn’t the whole story though, hence this book. And what a great book so far – I can’t believe I’m only on page 67 (I have read through Chapter 4) and have already exponentially increased my knowledge about this time in U.S. history.

Back in the late 1800s, before women could vote, some branded prohibition as a women’s issue. And it seems as thought suffragists were among the strongest advocates for the outlawing of alcohol in this country. Liquor and beer distributors worked very hard to oppose giving women the vote, specifically because they expected women to vote them right out of business. (I guess this was well before the events depicted in the great film, Iron Jawed Angels.) Many of the women at this time engaged in some remarkable (if not questionable) actions on behalf of the temperance cause – one went all over the country with a hatchet, literally going into saloons and destroying all of their alcohol containers with her weapon. Others spent Christmas week taking turns kneeling for hours either in the cold or right inside the saloons (where the floors were covered in tobacco spit and spilled alcohol), loudly praying for the souls of the drinkers.

One woman, Mary Hanchett Hunt – made up a bunch of false scientific claims and successfully campaigned to get them into textbooks, and even managed to get school boards to require children to take classes on temperance where they were taught her junk science. It infuriates me when people try to strengthen their positions by lying. Politicians and lobbyists do it all the time (did you hear the one about President Obama not being a U.S. citizen? Of course you did – those people ought to be ashamed of themselves; they know their accusations are false, but they continue to make them).

Speaking of lies, have you ever heard beer referred to as “liquid bread?” You know, because it sounds healthier that way. The little bit we have heard about immigrants so far is with regard to brewers – almost all of them were immigrants,and they got really wealthy, really fast selling their products (much of what they sold was to other immigrants). This didn’t sit well with the non-foreigners (although many seemed to enjoy the beer). I’m sure we’ll hear more about this as the story unfolds.

Here is a passage about alcohol taxes, which the U.S. government relied on, leading temperance activists to call for the passage of a national income tax instead (nice going teetotalers – oh, they promised it would only be for the wealthy):

For most of the next thirty years the impost on alcohol annually provided at least 20 percent of hall federal revenue, and in some years more than 40 percent. By the time the excise was doubled to cover the cost of the Spanish-American War, the brewers had finally realized that the tax they had once so strongly opposed might be their salvation, and they patriotically (and shamelessly) declared that they had financed 40 percent of the war’s cost. A decade later they even rewrote their own history, claiming that the United States Brewers’ association had been founded in 1862 to “assist the government” in devising an alcohol tax that would “ensure[e] safe and easy collection and the prevention of fraud.” But the only fraud was the brewers’ own; they had in fact formed the USBA specifically to oppose the excise tax.”

In case you were wondering, not all the drinkers were anti-suffragists. Jack London, the prolific writer and apparent alcoholic said he wanted women to have the vote because then he would finally (because of the inevitable Prohibition which would follow), be forced to give up the bottle.

One more thing – this not a dry history book. (Get it – not dry? I’m hilarious. I’ll be here all week.) I found myself laughing out loud at many passages – even when I was standing in front of my classes today proctoring an exam. I always try to choose exam-day books that won’t make me laugh or cry – who knew a book about Prohibition would be funny?

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By jamie, April 8, 2011 5:36 am

Sometimes I just want to go home, the home I remember as a child – we spent summer and Christmases there, at my Reyna’s house, but to me it is home. My grandparents moved away from that house when I was a young adult, but I still dream of the red and black carpeting, the sunlight filtering in through the screen door, the breeze blowing into the window of the back bedroom on hot summer nights, the family all gathered to visit, sometimes taking up all available space in that small house. That home doesn’t even look the same any more, not even from the outside, that home only exists in my memory. I am sometimes saddened by the thought that I can never take my daughter there, or my husband – they will not know that home, or many of the people who visited. It’s not just place of course – I have often said that my Reyna is like oxygen to me – when I start to feel a little bit suffocated, all I have to do is visit with her for awhile and I can breathe again. I visit her several times a year, and thank God for giving me such a wonderful grandmother. When I see my parents too, and my sister and her little boy, I feel more grounded in the world, like I belong here a little bit more.

I finished Obama’s book. It was excellent, and I highly recommend it. Toward the end, he has a good cry at his father’s grave and talks about that longing for home, that connection with his roots. I don’t think everyone “gets” this feeling – I know some of you are probably saying – well, what about the home you have now? What about your husband? Your daughter? Of course they are home too, but they did not form me, except in the sense that they made me into a wife and a mother. They didn’t make me into a human being – that happened at my Reyna’s house, and before – before I was born into my family, the roots of me were being developed and shaped. The strength and assertiveness shared by the women in my family, developed even in times when women were not supposed to have those assets – they are my birthright. My race, my ethnicity, the shape of my nose and the color of my hair (I just got highlights and am feeling a bit conflicted about it) – all are woven from parts of my ancestors. How can I not think of them as home?

Another bit from this section of the book – while he was in Kenya, one of Obama’s relatives laments to him about the damage that Western values have caused the people of his father’s country. They see fast cars and lavish homes on their television screens and, for the first time in their lives, they realize that they are poor. They want some of that “American dream” regardless of where they live. They long for excess and they learn to hate their current situation, even if they had once been perfectly satisfied.

Respect for tradition weakened, for young people saw that elders had no real power. Beer, which once had been made of honey and which men drank only sparingly, now came in bottles, and many men became drunks. Many of us began to taste the white man’s life, and we decided that compared to him, our lives were poor.

This makes me sad. Lately I experience a negative visceral reaction when I hear the term “the American dream.” It is clear that this “dream” is not really available to everyone in this country, particularly the immigrants who currently risk their lives to get here in search of it. “Whoever dies with the most toys wins?” What’s funny or cute about that? It’s disgusting, really.

I was listening to the radio yesterday about the probability of a government shut down. A politician was predicting that some members of Congress will give up their paychecks if there is a shut down – how nice to have a choice in the matter. A friend of mine is wondering if she will have a job to go to on Monday because she is “nonessential staff.” Though active duty military will be paid – eventually – they will probably have to wait for their money. Lawmakers are telling us that we all need to “dig deep” and sacrifice, but we don’t really see them sacrificing. Rich people want their tax cuts and rich people are a very important part of our “American dream” ideology, so they will probably get to keep their tax cuts.

Anyway, it was a great book. Come on Obama, Mr. President, don’t blow this – you have come a long way since that day in Kenya, but your roots are the same as they were that day, and you still have the lessons you learned and wrote about – don’t waste your opportunity by playing politics. So many of us are counting on you.

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By jamie, March 7, 2011 10:43 pm

My Reyna (my Grandma) feels a special fondness for all of the politicians she has met (she has been interested in politics probably since she learned how to read – it’s in our blood, I guess, through her father’s line). Bill Richardson, John Kerry, many local leaders – whether or not she likes them, she recognizes the connection made by shaking their hands or having stood a few feet away from them. I have already written about my fan-girl experience meeting Hillary Clinton, and I can attest to this as well – the world seems just a little bit smaller when you see them in person – regular people for sure, but connected to the world in a way that most of us have little opportunity or inclination to be on our own.

I finished the Chicago section of the book (through page 295 – for those keeping track that means we are on to Kenya for the remainder of the book). Mr. Obama is a neighborhood organizer in this section, and he describes an instance where he and his colleagues got to meet the mayor of Chicago – for Obama it was business, but the local residents were so excited that some acted a bit like giddy schoolkids meeting a rock star. It reminded me of the experiences I have had, the feeling of being part of History.

This section is sad – Mr. Obama tries his hand at organizing in the schools, and he also attempts to connect with religion and faith – something he had previous resisted, for several reasons. Churches have historically been useful in advocating for social change (not all of them, obviously), and Mr. Obamas meetings with local church leaders have increasingly involved him having to dodge questions about his own religious path. This section describes the downward trajectory in Chicago for poor black people and their families.

The following conversation occurs at a school for young children – kindergarten and a few other young grades – where most of children have very young mothers, some children themselves (age 14 or 15). Obama watches the kids walking through the halls, their faces innocent and trusting, as he is meeting with a school administrator:

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Dr. Collier said.
“They really are.”
“The change comes later. In about five years, although it seems like it’s coming sooner all the time.”
“What change is that?”
“When their eyes stop laughing. Their throats can still make the sound, but if you look at their eyes, you see they’ve shut off something inside.”

This section describes a suicide, kids shooting at each other while Obama and a colleague drop to their bellies on the grass nearby, kids becoming “children again” when they put the guns away after their target runs out of range. He sees the city getting worse, and he discusses it with a man who grew up in the poor part of Chicago, a man who later replaces Mr. Obama in his organizer post when Barack “gets out” and goes to Harvard Law School:

“I mean, things were tough when I was coming up, but there were limits. We’d get high, get into fights. But out in public, at home, if an adult saw you getting loud or wild, they would say something. And most of us would listen, you know what I’m saying?

Now, with the drugs, the guns- all that’s disappeared. Don’t take a whole lot of kids carrying a gun. Just one or two. Somebody says something to one of ‘em, and – pow! – kid wastes him. Folks hear stories like that, they just stop trying to talk to these young cats out here. We start generalizing about ‘em must like the white folds do. We see ‘em hanging out, we heard the other way. After a while, even the good kid starts realizing ain’t nobody our here gonna look out for him. So he figures he’s gonna have to look after himself. Bottom line, you got twelve-year-olds making their own damn rules…

I don’t know, Barack. Sometimes I’m afraid of ‘em. You got to be afraid of somebody who just doesn’t care. Don’t matter how young they are.”

This was difficult to read. I hate that we blame the victims – we don’t value kids who grow up in poverty, especially kids who are not white. We blame their parents, we blame their culture, we blame their lack of motivation. When they are small enough to “save,” like those kids Mr. Obama saw in the elementary school, we are busy being disgusted if their young mothers appear to have expensive manicures yet pay with food stamps in the grocery store. We are outraged if we think they are trying to “work the system.” We try to make sure they receive as few taxpayer funded resources as possible – because we all have equal chances to succeed in “America” – if they don’t succeed, it’s obviously their fault.

And once the entire system is a wreck, then it’s very hard to fix. At one time, the kids listened to the mamas. Now they have guns and even the mamas are afraid. We hate giving handouts, so we send these mamas to work in order for them to get government aid – extra points if they work more than one job – and then it’s all their fault if their young boys fall into trouble because there was no one at home after school, no decent after school programs, no decent school programs during school hours, no decent male role models. This is a cycle of course, because these boys go on to be absent fathers and another generation of mamas takes the blame for the disintegration of an entire community. Barack Obama articulates this far better than I ever can – like or hate his politics, his thoughts on race are worth the read.

This section ends with what appears to be Barack Obama’s first time attending services at Jeremiah Wright’s church. He describes the sermon, entitled, “The Audacity of Hope.” I found what is labeled as a transcript of this sermon, and read it – it is fantastic. Here’s the gist of it: even when life is falling apart, as it arguably is in poor neighborhoods, we can still have the audacity to hope for something better, and to thank God for blessings we haven’t even asked Him for.

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By jamie, August 6, 2010 10:00 am

The other night when we were trying to get our little Smartypants to go to sleep, she asked for milk after she had already gotten some. I asked if she was thirsty and offered her water instead. She took the water, had a drink, and immediately started coughing, complaining “That water made me cough! It’s cough-y water! Milk is better. Get me some milk!” Then, to emphasize her point, she took another swig of water, and proceeded to fake cough herself silly.

Evidently, children as young as two years old are extremely effective at convincing their parents to spend money. There is an entire industry formed around this fact, complete with trade publications, focus groups, and conferences. They have codified different “nagging techniques” children use to convince their parents to buy them what they want – I am familiar with some of them, and I think my daughter has even invented a few of her own. The fast food industry capitalizes on this with playgrounds, “free” toys with food purchases, and beloved characters, all designed to convince kids to “nag” their parents into to opening up their wallets. Shameful really, and yet extremely lucrative.

I finished Section 1. Here is the saddest passage (among many sad passages), this one in reference to the idea that the partnership between Disney and McDonald’s [UPDATE: a friend who works for Disney pointed out that the McDonald's-Disney marriage has ended; the book describes it as a ten-year deal beginning in 1996] allows parents to give their children some of what makes Disney so special without spending too much money:

A memo sought to explain the underlying psychology behind many visits to McDonald’s: parents took their children to McDonald’s because they ‘want the kids to love them…it makes them feel like a good parent.’ The advertising needed to capitalize on these feelings, letting parents know that ‘ONLY MCDONALD’S MAKES IT EASY TO GET A BIT OF DISNEY MAGIC.’ The ads aimed at ‘minivan parents’ would carry an unspoken message about taking your children to McDonald’s: ‘It’s an easy way to feel like a good parent.’”

I don’t know about you, but every time I take my daughter to a fast food restaurant, I feel like a lazy parent. And there’s this: “About one-fifth of the nation’s one- and two-year-olds now drink soda.” The major companies even license their logos to bottle makers, and surveys show that children are given soda in their bottles! This, aside from being bad for their teeth, also can “lead to calcium deficiencies and a greater likelihood of bone fractures,” not to mention diabetes.

The copyright on this book is 2001, with a more recent date of 2004. Schlosser describes soda and fast food companies selling making deals with public school districts, and then encouraging them to meet certain quotas in order to keep revenues at a certain level. One rep is described as trying to convince a high school to make soda machines accessible all day long and to allow students to drink their beverages in the classroom to improve sales. Another school brokered a deal with a soda company to print the company logo on their rooftops to promote sales to passengers taking off from the nearby airport. I think some schools are now moving away from these “deals” because of health concerns – I wonder what’s next though.

This section also talks extensively about how the (extremely wealthy and getting wealthier) corporate executives in the fast food industry have successfully lobbied the U.S. government to keep wages low, to lower workplace safety and anti-crime standards, and to keep crime statistics at fast food places from ever being recorded. As it turns out, because wages and standards are low, fast food workers often go onto commit (sometimes violent) crimes against their own workplaces, occasionally while they are still employees. The companies respond by adding cameras instead of raising wages. (I know the U.S. is a capitalist nation, but hearing stories like this – and there are so many of them – makes it hard to be proud of this.)

Other posts about Fast Food Nation:

Post 1: Fast Food Nation, by Eric Schlosser
Post 2: The Happiest Food on Earth
Post 3: Those Tasty Fries