Rebirth of a Realist

Rebirth of a Realist
The night after the 1948 presidential elections, I played basketball in the adult YMCA league in Passaic New Jersey. I remember it because after the game we all went to our favorite bar to have a few beers and play some shuffleboard. I did not want to go home. While none of us expected Wallace to win, we wanted to make a statement to the world that Realists were still here and unafraid. We wanted to say that we are building a new concept in American politics that would lead to a new America. It was an emotional ride, and we still had the great acceptance speech ringing in our ears. When I re-read it now I feel a sense of guilt. Why didn’t I, and all Realists work harder to make that great man our president and save the world from the insanity of today
On the day Wallace accepted the nomination he said,“ Franklin Roosevelt looked beyond the horizon and gave us a vision of peace, an economic bill of rights; the right to work, for every man willing. The right of every family to a decent home. The right to protection from the fears of old age and sickness. The right to a good education. All the rights which spell security for every man, woman and child, from the cradle to the grave.
It was the dream that all of us had, and Roosevelt put it into words, and we loved him for it. Two years later, the war was over, and Franklin Roosevelt was dead. What followed was the great betrayal. Instead of the dream, we have inherited disillusion. Instead of the promised years of harvest, the years of the locust are upon us. In Hyde Park, they buried our President and in Washington, they buried our dreams. One day after Roosevelt died Harry Truman entered the White House. And forty-six days later Herbert Hoover was there. It was a time of comings and goings. Into the Government came the ghosts of the great depression, the banking houseboys and the oil-well diplomats. In marched the generals-and out went the men who had built the TVA and the Grand Coulee, the men who had planned social security and built Federal housing, the men who had dug the farmer out of the dust bowl and the workman out of the sweatshop. A time of comings and goings … the shadows of the past coming in fast-and the lights going out slowly-the exodus of the torchbearers of the New Deal.”
We did not generate enough votes to make any statement at all. The gloom that permeated my home was coated with fear. We all knew that Dewey or Truman would bring back the kind of war hysteria that put Japanese Americans in concentration camps in the forties. Henry Wallace and Glen Taylor polled 1,157,326 votes, an unexpectedly low 2.3 percent of the total. The young women that I was with that night came from the same kind of a family as mine. We sat up until morning trying to find a positive note to play before we said good night. There was none.
We felt that the felons and the thugs of the “House Un-American Activities Committee” were the winners and the old robber barons were once again let lose upon the world. When we said good night, she cried. I knew that her tears were not due to our parting. Almost all of our friends that played in the WMCA league that night were WWII veterans. In the bar, the main topic was war. We were certain that the re-election of Truman meant that we were heading for military confrontation and her tears were for all the men who would die in the coming wars.
We expected labor to turn out a significant vote for Wallace, but the fear of wasting a vote and turning the country over to Dewey, and the people that he represented, frightened most blue-collar workers who were influenced by the new breed of so-called union leaders protecting their turf with anti-Wallace Communist smears. We expected Northern Blacks to vote for Wallace, (We knew that Strom Thurman would take at least three or four racist states where Blacks could not vote) but we were still young enough and naive enough not to realize that millions of Blacks still did not have the franchise or the motivation, but more than anything else, we were saddened and disappointed by the fact that it was fear that beat us. The unrelenting terror and intimidation of the red-baiters drove so many who agreed with us into looking for a safe circle, as the Women’s Strike for peace did many years later. In 1948, there was no safe circle

what is a Jew

It is almost comical the way all the “Dump Lieberman” blogs are afraid to ask Why.
Why does he vote the way he does?
Why does he support the war?
Why does he get front-page coverage by condemning child abuse in all forms, but refuses to
Condemn the abuse of Palestinian children by the Israelis?
Why is he the hypocrite that he is?

I am the son of a Jewish mother. That makes me a Jew. My mother was an organizer for the International Ladies garment workers union during the textile strikes in New Jersey and Massachusetts. We lived in an area dominated by the Detroit Radio priest; the anti-Semitic Father Coughlin who often referred to FDR as “President Rosenfelt”
My mother had a difficult time trying to unionize the many polish workers who were brought to New Jersey by the slavers to work in the mills for slave wages. They did not leave Poland, they brought Poland with them. They left the church dominated Poland for the church dominated town in New Jersey.
Their children spoke Polish in the home and I knew them by their Polish names. Vladek, Yushew, Stashew.
The church, always the handmaiden for the powerful, warned the parents to keep away from the union organizers who they claimed were the “godless communists.”
Once Polish workers realized they had been tricked and brainwashed they not only joined the union but also became leaders. It was difficult for them. They had to face down the brainwashing that began in early childhood, but they had to choose between that and feeding their children. They also wanted to be Americans and live the American dream.
Many union meetings were held in our home and Jewish emigrants, mostly from Eastern Europe, made up more than half of the members.
I was so proud of them and of being Jewish. They were truly at the forefront of the young labor movement
My older sister’s friends were joining the Lincoln Brigade with many other Jews to go and fight Fascism when it was not a popular thing to do in America even though our beloved Presidents wife supported them.
I can remember my mother taking me with her when she carried a sign along with other union members asking the President to save the Jews of Europe.
Oh yes, I was so proud of being a Jew.
When I heard Presidential candidate General Clark say, “Americans are ashamed of their leaders.” It was an emotional blow that brought all of the wonderful childhood memories back to me.
What would my mother say if I told her that I am ashamed of the leaders of Israel and I am ashamed of the American Jewish community that does not have the courage to say what they feel in their heart.
What would she say about the ridiculous argument in Israel about What or who is a Jew.
I am sure she would say and feel what I feel and what I am saying.

Why is Senator Lieberan the hypocrite that he is, because he does not have the character or the moral strength that the polish workers had back in the thirties. He can not answer the brainwashing with what must be in his heart. He is not a stupid man. He can not believe that the war in Iraq is good for America.
He only believes what he is told to believe and that it is good for Israel. Therefore, he does not represent the people of the state of Connecticut. He represents the ,blind faith, right wing, Zionists of Israel.
He depends on the fear people like me might have of being called “Jewish self hater,” Or worse yet “anti-Semitic” If they speak the truth.
I am neither, Senator. I am an American Realist, born of a Jewish mother who was a better Jew than you.
If she were here today she would be saying the same thing that I am saying to you
I will not vote for you.