The Hon. Cyclops from West Virginia
Fess up: It's been out a whole week already, but still not a soul among you has taken the time to track down and purchase a copy of Robert C. Byrd: Child of the Appalachian Coalfields.
And let's keep it that way, shall we?
Rather than plunk down $35 for this 770-page doorstop, let's instead simply indulge ourselves, first, in a loud, lusty snicker over the preposterous promotional campaign West Virginia University Press has prepared for The Great Fossil's long-unawaited autobiography. This kind of thing: "Senator Byrd's journey from the hard-scrabble coalfields to the marbled halls of Congress has inspired generations of people in West Virginia and throughout the nation. From reading the stories of the Founding Fathers as a young boy by the light of a kerosene lamp to the swearing of an oath for more than half a century to guard the United States Constitution, Senator Byrd's life is legendary." Barf.
Also, before we're done with him for good, let us pause yet again to consider that one special aspect of Byrd's "legendary" life that the senator himself apparently remains most desperately eager to obscure. For as the Washington Post's Eric Pianin was careful to point out in a June 19 feature story previewing the book, Child of the Appalachian Coalfields is, above all else, "the latest in a long series of attempts by the 87-year-old Democratic patriarch" to "explain" away, "truncate," and "minimize" his ought-to-be-permanently notorious history as a Ku Klux Klan recruiter and locally elected "Exalted Cyclops" in the 1940s--and as an arch-segregationist filibusterer in Congress through much of the 1950s and 1960s.
His Orotundity would now have us believe that his was merely an error of "youth," an episode of "very bad judgment, due to immaturity and a lack of seasoned reasoning." But how conveniently he forgets! Such was the reputation Byrd carried around with him well into his fifties, for example, that in 1971, amid rumors that Richard Nixon might nominate him to the Supreme Court, Byrd's own party's soon-to-be presidential candidate felt obliged to announce that he opposed the move. "Let me emphasize," George McGovern remarked about Byrd during a speech at Dartmouth College, "that I cannot accept a man who is mediocre or who is a racist or who is unethical for membership in the United States Supreme Court."
Put that in your autobiography and smoke it, Mr. Inspiration-to-us-All.
The Kennedy Chronicles, cont.
For both edification and relaxation, The Scrapbook loves to read about the mating habits of animals--the most entertaining of which are neither the flatworms (males come complete with spikes and poison glands) nor the California sea lions (peeping toms), but a Massachusetts specimen known as the Kennedy man.
We enjoyed very much the early '90s, details from the William Kennedy Smith rape trial (he was acquitted), in which it was revealed how Uncle Teddy walked in on son Patrick and his prospective paramour with love's pure light in his eye. She alleged that the senator was wearing a long dress shirt "with no pants" and walking "kinda wobbly."
But now, Cousin Willie, who recently beat a second rape charge, has distinguished himself with yet another sexual harassment complaint. Thanks to the civic-minded folks at thesmokinggun.com, we have all the details. While Dr. Smith has reportedly reached a six-figure settlement with Laura Hamilton, who formerly worked for him at his Center for International Rehabilitation (CIR), the Smoking Gun obtained a lengthy excerpt of a 40-page complaint that would've landed in U.S. District Court had Smith not paid up.
Chockablock with details, the complaint reads like a dirty romance novel, if your idea of romance is getting felt up by your pervy boss. Smith, it seems, was disparaging of Hamilton's disabled boyfriend, whom he called "that amputee," and subjected Hamilton to repeated neck and shoulder massages while providing feedback on the "quality of her work." In one 1999 instance, she alleges he initiated "a playful shoving match" in which he threw her "against a wall in the bar," which resulted in a noticeable bruise on her arm.
The main event, however, comes in 2000, when Hamilton became pregnant. In addition to repeatedly subjecting her to creepy questioning about her personal life, along with "unwelcome touching," Smith allegedly told her that pregnant women "glowed" and that they were "irresistible." Not that he tried to resist. During a 2001 UNICEF conference, CIR arranged for Hamilton to stay alone at Smith's guest apartment in New York. On the second night, Smith arrived without warning. Though Hamilton says she was seven months along at the time, Smith gave her a glass of red wine, and when she declined it, he "continued to insist that she drink with him."
Afterwards, she says, he demanded they watch television in his bedroom, told her he was "extremely attracted to pregnant women," and repeatedly stroked her belly, inching his hand below her waist, and sticking his tongue in her ear. When he grabbed her chin and tried to force a kiss, according to the complaint, she repeatedly refused, at which point Dr. Smith said he "admired her strength of character." When she went to her room and barricaded the door, she says she heard him pacing around the apartment.
There's lots more where that came from, but The Scrapbook would rather light a candle than curse William Kennedy Smith's darkness and recommends that he check out a website called Prego Planet. The bad news is, it'll set him back $19.95 a month. And while the "inflate-a-babes" he encounters there are subject to leaks, they have one distinct advantage over Smith's usual quarry: They can't file suit.
A Happy Ending
On April 30 in Baghdad, Iraqi insurgents kidnapped Douglas Wood--a 64-year-old Australian contractor who lives in Alamo, California--after "luring" him to what he thought was a "business meeting," according to Associated Press. Wood was held hostage for 47 days, during which time he appeared on videotape surrounded by machine-gun toting thugs and called for coalition troops to withdraw from Iraq.
Wood has since been freed, and last week spoke not under duress. "Frankly, I'd like to apologize to President Bush and Prime Minister Howard for things I said under duress," he told reporters in Australia, after his rescue by a combined U.S.-Iraqi force. "I actually believe that I am proof positive that the current policy of training the Iraqi army, of recruiting, training them worked because it was the Iraqis that got me out."
It was a remarkable statement from a man who had just escaped an unspeakable ordeal. And, as you might expect, the Aussie reporters questioning Wood at Melbourne Airport quickly changed the subject. But Wood wasn't finished:
Once again, I am very committed to the policies of the two governments. . . . I think the quicker we hire, recruit, train and get the police and the Iraqi army up to speed, then, when they are fully engaged and ready, they can start going around door-to-door and developing the confidence with the Iraqi population that the population will not be scared to [cooperate with authorities].
Seems to us the White House might want to save a couple of seats for Mr. Wood at the next state dinner.