z-11.184

sam Brenner

 

Samuel Brenner snapped the Chronicle shut, rubbed his hands together in glee. It was 1877 and the die for the rest of the century was cast. The agreement between the Dems and Republicans to elect Rutherford Hayes marked the groundrules: No matter which party won, the national politics would be controlled behind the scenes by the same interests, with no further significant changes.

            Sam gloated. “We got the blackies in their place, the gov’t aint tolerating any more white strikers, the powers the be are in firm control. We got the most expansive economic growth in the history of mankind—and SF is generatin moren its share of biz.”

            He rested his chin on his knuckles and frowned./ He signed, settled back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. “Now about that loose end in the northeast corner…” He clenched his fist and looked hard at ----------. “At any rate, this type of field action has a short shelf life.”

            “What do you mean by that, Sam?”

            “Why, control, man, control. Modern times require more than force of militia and brutish laws. We got a dangerous population concentrated in cities and factories—well, not in the West we don’t, not yet. But back East? Think of it: all those millions of succubus Catholics, grubbin Jews and Eastern Orthodox bizarros jammed cheek-by-jowl in respective pogroms, all itchin to break out of lives of hardship. We gotta teach ‘em that everything’s hunky-dory as it is now.”

            “Hunky-dory?” Snortie didn’t always get Sam’s Indiana slang.

“Sure, that’s where our schools, churches, the Chronicle and even pulp fiction come in. The mechanical routine of the classroom, the ritual force of the pulpit, the compellin legal power of the State, slowly transformin the uncarved block. Changin the child from a little savage to a creature with respect for law and order. Moldin him to take his place in a civilized society. Showin the little bugger that to be rich is a sign of superiority, that being poor is a personal failure. That obedience to authority is the way to get ahead. That!” he slammed the desk top, “that is how it’ll be done in the future!

 

 

            “Sure, that’s where our schools, churches, and the Chronicle and pulp fiction come in. Showin that to be rich is a sign of superiority, that being poor is a personal failure. That obedience to authority is the way to get ahead. That!” he slammed the desk top, “that is how it’ll be done in the future!

            “Why, just look at our schools. The mechanical routine of the classroom, the compelling educating forces/power of the State, slowly transformin the uncarved block. Changin the child from a little savage to a creature with respect for law and order. Moldin him to take his place in a civilized society.”