Category Archives: On This Day

Daily observations on events past and present.

A Day Of Bridges

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Today is an anniversary of bridges, both the literal and the metaphorical. I think the both sorts of bridge very naturally command our attention and interest, for these crucial connectors are both immensely practical, and intensely inspirational. Add to that this: physical bridges are often works of surpassing beauty, even when they are at their most elemental and unadorned; metaphorical bridges are works of human genius or human passion and compassion – endlessly fascinating.

It was on this day in 1883 that the renowned Brooklyn Bridge was first opened to the public, with pomp and ceremony the like of which New York had not seen in two generations, since the opening of the Erie Canal fifty-eight years earlier. Fourteen years in the making, the Brooklyn Bridge was the outstanding engineering feat of its day. It was the longest and largest span the world had seen up to that time, and it embodied the very most modern of technological advances.

The bridge was the brainchild of German-born John A. Roebling, a gifted civil engineer who designed many smaller suspension bridges before he proposed the audacious span across New York’s East River. Roebling also introduced the manufacturing of wire rope (or cable) to the United States, and his wire rope company prospered as more and more suspension bridges were built across the nation. Roebling believed that the capabilities of wire rope were far greater than had been realized; he foresaw that suspension bridges could be built where other bridge designs would be impossible due to site limitations or navigational concerns. The East River between New York and Brooklyn was too important a commercial waterway to constrict with a tradition wooden or stone bridge, and the site was unsuitable for such traditional bridge designs as well, with the channel being unusually deep. Roebling realized that this was the ideal location to test his vision.

In the course of the Brooklyn Bridge’s construction, twenty-seven men died. Considering the often brutal working conditions for construction laborers in that era, this is a relatively small number. Such was the concern for the health and safety of the bridge workers that one contemporary newspaper accused Roebling of coddling his crew! Yet injuries were many. Workers were killed when cables snapped and when an archway collapsed, but many succumbed to a hideous and previously unknown malady called “Caisson disease.” Today we know this affliction as “The Bends.” When the massive stone towers of the bridge were being built, workers labored deep under water in gigantic, highly pressurized caissons – imagine inverting a bucket in a pool of water: the trapped air will become compressed and pressurized as you push the bucket deeper into the water, but it will be a pocket of breathable air under water. Air was pumped into these caissons to ensure that water would not intrude. But the high pressure created a situation similar to that encountered by deep divers: rapid decompression caused nitrogen bubbles to form in the bloodstream of victims, causing excruciating pain, paralysis, and even death.

It is worth noting that among the casualties of the Bridge was John A. Roebling, who had the vision and the ability to conceive and undertake the project, and who personally oversaw it inception and continuation. John Roebling was injured during an inspection of the Bridge site in mid 1869, two years into the tremendous undertaking. The injury seemed almost slight: his right foot had been caught between the dock and the boat he was boarding. The injury, however, led to the amputation of his toes, and developed into a life-threatening infection. Less than a month after the accident, he was dead.

Roebling’s son Washington next took the helm of the Bridge project. Washington Roebling would live to see the Bridge completed, and far beyond. He observed, shortly before his death in 1926, that few seemed to be able to separate his identity from that of his father: “Many people think I died in 1869.” Washington Roebling was himself a victim of the Bridge: working to control a fire in the Brooklyn caisson he developed a severe, debilitating case of The Bends. Though he later made a partial recovery, Washington Roebling was permanently crippled by the injury. He moved into a house which overlooked the construction site, and his wife Emily assumed the active duties of managing and supervising construction.

The Brooklyn Bridge was a marvel of engineering, of materials science, and of shear courage: the courage to commence the undertaking, and the courage to see it through to completion despite setbacks and personal tragedy. The Bridge so closely connected the cities of New York and Brooklyn, that less than fifteen years after the Bridge opened, the cities merged into Greater New York. And it served as an inspiration to countless other bridge projects which employed the suspension design. Other bridges have long since exceeded the dimensions of the Brooklyn Bridge, but few have ever had its impact.

There is so much to say about the creation of this “Wonder of the World.” The astounding engineering feats that made it possible to build the huge masonry towers deep under water are worth a book of their own. To delve deeper, consider a couple of resources: filmmaker Ken Burns made a wonderful documentary about the construction of the Brooklyn Bridge that periodically airs on PBS. It is also available on DVD, and is well worth a look. For a definitive and wonderfully enjoyable history of the Bridge, read David McCullough’s The Great Bridge: The Epic Story of the Building of the Brooklyn Bridge. (Simon and Schuster Paperbacks, 1972: ISBN: 067145711X) This comprehensive book (577 pages) never fails to hold one’s attention, and McCullough’s engaging writing and energetic narrative style make the text more entertaining than many a fictional novel.

As for the metaphorical bridge associated with this day, it was on this day in 1844 that Samuel F. B. Morse publically demonstrated a practical telegraph, transmitting a message from Washington, D.C. to Baltimore, Maryland, and receiving the same message in reply. While in today’s world the distance between Baltimore and Washington is trivial indeed, in 1844, it still took a fast courier half a day to carry a message between the two cities. Telegraphc, instant communication created, in effect, a communication bridge between the two cities, and later this “bridge” spanned the globe, connecting New York to London and beyond, Hong Kong to San Francisco, Sydney to Capetown.

Morse was not the originator of the notion of using electrical signals to communicate over great distances; the idea had been around for more than three decades when Morse made his demonstration. Morse, however, was the first to build a practical, commercially viable implementation of this idea. Still, because the notion was so novel, and practical applications of electricity were all but unknown, Morse had difficulty attracting investors to his plans. He was finally able to interest the United States Congress in the potential of the telegraph, and Congress voted the funding for the construction of the world’s first data-com network between Washington and Baltimore. (DARPA, the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency and ARPA, The Advanced Research Projects Agency, the forebears of the Internet we know today, therefore descend from a long and fruitful tradition!) Morse also developed his Morse Code, which made rapid transmission of information possible, despite the inherent limitations of the day’s technology.

Morse Code, a series of “dots” and “dashes” used to represent alphabetic characters, numerals, and punctuation, would prove to be the most enduring remote communication standard the world has yet seen. The simplicity of the code, and its suitability for a broad range of media — electric telegraph, flashing light, most any audible percussive method, and even the human voice, (as “di-dah-dah-dit”) as well as print and other visual representations — made the code widely useful. Though the code underwent several modifications between Morse’s famous first demonstration and its designation as an official international standard in 1865, it remained in official use internationally until it was formally superseded for navigational purposes by the International adoption of the Global Maritime Distress and Safety System on 1 February 1999. Thus this first “network protocol” endured for more than 150 years. And it remains in wide use today, especially among amateur radio enthusiasts.

Morse’s demonstration was a success, and the commercial telecom business was born. Within a decade, more than 24,000 miles of telegraph line crisscrossed the nation, utterly transforming society. The telegraph was a natural companion to the rapidly expanding railroad network. This pairing opened the vast spaces of North America to settlement, and permitted a vast swath of the continent to be truly and effectively integrated into a functioning nation.

In April of 1844, information moved at the rate of the fastest horse, the swiftest ship; by late 1858, information could be transmitted from New York to London in seconds! The world was forever changed, and pace of life increased with the speed of information. It is therefore fitting that the choice of the first text to be sent over the telegraph seemed to presage this impact: “What hath God wrought?”

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Jamie Rawson
Flower Mound, Texas

We can communicate an idea around the world in seventy seconds,
but it sometimes takes years for an idea to get through
a quarter-inch of human skull.

— Charles F. Kettering

A Modest Proposal To Truly Defend Marriage

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In light of North Carolina’s vote yesterday, I’ll assert once again that simply denying access to marriage for some citizens is NOT a proper Defense Of Marriage. Sure, it feels good to discriminate against people whom we personally dislike or who otherwise do not appeal to us, but that is not in and of itself a Defense Of Marriage.

So, Friends,I have a modest proposal: we must put some real teeth into these various and sundry bills around the country inspired by the ideal of a “Defense of Marriage” (DOM) Any constitutional defense of marriage must be a true defense of marriage, plain and simple. Yes, it can surely discriminate against homosexuals, because the interests of small groups need not be considered in the political process, nor in matters of governance. But that clearly is not enough. We must strive to ensure that the sacred institution of marriage will be genuinely strengthened by any such constitutional amendment.

First, to truly defend marriage, which has been under assault from heterosexual couples for the past 50 years, at least, we need to start with a sound, biblically-based foundation: NO DIVORCE, ever, except, possibly, in cases of the wife’s infidelity. No true Christian can argue against this stand, for Jesus himself notes in Matthew, 19:9 “Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery, and the man who marries a divorced woman commits adultery.” Refer also to Mark, 10:11-12, Luke, 16:18, and finally First Corinthians, 7:10. They all agree that there cannot be divorce for almost any reason (and only Matthew reports that the woman’s transgression may be acceptable cause.)

So there we have it: three times from the very mouth of Jesus, once from Saint Paul. If we are to preserve the sanctity of marriage, NO DIVORCE. God said it. I believe it. That settles it. And prohibiting divorce would surely make the Pope happy, and I just know that all true American Christians would be overjoyed to comply with the pleasure of Rome!

However, Friends, some may point out that in the modern world it may be impractical to expect that a man and a woman, especially a young man and woman, can always be relied upon to make one choice which will rightly and fruitfully govern the entire rest of their lives. Yet we surely cannot have divorce, as I have conclusively demonstrated above. The answer? Establish a MINIMUM MARRIAGE AGE.

I suspect that men and women in their middle twenties could be counted upon to make reasonably wise choices in selecting a mate, though some may plausibly hold out for early thirties. But I feel a minimum marriage age of 25 would be a tolerable hurdle. Note that I would never be a sexist and impose different age limits based upon gender (though I would guess this would be more salable if the minimum male age were 25 and the minimum female age were 18. But I digress …)

Finally, a MEANS TEST: no one may be married who cannot demonstrate a minimum property/earnings requirement. I would say, again without reference to gender, that no one should be matrimonially conjoined who is not able to earn a minimum of $24,000.00 per annum, or possesses property above a minimum of $72,000.00.

These last two notions do not come from God’s law, but are based upon the practical experience of several Western European legal traditions which were in place until modern times. I add these to God’s clearly stated and unambiguous prohibition, because they would help assure that the men and women who do choose to marry will be more readily able to bear the burdens that God presents them. And plainly our nation cannot enforce God’s indisputable law without supporting those who marry with strict measures to ensure success.

Thus, my modest proposal is a Defense Of Marriage amendment that truly defends marriage: Marriage only between a man and a woman, NO DIVORCE, a MINIMUM AGE of 25, and a MINIMUM FINANCIAL MEANS. This would defend marriage. And if the gender discrimination issue be unjust, then at least the other elements are sure to fly. Labor tirelessly for this goal at home, my friends; the nation will be the better, stronger, more moral, more Godly for it.

If this modest proposal succeeds, dear ones, then the setting will be ripe for another idea whose time has come: the return of slavery! Not that old, pernicious and malicious race-based slavery, but a modern, compassionate slavery that is based simply upon a means test. The Bible clearly and unambiguously endorses slavery, so we have no need to worry that it contradict Christ’s teachings. Yes: bring back slavery; I feel sure we can convince the average American to be all for it!

Jamie Rawson
Flower Mound, Texas

Marriage may be compared to a cage: the birds outside despair to get in and those within despair to get out. — Michel de Montaigne

A Day Of Protests And Deadly Response

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Today marks the anniversary of two landmark events in the history of political protest, civil disturbance, and official response in the United States.

On 4 May 1886 in Haymarket Square in Chicago, a force of some 200 police officers attempted to shut down a protest rally. The rally was organized by labor “radicals,” mostly foreign‐born immigrants, to protest the killing of a striking laborer by Chicago police the day before. In the face of the massive police presence and their use of extremely violent tactics to disperse the crowd, the rally began to dissolve almost immediately, but as the crowd dwindled, an unidentified terrorist threw a homemade bomb at the police squad.

The bomb killed at least a dozen people and injured hundreds. The surviving police began firing their weapons into the crowd, killing or wounding many more. Within minutes, the crowd disappeared into the side streets, and the police began to gather up the dead, which included several police officers.

The Chicago papers immediately dubbed the incident “The Haymarket Riot.” A dragnet of the city’s poorer districts rounded up more than 300 “known‐radicals,” almost all immigrants. More than 30 were indicted by a grand jury, despite the fact that in most of the cases, there was no evidence to tie the suspect to the Haymarket rally. After a highly controversial trial, which focussed more on the evidence of the defendants’ political beliefs than on their criminal culpability, 7 men were sentenced to death. Four of these were hanged the following year, one committed suicide in his cell, and the remaining two were eventually pardoned by the Governor of Illinois. The pardon was based upon evidence which showed that the police officers who had been killed at Haymarket Square had been felled by police bullets. That evidence had not been admitted at the trial.

And it was forty-two years ago on this day in 1970 that another pivotal clash in the history of American political protest and governmental response occurred. At Kent State University in Ohio, troops of the Ohio National Guard fired into a crowd, killing four people and wounding at least a dozen others. The event shocked a nation already rent by widespread unrest and riot.

In May of 1970, protests erupted across the United States in the wake of the United States’ bombing of Cambodia (a country with which we were not at war, but which had been an open safe‐haven for Viet Cong forces.) The National Guard had been called in to Kent State a few days earlier to help control protests that had turned riotous. Earlier protests had turned destructive and had resulted in property damage, and the school ordered a ban on protest rallies.

At noon on 4 May 1970, depsite the ban on rallies, a large crowd appeared on the campus to resume the protest. National Guard troops advanced on the crowd to disperse it. The Guard had bayonets fixed and fired teargas into the crowd. Some in the crowd responded by throwing stones and tossing the teargas canisters back at the Guard. Then, for reasons that have never been clearly established, the troops opened fire with deadly effect.

A photograph of a young woman in anguish over a prone body, her hands stretched out as if imploring someone for an explanation, became the iconic image of that era.

Subsequent investigations, military, Federal, and State, resulted in no prosecutions for the incident. In its aftermath, however, riot control and response became a specialized area of police work, and the use of deadly force for crowd control has become an option of last resort, though recent experiences show that the use of potent force against non-violent protesters is on the rise. It is a disturbing trend in a representative democracy.

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Jamie Rawson
Flower Mound, Texas

What experience and history teach is this –
that people and governments
have never learned anything from history.

— Hegel, 1801

Reflections On ANZAC Day 2012

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Today, 25 April, is honored as ANZAC Day in Australia and New Zealand. It is now a day akin the Memorial Day in the United States. It was first observed in 1916 to remember those who served in the Australia-New Zealand Army Corps at the Gallipoli Campaign of World War I.

That bloody campaign saw great sacrifice and suffering on the part of all involved, but the ANZACs stood out especially among the forces deployed by the British Empire against the Ottoman Turkish empire. The ANZACs came close to dislodging the Turkish forces who held Gallipoli, but at the crucial moment, when the Turkish troops were exhausted and nearly out of ammunition, a leader appeared who rallied the nearly broken line and repulsed the British Empire’s forces, setting the stage for a long and entrenched stalemate which was so much a feature of WWI combat. Colonel Mustafa Kemal, later honored as “Atatürk,” or “Father of the Turks”, became the Turkish hero of Gallipoli for his success in salvaging eventual victory in the face of near-sure defeat.

The Gallipoli campaign was ghastly and bloody, and among the hardest fought struggles in a ghastly and bloody war. And in the end, it accomplished nothing at all. The Ottoman Empire eventually capitulated with the fall of its allies, but the slaughter at Gallipoli had little effect on this outcome.

Wars end, however. Mustafa Kemal went on the lead the broken and fragmented nation of Turkey from chaotic Ottoman imperial collapse into its status as a modern nation. Kemal was a warrior and a politician. But he was also a man of vision and a man whose preordinate aims for his nation are expressed in the simple phrase, “Yurtta suhl, cihanda suhl” which appears on monuments and memorials throughout modern Turkey. It means “Peace at home, peace in the world.”

Kemal was indeed a peacemaker. The great and victorious warrior also knew compassion and forgiveness, and he was careful to make it clear that the end of war meant not merely a cessation of fighting, but an encouragement of community and true peace. Famously, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk said of the soldiers buried at Gallipoli, both Turks and ANZACs:

“Heroes who shed their blood and lost their lives! You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and Mehmets to us where they lie side by side here in this country of ours. You, the mothers, who sent their sons from far away countries wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land they have become our sons as well.”

This is inscribed on the Atatürk Memorial at, Gallipoli and at the Kemal Atatürk Memorial, Canberra.

The world could use more such leaders.

Jamie Rawson
Flower Mound, Texas

“Mankind is a single body and each nation a part of that body. We must never say “What does it matter to me if some part of the world is ailing?” If there is such an illness, we must concern ourselves with it as though we were having that illness.”

— Atatürk

The Assassination Of Lincoln

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In the hustle and bustle of today, it is fitting to take a moment to recall one of the greatest men who ever served as President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln. A moment of recollection and reflection is fitting today because it was on yesterday’s date, 14 April 1865 — Good Friday — that Lincoln was felled by an assassin’s bullet as he and his wife, Mary Todd Lincoln watched the popular comedy Our American Cousin at Ford’s Theater in Washington, D.C.

Moments after the shot rang out in the theater, John Wilkes Booth, a noted actor of the day, leapt from the President’s box onto the stage, shouting “Sic Semper Tyrannis!” (“Death to Tyrants”; the motto of Virginia.) Booth broke his leg in the fall, but managed to crawl off the stage and escape in the ensuing confusion.

Lincoln was taken from the theater to a house across the street to lie abed as his physicians debated what could or should be done. Before surgery could be attempted, Lincoln died in the early morning of April 15. Secretary of War Stanton observed: “Now he belongs to the Ages.”

In one brief note, I cannot hope to sum up Lincoln’s life and his utterly crucial importance to the nation we have today, but I can note that he is almost always ranked at the top of the list of most important Presidents. And it is worth noting that the tales we learned in Childhood about Lincoln’s great public character and deep personal honesty and intergrity are well upheld under close scrutiny of the existing facts.

The world would be a different place had Lincoln not been killed in that fine early April of 1865; the world would likely be a worse place had he never lived.

Jamie Rawson
Flower Mound, Texas

I claim not to have controlled events, but confess plainly that events have controlled me. — Abraham Lincoln, 1864

In Memoriam: John Christopher Rawson — 12/5/52 – 4/12/74

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I the wake of Easter, we are reminded that the reason for this holiday is to celebrate Life. For Christians, this has been a celebration of Life Everlasting and the Salvation that Jesus made possible for Mankind. Pre-Christian traditions also took time at this high point of Spring to celebrate the rebirth of nature after the bleakness of Winter. Familiar Easter symbols such as rabbits, (life abundant) eggs, (life emerging from lifelessness) and bright flowers (life reborn) have their origins in these Pre-Christian celebrations, though the symbolism applies fittingly to the Christian celebration.

Yet, as the Book of Common Prayer reminds us, in the midst of life we are in death. Last Friday, Good Friday, commemorated the crucifixion of Jesus and his earthly death. For many years, each Good Friday is also a time of personal remembrance for me, because it was on Good Friday, 12 April 1974, that my brother Chris was killed in an airplane crash. Though it has now been thirty-eight years, this loss is still with me. It is not a fresh pain, of course, it simply is a loss that I have grown accustomed to, but which nevertheless remains a loss.

Chris was a wonderful brother. The passage of time, as is natural, has caused me to forget any flaws and to remember only the good things.

When Chris was in his early teens, at a time when my father was considering an employment opportunity in Saint Louis, Chris decided to design an old-fashioned flatboat to take on a drift down the mighty Mississippi. He drew elaborate plans, did research on materials and costs, and spent time at the library to learn about similar designs. Ultimately, he built a 1/20th scale model of his plans in balsa wood. This plan was never realized (my father declined the job offer) but we had that wonderful model for many years.

Chris was deeply involved in Scouting and attained the rank of an Eagle Scout. For many years he spent his Summers as a camp counselor at the Boy Scouts’ Camp Emerald Bay on Santa Catalina Island off of the Southern California Coast. He introduced my twin brother Rob and me into Scouting. We three did a great deal of hiking together with our troop, and we “conquered” many of California’s tall peaks. I have an especially fond memory from the Fall of 1972. Our scout troop was hiking in the Grand Canyon. At that time, Chris was attending school at Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff. As night descended on our first day in the Canyon, I was startled to hear a familar voice call out: “Rob and Jamie Rawson had better answer their older brother!”

Chris had hiked all the way to Phantom Ranch where we were encamped to join us for the long weekend! He led us on several day-hikes where he served as a well-informed tour guide sharing with us younger Scouts things he had learned about the geology of the canyon in a class at college. Chris supervised some pretty fancy meals as well, for he had packed in some steaks and potatoes and other non-standard camp fare. The Scout leaders were especially glad to see him, for he had ensured his welcome by bringing in a case of beer! (Just for the adults!)

Chris had many interests and enthusiasms. He loved drama (he played the comic-relief role of the porter in a production of MacBeth) and he loved stagecraft (he once designed the set for a college production of Jesus Christ Superstar.) He was fascinated by film and the movie business and he made several 8mm films, including his magnum opus, Kincaid’s Gold, a thinly veiled rip-off of a Hollywood film of similar name.

In the last year of his life his great passion was flying. Chris joined the Air Force ROTC. He took training at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas in the summer of 1973. The training was intense, but he took the time to mail a small Texan cactus to me and Rob for our cactus garden. During the next year he took opportunities to fly whenever he could.

Good Friday, 12 April 1974 was a stunningly beautiful day in Southern California. The air was clear, the temperature mild. It was a day so perfectly lovely that I well might have remembered it ever after just for that. I even recall thinking that afternoon what a fortunate day it was.

Rob and I had arisen at 4:00 am to accompany my mother to the Los Angeles Flower Market to pick up the stock for the Easter weekend at our flower shop. After we had finished cleaning and preparing the immense load of flowers back at the shop, Rob and I went to a local lunch counter. We ordered chicken salad sandwiches for lunch, only remembering too late that we should not have ordered meat. Fortunately, when the waitress brought the sandwiches, the cook had gotten the order wrong: the sandwiches were tuna! (Which was just fine for Good Friday.) It certainly seemed a fortunate day.

We were watching the broadcast of Ben Hur that evening when the telephone rang, delivering the stunning, tragic news.

At that time, and in the decades since, I tried to understand the “why” of this loss. There was no reason, no purpose, no greater cause served by Chris’ death. It simply happened. In the midst of life we are in death. On the threshold of the Easter celebration of Life and Rebirth a life was lost. I long ago concluded that the “why” of this loss will remain unknown to me in this life. There is no compensation possible, there is no “getting over it,” there is only getting used to it. And it would serve no purpose to be angry or resentful for the loss. It is not unjust; it is not just. It just is.

But I write this not to bring down peoples’ spirits after a wonderful holiday, rather I write this to remember a fine person who has been gone far longer than he lived. I recall him very often, and he well deserves to be remembered.

So as we celebrate Life and Rebirth, as we rejoice in Spring and think of delightful things, we also remember too those who are not here with us. Easter embraces both reflections.

John Christopher Rawson 1952-1974

Chris Rawson. Taken 11 April 1974.

Good Friday

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Today is celebrated by many Christian denominations around the world in commemoration of the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth. In the English speaking lands, the day is known by the rather unexpected name of “Good Friday.” Good? What is good about such a day? I recall when I was in the 7th grade a Jewish friend asking, “why is it called “good” if it is the day that Jesus was killed?” Good question.

The etymology of the English name “Good Friday” is unclear and is the subject of much discussion and dispute. In other European languages the day is know variously as “Sad Friday,” (German) which is easily understood, “Passion Friday,” (Irish, Russian) where passion is used in the sense of suffering, also readily understood. In most romance languages, the day is termed “Holy Friday,” (French, Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian) which is once again fairly obvious. And in many Slavic languages, it is known as “Great Friday,” (Czech, Serbo-Croatian, Bulgarian, and Slovenian) with the sense of being an important day. And all of these descriptors makes good sense. So why do English speakers call the day “Good?”

One explanation is that “Good” is simply a derivative of “God.” This etymological heritage is attested to in the familiar phrase “good-bye.” “Good-bye” originated as “God be with you,” said to departing travelers in a time when travel was always perilous. (“Good-bye” has a well documented history and can be traced from its first recorded written use in 1573 in a letter from Gabriel Harvey [as “godbwye”] to earlier forms such as “God be wy ye” and others.) Thus “Good Friday” would have come from “God Friday,” and that seems plain enough.

Other sources argue that “Good” in this context is simply used in the sense of “Holy.” The American Heritage Dictionary offers this explanation with confidence, admitting no other opinion, stating “ETYMOLOGY: From good, pious, holy (obsolete.)” Yet it is interesting that in the extensive entry for the word “good” in that same dictionary, there is not a single reference to its use meaning either “holy” or “pious!” And there are not abundant, unambiguous examples of such usage. Shakespeare uses “good father” for churchmen in many of his plays, but he uses “good” so often to describe so many different people in so many different stations that it is impossible to be sure he means “holy” or “pious” when addressing churchmen. So this explanation seems under-supported, though plausible.

Still others claim that the day is “Good Friday” because The Messiah suffered and died for the good of humankind. Though the day was dreadful, yet its result was good, runs this argument.

The explanation for the name “Good Friday” is therefore unresolved and, given the lack of a “paper trail,” is likely to remain so. Regardless of the name’s origins, it remains an crucial day in the calendars of Christendom.

Have a good Friday this Good Friday, and have a lovely Easter weekend as well, howsoever you frame your beliefs!

(The etymology of the name “Easter” is even more complex, and just about as much disputed. The Venerable Bede, our most extensive source for early English Church history explained that the name derived from the name of an Anglo-Saxon pagan goddess.)

Jamie Rawson
Flower Mound, Texas

“And it was the third hour, and they crucified him.”

— Mark 15:25

Fifty Years Ago This Day: Remembering Dr. King

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It was on this day in 1968, now fifty years ago, that Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was shot to death on the balcony of a motel in Memphis, Tennessee. The killing touched off a wave of urban violence on a scale and of a scope far exceeding anything like it before. The nation reeled under the twin shocks of assassination and widespread rioting.

Those of us over a certain age will remember the day: it stands out as one of a trio of assassinations which seemed to define the 1960s, the first being John F. Kennedy four-and-a-half years before, and the third being Robert F. Kennedy just two months later. It was late afternoon on that warm Thursday in Southern California where I then lived. My brother Rob and I had been to an after-school birthday party for a friend a few houses from our own. My older brother Chris had walked over to take us home. When we came to the door, Chris informed us that “Martin Luther King had been shot.”

I doubt that then, at the age of nine, I had a very full understanding of what Dr. King had accomplished, yet he had been a major figure throughout my conscious life up to that day. When I was quite young, my family had lived in Montgomery, Alabama at a time when that city was still grappling with the revolutionary impact of the Bus Boycott of a few years before; Dr. King was, of course, a prominent figure in that struggle. We had lived outside Washington, D.C. when Dr. King had delivered his famous “I have a Dream” speech in August of 1963. My mother felt we should watch the television news reports when Birmingham, Alabama Police Chief Bull Connor ordered police and firemen to set dogs on peaceful demonstrators, and to turn fire hoses on the women and small children. We watched on TV as Dr. King and his followers marched peacefully from Selma to Montgomery only to be met with violence. Dr. King was a figure nearly as familiar as President Johnson – and to a nine year old, he was infinitely more dramatic and interesting.

What a shock, then, to hear he had been shot. It was so unreal. And when we returned home to watch the news, we watched more trauma unfold as city after city erupted in violence in reaction to the devastating news. Dr. King would never have approved of the violence and destruction of course. It was horrific in the extreme to hear that in Washington, D.C., firemen had been shot at as they responded to the emergency. It was frightening to see the skyline of Washington with the glow of fires illuminating it. Who could approve of senseless destruction, but especially in light of the character of Dr. King? Yet one also understood that the feeling of rage was too overwhelming to be contained. Dr. King’s program of non-violent action had ultimately resulted in a most violent death for himself, with so much of his work unfinished. No, one could not approve of the violence, but one could understand the rage.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was a human being, so it is not surprising that in recent years some of his foibles have been brought to light. If he was flawed, however, these were minor flaws, for he remained focussed on his goal, and he remained true to his principles. When he was met with violence, he offered peaceful response. Dr. King never hesitated to speak out, but he continually forebore to strike out. And though he could march 25,000 people from Selma to Montgomery to present their demands to Governor Wallace, he did not use that great crowd to extort or coerce. At a time of uncertainty and unrest, Dr. King strove to effect maximal change with minimal upheaval.

Dr. King was also one of America’s greatest orators, possessed of an entrancing speaking voice, a dramatic delivery style, and a great gift of rhetorical brilliance. Few people can hear a recording of a speech by King and remain unmoved. His, “I Have a Dream” speech surely ranks among the very foremost of American speeches, and it represents a landmark in the Civil Rights movement of the 20th century. In one of the most often quoted passages in any American speech, Dr. King proclaimed:

“I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal. I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveowners will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood. I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a desert state, sweltering with the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today!”

It is clear that Dr. King’s work is not yet completed, even today. But it is also clear that his dream did not die with him. He was just 38 years old when he was killed; shortly before his death he was heard to wonder if he had accomplished anything at all in the previous dozen years: there was still so very much yet to be done. The work which Dr. King undertook remains to this day unfinished, but he did not strive in vain. The world we live in today is one far removed from that of 1955 or even 1968. It is today unthinkable that dogs and fire hoses would be used against peaceful demonstrators. It is unimaginable that a state government would seriously assert its right to disenfranchise and to discriminate against a large portion of its citizens. It seems medieval that a state would deny anyone employment, or legal rights, or even so basic a human institution as marriage, based upon race. Yet in one form or another, issues of these types still face us; the terrible scourge of racism has seen an appalling rebirth in recent years, encouraged in part by pretended “populist” politicians who flagrantly fan old fears to further their ambitions.

The work is not yet done. But it was well begun. And it must be rekindled by those of us today who understand the need.

Dr. King earned a goodly share of the credit for getting this work underway. It seems fitting, that we pause for a moment on this sad anniversary to remember a great leader. And to recall his great work, a work in progress.

Jamie Rawson
Flower Mound, Texas

Oh, the worst of tragedies is not to die young, but to live until I am seventy-five and yet not ever truly to have lived.

— Martin Luther King Jr.

Opening Japan

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It was on this day in 1854 that Commodore Matthew Perry and his staff concluded the Kanagawa Treaty with the Empire of Japan, ending more than Japan’s more than 250 years of self-imposed isolation. Perry’s mission to open Japan to trade with the United States had many important immediate and long-range effects. It forever changed the course of Japanese history, and ultimately world history, making it one of the most important treaties in diplomatic history. In the wake of the Kanagawa Treaty, Japan modernized at an almost unbelievable rate.

When Perry’s mission landed near Edo (now Tokyo,) Japan had no modern, industrial manufacturing, no steamships, no navy capable of contending with any Western powers, no modern armaments, no telegraph, no modern printing presses, and no international diplomatic corps. Japan in that era was truly isolated from the rest of the world, and had limited influence beyond its island empire. This is by no means to imply that Japan was undeveloped or unsophisticated: the major reason for these lags and lacks was the political policy of the Tokugawa Shoguns who had been the de facto rulers of Japan since 1600.

During much of the 16th Century, Japan had been rent by progressively more ferocious and deadly civil warfare as competing lords vied for power. Western powers, primarily Portugal and the Netherlands, readily supplied armaments to the feuding nobility, and freely meddled in Japan’s internal affairs. When Tokugawa Ieyasu emerged triumphant in 1600 as Shogun, overlord of all Japan, he set about restoring Japan to stability and prosperity. One measure he undertook was to ensure the peace with several laws (and a large number of executions of rivals as well, this being an old and respected tradition across all times and cultures.)

For example, though in the last decades of the 16th century Japan is estimated to have made more muskets per annum than Western Europe of that time, under the early Tokugawa Shoguns firearms were explicitly prohibited to the lesser daimyos (nobles.) Private ownership of all weaponry was firmly controlled by the Shogunate, with the result that private feuds and wars could no longer be waged. In the wake of the peace thereby imposed, arms manufacture throughout Japan shrank in importance, and new developments essentially stopped. Correspondingly, this policy ushered in an age of Domestic tranquillity which saw the blossoming of some of Japan’s finest cultural achievements. The visual arts attained great heights. Woodblock prints, paintings, ceramics, iron-working, and textiles from the Edo Period rank among the most valuable artistic treasures in the world. At the same time, performing arts flourished as well. Japan’s theatrical heritage was enriched by masterworks in Kabuki (elaborately staged dramas) and Bunraku (plays staged with puppetry,) as well a wonderfully refined dance and music.

During this period too, scholarship flourished to a surprising degree for such an isolated country. Throughout the Tokugawa Shogunate (1600 – 1860) a limited but steady stream of western learning entered Japan through the small Dutch trading station in Nagasaki, and was widely disseminated throughout Japan. But Japan sent none of her people abroad to study, and invited no outside teachers in. The result was that by Perry’s arrival, Japan was highly developed both culturally and artistically, but was technologically underdeveloped.

Thus it was that Commodore Perry’s mission to Japan relied heavily on the threat of violence without fear of an effective reprisal; Perry’s squadron could easily inflict a punishing bombardment on most any Japanese coastal city. And so Japan’s rulers determined to accede to the demands of the United States and grant some trading concessions, albeit in a very limited and highly restricted fashion. Nevertheless, the genie, as the saying has it, was out of the bottle.

Perry’s insistence upon Japan’s acceptance of U.S. trade led to other Western Powers demanding similar consideration. Within five years, the influence and the demands of the Western nations upon Japan led to internal strife and ultimately revolt. Things began to unravel rapidly, and many of the systemic political problems of the Edo Period which had been festering for generations erupted into open riot and small-scale rebellion. The Tokugawa Shogunate was effectively ended by 1860, and in the power vacuum that followed, a new era of warlord warfare broke out.

In 1863, the Daimyo Mori Takachika of Shimonoseki in southern Japan declared himself no longer bound to the central authority in Edo, and began demanding tolls for all ships that passed through the strategically important Shimonoseki straits. When the ships of Western governments which had hammered out treaties with the Edo government refused to pay the unauthorized tolls, Lord Takachika ordered his soldiers to fire on the ships using some rather antiquated, smoothbore cannon, but also using some recently purchased Western artillery. During the summer of 1863, several Western ships were fired on, mostly with little harm, but one Dutch ship suffered several casualties.

Despite the fact that the United States was in the throes of a great civil war, the United States warship USS Wyoming sailed to respond to this threat, and in a short but fierce battle severely punished the Daimyo’s forces. This strikingly one-sided engagement apparently served as a “wake-up call” for many Japanese: it was clear that simply having modern guns was not sufficient to compete with the Western Powers.

By 1867, a coalition of warlords and progressive intellectuals effected a profound and hugely important change in Japan’s political structure. The Emperor, a position which for almost 1,000 years had been more religious and ceremonial than political, was returned to full power in what became known as the Meiji Restoration. Japan had made a decisive turn toward modernity, technology, and the West.

As I mentioned above, Japan made almost incredible progress in gaining technological prowess. In 1854, Japan had none of the accoutrements of a modern 19th century Power. Within a generation Japan had acquired a modern military, a massive, efficient, and remarkably productive manufacturing infrastructure, and had developed trade and diplomacy on a global scale. Within a second generation, Japan had become an unquestioned Great Power, able to treat on equal footing with major Western Powers. No other nation in the history of the world had ever risen so far so fast.

Perry’s treaty was, as noted, really enacted under coercion. But it is notable in that it was enacted without being born in warfare, nor did it directly spawn warfare. That makes it an unusually important treaty. Warfare between Japan and the United States would not come for almost a century.

W. C. Rawson, Sr. 1925-2007

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On this day in 1925 was born a man who has been for all my life one of my greatest heroes – probably the foremost – and an inspiration, and a role model, though I cannot claim to even begin to come close to embodying the high standards that he set by his example. He was a true hero in many, many ways, most of which are unrecorded and unheralded by the world at large, but which are nevertheless heroic.

As copilot of four-engine bombers for the 493rd Bomb Group of the 8th Air Force, he flew 30 missions against Nazi Germany as lead plane in his squadron. He flew both B-17s and B-24s, making him unusually qualified to comment of the relative merits of each. For his service he was decorated with multiple Air Medals and twice received The Distinguished Flying Cross.

After the war, he married, and took to studying law at Georgetown. But when the United States Air Force was formed as a distinct branch of the military, he rejoined and served until 1969, however it was not until 1999 – thirty years after he retired – that he received his final Citation from the Secretary of Defense, enough material having been declassified to permit the issuance of the Citation.

So, as I say, he was a hero officially.

But he was even more a hero in ways that are less formally recognized. He and his wife of fifty-five years raised six kids and put each one through college. And the two of them never forgot their primary role as parents: to be teachers. He took his role as a teacher to be one of his most important duties. Whether around a meal table, working on an engine, or hiking in the mountains, he continually taught. And not merely facts and figures, but values and morals and beliefs. And he continued this important role unto the next generation, teaching his grand children.

And he was a hero at the very end of his life, eduring with as much patience and good grace as possible the affliction of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, ALS or “Lou Gherig’s Disease.” As Dylan Thomas advised his own father, he would not “… go gentle into that good night,” but neither did he rage. If I were to find myself in the same circumstance and face it so well, I’d be proud indeed.

My father as a young US Army Air Corps officer in 1945.

So, today, upon the occasion of what would have been his 87st Birthday, I send out this in tribute to one of the finest human beings I shall ever have the pleasure and benefit of knowing; though I know and have known many outstanding and astounding people, he stands out from them all: my father, William Charles Rawson, Senior. As fine a man as I have ever known: a wonderful father, an irreplaceable teacher, a courageous and heroic gentleman. It is true, he was not flawless, for no one is, but his virtues were many. And I can say with all sincerity: If I am ever accounted half the man he is, I shall adjudge myself a success in this world.

Jamie Rawson
Flower Mound, Texas

His life was gentle, and the elements
So mix’d in him that Nature might stand up
And say to all the world ‘This was a man!’

— Julius Caesar, V:v