A Bold Fresh Piece of Humanity

by Bill O'Reilly

  Years later, when Peter saw what I was doing with The O’Reilly Factor, he called me, saying the “edges” had indeed paid off. “But I could never do what you do,” Jennings said.

  I told him I understood that. Peter was a good guy at heart, but he was a patrician. I really respected him, but I didn’t want to be like him. I couldn’t say the word shan’t no matter how hard I tried.

  Hey, I’m a Levittown guy, and that’s what I stand for.

  Okay?

  CONSERVATIVES VERSUS LIBERALS

  One nation under God, indivisible.

  —THE PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE

  Not too many liberals lived in my Levittown neighborhood; this was not a place for progressives. Many of the denizens were former military, and almost all had attended the school of hard knocks. That meant money was usually tight and the work hours long. Under that atmosphere, liberal programs like tax-funded entitlements for the unemployed and sympathy for permissive behavior were not eagerly embraced. In fact, in the seventeen years I lived there, I knew only two people who actually leaned left.

  Both were mothers of my friends.

  Sheila M. was a New York Times–reading, Adlai Stevenson–loving leftie. She was also one of the nicest moms in town. A brunette with a perpetual smile, Sheila was loved by us kids because she let us run wild on her property. While most parents shrieked loudly when children roughed up their beloved bushes or shrubs, Sheila could not have cared less. Thus, her lawn became ground zero for violent, mindless games like “keep-away.”

  My St. Brigid’s autograph book opens with this page.

  Picture two teams of crazed ten-year-old boys—five on each side. A football is thrown into the air and, as it falls, one team tries to grab it and keep possession, while the other team tries to take the ball away. There are no rules; anything goes. There is no scoring, no winners or losers. There is only mayhem as we ruffians knock one another stupid trying to either get the ball or keep the ball.

  In winter, we played this dumb game nearly every day.

  Of course, Sheila’s lawn and surrounding shrubbery were quickly destroyed. I’m talking total annihilation, nuclear-winter stuff. No way my father would have allowed that on our tiny property. In fact, nobody’s parents would have it. Only Sheila M. gave us free rein.

  Much later, when we were talking about the old days, one of Sheila’s sons told me she simply believed that kids having fun trumped any sod considerations. Sheila was from the “Summerhill” school of child rearing, whereby the youngster’s “creative” aspirations are all-important. Developed by a man named A. S. Neill, Summerhill is an actual school in England where the kids pretty much do whatever they want short of witch burning. In that permissive atmosphere, the controversial theory goes, children will grow into loving and responsible adults because they have not been traumatized by “restrictions.” I do not believe there have ever been any nuns at Summerhill.

  However, there was a downside to Sheila’s liberal child-raising point of view: cursing. She didn’t do it, but her eldest son, Robert, did it with gusto. While most of us were commanded under threat of punishment not to take the Lord’s name in vain or use the F-word, Robert would let profanity fly pretty much anytime he felt like it. My mother was appalled.

  But, according to sworn testimony from her three kids, Sheila felt that cursing was just a stage that some children went through. Fine with me. Not fine with most of the other parents. There was some tension over this.

  The other liberal mom in the neighborhood was Kay, also a very nice woman. Short and thin with light-colored hair, Kay was the mother of Genie and Stu, two kids I met at age three. Unfortunately, Kay was a “lapsed Catholic,” which meant she did not practice the faith. You’ll not be surprised to hear that this was not good in Levittown, as most Catholics did not approve of any lapsing. Both St. Brigid’s and St. Bernard’s churches were packed every Sunday, but Kay, her husband, Genie, and Stu were never sighted. One time I asked Stu where his family went to church, and he told me they didn’t have to go because they were “Unitarian.” This sounded good to me, but when I broached the subject with my parents at dinner, the conversation did not go far.

  Even so, my mother and father were remarkably kind whenever they discussed Kay. My parents were not big on passing judgment unless it involved me. Then judgment was passed with stunning speed.

  Anyway, like Sheila, Kay was okay with kid conduct that other parents would never have permitted. One day, armed with water pistols, a few of us showed up at Kay’s house and proceeded to douse Genie in a major way. In response, he got buckets of water and drenched us. We then chased young Gene into his own home, and a massive water fight erupted, causing some visible damage. During this conflict, Kay was across the street at neighbor Betty’s house and, upon returning home, found sodden furniture and actual puddles on the floor.

  Kay just stared. Guilty as sin, we thought all hell would break loose. But no, she calmly ordered us out of the house and closed the front door. The next day I asked Genie exactly what his mother did to him.

  “Not much,” the kid replied. “She just said our conduct was inappropriate.”

  Wow. What a mom!

  Both Sides Now

  Singer Judy Collins had a big hit with a Joni Mitchell song that said she looked at life from both sides. Well, I never got that chance in my childhood. There was only one side: conservative. It was dominant.

  So, the Russians were bad, as were Castro and all communist “agitators.” Truth be told, my gang agitated far more than any communist could have, but we did it while loving America. On the Fourth of July, everybody flew the flag and went to a picnic. John Wayne and Audie Murphy were huge in the movies, and the blond, wholesome Doris Day was prettier than any woman on earth. Are we clear about this?

  That was why the late 1960s were so shocking for many of us in the neighborhood. For the first time in my life, America was being portrayed as bad. That was unheard-of in Levittown. But the Vietnam War battered conventional thinking, and within a very short period of time, some kids who were once vocal right-wingers grew their hair long and started thinking Abbie Hoffman, cofounder of the Youth International Party (the yippies), was a cool guy.

  I, the bold, fresh guy, did not fall into that trap.

  Perhaps because politics basically bored me, I did not get emotionally involved with the “Chicago Seven,” Jane Fonda’s crew, or any other hysteria. In 1967, I did begin following the Vietnam controversy, but only from a distance. I kept my emotions out of it. That summer, I was still in an all-American, 1950s state of mind, life-guarding for spending money and training hard for the upcoming football season. But even in the barbecue haze of the suburbs, it was hard not to notice the Beatles morphing from clean-cut guys to wild-eyed “All You Need Is Love” gurus. Thank God Elvis didn’t crack.

  Unfortunately, as many kids changed their look and style, some adults began badly misbehaving, overreacting to antiwar protests and the rapidly changing culture. I heard a lot of hateful stuff that summer from middle-aged adults who condemned good men like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and others who were considered rabble-rousers.

  That behavior disturbed me as much as seeing some of my friends stoned on whatever they could get. I never got the antiblack thing. New York Giants center fielder Willie Mays was my guy even after the team moved to San Francisco. Cleveland Browns running back Jim Brown was actually from Long Island. I idolized these men. So when some adults threw the N-word around and mocked blacks, I had a hard time processing it. If all races were cheering blacks on the field—and they were—why would anyone deride that race after the game? The antiblack crew in the neighborhood could never answer that simple question.

  Levittown, by design, was all white. The real estate agents simply would not sell to blacks. There was no religious restriction, as Jews and Christians lived side by side, but the blacks in the area lived in a neighborhood called New Cassell, a few miles away. We never went there.

  As racial tens
ions rose along with the Vietnam chaos, I finally asked my father about it. Both he and my grandfather, a New York City police officer, never bashed blacks in front of me. I never heard that. Once in a while, another group might get slighted, but not black people.

  I mentioned the following story briefly in Culture Warrior, but I think it’s worth repeating in this context. As we sat on the small back patio of our house on a humid evening, my father told me that some folks in our neighborhood had experienced difficulties with blacks in Brooklyn or the Bronx. Many Levittown people were raised in those New York City boroughs and had moved out when the minorities moved in.

  My father told me that real estate predators, exploiting fear and racism, would buy single-family homes and then illegally rent them to multiple families of minorities, mostly blacks and Puerto Ricans. Almost immediately, entire blocks in New York City were impacted. Once new minority faces appeared, some white families panicked (which was the strategy) and sold their homes to these “blockbuster” real estate guys at very low prices. Whereupon the cycle would continue: minorities in, whites out. Thus, in a relatively short period of time, whole neighborhoods changed from ethnic white to “colored,” as they said back then. My father thought the “blockbusters” were despicable, but some of my Levittown neighbors blamed the minorities themselves for the “white flight” epidemic.

  So, as the late sixties roared on, both sides held little attraction for me. The conservative side was angry and sometimes bigoted, and the liberal side was equally angry and often hateful toward their own country. With neither choice appealing, I remained on the sidelines, swimming and running, huffing and puffing.

  Looking back, I’m glad I stayed unaligned. I have never been a follower; I’ve always thought for myself. Lots of folks across the country lost their minds, and some their lives, back in those turbulent Vietnam War years, but I actually kept some perspective. Chalk one up for me.

  As for the liberal-versus-conservative deal, the culture war never really erupted in Levittown. Sheila and Kay were the exceptions, as most everybody in the area remained conservative Republican. In fact, the GOP dominated Nassau County right up to the turn of the twenty-first century. Then the entrenched, arrogant Republican machine blew up. Not because of ideology, but because massive corruption was exposed. But to this day, Levittown is working-class-hero territory. Few there are exploring a move to San Francisco.

  As for me, the bold, fresh guy, I am now branded a conservative by some in the crazed, dishonest, ultraliberal media, and do you know what? That’s fine with me. As stated, I hold many traditional, conservative views and am proud of them. My problem-solving abilities are based on fairness, hard work, and honesty, and are not located in some theoretical comfort zone. That’s why I win most of my debates on TV and radio. I deal in tough reality, not wishful thinking.

  Let me expand on that with a simple example that even the dreamer Jimmy Carter might understand. The solution to poverty is not sympathy. That makes the sympathizer feel good but does little to help the guy who needs money. No, the solution to poverty in America is to say, “Hey, go back to school, learn a skill, and work hard when somebody hires you.”

  And, in our society, just about every American has the opportunity to do that. Excuses walk.

  But noooooo (sorry, Belushi). Pinheads keep saying that I’m wrong. Poverty is society’s fault…right, John Edwards? He claims there are two Americas, one for rich guys like him and me (who somehow magically acquired money) and one for the poor people whom the evil government has singled out to be hosed. That line of thinking is pure quackery—a false premise from the jump, no hard evidence to back it up.

  As we discussed in the Katrina chapter, individual responsibility is the key to success in life. But, as teaching at Pace High School taught me, some individuals will avoid taking that responsibility; for whatever reason they will hurt themselves and others. Most of the time, I blame them, not America. That, of course, separates me from the left and makes me a mean guy in their eyes.

  Not that I care; I don’t. My vast experience in life makes the following analysis easy, so listen up. Many liberals simply want to feel good about themselves. Showing compassion to the downtrodden accomplishes that. So it’s not about the poor; it’s about the liberal thinker. He or she wants to feel noble. The math here is pretty clear. If you blame someone for his or her own difficult circumstances, that’s a harsh assessment, not a feel-good proposition. But if you blame a country or a system, and give the individual a free pass, then you are understanding and kind.

  But think about it: what good does that really do? Of course, some poor people deserve pity, but far more would benefit from instruction and discipline. Look at the 1996 Welfare Reform Act signed by Bill Clinton. (By the way, the official title of the law is “The Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act.” Get it?) Many liberals screamed about its supposed unfairness. But studies show it helped far more Americans than it hurt. Forcing people to work led to millions of Americans entering the capitalist system, where they could actually accomplish something. Of course, that benefited both the individual and society. Did John Edwards miss that?

  No, Edwards didn’t miss it. He just wanted to play to the far-left crowd in his dismal run for the presidency. What a charlatan. And one more thing. If you see Edwards or any of his ideological soul mates, tell them this: In 1960, just five percent of American babies were born out of wedlock. Now, thirty-five percent are. And for African Americans, the number is an astounding seventy percent. That’s what drives poverty, single-mother homes. Individual Americans having children they cannot afford to raise is the primary cause of poverty in the United States. That’s a fact. And here’s another fact: John Edwards and his ilk are pinheads. No doubt.

  A Maalox Moment

  Because I choose my friends based upon their characters and not ideology, I have a number of liberal pals with whom I can honestly discuss issues like what drives poverty. Recently, I was in Los Angeles having dinner with a friend of mine who is big on universal health care. She is really jazzed about the government providing medical care to “all who need it.”

  So the bold, fresh guy, in between bites of calamari, surgically took her opinion apart. Great friend, right? First, I asked her if Americans had a constitutional right to health care. Being of the liberal persuasion, of course she said yes. Okay.

  Then I asked, if good health is indeed a protected right, shouldn’t nutritious food be provided as well? After all, one cannot have good health without good food.

  Being a smart lady, she saw the chess move and said she’d have to think about that. But the bold, fresh guy was moving in; nothing could stop me, not even the Dover sole that the waiter placed in front of me.

  “Why do you have to think about it?” I asked. “You can’t separate nutrition from health. Can’t be done. So, by your way of thinking, the government has an obligation to provide good food to ensure good health for those who need it, right?”

  “Maybe,” she answered, chewing her sushi a bit more aggressively.

  “Okay,” I said. “And how about decent housing? If you live in substandard housing, it will definitely affect your health, no question. Right?”

  At this point, my friend smiled, because she is a great person with no rancor and freely chooses to undergo grillings like this from her misguided friend (me).

  “Sure, good food, good housing, it’s all tied in,” she said.

  “And the government should provide those things to the poor?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, you’re a socialist.”

  She smiled wider. “I guess I am,” she said.

  “That means I’ll have to pick up the check,” I replied. “Want dessert?”

  You can see why dinner with me is not exactly on the menu for many people. But I’m right when I say that the left wants a big-daddy government to “provide.” The problem is, that’s impossible in America. If you don’t believe me, recall your person
al bureaucratic nightmare when trying to get a passport or a driver’s license. And you want the government telling you which doctor to go to? Come on.

  Independent thinkers like me realize that government safety nets must be provided for folks who cannot, for whatever reason, negotiate life on their own. That is realistic compassion. But in a nation of 320 million people, the government simply cannot “provide” for your needs. It is truly impossible.

  Instead, creative programs like tax-free medical savings accounts and deregulation of the health insurance industry (with strict rules and oversight by the authorities) are the best solutions to the chaotic health care problem. But the left is generally not onboard with that.

  Not to belabor left-wing blind spots, but I have to return to my pal John Edwards one last time before I move on to some conservative failings. On January 3, 2008, Edwards first claimed that two hundred thousand U.S. veterans were homeless and abandoned, sleeping under bridges because the economy was stacked against them. How could the USA allow that to happen? Edwards wailed. What is wrong with our country?

  Now, this sounded a bit fishy to me, so I asked the Fox News “brain room” to check it out. That’s the research arm of Fox News-channel, and those guys are good. Quickly, the information came back: there were no accurate counts of homeless vets, just estimates by some veterans organizations that are dependent on donations to exist. Thus, they had a vested interest in putting out high homeless vet numbers. There was also no reliable economic data on homeless vets, but Joseph Califano, who heads a substance-abuse think tank at Columbia University, estimated that ninety percent of homeless vets are either addicted or mentally ill.