A Bold Fresh Piece of Humanity by Bill O'Reilly
I found that analysis interesting and generally on the mark. Although I have to say there were some very sincere antiwar people who did not despise their country and truly wanted peace for all. The “power to the people” crowd, however, generally overwhelmed those voices.
The rest of the semester played out peacefully enough, and in May I graduated with honors but, still, with little interest in politics. I followed the subsequent Vietnam peace talks, read the paper, and watched a little TV news. But for me, sports and friends still dominated my life.
As the war was winding down, I was looking ahead. Luckily, I got a job as a high school teacher in a poor suburb of Miami, Florida, and dialed into building a worthwhile life for myself in a country that allowed me to do so. Some of my college friends continued chasing Grace Slick’s “White Rabbit,” but not me. I wanted to do something good, and teaching seemed to be the pathway.
Politics, however, still hovered over my head a bit. As a history major, I was assigned to teach a course called Contemporary Problems, which would involve analysis of current events. In choosing the course readings, I decided to introduce both sides of the arguments and encourage students to think independently, not parrot the views of their peers or parents.
The class worked, and quickly became one of the most popular at Monsignor Edward Pace High School. Far from the left-wing indoctrination that dominated college campuses, my course examined the obvious problems in America, but always with a respectful overview that acknowledged the historical greatness of the country.
To this day, I have not deviated from that approach and believe it is a key to my success. Independent thinking leads to problem solving, fairness, compassion, and wisdom. Putting that discipline into practice helps me decide exactly where I stand on many subjects. Rejecting the so-called popular wisdom leads me to research my opinions and accumulate facts to back them up.
In contrast, Kool-Aid–drinking ideology, whether left or right, usually leads to narrow-mindedness, robotic acceptance of propaganda, and, eventually, embarrassment when the party line collapses, as it inevitably will in some cases. No ideology is correct on every issue.
So I’m real comfortable in the zone of independence. There, my traditional beliefs are accepted, and I serve no political master. I may be bold and fresh with this attitude, but I’m also free to see both sides of complicated situations and embrace solutions wherever I can find them.
It’s a nice place to be.
SELF-RELIANCE
You’ve been told, so maybe it’s time that you learned.
—ERIC CLAPTON, “I CAN’T STAND IT”
One of the worst sights ever seen in America was the mass panic in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina hit in 2005. You remember the scenes: thousands of people jumbled together in the dark, odoriferous Superdome without adequate food, water, or restroom facilities…families pleading for help from rooftops as muddy floodwaters rose, threatening their lives. Then, as the days dragged on, hundreds of exhausted survivors waiting under a scorching sun to be evacuated from highway overpasses.
This was America? All over the world folks were shocked when those awful scenes were broadcast on television. We expect to see these kinds of scenarios in Third World countries, but not from the richest, most technologically advanced nation on the planet. How could that happen in the land of plenty? Where was the swift, efficient assistance that many Americans expected?
Almost immediately after Katrina hit, the ideologues sprang into action. It was racial, the skin-color hustlers wailed. Most of those stranded were black and poor. America and George Bush don’t care about them. Rapper Kanye West actually said that at a public appearance. Later, comedian Chris Rock told a political fund-raiser audience that Bush couldn’t get to the California fires fast enough because “white people were burning,” but the President had no time for the poor blacks in New Orleans. Rock then said Bush used “Katrina water” to douse the California flames.
Not to be outdone by a rapper and a comedian, left-wing loons in the media like New York Times columnist Paul Krugman blamed most of the Katrina misery on Mr. Bush. Over the years, the prevailing wisdom from the Times’s crew has been that Bush loathes the poor and wants to see them suffer. Thus, Bush stood by willfully as the New Orleans disaster unfolded. Here’s part of what Krugman wrote:
The federal government’s lethal ineptitude wasn’t just a consequence of Mr. Bush’s personal inadequacy; it was a consequence of ideological hostility to the very idea of using government to serve the public good.
But the hysteria party was just getting started. Film director Spike Lee then offered an opinion that the levees in New Orleans might have been intentionally sabotaged to harm poor people of color.
Amid all this insanity, my take on the Katrina aftermath was pithy and blunt. Certainly some innocent poor people received cruel blows, and every American should have been sympathetic to their plight. And many of us were, as billions of charitable dollars flowed into the hurricane zone. But there was another huge factor in play as well.
A few days after the storm hit, I said this on television:
There is no question the Bush administration was slow in getting relief to the hurricane zone. That’s legitimate criticism…(but) the truth is this: Governor Blanco of Louisiana did not have a disaster plan in place, did not have enough state police and National Guard to secure a city the size of New Orleans, and did not push for federal help soon enough.
New Orleans is not about race; it’s about class. If you’re poor, you’re powerless, not only in America but also everywhere on earth. If you don’t have enough money to protect yourself from danger, danger is going to find you. And all the political gibberish in the world is not going to change that.
The aftermath of Hurricane Katrina should be taught in every American school. If you don’t get educated, if you don’t develop a skill and force yourself to work hard, you’ll most likely be poor. And sooner or later, you’ll be standing on a symbolic rooftop waiting for help.
Chances are that help will not be quick in coming.
In my opinion, that was one of my best TV commentaries ever. But after I delivered it, the far-left Internet smear sites went into spasms of indignation, rolling out headlines like:
O’REILLY BLAMES THE POOR FOR THE KATRINA DISASTER!
Syndicated columnist Liz Smith picked up the chatter and wrote:
Fox News emperor Bill O’Reilly tells us in Katrina’s wake that if we—Americans—depend on the United States government for any reason, we are certain to be disappointed. Bill’s advice to America (to the poor of New Orleans, especially) is to educate yourself and get a well-paying job. Only then can you avoid standing on a metaphorical rooftop when the next disaster rolls around. Bill did not give the poor any advice on how one finds a proper education or a job. Remember, the government can’t help.
Now, I like Liz Smith. She’s a self-proclaimed liberal but a fair-minded person who does much good for others. But, come on, Liz, are there no schools where you live? You don’t “find” a proper education; you work for one. Yes, some schools, especially in the poor precincts, are inadequate despite record federal spending. But there are kids in those schools who excel. And once children achieve a decent education, chances are they’ll join the vast majority of Americans who have been able to secure a decent job.
Let’s do some math. Each year, some ten million or more illegal alien workers are able to earn billions of dollars in the U.S. economy and send much of that to their families back home. So what’s the lesson here? It’s simple: I believe almost every American can prosper if he or she does what is absolutely necessary. That is: learn a skill, work hard. If that mantra were drummed into America’s children, this country would be a far better place.
But don’t tell that to the far left. Liberal thought, at times, allows for people to avoid taking responsibility for their lives. If someone fails to do the basics in order to succeed, it’s not really their fault, you see. It’s call
That, of course, is unworkable nonsense, a kind of quasi-socialism that, if embraced by an individual, will lead to disaster. America is a capitalist nation, a place of intense competition. You have a better chance of dating Britney Spears than you have of the feds making sure your life is working out.
The Katrina debacle really disturbed me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Since I wanted my analysis of the situation to really mean something, I began to investigate and talked to some of the folks who did not evacuate New Orleans ahead of the storm. Most admitted that they ignored the repeated warnings. Some said they had no money for a bus ticket out of town. Others told me they had nowhere to go, no family or friends outside the Big Easy. Even though I found those admissions startling, I believed them.
But, again, here’s the lesson. If you have no money, no support system, no common sense, and no motivation to provide security for yourself and your family, you are going to get hammered. It’s not a matter of if—it’s a matter of when.
That said, there’s no question but that the local, state, and federal governments screwed up after Katrina hit. Are you surprised? If you are, say hello to the Tin Man for me, because you are definitely living in the land of Oz. And when that house fell on the Wicked Witch after the tornado, did FEMA show up to help her? No, it did not. And Dorothy looted her ruby slippers!
So wise up fast or you’ll lose your shoes too. Despite their impassioned rhetoric, the lefty pointy-heads at Harvard and in the media can’t help you. When an administration promises that it will elevate your life and protect you on a personal level, you’re being conned. The feds are good at collecting taxes and organizing the military. Aside from that, Washington is very limited in what it can actually achieve.
Bottom line: If you don’t have loyal friends and family, you are on your own. “Read it, learn it, live it,” as the guy said in Fast Times at Ridgemont High.
Wise Up Fast!
Looking back, the reason that I have succeeded in life is that I relied on myself, not on some mythical theory about government. If I had lived in New Orleans, I would have gotten in my car and driven the hell out of there as soon as the National Weather Service gave warning. At no time would I have considered counting on Big Easy mayor Ray Nagin for anything. The man can barely figure out the lock on his office door. Same thing with Governor Kathleen Blanco and President Bush. I’m not counting on them for anything. Call me cynical.
Now, I really do feel sorry for the folks who did not or could not leave New Orleans. Using the resources of my program, we were able to get some of them evacuated and perhaps saved a few lives. I also said prayers for them. But there are Americans right now in the same spot as the hurricane victims were. They are either too dumb, too lazy, too mentally challenged, or too unlucky to have provided themselves with basic protections. So this chapter is dedicated to those who have little control over what happens to them in life. Hey, you guys, you can turn it around. Listen up.
Even when I was just five years old, I had to be somewhat self-reliant. That’s because I attended Miss Dalton’s kindergarten class at the Bowling Green public school. Basically, this campus was a free-for-all where we urchins ran wild. My friend Jimmy Cunningham and I, both junior hooligans, spent the days building things with blocks and then gleefully knocking down what we’d built. We were training to be Teamsters and didn’t even know it. I’m surprised I didn’t get a tattoo.
My point is that the teacher, Miss Dalton, exerted little control in the classroom and absolutely none on the playground. Routinely, kids wiped out on the steel monkey bars and smashed their small skulls on the concrete below. I mean it was survival of the fittest in every sense. There were no “playdates,” bicycle helmets, or organized activities. It was demolition derby every day, and the kid with the most bruises won. Miss Dalton, with her mousy brown hair and thick glasses, wasn’t much of a factor, so to speak. She was around—the pictures prove it—but there were few what I call “Barney” moments. In fact, had a singing purple dinosaur actually been introduced into the kindergarten fray back then, things might have turned ugly.
That kind of kid environment shapes you. Think about a five-year-old pioneer kid back in the nineteenth century. No “playdates” for those tykes, no sir; they were too busy shooting bears and watching for roaming Apaches. Back then a male child became a man at age thirteen and that was that. The young guy had to learn not only to survive, but also to protect his family. Nobody was waiting for President Grant to help out.
Survival of the fittest, Levittown-style.
How things have changed. Today, the loony left is peddling the “nanny state,” and millions of Americans are buying the idea. How ridiculous. How dangerous. It was quite the opposite when I was growing up in the huge, sprawling suburb of Levittown. There, self-reliance was a must. With literally hundreds of kids wandering around looking for action, conflict was everywhere. Every day, “rank-out” sessions took place. These verbal jousts were designed to diminish your opponent’s “self-esteem.” My favorite put-down was: “Your mother wears combat boots!” What the heck does that mean, anyway? Nobody quite knew. But it was big, and if you let loose with that rank-out, fists were likely to fly. In Levittown, moms were sacred.
There may not have been combat boots, but there was certainly combat itself. And God help any boy who ran home to Mom or Dad for assistance or sympathy. He immediately became a leper. I mean, there were serious consequences for getting Ozzie or Harriet involved in your conflicts. The kids generally settled stuff themselves. Nobody had money for a lawyer.
Not that any parent wanted to get dragged into that stuff. My father’s orders—and I can still hear him bellowing—were to “come home when the streetlights come on and don’t take any garbage from your idiot friends.” That was it, and he didn’t want to hear about the gory details. My father could not have cared less what went on in Toyland.
This is not to say that everybody in my neighborhood turned out to be self-reliant; they did not. My earliest friends were Johnny, Charlie, and Larry (names are changed). We started playing together at four years old. Eventually, two of them grew up to become drug addicts; Johnny actually died from AIDS in his early forties, breaking his mother’s heart. Larry signed up for Scientology. So early reliance on self is not an indicator of a happy life, but for me the school of hard knocks worked. Never did I expect the cavalry to rush to my rescue. I fought my own battles, won more than I lost, and developed a cocky attitude that continues to serve me well. If I wanted money, I worked for it. If I wanted to play football, I organized a game. Life was simple: You want it—make it happen. Somebody bothers you; deal with it.
Watch and Learn
There was another reason that self-reliance showed up early in my life: my father’s job. Over the years I watched my dad surrender his dignity to the Caltex oil company. He knew that his mundane accounting job did not challenge his potential. He told me so on his deathbed. After a while, the slow drip, drip, drip of daily boredom drove my father kind of crazy. Every day, he would get up and go to a job he hated. Imagine living that kind of life.
My father did not seek a better alternative because, frankly, he was scared (we’ll deal with fear in the next chapter). Being raised during the Great Depression, when jobs were scarce and despair was in the air, caused him and many others to believe that economic doom was always hiding in the closet, just waiting to pounce. So as long as his meager paycheck kept coming, he would tough it out and not look for something better.
Some of my father’s superiors at Caltex sensed his weakness and, as a result, treated him badly, which, of course, was hard to swallow for a guy like him. Eventually, the frustration he felt affected his health. Still, he did not take action. Year after year passed without a
After watching that situation up close and personal, no way was I ever going to rely on any company, government, or person. I was your standard-issue dopey kid, but I absorbed one thing: I was going to make money and forge a career on my own terms. No fear. I would continue being a bold, fresh piece of humanity, and blank anyone who didn’t like it.
One of the great things about America is that we are allowed to fall flat on our faces, as Vince Lombardi pointed out, but then get back up and try again. I believe that this is the key that turns the good-life lock. My father had a college education and did work hard. But many times, that’s not enough. My dad never took a chance. Like the New Orleans people who refused to move in the face of a vicious oncoming storm, my father hunkered down and got clobbered. No one came to help.
If there is only one thing that you take from this book, let it be this: Design your own life. Never give up trying to make it on your own. Get back up when you get slapped down, and don’t waste time buying into ideological nonsense. Expect—and accept—nothing from anyone else. Do it yourself.
And, after you have succeeded, share some of what you’ve achieved with those not as strong as you will become. That’s important. Spread the self-reliance message, but also help good people when they need a hand.