The Sirocco Speaks, August 21, 1995

by Holly Ennist

Hello, and welcome to my first column on the Internet. A sirocco is a dry, oppressive desert wind that blows from the East across the Mediterranean. It is likely to sweep up everything in its path and send it into a swirling cloud. I want my words to have that kind of power. If I can stir up a little dirt, it will take longer to settle. So here's to keeping the dust moving all around us before we become "ashes to ashes" ourselves.

Shame On Us!

Scandal isn't what it used to be. It used to ruin lives, wreck careers and usually sent its subjects (or victims) into permanent, irreversible infamy. Remember stories from the past about fallen heroes? Silent film star Fatty Arbuckle was convicted of rape and was never seen on the screen again. I don't even know what he looked like, that's how repressed his career was. Then there were the members of the "Chicago Black Sox" baseball team who supposedly threw away the 1919 World Series to the Reds for a cash payoff. You are probably familiar with that story, especially if you grew up playing and loving baseball as America's pastime.

If you don't believe in the spiritual value behind these historical anecdotes of woe, rent Field Of Dreams on video and contemplate things like second chances. They're a modern invention. We'll never know the truth behind Fatty's rape charge or baseball's first fall from grace, but it didn't matter then anyway. The mere thought that a famous actor would take liberties with a woman or that baseball players would sacrifice their honor and their passion just for the comfort of mucho denaro was enough the drive these once famous folk into relative obscurity. Actors and professional athletes weren't millionaires in those days; they barely had legal rights (until they formed unions), and only the biggest stars had contracts. So basically, those implicated in these scandals lost their jobs, and some even died in various states of disgrace, from alcoholism to vagrancy and illness.

More than any other country's inhabitants, Americans have always had sharp opinions about events in the lives of their public figures. From Washington's chopping of the cherry tree to the O.J. murder trial, the misadventures of American heroes have held our attention through the centuries, inspiring folklore and influencing our national mood. How the media portray these events is a two headed beast that both reflects what we feel and affects how we feel. Considering how much our technology has grown in the last century, especially in communications, it's no wonder that our morals and ideals have been shaped by what we see on the nightly news.

We've come a long way from our puritan past. Where it was once uncouth to speak aloud of pregnant unmarried women and men who sold their souls for money, we can now view open discussions about such subjects on our televisions every morning, afternoon and evening. Talk show are big business, and they're getting bigger. Next season, new shows will be hosted by George Hamilton and ex-wife Alana Stewart, and Partridge Family graduate Danny Bonaduce, who openly admits he once had a drug problem. So now we will have more talk shows gathering together more people with shameful secrets and dark pasts who just can't wait to share them with an entire nation. What the hell kind of mentality created this monster?

I hate to break it to you, especially if you abhor the talk shows like I do, but the monster is us. We forgave Washington Mayor Marion Barry for doing coke with a prostitute. We forgave Joey Buttafuoco (and, to a lesser degree, Amy Fisher). We pitied John Bobbitt and forgave his long-suffering wife Lorena, and bets are already being place on whether or not Mike Tyson can win his first boxing match after a few years of incarceration. Pete Rose betting on baseball was no big deal -- I think he'll be allowed into the Hall of Fame before he steals that last great base to the sky. If these other clowns are to be forgiven, the Rose deserves a second chance, too.

Fifty years ago, none of these people would have enjoyed their current notoriety. In those days, the only people who sought fame through infamy were Bonnie and Clyde types, or certified nut cases. Today it seems that anyone who needs a career boost can do something stupid or illegal to attract a little attention. Any first year psychology student will tell you that a negative impression will make more impact than indifference. I'm sure Roseanne Barr-Arnold-Whatever had her career in mind when she told the world that she had repressed memories of being molested as a child. Who knows? Maybe Dee Dee Myers was drunk driving on purpose when she was arrested in June, subscribing to the Ted Kennedy school of political gain. And maybe Hugh Grant's little stunt with a hooker in L.A. a few weeks ago was just an attempt to help his new movie, 9 Months, get "a head" at the box office. Sorry -- bad pun. It was so obvious, I couldn't help it.

I'm not saying that everyone who does something illegal will gain fame for their bad deeds. But numbers don't lie. Grant's movie is doing quite well for a summer comedy. Did you see how fast he was invited to do the late night talk show circuit? Marion Barry was reelected as Mayor. Roseanne's show is still a hit. What the hell is this madness, and how do we make it stop?

It won't stop unless people refuse to take part in the insanity of rewarding immorality and wrongdoing. Whenever I find myself watching Montel or Oprah, I get this queasy feeling in my stomach, like I'm watching my neighbors in an intimate act. But I suppose that's the thrill of it, and that's why the talk shows are so damn popular. So next time somebody famous does something stupid and gets caught, watch for the smirking smile around the edges of his or her mouth. If you look real closely, you can probably watch him or her counting return profits on a scam carefully carried out.

holly@yourtown.com