Any man who has served in the armed forces for ninety days can attend for a year any approved school or college, and if he was less than twenty-five years of age at induction he is entitled to these benefits for a period equal to his military service after September 16, 1940, for a maximum of four years. The Government pays all bills for tuition and fees up to $500 a year.

It is a splendid bill, a wonderful bill, with only one conspicuous drawback. The guys aren’t buying it. They say “education” means “books,” any way you slice it, and that’s for somebody else.    [“The G.I.’s Reject Education,” Stanley Frank, August 18, 1945]

He was right—partially, and only briefly.

As of February 1, 1945, only 12,844 discharged veterans throughout the country, in a total of 1,500,000, were attending schools under the G. I. Bill. Less than 1 per cent.

Frank had interviewed G.I.s at two veterans hospitals and found them anxious to get home and back to work as quickly as possible. Only 10% showed interest in further education. Most of these soon dropped out of the program.

Boiling down the figures, about 2 per cent of the amputees and neurosurgical cases—those who need it most—indicate an intention of having a go at serious, brain-building learning.

"Although painfully reminiscent of the military barracks they so recently occupied, these double-decker beds in Illinois' Old Gymnasium Annex increased by 300 the number of unmarried ex-servicement the university could accommodate. Beds of any sort are rare than gold at most schools."

We are, perhaps expecting too much of the tired, bewildered, embittered soldier, disassociated as he has been from civilian life, in asking him to plan his career. In normal times, most people have modest ambitions and are content to drift with the tide, evading responsibility if they can.

Though the college-benefit program had been in effect for a short time, some Post editor already saw the education benefit as a giant waste of taxpayer’s money.

Yet, by early the next year, there were signs of a general shift in Americans’ attitude toward education. Civilian adults, like the returning veterans, wanted to make up for the opportunities they’d lost during the war, and the Depression before it. Early in 1946, the Post reported “facilities of the country’s adult-education program are creaking under the load as [Americans] enroll by the hundreds of thousands.”

If, citizens have reasoned, a university can help practicing physicians, engineers, and so on, keep up to date, why can’t it tackle things that have ordinary folks stopped in their tracks?

A Gallup poll last spring indicated that 34 per cent of the adult population—25,000,000 folks—had the impulse to take advantage of part-time educational facilities after the war.   [“Look Who’s Going To School Now!” Harold Titus, Feb. 9, 1946]

And just one year after the Post reported G.I.’s rejected education, it ran “Crisis at the Colleges.”

"'Illiniville,' where these scarce prefabricated houses take care of 275 student veterans with their families. A total of 1200 applied."

Heads of American colleges … are confronted with a reality that has always been a democratic dream: the opportunity to raise the educational attainments of a solid chunk of a whole generation. Because of the Government subsidy to servicemen, the opportunity is here; men who could never come to college under ordinary circumstances are enrolling or knocking at the doors.

[However] the colleges do not have the facilities, the housing, the instructors, or classrooms to handle [the opportunity]. The primary, the immediate, the all-important, problem is housing.

Thousands of eligible veterans were turned away last September because the colleges had no place to quarter them; thousands more were turned away in February at the beginning of the second semester. And yet the enrollment of veterans rose immensely because the colleges did find some place, some way, to house some of them.

Here was the situation at Illinois during the second half of the school year. Total undergraduate enrollment at Urbana … was 12,780. This is more students than ever attended there before. … Total veteran undergraduate enrollment was 5509.

There were veterans living in basements, veterans in garrets, veterans in made-over garages and abandoned filling stations. There were 300 sleeping in double-decker beds in the gaunt building known as the Old Gymnasium Annex.

Gone is the campus where every prospect pleases… Cruelest blows to academic serenity are the clotheslines behind the trailers and prefabricated houses. Along with the leaves of the traditional whispering maples there are, diapers and children’s underpants blowing in the wind.

By the time the program ended in 1956, it had helped 2.2 million Americans attend college and another 6.6 million receive training.

It would be hard to over-estimate the effect on this country made by this wave of America’s college-educated G.I.s. It enabled these men to lead the changing industries of the post-war world. It also produced a higher expectation for education in the American public; a 10th-grade education became less socially acceptable in the growing middle class.

The G.I.-Bill generation passed its faith in education on to the next generation, which passed on to their children. It is still an article of faith to many Americans today despite the low employment rate of college graduates.

A Hasty Prediction For the G.I. Bill The Saturday Evening Post

J.P. Morgan - Wikipedia

The Federal Reserve is an independent central bank that derived its power in the aftermath of the Panic of 1907—a crisis caused by several factors: contraction of money supply, falling stock prices, and a failed attempt to corner the copper market. Leery of banks, depositors withdrew savings in droves. The run ignited widespread concern in banking circles and Congress. As the crisis unfolded, prominent financier J.P. Morgan intervened, using his money (and recruiting help from fellow bankers) to keep banks afloat and prevent the New York Stock Exchange from going under. Many considered Morgan a hero for saving the economy, but the perception changed as the public came to believe Wall Street bankers actually caused the panic.

Senator Nelson Aldrich - Wikipedia

In response to the outcry for banking reform, Congress created the National Monetary Commission to review bank policies and develop a sound national monetary system. Chairing the Commission was Senator Nelson W. Aldrich, who, closely aligned with bankers, had no intention of leaving them out when crafting the Federal Reserve Act—not an easy task given the public’s attitude against the concentration of wealth and power.

Frank A. Vanderlip - Wikipedia

But something had to be done. At the request of Senator Aldrich and Assistant Secretary of the Treasury A. Piatt Andrew, five of the nation’s top financiers arrived at the exclusive Jekyll Island Club on the Georgia coastline for one purpose: to devise a plan to restructure banking in America.
In “From Farm Boy to Financier,” an article in the February 9, 1935, issue of the Post, author Frank A. Vanderlip—a leading banker and former Assistant Secretary of Treasury for President William McKinley—chronicled the top-secret meeting that helped create the Aldrich Plan, which would frame the Federal Reserve Act.

A. Piatt Andrew - Wikipedia

In the Post story, Vanderlip outlines events leading up to the meeting on Jekyll Island. Aldrich had visited central banks in Europe and returned to the U.S. with no firm plan to address the crisis. Concerned about the report he was expected to present as a bill to Congress, Aldrich concocted a scheme to bring together an elite group to help draft reforms. To ensure secrecy, Aldrich invited five key leaders from banking and government—Henry Davison, A. Piatt Andrew, Benjamin Strong, Paul Warburg, and Vanderlip—to the isolated Jekyll Island Club—“without a journalist within 50 miles.”

Henry Davison - Wikipedia

Vanderlip recounted how the men arrived “… one at a time and as unobtrusively as possible to the railroad terminal on the New Jersey littoral of the Hudson, where Senator Aldrich’s private car would be in readiness, attached to the rear end of a train for the South.” So great was the need for secrecy that last names were taboo—even among the five men. The train crew was kept unaware of the identities of the car’s prominent passengers to prevent any leaks to the press.

“We were taken by boat from the mainland to Jekyll Island and for a week or ten days were completely secluded, without any contact by telephone or telegraph with the outside. Even the servants had no idea who the men were. We had disappeared from the world onto a deserted island…. We worked morning, noon and night…. We stuck to our plan of putting down on paper what we agreed upon.”

Vanderslip acted as secretary. In the Post, he describes in minute detail the plan beginning to take shape. At issue was the fact that the country hadn’t had a central bank for 75 years and a belief that the lack of central authority was responsible for the current financial crisis. But establishing a new national bank was perceived as a dangerous recipe for excessive power and corruption: “If it was to be a central bank, how was it to be owned—by the banks, by the Government, or jointly? Should it restrict its services to banks? What open-market operations should be engaged in? … at the end of our week, we had whipped into shape a bill that we felt, pridefully, should be presented to Congress …. We returned to the North as secretly as we had gone South. Senator Aldrich would present the bill we had drafted to the Senate. It became known to the Country as the Aldrich Plan.”

Benjamin Strong - Wikipedia

Unfortunately when Congress was slated to meet, Aldrich was “too ill to write an appropriate document to accompany his plan.” Strong and Vanderlip went to Washington and prepared that report. However, at the time, both political parties opposed the idea of a central bank as did a distrustful public, so the bill was defeated. But as Vanderlip wrote, the Jekyll Island group’s plan greatly influenced the final Act eventually adopted by Congress: “Although the Aldrich Federal Reserve plan was defeated … Aldrich undoubtedly laid the essential, fundamental lines which finally took the form of the Federal Reserve Law.”

To read Frederick E. Allen’s article on banking, go here.

Jekyll Island and the Secret Behind the Fed The Saturday Evening Post

Speeding Oldsters by Wm. Meade Prince

Speeding Oldsters
Wm. Meade Prince
July 18, 1925
© SEPS.

“Henry! I TOLD you we were going too fast!” Who knew there were motorcycle cops in 1925? Well, there’s one in this rear-view mirror. The Country Gentleman magazine was a sister publication to The Saturday Evening Post. On this cover, Henry is clearly having the time of his life, tooling along at thirty miles per hour. Fun’s over, buddy.

Elderly Couple in Automobile by Robert Robinson

Elderly Couple in Automobile
Robert Robinson
January 11, 1913
© SEPS.

What is with the oldsters these days? At least the men. We’ve shown you some delightful old codgers by artist Robert Robinson in the past, and this one has a lead foot. And he’s scaring the wits out of the Mrs. She has a restraining hand on his arm, but seems too scared to say anything. But just wait and see if the old fool gets his supper tonight.

Exhilaration by Norman Rockwell

Exhilaration
Norman Rockwell
July 13, 1935
© SEPS.

Who’s enjoying the speeding now? Rockwell turns the tables and shows a young lady who is thrilled at the wild rumble seat ride. The dog, too, seems to enjoy the wind in his ears. The poor guy, however, is just trying to hang on to his hat. If you slow down enough to read the cover notes, you’ll see that the Post boasted some pretty impressive writers, too.

Excuse My Dust by Norman Rockwell

Excuse My Dust
Norman Rockwell
July 31, 1920
© SEPS.

This family is pretty impressed that their Ford is outrunning the fancy-schmancy, more expensive car. The models were the Campion family from New Rochelle, where Norman Rockwell lived. Rockwell often used friends and neighbors for his paintings. Dave Campion ran a news store. We would have loved to see the customer’s faces when they purchased their copy of the Post with Mr. Campion speeding by on the cover! We’ll see him again.

World’s Fair or Bust by John E. Sheridan

World's Fair or Bust
John E. Sheridan
April 22, 1939
© SEPS.

Love this colorful cover. Apparently there was something going on in New York in 1939, and the men in the yellow car are in a hurry to get there – “World’s Fair or Bust”. The lady in the other car evidently didn’t “bust,” we’re happy to report, and is returning from the fair. Let’s hope the speeding guys don’t get bust–ed. Okay, that’s a reach, but I couldn’t help but notice that the long arm of the law awaits (below).

Welcome to Elmville by Norman Rockwell

Welcome to Elmville
Norman Rockwell
April 20, 1929
© SEPS.

Meet the long arm of the law. Look familiar? The squinty eyes threw me off, but it’s our old buddy Dave Campion, taking time off from his newsstand once again to pose for Rockwell (see Excuse My Dust above). The idea for the painting came from a real-life incident. Rockwell was traveling through Amenia, New York “back in the days when towns paid their taxes with speeders’ fines, and the Amenia cop really nailed me—right along the welcome sign!” So as you bemoan your speeding ticket, dear reader, remember that you are in good company.

Classic Covers: The Art of Speeding The Saturday Evening Post

We’ve all been there—out in some unfamiliar town or place and suddenly in need of a restroom. And if you gotta go, you gotta GO.

This was the situation for Mrs. Elliott when she was shopping at a Dollar General store in Chattanooga, Tennessee. When nature called, a store employee directed her to the restroom—in the back storage area of an old, rundown building.

The latrine was unlit (probably a good thing under the circumstances), but she noticed an electric light cord hanging down from the ceiling. She couldn’t reach it, so she stepped up on the toilet to pull the cord. That’s when the toilet lid slipped to one side, causing her right foot to plunge into the toilet while her other foot and the rest of her body fell backward onto the floor, resulting in serious injury.

Mrs. Elliott sued Dollar General, claiming the defective seat and lid caused her fall. The store blamed the accident on Mrs. Elliott’s heavy load, not the commode, explaining that the toilet seat was designed to “conform generally to the contours of the human posterior” and in the ordinary course of business, “when the commode seat is in use by a member of the feminine gender that the usual method of approach to it is to draw near, to then turn to face away from it, and to assume a sitting position with a portion of the user’s weight on the user’s feet.”

Dollar General even brought in an expert witness with a mathematical formula to measure what percentage of the user’s weight rested on the posterior as compared to the feet. (There was no calculation for hovering posteriors.)

Mrs. Elliott’s attorney argued that it was common for people to stand on toilets, using personal experience as his No. 1 example. “I weigh 185 pounds, and instead of going to the basement to get a step ladder, I let down the commode seat and the commode lid and step upon it and unscrew the light shade with a screwdriver. I know of my own knowledge that it has never broken or even cracked.”

Mrs. Elliott pleaded the store was negligent in its duty to provide a safe commode, and Dollar General claimed it was Mrs. Elliott’s duty and responsibility to use the toilet properly.

Whose duty was it?

Decision:

The court found in favor of Dollar General, holding that Mrs. Elliott did not exercise ordinary care for her own safety, and any resulting injury was due to her own negligence.

Nothing in the record shows that the toilet seat or commode was unsafe to sit on or use in the conventional manner, so the court concluded that Mrs. Elliott was putting the toilet to a use that the defendants could not foresee when she took her fateful plunge.

Supreme Court of Tennessee, 1971

Where Do You Think You Are? The Saturday Evening Post

The feverish excitement isn’t just the product of a sudden, national fascination with Constitutional law. New judges are news because they become a profound, lifelong influence on America’s legal landscape. They’re news because they are political — whether or not that is their intention.

This was not the original idea. Thomas Jefferson and John Adams had both hoped that every branch of the government would operate without the maneuvering and deal-making of political factions. It was clear by the 1800s that this was unrealistic in Congress and the White House.

The Supreme Court avoided politics a little longer — probably because it was so insignificant. It had no budget, no building, and no significant work until Chief Justice John Marshall wrote his Marbury v Madison decision. The Court, Marshall said, was the foremost interpreter of the Constitution. If it thought a law was unconstitutional, it could overturn it, despite the vote of the House and Senate and the President’s signature.

This was unexpected political power, and Presidents quickly realized how they could use it to their advantage. By appointing a judge with similar opinions, the President could ensure his policies were pursued in the high court for the lifetime of the judge.

The nomination process has basically expanded the playing field for Washington’s endless political wrestling match. In many cases, appointing a Supreme Court justice is the continuation of politics by other means.

Like all political wisdom, though, this is at least 20% wrong. Throughout history, Presidents have chosen fair-minded, independent judges who offered wisdom, insight, and a keen insight into the Constitution. But they have also nominated judges who were political ciphers and ideological sock puppets.

Sometimes, though, Supreme Court justices can move off in an unexpected direction. Justice Felix Frankfurter, appointed by liberal President Roosevelt, became the court’s most prominent conservative voice. President Eisenhower appointed Earl Warren as Chief Justice in 1953, confident that Warren would exert a steady, conservative influence on the Court. Instead, Warren moved to the left, siding mostly with liberal opinion, and causing Eisenhower to refer to Warren’s nomination as “the biggest damned-fool mistake I ever made.”

Sometimes judges act like politicians, and sometimes they act like fair-minded, objective jurists. The uncertainty makes politically focused Americans extremely anxious.

For example Merlo J. Pusey, in a 1963 Post article, saw signs of domestic turmoil gathering like thunderheads over the court. The reasons — for him, at least — were clear.

“During its last session the court handed down two of the most bitterly controversial opinions in its long history — one against a prayer in the public schools and the other for reapportionment of gerrymandered legislatures. Both these cases are new landmarks in the law. Yet, like others before them, they represent no more than battles in the long war within the court itself—the war between the ‘activists’ and the ‘traditionalists.’

“This struggle has already deeply affected the political climate of the United Slates and the rights that all men and women cherish.”

Interestingly, the author thought the reapportionment decision would have a greater impact on the country. The “school prayer” decision, though, would remain a politically hot issue for decades.

“The case was brought by Steven I. Engel and other parents of children [who] objected to a nondenominational prayer recommended for use in the schools by the State Board of Regents, the highest educational authority in New York, and officially adopted by the local board. The prayer consisted of only 22 words drawn largely from state constitutions:

“‘Almighty God, we acknowledge our dependence upon Thee, and we beg Thy blessings upon us, our parents, our teachers and our country.’

“The prayer was repeated at the beginning of each school day, along with the Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag. Those who did not wish to participate could remain silent or be excused from the room or come late in order to miss the prayer. All the judges agreed that there was no compulsion on any pupil to join in the prayer, but that did not save it in the eyes of the court.”

The court had shown its power in the 1950s, particularly in Brown v Board of Education, which struck down the practice of operating racially divided schools that were “separate but equal.” Now, it seemed, the Court was expelling God from school.

But real trouble was ahead, according to Pusey. Justice Frankfurter had retired and the court was now dominated by “activists” and “free-speech absolutists.” Pusey dreaded the prospect of the First Amendment running rampant through the streets.

“If the absolutist doctrine in its more extreme forms should be established as the law of the land, the consequences would be almost revolutionary.”

The statement is far less scary once you see all the qualifiers: if there is a concept of absolutist doctrine, if it might exist in “its most extreme forms,” and if it is made the law of the land, the results would be revolutionary, almost.

“It would mean, for example, that the Government could no longer enforce the Smith Act, under which numerous Communists have been convicted of teaching and advocating the overthrow of government by force and violence.

“It would also sharply curtail the investigative powers of Congress. If the doctrine were literally applied in its extreme forms, the general maintenance of public order would be severely handicapped because irresponsible people would presumably be free to indulge in perjury, obscenity, misrepresentation, false advertising and even solicitation of crime and subversion.”

It’s reporting like this that make the nominating process such a spectacle. Any and every fear can be entertained.

Overall, the article is suprisingly thoughtful and balanced. Pusey gives a thoughtful assessment of Hugo Black, but he keeps returning to his theoretical revolution, which was as fearful as it was imaginative.

If the court of 2010 is in the same awful straits as Pusey saw in 1963, we would all spend our worrying resources on another, more realistic problem.

The Inevitable Politics of the High Court The Saturday Evening Post