The Pledge of Allegiance--Another Refuge for Scoundrels

The recent news of the Supreme Court case involving the pledge of allegiance, more specifically the "Under God" clause brings back my last memories of high school--and I regret to write that they were not pleasant ones.

I was the junior and senior class president of the 1972 class at Fox Lane High School in Bedford New York. The mind reels at how that happened since I was not the most popular guy in the school but I somehow managed to get elected twice, the first year as a write-in candidate. I was earnest in my duties and tried to conduct myself in a proper way, though I now realize I wasn't always as successful as I would have preferred. Our class did come together in an era marked by divisiveness and was indeed a special group acknowledged even by faculty members. I am glad to have played a very small part of that but the credit really goes to my classmates.

The Vietnam war was drawing to a close--within a year I would be in the last lottery of the draft--and events were already under way which would bring about the end of the Nixon Presidency. We had a fairly politically-active school with earth day celebrations, anti-war protests and the like. Of course political passions raged mightily on both sides.

Earlier, in ninth grade I made the decision to continue not to recite the pledge of allegiance. Although Vietnam was in full conflict, this was not so much of a anti-war statement as it was a separation of church and state issue. For a variety of reasons, I always felt uncomfortable with the "Under God" clause that was introduced during the Eisenhower Administration, specifically to address the Soviet Union and its "godless" communism.

I'm not certain I went around announcing my reasoning and I understand if some people might have been confused by my conduct since I was involved in the anti-war and earth day movements. But my singular objection to the pledge was about the co-mingling of government and God, not some deep seated hatred of the US. My father taught us that we could be patriotic while disagreeing with the government; it is our duty as engaged and responsible citizens. Loving your country does not require absolute fidelity.

So in September of 1971, in a rare moment of absolute clarity, maturity and decorum, I along with the vice-president of the class marched up to the principal of the school Paul Runge to discuss something of significance: the morning announcements. My obligations as class president included delivering the schools news along with the pledge of allegiance each morning. I could not in good conscience do so.

Since my lack of enthusiasm for the pledge was pretty well known, I suspect some of my classmates thought I would make a grand gesture or statement like rewriting the pledge in classic sixties political prose as one of the previous class presidents had done before he was unceremoniously ripped away from the microphone. I chose no such protest. The vice president and I agreed that she would do the morning announcements (and she did handle this responsibility magnificently I should add). I was quite proud of what I thought was very responsible behavior on our part and thought that would be the end of it.

Well, not quite.

Being class president at a small school like Fox Lane has its rewards, sort of like being the proverbial big fish in a small pond. I graduated with some academic honors (earned no doubt from one too many ceramics classes) and a few awards. One award was the Alan Adair Award, named for a well-respected teacher who, as the Irish like to say, had all the gifts but for the gift of years. I had the pleasure of studying with his widow and to this day I appreciate the fact that they chose to bestow this award upon me.

Another award came from an American Legion Post (from the Robert Crandall American Legion Post in Bedford Hills) for citizenship--I admit this was something of a surprise but I was in every sense a good citizen. I took my civic responsibilities seriously and I worked hard for my fellow students, specifically fostering an atmosphere which allowed for an alliance of the seemingly disparate groups that made up our class. I would learn later that their definition of citizenship ran contrary--and I suspect still runs contrary--to mine.

A week or two after graduation I got a phone call from the principal Runge. He had a serious problem to discuss which required my presence at a meeting at Fox Lane High School.

It seems that someone had written a letter declaring that I was a communist, which seems to me to be an odd accusation in 1972. I sloughed it off though I did spent all of five minutes trying to figure out who would make such an absurd and gutless accusation. I don't really know for sure but I had a few classmates whose parents were active in the John Birch Society including one who used to live down the street from me so I always imagined it was one of them. No matter. Typically, they had such strong character and certainly the courage of their convictions that they chose NOT to sign the letter. What is it about the integrity of the right wing lunatic fringe that compels anonymity? This was the act of a completely gutless human being.

Looking back I saw no real need to address this preposterous allegation from an anonymous source. I assumed the responsible adults involved would see it for what it was and do the right thing, for this was now 1972. After all McCarthyism had supposedly ended 16 or so years before but man was I wrong. Perhaps I should have known better since I had some first hand experience in this matter.

A small digression: my father Hugh Deane was the victim of a blacklist in the 1950s. Born into a conservative Republican family in Springfield, Mass., he was a descendent of Francis Cooke of the Mayflower and the explorers William Clark and George Rogers Clark. He was a man who loved American history and his country. He was also a summa cum laude graduate of Harvard, class of 1938.

My father was a journalist who, in a series of articles in the early 1940s, wrote that the communists were prevailing in China because they had won the countryside. He spent years in China and later moved onto to Japan where he met my mother but earned the enmity of General Douglas MacArthur by predicting that the General would go into Korea. Being prescient had its liabilities and my father was accused of being part of the group that "lost China" and having communist sympathies during the witch hunt of the 1950s. He was called before the McCarran Committee where he offered them the Fifth Amendment. He had nothing to hide but he simply would not cooperate with a group of blood thirsty jackals who stomped all over the Bill of Rights while they went about searching for communists under every bed. McCarthy and his cronies offered up the politics of fear and, as some of you may have noticed, politicians in his party have been running on it ever since.

In the 1960s my father was very much involved in the anti-Vietnam war and civil rights movements, which definitely ruffled some feathers locally. Our phone was tapped. We received many angry letters and phones calls, all shockingly anonymous. So it is quite plausible that this anonymous letter was a direct or indirect result of his political activities.

So, a couple of weeks after graduation in 1972, I wandered into a meeting at Fox Lane High School woefully ill-prepared for what was about to ensue. I assumed that reasonable people would look at this anonymous letter and see it for what it was. So I went into that meeting alone. Perhaps my father thought I could handle this but, as I've come to believe, he may have found the process far too painful a reminder of his own difficulties. I can only remember Principal Runge and a couple of representatives of the American Legion Post attending though there might have been others.

There were no pleasantries exchanged: I was immediately accused of being a communist by the Legion Post representatives--so much for due process! They showed me the letter, handwritten far too neatly to be the penmanship of a classmate. It could only have come from the hands of a parent who knew far too well what they were doing. The senior legion post member kept alternating his focus, attacking me and then berating his associate for giving the award to a "commie". He was clearly irritated and zealous.

And though I'd like to report that Principal Runge made a principled stand on my behalf, I'd be lying. He caved in completely and pathetically, joining the Greek chorus of the interrogators, grilling me about my activities. They asked me about my views of the war, my views on patriotism ad nauseum. And they kept asking me, "Is it true you don't say the pledge of allegiance?" I answered honestly. "No! But..." and they somehow found a way never to let me explain or finish a sentence.

They did not want to hear what I had to say. I've seen kinescopes of McCarthy and his bullying tactics, alternately attacking and berating his victims and thereby preventing them from waging a defense. He was a bully and so were these guys sitting across from that day. One of the legionnaires kept repeating the question again and again. I remember Runge even volunteered answers for me, confirming once again that I did indeed not say the pledge. Of course he completely neglected to share the context of our previous conversations on the matter. He was a callow human being, absolutely and completely spineless. I'm told the board of superintendents finally figured that out and later showed him the door.

Back to the meeting at Runge's office: they kept waving this letter in my face as if I had committed some horrendous crime. But they were the ones behaving badly.

History is full of grotesque examples of man turning on man. There are few things uglier in the human condition than betrayal. I've read Arthur Miller's The Crucible. I've also seen "On The Waterfront" which I believe is a veiled justification for Budd Schulberg's and Elia Kazan's "cooperation" with the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) and their naming of names. I recognize that people respond differently to life's pressures, though I admit I have little tolerance for quislings and informers. My father was more sympathetic to those who named names during the McCarthy period. He was asked to inform by the FBI and refused to do so. He understood the tremendous pressure to capitulate and therefore he only asked that they recognize what they did. That's pretty generous from a man who was deprived of earning a living for the better part of 10 years.

However at Fox Lane High School in the summer of 1972, there were no such pressures in that room. There were just a few confused, dim cowards masquerading as bullies who thought they understood the meaning of citizenship while they trampled all over it. It was my introduction to those among us who claim to be "patriots" but who are often the very first to violate those freedoms they are supposed upholding. My guess is these clowns never read the Constitution or the Bill of Rights. For them, I had the right to a political point of view as long as it coincided with theirs.

So, I was fighting a losing but honorable battle. I looked at Principal Runge and asked him if this would impact my graduation or my high school record. He shook his head. I crumpled the letter and threw it to the floor. Then I headed out the door but stopped. I turned and offered them each half the peace sign, one after another. Thirty five years later, that digit is still raised.