Blue Highways: Westerly, Rhode Island

Unfolding the Map

Westerly, Rhode Island, brings us to questions of bravery and cowardice.  William Least Heat-Moon (LHM) relates a humorous story of a general in a forgotten American rebellion, but we'll explore the theme a little as he prepares to drive into Connecticut.  To locate Westerly (hint: it's in the west of Rhode Island), click here for the map.

Book Quote

"I started down the coast.  If 'down' means southward, and you think of the Atlantic seaboard strking a longitudinal line, you'll be disoriented in Rhode Island and Connecticut as you follow the ocean.  The coastine runs almost due east and west.  Hence the name Westerly, Rhode Island, a town just off the Atlantic and west of everything in the state.

"It was here, so I read, during the Dorr Rebellion in 1842, that General John B. Stedman was charged with maintaining martial law in the town.  At one point, when he thought an attack imminent, he told his troops, 'Boys, when you see the enemy, fire and then run.  And as I am a little lame, I'll run now.'"

Blue Highways: Part 9, Chapter 6

Downtown Westerly, Rhode Island. Photo by Daniel Case and hosted at Wikipedia. Click on photo to go to host page.

Westerly, Rhode Island

I was going to write a little, based on this quote, about how some place names show the history of US westward expansion.  After all, at one point in our history, it is probable that Westerly, Rhode Island, was not only the westernmost point in that state but also the beginning of the frontier.  At one point, perhaps in the westernmost point of Westerly, the owner of the most westerly house in that city could step out their front door, look west and believe if not truly be the edge of European settlement in North America.  But I believe that I've already made comments to that effect in these posts.

No, today I'm going to get something off my chest.  The second part of this post has to do with bravery and cowardice.  That's where I'm going to go today, even if it embarrasses me.

A little framework is needed for LHM's quote.  He mentions the Dorr Rebellion but does not give any context about it.  I know that all you ever really wanted to do was learn about this little known event in Rhode Island and US history, so I'll enlighten you.  Dorr's Rebellion happened in the 1840s in Rhode Island, and it was about voting rights.  I often teach my political science students that only a small part of the electorate was enfranchised in the early years of the United States. Most states only allowed white male property owners the right to vote.  Blacks, Native Americans, poor whites and women were not allowed to participate in the most fundamental right of our democracy.  In Rhode Island, a white man had to own at least $134 worth of property to qualify to vote in elections.  It was the only state by that time to not allow all white men to vote, so by the early 1840s, only 40 percent of white men could participate in the vote.

Thomas Wilson Dorr started an insurrection whose aim was to change the state constitution to allow a greater number of people to vote.  He initially supported the inclusion of black men, but then reneged on that promise.  As a result, black men fought against his rebellion.  The rebellion was unsuccessful in many ways, and Thomas Wilson Dorr was tried for treason and insurrection, found guilty and sentenced to life.  He did succeed in many ways too.  He only served two years in prison, and in 1849 the right to vote in Rhode Island was expanded to all white men.  However, the ordeal broke his health and he died in 1854.

I want to reflect a moment on the part of the quote that LHM finds a little funny, where General Stedman exhorts his troops even as he prepares to flee.  It reminds me of the old joke where the general is getting dressed, and his aide comes in and says that the enemy is mustering.  Get me my white shirt, the general orders, so that my troops will see me on the field and be rallied by my presence.  Then another aide comes in, and says that the enemy has attacked.  Get me my red shirt, orders the general, so that if I'm hit the troops will not see any blood and be inspired by my strength.  A third aide comes in, and gives the news that the line has broken, and that the enemy is fast closing in on the general's position.  Get me my brown pants, the general orders.

Most of us may not have ever faced a situation where we have been in mortal danger from other people.  For those few that have, there is often a split-second decision that has to be made, and the results of that decision could indicate bravery or cowardice depending on what is seen.  Recently, just following the Aurora, Colorado theater shootings, I read a story of one of the survivors.  He and his girlfriend and their small son were at the theater.  When the shooting began, the father jumped over the balcony, leaving behind his small son and girlfriend.  His girlfriend was eventually shot in the leg before the shooter left the scene.  As I read that account, I questioned the father's action.  It appeared from all intents and purposes that he ran instead of defending his family.  I had by that time read of some accounts of heroism.  I had read of another man throwing himself in front of his girlfriend, taking bullets that would have hit her, and who died.  So it was easy for me to condemn the man who ran at first.

But how many of us would have the presence of mind, when the shooting starts, to say "today's my chance to be a hero?"  I ask because I faced situation once, and in my mind at the time my actions were correct, yet in the end I've always felt that I failed.

I was living in Milwaukee in my first year of volunteer service with a group of other volunteers.  We lived in the inner-city, and for a number of months our house had been broken into regularly.  Police finally caught some kids, and my roommate was called to testify in court that he nor any of us had ever granted permission for those individuals to come into our house.

One chilly October evening, a small group of us decided to walk from our house to a bowling alley a few blocks away.  After we had gone a couple of blocks, a car screeched to a stop in front of us and a group of young adult men got out of the car.  One walked right up to my roommate, said "you've been picking on my brother," and hit him across the face.  A melee ensued, as more of our group were attacked.  In the end, my roommate was beaten badly around his face and head, my other roommate suffered a wound to her head which was consistent with a blunt object, another friend was also hit and hurt, and all of us were traumatized.

My initial reaction at this attack was to seek help.  I ran down the street looking for someone.  Around the corner, I knocked on the door where I saw a light.  A woman pulled me in and told me to keep out of sight and they called the police.

Since that time, I have always berated myself because I felt that I abandoned my friends.  Could I have changed the situation by being there?  Maybe or maybe not.  But over time, I've felt more and more like a coward.  Since then, I've always had fantasies of being the guy who knocks the gun out of the potential shooter's hand, or the guy who beats the bully down.  I've never been judged by my friends for my actions that night, at least to my knowledge, and all of my regret is self-imposed.  I know that these fantasies are only my mind hoping to get another chance at redemption.  Yet, in the face of danger, I still live with the fact that I ran at that particular time. 

So, on one level I see the humor in General Stedman's position.  On another level, I've been in his situation, a situation of danger, and I didn't necessarily like the aspect of my nature that came out.  It gives me a little more understanding and compassion for the guy who ran in the theater, even as I still recriminate myself.

Musical Interlude

The tale of "brave" Sir Robin from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

If you want to know more about Westerly

Genealogy Trails: Westerly
Greater Westerly-Pawcatuck Area Chamber of Commerce
Town of Westerly
Visit Westerly
The Westerly Sun (newspaper)
Wikipedia: Westerly

Next up: Pawcatuck, Connecticut

Blue Highways: Wallula, Washington

Unfolding the Map

Wallula, in William Least Heat-Moon's (LHM) estimation, is a town that once had potential but is now a has-been.  I'll look at the concept of being washed-up and of being "a contender" in the context of life.  To see where Wallula sits either living or languishing, depending on your perspective, take a look at the map!

Book Quote

"Old Wallula was one of those river settlements you can find all over the country that appeared destined to become key cities because of geographical position.  Sitting at the confluence of the Walla Walla with the Columbia and just a few miles downstream from where the Snake and Yakima meet the big river, old Wallula was a true joining of waters (the name may be a Nez Perce word meaning 'abundant water'), although if you lift your gaze from the rivers you see desert.  Astride the Idaho gold rush trail, Wallula began well: riverboats, stagelines, railroads, two highways.  But money and history came through, paused, and went on."

Blue Highways: Part 6, Chapter 10

The Columbia River passes through the Wallula Gap as seen from Fort Nez Perce near Wallula, Washington. Photo by Glenn Scofield Williams and hosted by Wikimedia Commons. Click on photo to go to host page.

Wallula, Washington

"I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let's face it."

Terry in On the Waterfront

Remember that line?  It's Marlon Brando's character Terry bemoaning his fate as a washed up fighter who took too many dives and never got his shot at fame.  Many of us have had the feeling at least once in our lives.  What might I have been?  To what heights might I have risen?  If I'd only gotten that chance I deserved!

Look at me, for example.  I have had lots of dreams in my life.  Some of them, dreams I had when I was really young, were unrealistic and were rightfully discouraged, destroyed or set aside.  I had the usual childhood dreams of being a football player or an astronaut.  Of course being a somewhat wimpy kid with glasses, asthma, a huge overbite, and a lack of coordination made those dreams a little difficult to achieve.  Later, as I grew into my body and some of the other issues were addressed, my dreams became a little more realistic, but only marginally.  In high school, my fascination with space led me to want to be an astronomer.  But sometime, a guidance counselor set me straight as to the career prospects of astronomers so my fascination just stayed a fascination, but nothing else.

My first real "I coulda been a contender" regret could be traced back to college.  I entered my freshman year as a computer science major.  My whole first year I took classes that taught me how to write code in Pascal, the popular programming language that was used to teach students about computer programming at the time.  My chosen major and I didn't get along.  I had a 1.8 GPA as I entered my sophomore year, and one last class in programming killed off any illusions I had about being a computer scientist.  That was too bad, since now in my late 40s I have found that when I put my mind to it, I can write programs that work.  The map that accompanies this blog, for example, is a direct result of my being able to understand basic code.  I inspiration from javascript examples I found on the internet, but by cobbling those pieces of code together and through trial and error of seeing what works and what doesn't, I made a passable Google map that I could use to portray Littourati journeys.  Still, every so often I have that what-if moment.  What if I had stayed with computer science?  Would I have been a Bill Gates or a Sergey Brin?  I'll never know, but I still wonder...

There are other things that I regret.  Don't tell my wife but I've sometimes wished that I had been more adept at dancing when I was younger.  I tell my young male friends now, and they never listen to me, that if they want to have more options for dating they have to learn how to dance.  Most women I know love to dance.  Most men I know do not.  Yet, what's the harm in learning something new and opening up opportunities to meet people?  Had I known how to ballroom dance, or swing, or salsa when I was a young man looking for fun and companionship, I would have had a hell of a lot more dates and probably a better time.  I would have been a contender, despite my awkwardness, with the ladies.  Besides, I've discovered that dancing is fun!

I regret sometimes also that I am not working in my chosen field of teaching political science.  I love teaching.  I love being able to connect with people and introducing them to concepts and to new ways of thinking that they may have not or been unable to consider before.  I love getting people excited about something.  I live for opening someone up to new concepts.  And I must say that I get to teach - I'm teaching an online class and a face-to-face class this spring.  But I still find myself regretting sometimes that I'm not in a political science department somewhere teaching full-time.

But that's the irony about regrets.  The only reason we have regrets is usually because we aren't happy today and we look back on the "missed opportunities" as unexploited gateways to a better life that passed us by.  In reality, unless our lives are completely horrible, we usually follow the paths we tread and we find the good, the joyful and the wonderful in them.  We may have the occasional regret when we are under stress or something has gone wrong and it's only then that we think that we "coulda been a contender" with some other life.  In fact, in getting where we are now, where I can write a post on being a contender and you can sit and read it, then we were contenders and we contended well!  We got our shot at a title and we made the most of it.  We could have taken shots at other titles, but we didn't.  Who knows what might have happened had we taken another path and fought another fight?  Instead of standing, we might have been on the mat.

I watched a Twilight Zone episode recently, notable for the starring role of African-Americans in this episode, about another washed up fighter who, through the powerful wish of a little boy, gets a chance to be the fighter he always wanted, instead of the has-been he is.  On the mat after being knocked out, suddenly he finds himself declared the winner.  The young boy tells him the fighter that he wished really hard for him to win.  However, the fighter can't believe that the wish is actually responsible for turning his fate around, and refuses to believe.  At the end of the episode, he is back on the mat and has lost the fight.

Which brings me back to LHM's quote.  He presents Wallula as such a place.  It could have been a contender because it had things going for it.  It had geography and gold rush money and all of the trappings such as steamboats and trains and highways.  It had money coming in.  But, for some reason Wallula didn't become a major place; it became an out-of-the-way town in the eastern end of a largely rural state.  Is that bad?  No.  It just is.  Perhaps some who live in Wallula wish for bigger and better things, but probably many who live there like it just the way it is right now.  Sure, it coulda been a contender, and coulda been something different.  Maybe Wallula didn't believe enough in itself and got passed by.  But maybe that's all just as well.  Maybe Wallula is just what it is supposed to be.

Musical Interlude

The first song that came to my mind with the theme of this post is the wonderfully melancholic Billy Strayhorn classic, Lush Life.  I am going to list the lyrics after the video because they are so amazing - Strayhorn wrote the bulk of this sophisticated song when he was only 16.  One wonders what he had experienced to be able to write such a song at such a young age.  To me, it speaks of loneliness, and of people washed up bedraggled on the shores of life and not willing to jump back into the currents and swim.  It's easier to be caught up in a backwater and "rot with the rest," as the song so poignantly states.  This version is by the incomparable Nat King Cole .  Though the photo says that it is from his 1958 album The Very Thought of You, the song was not on that album, so either this version is from 1952's Harvest of Hits or 1961's retrospective The Nat King Cole Story.

Lush Life
by Billy Strayhorn

I used to visit all the very gay places
Those come-what-may places
Where one relaxes on the axis of the wheel of life
To get the feel of life
From jazz and cocktails

The girls I knew had sad and sullen gray faces
With distant gay traces
That used to be there, you could see where they'd been washed away
By too many through the day...
Twelve o'clock-tails

Then you came along with your siren song
To tempt me to madness
I thought for awhile that your poignant smile was tinged with the sadness
of a great love for me

Ah yes, I was wrong
Again, I was wrong

Life is lonely again
And only last year everything seemed so sure
Now life is awful again
A troughful of hearts could only be a bore
A week in Paris will ease the bite of it
All I care is to smile in spite of it

I'll forget you, I will
While yet you are still burning inside my brain
Romance is mush
Stifling those who strive
I'll live a lush life in some small dive
And there I'll be, while I rot with the rest
Of those whose lives are lonely, too

If you want to know more about Wallula

The Columbia River: Wallula
The Columbia River: Wallula Gap
ENotes: Wallula
Oregon History Project: Fort Nez Perce
Wikipedia: Fort Nez Percés
Wikipedia: Wallula
Wikipedia: Wallula Gap

Next up: Walla Walla, Washington