Today a Great American Died

I was in France when Ronald Reagan died in 2004. 

When I travel (I go to France every other year) I really try to present a different image of Americans than what folks see on TV or in the press.  We’re not all the ugly American and we are not all Rick Santorum nut cases.  We don’t all approve of our presidents.  Once, talking about Bush with a group of French middle class Catholics where we were all on retreat, I said, “Beaucoups des americains sont stupides,” and a woman replied, “Evidemment.”

Reading about Reagan’s death in the International Herald Tribune, I sort of sunk down in my chair and pretended I was Canadian.

But the next day I saw a local paper headline, in French, “All France Mourns Death of a Great American.”  What would it say about our actor-president?   The story was about widespread national mourning in France because of that day’s sad death of – Ray Charles.

This week two great Americans died and I mourned them both: Maurice Sendak and Nicholas Katzenbach. 

You may have read Sendak’s great children’s books like Where the Wild Things Are and In the Night Kitchen or seen his recent funny and moving interview with Stephen Colbert. The New York Times obituary of Sendak’s death called him a “shtetl Blake” and praised his bold stories of nightmare, kidnapping, and other adventures, saying he honored the “propulsive abandon and pervasive melancholy of children’s interior lives.” In our house we still quote his great line in Wild Things: “Let the wild rumpus begin!”

Nicholas Katzenbach was less well known at the time of his death at 90. He was a key figure in the Kennedy and Johnson administrations and one of what David Halberstam called “the best and the brightest,” young policy makers in the 60’s.  He drafted key civil rights bills and as Attorney General defended the 1964 Civil Rights Act before the Supreme Court, winning a 9-0 ruling.

Katzenbach had a dramatic face to face show down with Alabama Governor George Wallace, as told in the New York Times obituary: 

Perhaps his tensest moment came on June 11, 1963, when he confronted George C. Wallace in stifling heat on the steps of the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa. Mr. Wallace was the Alabama governor who had trumpeted “segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever” and vowed to block the admission of two black students “at the schoolhouse door.”

Mr. Katzenbach, in front of television cameras and flanked by a federal marshal and a United States attorney, approached Foster Auditorium, the main building on campus, around 11 a.m. Mr. Wallace was waiting behind a lectern at the top of the stairs, surrounded by a crowd of whites, some armed.  “Stop!” he called out, raising his hand.

Mr. Katzenbach read a presidential proclamation ordering that the students be admitted and asked the governor to step aside peacefully. Mr. Wallace read a five-minute statement castigating “the central government” for “suppression of rights."

Towering over Mr. Wallace, Mr. Katzenbach, a 6-foot-2-inch former college hockey goalie, was dismissive. “I’m not interested in this show,” he said.

About four hours later, with the acquiescence of the governor, Mr. Katzenbach escorted the students to register.”

Nicholas Katzenbach Confronting George Wallace on June 11, 1963Katzenbach’s legacy is more complicated as relates to the Vietnam War.  He defended it publicly, but said later he worked behind the scenes to halt the bombings.  I remember going to anti-war rallies in college and hearing Katzenbach’s son, as well as Robert MacNamara’s son speaking against the war.  Must have been some interesting dinner table conversations in those households.

Another great story in the obit is how as a junior at Princeton, he enlisted right after Pearl Harbor.  Flying B-25 bombers, he was shot down and held in a German camp 15 months, where he read, by his count, 400 books.  On his return he convinced Princeton that this reading qualified him to graduate, and after nine exams and a thesis he got his diploma 2 months later. 

Katzenbach ultimately resigned as Attorney General in 1966 in protest over FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover’s excessive power, particularly his wiretapping of Martin Luther King.

When I was a kid my father would often start a dinner table conversation with, “An interesting person died today…” and proceed to read us the New York Times obit at the table.  (He told a funny story like my Ronald Reagan/Ray Charles story: in 1943, when he was a young Office of Strategic Services enlistee from a business family, someone ran into the code room shouting, “A great American died today!”  And my father said, “Yes, so sad to lose J.P. Morgan Jr., the great financier.”  And the guy said, “No, you idiot!  I meant the author Steven Vincent Benet.)

I still read obits to this day, thanks to my father’s example, and to learn about great folks like Sendak and Katzenbach.  These days more than 1000 US WWII vets die every day.  In an America with short memories of heroism and service I want to remember these folks.

This week President Obama finally said he supports gay marriage.  I hope Maurice Sendak, who never hid his homosexuality, and the civil rights advocate Nicholas Katzenbach can rest a little easier.

Copyright © 2012 Deborah Streeter