Opinion & Comment
September 1, 2011, The Bridgton News, Page D
Viewpoints Supporting public wrongdoers
By Peter Bollen Guest Columnist The best-selling book by controversial figures, corrupt politicians, felons and murderers has become the rage from these self-aggrandizing “authors.” This trend may have begun in earnest during the Watergate era when two dozen loyal officials of the Nixon Administration blindly supported the illegal actions and deeds that Nixon largely supported and ordered along with his cover-up to the public. This resulted in his eventual resignation of the presidency and caused major changes in campaign finance legislation. Nixon’s chosen successor, Gerald Ford, pardoned Nixon for all crimes present and future. Nixon eventually became a wealthy best-selling author publishing six volumes of memoirs extolling his experiences and opinions during his presidency. Nixon was able to enrich himself despite his major misdeeds including abridging the Constitution as Commander in Chief and was spared a conviction in a court of law. The lesson here is that Nixon was able to profitably give his accounts to the public while enhancing his historic image. For the record, he never apologized for his blatant corruption even as many of his top aides were imprisoned for their loyalty. The public pariahs or wrongdoers in this society can not only cleanse their conscience and enrich themselves by marketing their notoriety and giving their side of the story. By marketing their notoriety and tale of redemption, whether true or otherwise, book publishers and aggressive agents parry for the big offer of best-sellerdom. Nearly every Watergate felon served time and authored best-
selling books. Some acceded guilt while some others proclaimed unrequited love and betrayal by their Commander in Chief. They were largely self-aggrandizing accounts. Don’t get me wrong — I’m a strong advocate of the First Amendment. All Americans have this precious right to publicly opine and engage in the marketplace of ideas. The First Amendment is so powerful that even noted serial killer, Son of Sam (David Berkowitz) wrote his memoirs and the Supreme Court unanimously upheld his right to profit from the book. In recent years, major felons and controversial figures have profited greatly either by sympathetic supporters and as the curious public talk shows lined up enjoying huge ratings. A small movement began in 1978 after Nixon was pardoned. Two young men — a carpet cleaner and restaurant owner — organized other sympathetic friends and started a call for action imploring the public against supporting public pariahs. “Don’t Buy Books By Crooks” was the message. It was somewhat effective for a while. The likes of G. Gordon Liddy, Ivan Boesky, Oliver North, H.R. Haldeman, et al — felons all — became best-selling public figures even while serving behind bars. The logic of First Amendment advocates is relatively simple. If a wrongdoer is genuinely sincere about his misdeeds, there are options to tell their accounts. Donate the proceeds of their notoriety and sales to charity. It’s no secret that the largesse of publishers’ advances go along with a percentage of sales to the author. Resulting speech fees and book tours are part of the agreement. Paperback and other rights usually occur. WRONGDOERS, Page D
ENJOYING A DOWNEAST FEAST — Harrison Recreation recently hosted a trip for 52 senior adults to Boothbay Harbor for shopping and sightseeing along with a scenic and relaxing tour of beautiful Boothbay Harbor aboard the Bennie Alice. The group then traveled to Cabbage Island in Linekin Bay for an authentic Downeast Clambake. Pictured here are Arlin Bigelow, Peggy Mills, Barbara Spurr, Donna Hurd, Mary Woodbury and Peter Woodbury enjoying the Downeast Feast.
And the dock glides out to meet us
In a misty drizzle the color of an old man’s beard, the boat skims north up the lake, the two-stroke outboard straining, the aluminum hull skipping across a light chop and banging like a wind chime made from old metal garbage can lids. I’m young and small, hunched into a ball in the bow, the hood of my yellow raincoat pulled down over my forehead, damp knees knocking, sneakers resting on the jumbled pile of anchor chain, wet hands gripping the worn edge of the old wooden seat. When I pick my face up into the wind, the droplets pinprick my cheeks and I clench my eyes and duck back down. Looking backward, out of the wind, I smile as I watch my father sitting tall and resolute on the stern seat, his left hand gripping the outboard’s tiller, staring straight ahead
Views from the Uppermost House by S. Peter Lewis News Columnist
as if this were the sunniest of summer
days. Turning back down again into my damp, cramped, huddled little world, the raindrops sliding down my hood and splashing all around me, I think that my father must be the biggest, strongest, bravest man in the world. A mile farther on, having never dared to look again into
the stinging mist, I feel the boat tip and turn to port as we enter the shelter of the dark cove. The whine of the outboard drops in octaves, lower and lower, to a murmur, then coughs twice and the world goes silent, save for the sizzle of the mist peppering the lake — the sound of bacon frying far off. Looking up, I see our cabin tucked under the fragrant boughs of the balsams, and the needled path that leads between the dripping ferns down to the dock. For a moment, it seems as if my father, our boat, and me, are all fixed in place, and
that the cabin and the trees and the path and the ferns and the dock are all gliding toward us across the black skin of the lake. When you’re six, it seems as if such things can be so. The gunwale of the boat and the side of the dock now merge, sliding on parallel tracks just an inch apart, ever slowing until the last possible moment when my father reaches out, the brass catch in his wet fingers, and clips the brass ring with a crisp, metallic click. Seconds later, we hear the click come back to us, softer now as it echoes off the grey silhouette of the far shore. The boat rocks hard as my father jumps up onto the dock and I hear his footsteps on the damp wood and then I see his boots pointing at me, and a moment later, I feel his big hands in my armpits, lifting me from my seat, swooping me through the air, planting me DOCK, Page D
Friday Night Only September 9th • 4-9 p.m.
PIZZA PARTY at The Crazy Stallion Pizza Pie Factory located inside The Umbrella Factory celebrating our 1st Anniversary
Voted 2nd best pizza in the Lake Region Area by the people who read The Lake Region Weekly’s “Best of the Best”
Friday Night Special 4:00 to 9:00 p.m.
Brick Oven Sliced & Whole Pizza Buy one slice of pizza and receive one slice FREE (same kind) plus $2.00 OFF Any Whole Pizza Waiting time might be a little longer than normal, our pizza is worth the wait, more information to come in The Bridgton News September 8th, 2011 issue. Friday Pizza Sales 10% Off All Pizza Sales will be donated to Project Graduation Class of 2011 by The Umbrella Factory David & Gail Allenson