Publick Occurrences 2.0

May 14, 2012

The Secret History of Rush’s Acceptance Speech

Filed under: Conservatives,GOP,Historic sites,Missouri — Jeffrey L. Pasley @ 9:42 pm

One of this spring’s highly sporadic postings covered the impending monumentalization of Rush Limbaugh at the Missouri State Capitol, so it seemed appropriate to notice the final result of that controversy. The Republicans in the Missouri legislature kept the Dittohead faith, and had Rush’s head officially installed earlier today. They were so proud they tried to keep tried to keep the ceremony a secret:

UPDATE: Rush Limbaugh recognized in secretive ceremony at Missouri Capitol

Monday, May 14, 2012 | 3:31 p.m. CDT; updated 4:16 p.m. CDT, Monday, May 14, 2012

JEFFERSON CITY — Conservative commentator Rush Limbaugh was inducted into the Hall of Famous Missourians on Monday during a secretive ceremony in the state Capitol as police stood guard to keep out any uninvited political opponents of the sometimes divisive radio show host.

Limbaugh, a native of Cape Girardeau in southeast Missouri, addressed a crowd of more than 100 Republicans during a closed-door event in the Missouri House chamber. Speaking from the chamber’s dais, he thanked his family for their support throughout his career, denounced liberals and Democrats as “deranged,” then helped lift a black curtain off a bronze bust of himself, which he hugged — head to head — for photographs.

The timing of the ceremony was kept secret until shortly before it occurred, and then only Republican lawmakers, other invited guests and the media were allowed into the chamber to watch — an attempt to avoid any public disruption after Limbaugh’s selection was criticized by Democrats, some women’s groups and other political foes.

Limbaugh, 61, arranged for a guest host to handle his radio show Monday so he could be at the Missouri Capitol. He repeatedly declared how humbled he was by the honor.

“I’m stunned. I’m not speechless, but close to it,” Limbaugh said to the laughter of the friendly crowd. “I’m literally quite unable to comprehend what’s happening to me today.”

The talk show host was selected for the Hall of Famous Missourians by term-limited House Speaker Steven Tilley, a Republican who like Limbaugh is from southeast Missouri. Tilley wants to display Limbaugh’s bust in the Capitol alongside other members of the Hall of Famous Missourians, including President Harry Truman, Mark Twain and Walt Disney — but that plan has already faced controversy.

Democratic Gov. Jay Nixon’s administration released a memo Monday indicating that a state board — not the House speaker — has the authority to determine what items are displayed in the third floor Capitol Rotunda where the busts are located. House Minority Leader Mike Talboy, D-Kansas City, also asserted that Tilley has no legal authority to order Limbaugh’s bust to be placed in the Capitol Rotunda.

“The secrecy and exclusion of the public demonstrates that even Republicans are embarrassed at honoring someone who recently called a female college student with whom he disagreed a ‘slut’ and a ‘prostitute,’” Talboy said.

There is something quite emblematic about the current GOP that they held the dedication of a public monument in private.


March 9, 2012

The Warthogs-and-All Approach to History

Filed under: Conservatives,Historic sites — Jeffrey L. Pasley @ 4:35 pm
Hall of Famous Missourians, Class of 2012, from the sculptor's web site

ABOVE: Screen shot from sculptor's website

Now burning up Facebook and the local press where I live is the news that Rush Limbaugh is about to be installed, literally, in the Hall of Famous Missourians in our State Capitol. With the sort of Missouri luck that brought us the Ken Lay Chair of Economics just as Enron collapsed (Lay’s portrait is up by the men’s room in one of MU’s campus administration buildings), this news broke just at the moment when Rush finally stepped over the line and caused a mass exodus of advertisers from his program by calling a woman who had testified to Congress in favor of contraception coverage a “slut” and speculating in more than usually vulgar fashion about her sex life. Missouri House Speaker Steve Tilley (R-near Rush’s hometown) defended his decision to commission the bust with the comment that “It’s not the Hall of Universally Loved Missourians . . . It’s the Hall of Famous Missourians.” Loath as I am to see a giant bronze Limbaugh head leering out of some corner in the state capitol some day, Tilley’s observation seems far from completely inaccurate to me.

Before going any further, let me say that I would prefer not to see taxpayer money spent on commemorative busts at all, especially not to honor sexist gasbags who embarrass our state and dishonor the vast majority of Missourians who are not angry, entitled white men. I salute the delegation of students from our campus who went down to Jefferson City and asked Tilley to reconsider his choice. However, one you thing can’t fault Tilley for is departure from past practice. The warthogs-and-all approach has definitely been the norm in the Hall of Famous Missourians. Some of the previous inductees include pro-slavery firebrand David Rice Atchison, a nationally influential senator who personally led the Border Ruffians from Missouri into Kansas to win the territory for slavery; sexually harassing game-show host Bob Barker; and former governor, senator, and attorney general John Ashcroft, one of the Christian Right’s earliest and most prominent officeholders, even if he is also known locally as the guy who lost his senate seat to a dead man.  (Ashcroft is doubtless glad his bust is fully clothed — so say we all — but sadly does not get credit in the testimonial for his talents as a songwriter.)

The thing is, there is actually no doubt that Atchison and Ashcroft and Limbaugh are figures of historical significance, icons and architects of reaction in their respective periods, each with a long record of statements and actions that embarrass and infuriate the liberal and thoughtful. The Hall of Famous Missourians also has a number of figures from popular culture: Walt Disney, J.C. Penney, jazz great Charlie “Bird” Parker, actress Ginger Rogers, pin-up Betty Grable, the inventor of the Super Bowl, the founder of Hallmark Cards, self-help tycoon Dale Carnegie, zoological TV personality Marlin Perkins, anchorman Walter Cronkite, and even clown Emmett Kelly. As a clown and pioneer of a clownish industry that gained vast political influence (i.e., conservative talk radio), Rush Limbaugh encapsulates our sorry era of American politics (and media) all too well. Personally, I am a big believer in the principle that the evil and embarrassing need to be present in our public historical record, and there is a certain refreshment to be gained in seeing conservatives casting such a cold eye on history when they usually just want the past as a source of heroes to put on pedestals. Pressed by the MU students, Speaker Tilley averred that Rush was just an “entertainer,” if one who also happens to have become the lodestar of the conservative political world, which more or less says it all.

Bob Barker in Bronze

It also seems indicative of current mentalities that the state G.O.P. would balance an unrepentant racist with a famous resister of racial oppression and think that clears the slate. The 2012 entering class in the Hall of Famous Missourians includes Rush and Dred Scott (whose whole case, of course, was based on the fact that he once got to leave Missouri).  What are they are more or less admitting about Limbaugh? (Buck O’Neil, Negro Leagues baseball great, went in a little earlier: Rush may have required more than one counterweight.)

I do hope Speaker Tilley changes his mind, but there are benefits to a Hall of Not Universally Loved Missourians. We can finally get Jesse James and Boss Tom Pendergast in there, whatever their crimes. They can save money by commissioning a bust of Brad Pitt as Jesse James and kill two birds with one stone! Chuck Berry should be there already, even with a little bit of a rap sheet. The other consolation for us non-Dittoheads is that statuary versions of modern figures are so bizarre and inappropriate-looking that being thus commemorated is almost a punishment. (Check out Bob Barker at left.) What are the visiting schoolkids of the future possibly going to think except, “Who is that fat guy supposed to be?” Or maybe they will confuse him with fellow hefty bald man Reinhold Niebuhr, the Hall of Famous Missourians’ resident intellectual.


November 18, 2008

Myths of the Lost Atlantis: Was the Federalist Press Staid and Apolitical? (Kaplan)

This is a guest post, the sixth in our series, running in honor of Philip Lampi and in conjunction with the Common-Place politics issue. See the introduction for an explanation. Click the logo below to see all of the posts in the series.

By Catherine O’Donnell Kaplan
Arizona State University

[BLOGITORIAL NOTE: Just to model the true spirit of democratic pluralism, we wanted readers to know up front that today’s “myth” is one that the proprietor of this blog had more than a hand in promoting. My book “The Tyranny of Printers”: Newspaper Politics in the Early American Republic (University of Virginia Press, 2001) focused heavily on Democratic-Republican political journalism in making the argument that partisan newspapers played a crucial binding and embodying role in the development of American political parties, and democratization more generally. My rather dismissive chapter-and-a-half on the Federalist press sold it decidedly short. Though like most authors I continue to believe I got the story basically right — there were some key differences in the degree and manner that Republican and Federalist newspapers connected themselves to electoral politics — in retrospect it would have taken little away from my argument to grant the Federalists a larger and more creative role in the political press of the Early Republic than I did.  Looking back, the only good reason to short-shrift the Federalists to the extent that I did was the excessive length of my manuscript, though at the time that was a REALLY good reason. In this post, Catherine Kaplan redresses some of the interpretive imbalance left by writers like myself, and graciously does not even attack me for it. — JLP]

The belief that Federalists sat grim-faced and hapless as their nimble Jeffersonian opponents developed ways to shape public opinion runs deep in American historical thought. The Federalist press has been portrayed as entirely lacking the agility and ambition of its Republican counterpart; Federalist politicians have been accused of failing to realize they needed to create a network of believers; and the party as a whole often appears in historical accounts as the horseshoe crab of the early republic: a living fossil that played no role in the nation’s ongoing evolution.Joseph Dennie I’ll leave it to others, including Andrew W. Robertson and Philip Lampi in this very space, to show that Federalists competed electorally — and fiercely — until the War of 1812. What I’d like to discuss is the Federalist press, and I’ll posit something that I hope honors the spirit of this contrarian blog, if not every historical interpretation ever advanced by its management: Federalist literati precociously developed politics as culture, politics as personal expression, politics as a community built through media, and politics as performance. These men and women of letters rejoiced over partisan divisions while other Americans (including more than a few Federalists) still lamented them. And they understood political media to be the art of getting read, discussed, and perhaps even paid, as much as the art of getting things done. Arianna Huffington? Meet Joseph Dennie.

Dennie was a 1790 Harvard graduate who had desultorily set up shop as a lawyer in New Hampshire, all the while trying to establish himself as an essayist and wit, a kind of American Addison. In the mid-1790s, Dennie learned to yoke together the goals and skills of literature and politics, and when he did so, he not only found his voice and livelihood, but also profoundly influenced the Federalist press. Dennie’s two widely read and extracted periodicals were New Hampshire’s Farmer’s Weekly Museum newspaper, which he edited throughout the second half of the 1790s, and Philadelphia’s Port Folio magazine, which he founded and edited from 1801 until his death in 1812.

Politics and Literature: Two Great Enterprises That Went Great Together

Here’s another myth-buster: literature was not a retreat from politics for alienated intellectuals. Literary techniques helped to build the human infrastructure party politics required, and politics offered intellectuals a way to be heard in a country sorely lacking in aristocratic patronage and metropolitan density. Over the course of the eighteenth century, a tradition of witty clubbing — lubricated sometimes by coffee, sometimes by alcohol — had become increasingly entwined with print culture. The educated men and women in England and the colonies who gathered to critique literature, society, and life began to seek publication of their manuscripts in newspapers and magazines. In both their face-to-face gatherings and in print, participants were driven by three desires. They delighted in the sense that their superior judgment and wit differentiated them from the world outside. They wanted to be known to that world outside even as they were convinced of its dull incomprehension. And they wanted to believe that their associations and writings could make that world a better place. These goals — and the tensions between them — readily merged with the intense partisanship of the 1790s. The political parties did indeed have competing understandings of the role of government and competing agendas. But they each also needed to become virtual communities of emotion as well as reason, communities that were simultaneously evangelical and exclusive. Literati, it turns out, were well suited to creating these communities through print. Thomas Jefferson turned to a poet, Philip Freneau, to edit the National Gazette. But it was a Federalist man of letters, Joseph Dennie, who truly excelled.

The literary marketplace in the early Republic had no metropolis, no London to which the aspiring could go and from which power, sales, and influence emerged. In the United States, to convince printers to bring works to press, and to make newspapers achieve anything like a national influence, small but interconnected networks of people worked together to drum up subscriptions. Many of those same people also wished to see their own writing pass through those networks, so they supplied manuscripts to printers and newspapers. Creating a national political party, even a loosely-knit one, required something similar: uniting the work of far-flung networks of amateurs with that of a few professionals, in order to create and circulate ideas and emotions, and to build a community — real as well as imagined — without direct contact.

A page from Joseph Dennie's "Port Folio," 28 May 1803


In both the Farmer’s Weekly Museum and the Port Folio, Dennie larded national and international news with brief, mordant commentary, and he also penned longer essays, such as the “Lay Preacher” series, which combined Benjamin Franklin-style moral pronouncements, acerbic critiques of American politics, and an almost campy display of Dennie’s own melancholic unease. Dennie also printed poems, letters, and essays by readers both famous and obscure, many of whom used metaphors and pursued themes the editor himself had introduced.


Through his astute use of bylines, introductions, and even inside jokes, Dennie made visible the relationships and networks that produced and circulated literary and political content. Both the content and this revealing of the networks were important. The periodicals drew people into a partisan community in which they spread Federalist-inflected anecdotes and rumors, sent in their own political information, and, significantly, learned to see with Federalist eyes and speak in a Federalist tongue. Politicians such as Jeremiah Smith, Lewis Richard Morris, and Robert Goodloe Harper eagerly participated. More generally, Federalist newspapers — like Republican ones — reprinted each other’s work, “linking” to each other in a way that increased awareness of publications and editors and sped circulation of ideas, animosities, and tropes. Successful editors offered their distinctive worldviews and voices, but also offered a forum in which nonprofessionals — in either literature or politics — could find their comments posted, their battles joined, and their turns of phrase admired and emulated.

Federalist Dittoheads

This was participatory print culture, one that openly tried to create an impassioned, hostile interdependence with Republican newspapers, so that passions and readerships might rise. “Since the Editor has been splashed with the mud of Chronicle obloquy,” Dennie wrote gleefully in the midst of one newspaper war, “he has gained upwards of seven hundred subscribers. He therefore requests…the honour and the profit of their future abuse.” Such a print culture is reminiscent not of a hidebound aristocratic past but instead of today’s political/social/cultural websites such as DailyKos and Redstate. Federalists who participated in these newspapers, moreover, realized that jokes, caricatures, and a heightening of the divide between “us and them,” of the sort that flowed naturally from literary club culture, would gain both readers and political adherents. The point was to make participants feel part of an enclave, even as one justified that gated community by insisting one’s goal was to tear down the wall and reform the nation. Thus in Federalist newspapers, broad insults and scabrous doggerel (even John Quincy Adams indulged) drew laughs, while the creation of a private language of allusions, characters, and metaphors gave readers the thrill of being political participants and members, not simply consumers.



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