by Dave Barry
Another famous genius of the era was Alexander Graham Bell System, who in some specific year beginning with “18” invented “the area code,” thus paving the way for long distance, without which modern telephone-company commercials would not be possible. Originally there was only one area code, called “1” but over the years new ones were added steadily, and telephone-company researchers now foresee the day when, thanks to modern computers, every telephone in the nation will be a long-distance call from every other telephone, even if it’s in the same house.
Meanwhile, the nation’s rural areas were being greatly affected by the MeCormick reaper, which was invented by Cyrus McCormick and paved the way for the Midwest, a group of flat Protestant states containing an enormous amount of agriculture in the form of wheat. Formerly, to reap a single acre of wheat, a farmer would have to work for four days, with the help of two farmhands driving six mules. But now he could sit back and relax as the reaper roared through as many as ten acres per hour, reaping the living hell out of everything that stood in its path, occasionally spitting out bits of mule fur or farmhand clothing, which could easily be reassembled thanks to the sewing machine, invented by Elias Howe. “Don’t ask me Howe it works!” he used to say, over and over, until finally somebody, we think his wife, shot him in the head with a revolver, invented by Samuel Colt.
McCormick’s invention was so successful that by the early 1870s the Midwest was disappearing under an enormous mound of reaped wheat, and it became clear that some kind of efficient method was needed to get it to the big cities, where it could be converted into sandwiches, which had been invented earlier in England by Samuel Bacon, Lettuce, and Tomato. This caused Congress to authorize work on the first transcontinental railroad corporation, Amtrak. Two work crews began laying rails, one starting on the East Coast and the other on the West Coast. It was hard going. The crews endured broiling heat and bitter cold, often simultaneously. But they persevered, and finally, on October 8, the two crews met at Promontory Point, Utah, where, in a moving and historic ceremony, top railroad executives gathered to explain to them that they were supposed to be nailing the rails down, for God’s sake. But even this setback did not prevent women and minority groups from achieving many notable achievements.
The Rise Of Heavy Industry
Around this time heavy industry started to rise, thanks to the work of heavy industrialists such as Andrew “Dale” Carnegie, who made a fortune going around the country holding seminars in which he taught people how to Win friends by making steel. Another one was John D. Rockefeller, who invented oil and eventually created a monopoly, culminating in 1884 when he was able to put hotels on both Park Place and Boardwalk. This made him so rich that everybody started hating him, and he was ultimately forced to change his name to “Exxon.”
As heavy industrialism became more popular, large horrible factories were built in eastern cities. The workers—often minority women and children—toiled under grueling, dangerous conditions for twelve hours a day, seven days a week, for an average weekly salary of only $1.80, out of which they had to “voluntarily” give 85 cents to the United Fund. On top of this, the factory workers were subjected to one of the most cruel and inhumane labor concepts ever conceived of by the mind of industrial man: vending-machine food. The suffering this caused can only be imagined by us fortunate modern corporation employees, but we can get some idea of what it was like by reading this chilling excerpt from a nineteenth-century New York factory worker’s diary:
Nobody knows where the food comes from, or even if it really is food. There is a machine that dispenses liquids that are allegedly “coffee,” “tea,” “hot chocolate,” and even “soup,” which all come from the same orifice and all taste exactly the same. Another machine dispenses bags containing a grand total of maybe three potato chips each, and packages of crackers smeared with a bizarre substance called “cheez,” which is the same bright-orange color as marine rescue equipment. The machine for some reason is constructed in such a way that it drops these items from a great height, causing the contents, already brittle with age, to shatter into thousands of pieces. Also half the time it just eats your money, and forget about getting a refund ...
Conditions such as these resulted in the Labor Movement, the most important leader of which was Samuel Gompers. And even if he wasn’t the most important, he definitely had the best name. We could just say it over and over: Gompers Gompers Gompers. This would be an excellent name for a large dog (Such as a Labrador retriever.). “Gompers!” we can just hear ourselves yelling. “You put that Federal Express man down right now!” Nevertheless it was to be a long, hard struggle before the Labor Movement was to win even minimal concessions from the big industrialists—years of strikes and violence and singing traditional Labor Movement protest songs such as “Take This Job and Shove It.” But it was the courage of these early labor pioneers that ultimately made possible the woring conditions and wages and benefits that American factory workers would probably be enjoying today if the industrialists hadn’t moved their manufacturing operations to Asia.
The Settlement Of The West
When the Civil War ended, the West was still a region of great wildness, a fact that had earned it the nickname “The Great Plains.” In this rough, untamed environment had emerged the cowboy, a hard-ridin’ straight-shootin’ rip-snortin’ cow-punchin’ breed of hombre who was to become the stuff of several major cigarette promotions. To this day you can walk up to any schoolboy and mention one of those legendary Old West names—Wyatt Earp, “Wild Bill” Hickok, Gary Cooper, “Quick Draw” McGraw, Luke Skywalker—and chances are the schoolboy, as he has been taught to do, will scream for help, and you will be arrested on suspicion of being a pervert. So maybe you better just take our word for it.
Nevertheless, the West was gradually being settled. The federal government had acquired assorted western territories like Utah through treaties with the Native American inhabitants under which the united States got the land and the Native Americans got a full thirty minutes’ head start before the army came after them. In 1889 the U.S. government opened up the Oklahoma territory, which resulted in the famous “Oklahoma land rush” as thousands of would-be settlers came racing in to look around, resulting in the famous “rush to get the hell back out of Oklahoma.”
Another important acquisition was made in 1867, when Secretary of State Seward Folly purchased Alaska for $7 million, which at the time seemed like a lot of money but which today we recognize as being about one third the cost of a hotel breakfast in Anchorage. Alaska was originally a large place located way the hell up past Canada, but this proved to be highly inconvenient for mapmakers, who in 1873 voted to make it smaller and put it in a little box next to Hawaii right off the coast of California, which is where it is today.
While all this expansion was going on, presidents were continuing to be elected right on schedule in 1868, 1872, 1876, and so on, and we’re pretty sure that at least one of them was named Rutherford. Also during this era the large eastern cities began to experiment with a new form of government, favored by newspaper cartoonists, called the Easily Caricatured Corrupt Spherical Bosses Weighing a Minimum of 400 Pounds system. This system was very unpopular, because it resulted in an unresponsive government filled with overpaid drones and hacks who, no matter how little they did or how badly they did it, could be removed from their jobs only by the unelected bosses. The result of this discontent, the Reform Movement, produced the modern “Civil Service” system, under which drones and hacks can be removed only by nuclear weapons.
In 1880 the voters elected a president named Chester, and in 1884 they elected one named Grover. We now think this might have been caused by a comet. Also there was a hideous hassle involving William Jennings Bryan and something called the “gold standard,” but every time anybody tries to explain it to us we get a terrible headache. We have the same problem with the concept of “second cousins.”
Discussion Questions
1. Can you name anoth
er famous person for whom a service plaza is named?
(Hint: Vince Lombardi.)
2. What is “rip-snortin’,” anyway? Do you think it should be legal?
3. Do you have any second cousins? So what?
Chapter Twelve. Groping Toward Empire
By 1890 the west had been tamed and could even obey simple commands such as “Sit!” Now the United States was no longer an infant nation but a mighty young colossus, bestriding (Unless there is no such word.) the continent—in the words of Mark Twain—”like some kind of mighty young colossus or something.” America was the Land of Opportunity, and its symbol was the Statue of Liberty, a gift from the French that had been dedicated in 1886 in a spectacular ceremony featuring a thousand John Philip Sousa impersonators. The statue was placed in New York Harbor, where its raised torch served as a welcoming beacon of hope andfreedom to millions of oppressed and downtrodden fish. Then somebody came up with the idea of taking it out of the water and putting it on an island, and from that day on it was a major tourist attraction for European immigrants, who flocked to America by the millions, drawn by the promise expressed in the stirring poem by Emma Lazerus:
Give me your low-income individuals Tired of these dense tempest-tost huddles Yearning to get the hell off the boat And retch all over the teeming shore
And so they came—the Irish, the Italians, the Jews, the Germans, the Greeks, the Klingons, the Marcoses—lured by tales of good jobs and streets paved with gold and plenty of closet space. But what they found was quite different. What they found was New York City—a frantic, bustling place; a giant (to use Mark Twain’s phrase) “fondue pot” in which people from many nationalities, crowded together by necessity, gradually began to realize that despite their differences in language, custom, and religion, they all, in the end, hated each other. Also the Americans who already lived here, except for Emma Lazarus, were not exactly crazy about immigrants either. And so the new citizens formed neighborhoods, and they moved into cramped tenement apartments, and a lot of them still live there. They don’t move out even when they die, because New York apartments are too valuable to give up.
As New York City grew and prospered, it began to form corporations, enormous “super-companies” whose vast resources enabled them to do something that smaller firms could only dream of: transfer people. This created a demand for new Cities, which soon flourished in places such as Minneapolis, Chicago, and even, for a brief period, Cleveland.
But perhaps the most important new industrial area was Detroit, founded by Henry Ford I, who also invented the Ford, forerunner to today’s Isuzu. The key to Ford’s success as an industrialist was his discovery of the assembly line, which worked on a simple principle: Instead of having the workers move from place to place to assemble the cars , he had the cars move from place to place to assemble the workers. For some reason this proved to be extremely efficient, and in 1913 the Ford Motor Company began cranking out thousands of the famous “Model T.” By modern automotive standards, the Model T was very primitive: It had no electric starter, no radio, no heater, no air conditioner, no brakes, no transmission, no engine, and no wheels. The only way to get it to actually move was to have four or five burly men pick it up and stagger down the street. But it was affordable, and people bought it like crazy. “What the hell,” they said. “There’S nowhere to go anyway, here in 1913.”
Meanwhile, another historic transportation development was taking place in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, a desolate spit of sand where two young bicycle mechanics named Wilbur and Orville Wright Brothers had gone to escape from people who teased them about their first names. Also they were interested in heavier-than-air flight. They used to sit on the dunes for hours, studying the soaring sea gulls, hoping to learn the aerodynamic secret that kept them aloft. And then one historic day, a shout rang out: “I’ve got it, Wilbur! They’re using propellers driven by gasoline engines!” And then another shout: “I’m not Wilbur! You’re Wilbur!” This was after many days on the dunes.
Nevertheless they went ahead and built their “flying machine,” and on October 8, they were ready for their first flight. Unfortunately, it had to be canceled because of equipment problems at O’Hare, but they persevered, and finally came the historic moment when Wilbur, or possibly Orville, managed to get the frail, odd-looking craft airborne as far as Atlanta, where he changed to a connecting flight (Daily except Sunday; featuring “snack” service.), thus successfully launching the Aviation Age, although his luggage was never found.
This new spirit of soaring optimism could also be detected in the arts, most notably in the work of Horatio Alger, who wrote a series of very popular “rags to riches” stories in which a poor but intelligent young man is able, through hard work and honesty, to locate the Wizard of Oz. A number of talented American painters whose names escape us at the moment sprang up and created a number of important paintings that we probably still cherish today. The same thing happened with sculpture, not to mention women and minority groups, who continued to make gigantic contributions despite continuing to have no more legal rights than gravel. All in all, the turn of the century was an exciting, boisterous time for America, a raucous cacophony of energy and invention, idealism and hucksterism—in short, to repeat the words of the brilliant poet and chocolate manufacturer Walt Whitman, it was “loud.” This caused imperialism to wake up.
The Awakening Of Imperialism
The first thing American imperialism noticed when it woke up was Cuba. At the time Cuba technically belonged to Spain, which alert readers will remember as the country that, in previous Confrontations with the United States, had proved to be about as effective, militarily, as a tuna Casserole. So it seemed like the ideal time to barge down there and free Cuba from the yoke of Spanish imperialism by placing it under the yoke of U.S. imperialism, the only problem being that at the time the United States did not have what international lawyers refer to, in technical legalistic terms, as a treason.” So things looked very bleak indeed until one day in 1898 when, in a surprise stroke of good fortune, the U.S. battleship Maine exploded and sank in Havana harbor.
Immediately the American news media, showing a dedication to accuracy and objectivity that would not be surpassed until nearly a century later (when the Weekly World News, available at supermarkets everywhere, reported that a Turkish farmer and four of his cows had been eaten by a giant purple flower from space), announced that the Maine had definitely, no question about it, been sunk by Spain. Soon the rallying cry went up from coast to coast: “Give ‘em hell Harry!” This inspired William McKinley, who had been elected president of the United States earlier in this chapter while we were not paying attention, to issue an ultimatum (From the Latin, meaning “a kind of a thing that a person issues.”) to Spain in which he demanded a number of concessions.
Spain immediately agreed to all the demands, an act of treachery that the United States clearly could not tolerate. It was time to declare:
The Spanish-American War
Although the Spanish-American War was over in less time than it takes to order Oriental food for six people by telephone, it ranks with the successful invasion of Grenada as one of the country’s mightiest military accomplishments. The highlight came when Teddy “Theodore” Roosevelt led his band of rough-riding cavalry persons, nicknamed the “Boston Celtics,” in the famous Charge up San Juan Hill, which turned out to be unoccupied, thus paving the way for the famous Charge Down the Other Side of San Juan Hill. After suffering several such military setbacks, Spain surrendered and gave the United States control of not only Cuba, but also Puerto Rico, the Philippines, Guam, Wake Island, Australia, Snooze Island, Antarctica, France, and the Crab Nebula. “Go ahead, take everything,” said Spain. “We’re going to get drunk and become a third-rate power.”
But not the United States. Having flexed the triceps of its newfound military might and, aided by the steroidal substance of nationalistic sentiment, successfully bench-pressed the five-hundred-pound weight of international
expansionism, the United States was now eager to play a dominant role on the international stage, with an option for the film rights. What the nation needed, as it entered this new era, was a dynamic leader capable of commanding this globe-begirdling (Or whatever.) young empire, but who (or possibly “whom?”) That was the question everybody was standing around asking him—or herself in 1901 when, in another amazing stroke of good luck, an anarchist shot William McKinley, who revealed, on his deathbed, that he had been elected president in 1900, and that his vice president was a man who happened to be not only a war hero, but a descendant of a distinguished family, a public servant, a statesman, a big-game hunter, a naturalist, a husband, a father, a heck of a fine human being, and one of my closest personal friends, I really love this guy, let’s give a big Las Vegas welcome to (drum roll) ...
Theodore Roosevelt
Roosevelt was a Man of Action, not words. The public loved the way he took on the businessmen who ran the big monopolies, or “trusts.” Roosevelt would invite these men to the White House and speak very softly, forcing them to lean forward, straining to hear, whereupon Roosevelt would hammer them over the heads with a big stick (Nicknamed “Betsy.”) that he always carried. This was just one of his famous mannerisms, another one being that he often referred to the presidency as a “bully pulpit.” Nobody knew what on earth he meant by this, but nobody asked him, either, because of the stick. Of all Roosevelt’s achievements, however, the most significant, as measured by total gallonage, was:
