IV
“Is Clemence a person?” asked Guy, taking a bit of sweet biscuit now, popping it into his mouth.
Aunt Esther raised her hand to conceal a shaming twitter, and Aunt Agnes feigned impatience.
“Guy, great silly!” said Agnes. “Really!” Though after a moment she softened, to continue:
“Clemence is the newmaid! She’s a Catholic girl, Guy—anda very nice one, if I may say so. She’s marrying this Jewish boy, Sol—how they’ll manage I’m sure I don’t know—I talked to them both, I told them that we were Protestants, had always been Protestants,and alwayswouldbe Protestants—but that I didn’t mind! Not in the least! ‘Freedom of worship and creed!’ I said. It’s always been a principle ofmyreligion. Not so insistent and pushy assomeI could name! I didn’t tell themthat, of course, but there you are. Well,shewants a honeymoon inItaly, and a visit to the Pope, which I think is terribly sweet—andhewants to go tohisplace in the East, wherever it is; Israel, isn’t it? Oh, I don’t say it badly. They’reverynice, Guy—both of them as gentle and polite as you please, and ... well, they’ve enough money foroneof the trips, you see, butnotfor both. I wish we could help them, Guy. I think it would be nice if they could go tobothof their places, don’t you agree? You remember how much I enjoyed Calvin’s chair in Geneva! Of course it isn’t the same, but itwouldbe sweet. What’s your feeling on it, Guy?”
“But Guy has always beeneagerto help in such matters,” Esther broke in warmly.
“Thank you, Aunt Esther,” said Guy with soft humility, “I do like to think that the record speaks for itself.”
*****
Guy Grand had owned a newspaper for a while—one of Boston’s popular dailies, with a circulation of 900,000.When Grand assumed control, there was, at first, no change in the paper’s format, nor in its apparently high journalistic standards, as Grand stayed on in New York on the periphery of the paper’s operations, where he would remain, he said, until he “could get the feel of things.”
During the second month, however, French words began to crop up unaccountably in news of local interest:
Boston, Mar. 27 (AP)—Howard Jones, vingt-huit ans, convicted on three counts of larceny here, was sentenced this morning to 20–26 months in Folsom State Prison, Judge Grath of 17th Circuit Court of Appeals announced aujourd’hui.
Boston, Mar. 27 (AP)—Howard Jones, vingt-huit ans, convicted on three counts of larceny here, was sentenced this morning to 20–26 months in Folsom State Prison, Judge Grath of 17th Circuit Court of Appeals announced aujourd’hui.
Working then through a succession of editors, proofreaders, and linotype operators, Grand gradually put forward the policy of misspelling the names of cities, islands, and proper nouns in general—or else having them appear in a foreign language:
YANKS HIT PARIGIMOP-UP AT TERWEEWEE
During the war, when geographic names were given daily prominence in the headlines, these distortionsserved to antagonize the reader and to obscure the facts.
The circulation of the paper fell off sharply, and after three months it was down to something less than one-twentieth of what it had been when Grand took over. At this point a major policy change was announced. Henceforth the newspaper would not carry comics, editorials, feature stories, reviews, or advertising, and would present only the factual news in a straightforward manner. It was calledThe Facts, and Grand spent the ransom of a dozen queens in getting at the facts of the news, or at least a great many of them, which he had printed then in simple sentences. The issues of the first two days or so enjoyed a fair sale, but the contents on the whole appeared to be so incredible or so irrelevant that by the end of the week demand was lower than at any previous phase of the paper’s existence. During the third week, the paper had no sale at all to speak of, and was simply given away; or, refused by the distributors, it was left in stacks on the street corners each morning, about two million copies a day. In the beginning people were amused by the sight of so many newspapers lying around unread; but when it continued, they became annoyed. Something funny was going on—Communist? Atheist? Homosexual? Catholic? Monopoly? Corruption? Protestant? Insane? Negro?Jewish? Puerto Rican? POETRY?The city was filthy. It was easy for people to talk aboutThe Factsin terms of litter and debris. Speeches were made, letters written, yet the issue was vague. The editor ofThe Factsreceived insulting letters by the bagful. Grand sat tight for a week, then he gave the paper over exclusively to printing these letters; and its name was changed again—Opinions.
These printed letters reflected such angry divergence of thought and belief that what resulted was sharp dissension throughout the city. Group antagonism ran high. The paper was widely read and there were incidents of violence. Movements began.
*****
At about twoP.M.on June 7th, crowds started to gather in Lexington Square near the center of the city. TheJewish,Atheist,Negro,Labor,Homosexual, andIntellectualgroups were on one side—theProtestantandAmerican Legionon the other. The balance of power, or so it seemed, lay with the doughtyCatholicgroup.
It was fair and windless that day in Boston, and while the groups and the groups-within-groups bickered and jockeyed in the center of Lexington Square, Guy Grand brought off atour de force.Hovering just overhead, in a radio-equipped helicopter, he directed the maneuver of a six-plane squadron of skywriters, much higher, in spelling out the mile-long smoke-letter words: F**K YOU ... and this was immediately followed by a veritable host of outlandish epithets, formulated as insults on the level of group Gestalt: Protestants are assholes ... Jews are full of crap ... Catholics are shitty ... and so on,ad nauseumactually.
It set the crowd below hopping mad. Grand Guy Grand dropped to about a hundred feet, where he canted the plane towards them and opened the door to peer out and observe. The crowd, associating the low-flying helicopter with the outrageous skywriting going on above, started shouting obscenities and shaking their fists.
“You rotten Mick!”
“You dirty Yid!”
“You black bastard!”
That was how the fighting began.
During the Lexington Square Riots, Grand set his plane down to twenty-five feet, where he cruised around, leaning out the door, expressionless, shouting in loud, slow intonation:
“WHAT’S ... UP? WHAT’S ... UP?”
*****
By four o’clock the square was in shambles and all Boston on the brink of eruption. The National Guard had to be brought into the city and martial law obtained. It was thirty-six hours before order was fully restored.
The press made capital of the affair. Investigations were demanded. Guy Grand had paid off some big men in order to carry forward the project, but this was more than they had bargained for. Back in New York it cost him two million to keep clear.