I gave my solemn word to all kinds of people that I would never violate any trust the paper placed in me, because it is a great national institution. And I won't. No, I won't. Because I am a loyal-type person, that's why. I read the paper, of course. But, no, you will not get out of me the slightest sliver of comment on what I read, because I might be privy to God knows what infinitesimal speck of insider information that would make comment from me unethical, unprincipled, and even inappropriate. I mean it. You can pull out my fingernails and I won't talk.
But how about a 50-years rule? People who wrote editorials for The New York Times 50 years ago must have all been eaten by worms a long time ago, it seems to me. Because it's the 50th anniversary.
Of what? What do you mean, "Of what?" you don't remember? They're having 50th anniversaries of dog catchers' associations, and you don't even remember what was really important? All right, I admit, I'm a little sentimental. But don't I have the right to a personal favorite? I'll jog your memory.
In 1936 Dale Carnegie wrote How to Win Friends and Influence People. Margaret Mitchell wrote Gone With the Wind. Gary Cooper made Mr. Deeds Goes to Town; the Marx Brothers, A Night at the Opera. Cole Porter wrote "I Can't Get Started With You," and somebody else, "Is It True what They Say About Dixie?" Not highbrow enough for you? Henry Luce published Life magazine, J. M. Keynes his "General Theory." Come to think of it, Franklin D. Roosevelt buried Nancy Kassebaum's daddy after using some highly inflammatory language.
You think I'm forgetting Europe? Not a bit. No sooner had Edward VIII become king of Great Britain, Ireland and the British Dominions beyond the Seas, also emperor of India, than whispers started about him and Mrs. Wallis Simpson, and almost before you knew it he had abdicated for "the woman I Love." You think I don't know what makes the world go round? Well, we're warm now. We're on the right continent. And, at last, my personal favorite:
Exactly 50 years ago, a man named Adolf Hitler, promising, "We have no territorial demands in Europe," broke all treaties and ordered his troops into the Rhineland. I told you I was sentimental.
It was already passably clear at this point how Adolf Hitler did business. The Reichstag had been burned three years before. There had been Kristalnacht, anti-Semitic riots, Hitler's murderous speeches, the Nuremberg Laws. Concentration camps were going up. The year 1934 had seen the Night of the Long Knives, the Blood Purge, Ernst Roehm, Gregor Strasser and Kurt von Schleicher assassinated. Yet in 1936 Hitler's army was still small and ill-trained. In a week, he had only 90,000 troops to send into the Rhineland. Unassisted, France could have destroyed them easily, and France's heavily armed Czechoslovak allies were waiting to hit Germany from the south as France struck from the west.
It was a golden opportunity that would not come again. Sparing most of the 50 million who were to die in World War II, it might have been the most humanitarian military strike in history. Yet the Monday after the German army marched. The New York Times had in print the following editorial passage. By reprinting it, I mean to
...
Read Full Article
|
