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MARTIN MULL 1EOR6E PLIMPTON ON NNEWORNS TOI'BIISWEfI 10N BASEBALL ERIC SEVAREIB ON i AMERICAN SPIRI KUH CHARLES NE!.1IHERI

A lETTER FROM THE PUBLISHER With every issue of Philip Mor- ri.r Magazine, we aim to cele- brate the very best of America- the stories, events, places and, of course, the people that contrib- ute to the character of our na- tion. This recently put us in the enviable position of having to round up some of America's best-known observers and writ- ers for the purpose of celebrating the all-American season of sum- mer. We hope you'll enjoy the result. Marti No summer would be com- plete without at least one back- yard barbeque, and it didn't take long for us to land on the ideal writer to handle the topic. Comedian Martin Mull is prob- ably best known for his appear- ances on television-as a pair of twins on Mary Hartman. Mary Hartman, and as characters in the brave but brief series, Amer- ica 2-Nite and Fernwood 2-Nite. But more to the point, Mull is also the author and host of the Cinemax specials The Hirtory of White People in Amerha, a hilar- ious send-up of middle America that undertakes to explain such overlooked but vital social phe- nomena as white bread, mayon- naise, refrigerator magnets shaped like tiny cookies, and, not least, the backyard barbeque. (The book based on the specials, published by Put- nam in 1985, has gone into a ninth printing, and a sequel is planned for release late this year.) Happily, in "Barbeque & A" Mull avoids the anthropological approach entirely ("I'll leave that stuff to Margaret Mead," he says), and instead provides a practical list of Dos and Don'ts for people planning their own backyard feasts. Speaking of food, last issue's story about chili (not chile) by Larry King provoked a remark- able range of responses, indud- ing one near-proposal of mar- riage, one letter written in the manner of a C.S. Lewis novel, and at least one request that King never write on the topic again. You'll find a sampling of these and other spirited letters in our "PM Notebook" section, beginning on page 19. Any one of America's 60 million smokers who has been made to feel iso- lated by the anti-smoking lobby will certainly find plenty of friendly voices on the pages of Philip Morris Magazine. Also in this issue's Notebook you'll learn about a young fire- man who has taken his dismissal -for smoking on his lunch break-to court; Defense Secre- tary Caspar Weinberger's deci- sion not to ban the sale of to- bacco products at military Tom Boswell comissaries; and a spunky Lon- don-based organization battling for the civil rights of smokers in Great Britain. In the last issue of Philip Morris Magazine Hamish Max- well, Chairman and Chief Exec- utive Officer of Philip Morris Companies, Inc., explained how Frank Gannon one of the U.S. Senate's tax re- form proposals would unfairly burden many consumers, includ- ing consumers of Philip Morris products. In this issue we dis- cuss one of the conditions that makes some kind of tax reform necessary in the first place. According to a Washington- based organization called Citi- zens for Tax Justice, some of America's largest and most prof- itable corporations pay little or no federal income tax, meaning that the rest of us-both indi- vidual taxpayers and companies such as Philip Morris, which do pay federal income tax-have to contribute more than our fair share in order to pick up the slack. As our story shows, CTJ is lobbying hard for changes that will make the system more fair for everybody. Most people know editor and writer George Plimpton as the nation's greatest professional am- ateur. To understand the world of pro football, Plimpton once worked out during pre-season with the Detroit Lions; to ex- plore the world of professional baseball, he played in a post-sea- son all-star game in Yankee Sra- dium. Plimpton also holds the somewhat obscure title of Fire- works Commissioner for New York City, and, as such, is a bona-fide expert on the subject of pyrotechnics. He is author of the best-selling Fireworks: A History and Celebration (Doubleday, 1984, $25). While Plimpton's artide, "Light Up the Sky," celebrates the history and color of this glo- rious summer spectacle, it also brings up an idea that will no doubt sound familiar to readers of Philip Morri.r Magazine-that of unnecessary govemment inter- vention. As Plimpton demon- strates, smoking is not the only pleasure that government has taken an active role in limiting over the years. The good news is that it is still possible in many stares to celebrate American in- dependence, freely but responsi- bly, with spectacular shows of , light against the sky. One of the hottest movies of this summer is Top Gun, the story of young pilots-in-training starring Tom Cruise and Kelly McGillis. We thought it might be interesting to find our what our nation's military flyers are really like. Our editor, Frank Gannon, visited with some of them and came back with our cover story, which describes what goes on-and who goes up-in the wild blue yonder. Two of America's most dis- tinguished commentators round out the summer issue of Philip Morris. Thomas Boswell of The Washington Post is one of the shrewdest observers of profes- sional baseball today. His words, teamed with some of the finest photographs of the games we've seen, comprise our seasonal trib- ute to America's most distinc- tive pastime. And the summer of '86 finds Eric Sevareid, jour- nalist emeritus with CBS News, reflecting on America's past and our hopes for the future. The striking portrait of Mr. Sevareid is the work of Washingtonian Michael Evans, whose credits in- dude service as the official pho- tographer for the White House. We hope that wherever this summer takes you, you'll take Philip Morris Magazine along. Guy L. Smith, Publisher PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SUMMER 1986 3

o6acco F s Message Is Free Choice Your voice wifl~ky ,eep tke industXya6ve-.- Despite the efarts by various,gm.ups<in many countries to intimidate smokers and make them Eeet~uitty for their_iabit, the tobacco industry is still surviving. in order to insure`that,i;obacco~asari.industry, maintain its position in the future, it is importarit`that all involved .,.. product manufacturers, sales companies, suppflers-_eguipment`manufacturers and growers as well as smokers themselves, do- theiUart in promoting tobacco's message of free choice. W.A. Adams ts~aoirig•_its part to offsethe widespread campaign to treat smoking as a crime insCead-of a custom;-and:brings you the following promotional You, as a tobacca Qwer, orupy an impotant position in promoting tobacco's message. offer with the~,hope that you and your company witt we[come the opportunitX p, , pread -9i W.A. ADAMS COMPANY, INC. P.O. Box 159 • Phone 919/693-71 I 1 Oxford, North Carolina 27565 "'processors and Exporters of Fine Leaf Tobacco Since 1885 it5 fUture. _ Samples Dispatched by Air/Cable Adamsco TELEX 579483 tobacco's message 'and secure_ Items ranging from coffee,mugs_and decals to T-shirts for giveaway or promotion, and alLbearing the copyrighted servicemark of "My Pieasure, My C_hoico", are avaiiabje,in bulk from the North Carolina I'obacco Orawgs Assocfatfod..-a aon-proflt organization. All money from sa[es~oes to-the association. W.A. Adams simply brings you the message - For a free catalog and price list write: FREE CHOICE P.O. Box 19848 Raleigh, NC 27619

H ® y ® The Philip Morris Magazine Summer 1986 Volume 2, Number 1 The Philip Morris Magazine Is distributed compliments of Philip Morris U.S.A. Frank Gannon, Editor Owen Hartley, Art Director Craig Stoltz, Managing Editor Elisabeth Squire, Production Manager David Simpson, Publishing Consultant Guy L Smith, Publisher Mary A. Taylor, Associate Publisher Correspondents Senior Correspondents: V. Buccellato, L Glennie, J. Gillis, G. Powell, D. Nelson, H. Mize. Correspondents: Atlanta: K. Sass; Baltimore: F. Swartz; Boston: J. Keighiey; Charlotte: H. Johnson, J. Jones, F. Rhodes; Chicago: L Scanlon, E. Van Dyke; Cleveland: C. Miller; Dallas: C. Finch, W. Lott; Denver. D. Alford, B. Anderson, J. Gibson; Detroit: B. Hopkins; Hartford: A. Glaeberman; Houston: J. Love; Jacksonville: G. Wren; Kansas City: J. Clary; Los Angeles: M. Maitino, T. O'Hirok; Louisville: D. Ison, B. Kohl, C. Johnson; Miami: G. Burgess; Minneapolis: P. Bainter; Nashville: R. Martindale; New Orleans: J. Paddock; New York: S. Charney, M. Faulk, D. Florio, N. Gold, M. Irish, J. Kochevar, G. Leibstone, A. Miller, J. Nelson, B. Quinby, J. Ramsay, A. Roberts, S. Strausser, S. Weiss; Paterson: P. Gregorio; Philadelphia: J. Chang, J. Chaump; Richmond: G. Choate, J. Frye, R. Moore; St. Louis: J. Petroski; San Diego: C. Evarklou; San Francisco; S. Vasquez, T. Walls; Seattle: J. Henry; Syracuse: J. Bartek. Philip Morris Magazine is published by Philip Morris U.S.A., 120 Park Avenue, New York, New York 10017; Frank E. Resnik, president. Prepared by Saturday Review Magazine. Editorial offlces: 214 Massachusetts Avenue, NE. Suite 460, Washington, D.C. 20002. Copyright © 1986 Philip Morris U.S.A. All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part without written permission is prohibited. Publisher reserves the right to accept or reject any editorial or advertising matter. Publisher assumes no responsibility for the return of unsolicited manuscripts or art. The material is provided for the reader's information and enjoyment only. Philip Morris U.S.A. does not endorse or assume liability for its contents. Publication date: July 15, 1986, © N cm W EMA ® CON © TOP FLIGHT LIGHT UP THE SKY 12 26 PM NOTEBOOK 19 LETTER FROM THE PUBLISHER 3 BARBEQUE & A, BY MARTIN MULL 6 WEATHER OR NOT, BY CHARLES KURALT 10 TOP FLIGHT, BY FRANK GANNON 12 LIGHT UP THE SKY, BY GEORGE PLIMPTON 26 THE BALANCE OF AMERICA, BY ERIC SEVAREID 31 THE SUMMER GAME, BY THOMAS BOSWELL 35 ON THE COVER Navy Figbter Pilot Lt. Brian "Woodie" [Y'ood ® L= PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SUMbtER 1986 5

3 A R3ElYL Pm A Comedian Martin Mull explains how to keep the kids busy, the neighbors happy and the paramedics away t is conceivable that one may Gve a full and productive life without ever once attending an American back- yard barbecue. Conceivable, but highly unlikely. All across the coun- try from Memorial Day to Labor Day, our skies are filled with a thick layer of briquet smoke and beckoning smells that af- fects our lives as surely as the Van Allen belt. (For the scientifically minded it is interesting to note that this smoky layer actually merges with the Van Allen belt after the first frost of Autumn. Hence the motion currently before Congress to re-name it the "Van Allen/Van Camp's" belt in honor of those savory baked beans. ) It is not simply the idea of eating outdoors that makes the American backyard barbecue unique. Let's face it, people all over the world dine al fizsco-some every night of the year and not by choice. But to equate a Zuzubu tribesman roasting a distant cousin on a spit with "building your own burger" after a hot game of croquet is an empty pursuit. We'll leave that stuff to Margaret Mead. This is not to say that every American backyard barbecue is a laughter-filled gastro- nomic gala. Some are funereal flops. Why? It is my contention that the problem lies in haphazard preparation. You can't just throw a decent barbecue together on a mo- ment's notice. As anyone who's ever run out of Tabasco or simply assumed he had lighter fluid somewhere around the garage will tell you, you can't expect a success without due planning. The following list of Do's and Don'ts is provided to help you in the preparation of your next get-together. I heartily suggest they be prominently posted during the barbecue season. Ideally, they should be memorized, but memorizing is time-consuming and diffi- cult for many-even the President has to re- peat after someone when taking his oath of office. Just stick them on the fridge and you'll be fine. You've probably got those little "fake cookie" magnets. They're perfect for the job. DO DO have a contingency plan in the event that it rains on the big day. There is noth- ing worse than having to schiep the whole shebang into the garage. No one enjoys sit- ting on a stack of snow tires when he eats, and a wheelbarrow makes a lousy salad bowl. DO allow people to bring something if they want. You're not the only person in the world who can make cole slaw, and think of the relief you will feel when you can cross off ` jello mold" on your list without ever having to lift a finger. DO have something for your guests to eat the minute they arrive. Most of them have probably skipped breakfast to "make room" for your feast and a little something at the doorstep is always appreciated. Sug- gestions indude: celery "boats" filled with peanut butter, carrot strips with onion dip, and olives. (Kids always love to try and suck the "red part" out of the olives.) N a ® n 3Y IlATIM RIIIULL 6 PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINESUMMER 1986

DO top off your potato salad with a slice of green pepper, make those little radish "flowers" and sprinkle it with paprika. People will say, "You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble!" You get to say, "I didn't, really!" But everyone will know that you did. DO tell everyone that your barbecue sauce is "very, very special." Even if it's Paul Newman's or straight from the A & P can, it lends a sense of mystery to the meal and most people can't taste the difference anyway once they start drinking. Now for the all-important "Don'ts": DON'T DON'T put the bottle of sun-block (which happens to look just like the squeeze bottle of mustard) right next to the condiments. Heimlich maneuvers are not pretty to watch and the arrival of paramedics can really throw a wet blanket on your affair. DON'T try something fancy, like salmon. First of all it flakes, sticks to the grill of a Weber, and ends up looking like you carved it with a grenade. Secondly, it attracts every cat on the block and, sure as shootin', someone in the group is allergic to cats and here come the paramedics again. DON'T bother to grill the buns. Even though those little brown lines look pretty, they're just turning your bread into toast and when you go to eat your burger they break instead of chew and all of a sudden you feel fike you're eating a big messy taco at a ball game and you have to arch over like a goose-neck lamp to keep the ketchup off your dothes. DON'T expect that all of your guests eat hamburgers and weiners. Some may be devout vegetarians with almost religious convictions about not making living things into meals. Make sure there's plenty of potato salad and com on the cob for them. DON'T scrimp. All coo often a fizzled barbecue is the result of belt-tightening on the part of the host. For instance, too many people today are taking the "bar" out of barbecue, offering only an ice-filled garbage can of generic soft drinks and a couple of those new "boxes" of warm Chablis. Give your guests at least the variety and selection that they've come to expect on an airplane. Also, an electric bug-zapper may seem like an expensive extravagance but it's well worth it when the flies start descending like Zeroes over Pearl Harbor and a guest picks up the bowl of mayonnaise and asks, "Who wants raisins?" While we're on the subject, don't rely on one badminton birdie to last the fi.ill eight hours. Odds are it will be lodged in the garage downspout after the second serve and you'll have some angry sportsmen on your hands. In short, spend a few bucks and do it right. If this is all too much to remember then I leave you with this thought: An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of potato salad. AIr1ER1CAS BUT BAR3ECYE The following list of some of the best barbeque stops in the nation is adapted from Finger Lickin' Rib Stickin' Great Tastin' Hot & Spicy Barbeque by Jane Butel (Workman Publishing, New York, $4.95). Bernie's Holiday Restaurant Exit 109, New York Quickway (914) 796-3333 Chef Moon Fat drenches ribs in a garlicky sauce, then cooks them in a Chinese smoke cabinet. The Cactus Bar-B-Q 1815 1/2 North Main Junction, Texas (915) 446-2478 The Cactus simmers brisket, ribs and chicken over mesquite coals. Parker's Highway 301 South Wilson, North Carolina (919) 237-0972 Scrumptious ribs pit-cooked in a cider-vinegar and crushed red pepper mixture. The Ground Floor 22837 Chagrin Boulevard Beachwood, Ohio (216) 991-5080 They use Canadian baby back ribs (reputed to be the most expensive and best). Coupe's BBQ & Drinkery 501 Westport Road Kansas City, Missouri (816) 561-2677 Probably the very best Kansas City- style barbeque in the U.S.A. 8 PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SUMMER 1986

MARTIN MULL'S PERSONAL-STOCK BARBEQUE SAUCE m Good barbeque is an art, not a science, and every chef is due some artistic free- dom. So improvise freely with the recipe below. The only ingredient absolutely for- bidden, for reasons that ought to be obvious, is anything you can buy in a su- permarket that says "Genuine Hickory- Smoked Flavor" on the label. PV ~ t t N r _ in _ L - ~ _ _ _ 12 ounces ketchup 8 ounces tomato puree Ii4 cup cider vinegar 2 tablespoons Worcestershire 3 tablespoons diced onion 2 tablespoons diced tomatoes 2 tablespoons diced green pepper 1/z cup brown sugar 1 teaspoon garlic salt 1 teaspoon black pepper 1 teaspoon chili powder one pinch cayenne a flick or two of Tabasco 0 Combine the above ingredients in a kettle, heat the concoction until it starts spluttering, then cover and simmer for 20 minutes. If the stuff gets too thick, which it probably will, thin with a splash or two of your favorite brew (or, if you prefer, water). For best results brush on the sauce while it's still warm, and keep dousing the meat as it cooks. This not only seals in natural juices, it gives you something chefly to do while the briquets do all the work. PHIllP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SUMMER 1986 9

WEATHER OR NOT ell, the sun was shining a few min- utes ago, but now it looks like there's a big storm coming. Mark Twain, remarking on American weather, said one time that he sat in one place and counted 136 different kinds of weather inside of twenty-four hours. That may be an exaggeration. When it comes to the weather, Americans do tend to exaggerate. So, when we decided to do a national weather survey, we sought out only ex- ceptionally truthful individuals like my friend Roger Welsch, a Nebraska tree farmer and keen observer of Nebraska weather. KURALT: When the real dog days come, it does get hot in ~ Nebraska. ~ ROGER WELSCH: I don't t think there's any place hotter ~ than Nebraska in the summer. ~ Down here by the river, just not ~ too far from us, it'll get so dry ~ that the catfish will come up ~ here to the house and get a A drink at the pump. Yep, really. ~ Yeah. And a lot of the farmers ~ around here will feed their ~ chickens cracked ice so they ~ won't lay hard-boiled eggs. Well you may laugh, but the ~ hot weather leads to tragedy ~ sometimes. Kendall Morse re- ~ members what happened in ~ Maine. ~ KFNDALI. MORSE Oh, it was E so hot here in Maine last sum- met mer that one day-it was right Q, in the middle of corn season, a that corn was almost ripe-and ~ it got so hot that the corn k scarted to pop, and it poPped -t and it went all over the place. ~ And there was a herd of cows ~ right next to that comfield and When it comes to summer weather, some folks just can't stick to the facts they looked up and they saw that popcom coming down like that. And cows are not very bright, of course. They thought it was snow, And every one of them idiot cows stood there and froze to death! You can toss a froieo hamhurger up in the air, and when ll comes dowu it`s cooketl well done. For Maine, of course, that was a hot day. Here's a Hoosier weather report from Charles Porter. CHARLES PORTER: It was so hot one day in Odon, Indiana, you could take a frozen ham- burger patty out of the freezer, toss it up in the air, and when it came down it was cooked well done. But you had to be careful and not toss it up too high. If you did, it came back down bumed. {Chuckle.r} We went to Arizona in mid- summer to ask Jim Griffith how he and his neighbors are holding up. JIM GRIFFITH: It does get a little bit warm. Joe Harris says it usually gets so hot and dry in the summertime that he's got to prime himself before he can spit. And the dog's sort of wan- dering around at midnight try- ing to find some shade to lay down in. It does warm up a lit- tle bit, but you get used to it. It's been known, especially in this part of Arizona, to get so dry that the trees will follow the dogs around. That's dry, all right. But right Welsch's wife has to run their well through a wringer this time of year to get enough water to cook with. And the river gets low, of course. WEISCH: They talk about frogs that would grow up to be three and four years old without ever having learned how to swim. And they'd have to, in the schools, you know, get little cans and put holes in the bot- tom and sprinkle water so that kids could see what it was and wouldn't panic the first time they saw it rain. They tell about one farmer who's out plowing one day and it started to rain, and the first drops that hit him shocked him so that he passed out. And to bring him to, they had to throw two buckets of dust in his face! What rain they get in the Great Plains comes all at once, eight or ten inches in one day and that's it for the year. Every farmer has a little lane out to the highway and the rains on the plains fall mainly on the lanes. WELSCH: Like this road of mine, there's some holes out here you can run set lines in and catch fish out of the road. And there's a farmer who talked about finally having to walk into town, because his wagon wouldn't get up his lane. So, he had to walk into town to get some groceries, and he found this huge puddle out in the middle of the road. And there was a nice hat floating around in the center. So, he reached out with his foot and kicked in this hat, and there was a guy's head under it. So, he got down on his hands and knees and he said, "Are you all right, stranger?" guess so. I'm on horseback." {Laugh.r} Wherever you got puddles like that, of course, you get mosquitos. I thought we had big mosquitos back home in North Carolina. My grandfather told me he saw a couple once the size of crows, and heard 'em talking about him. One of the mosquitos said, "Shall we eat him here or take him with us?" The other one said, "Well, we better eat him here. If we take him with us, the big guys will take him away from us." What surprised me was to learn that they grow mosquitos bigger than that out West. JiM GRIFFITH: They get rea- sonably good-sized, not so big that you can't shoot 'em down with a scattergun. You know, you don't have to take a rifle to 'em, but they get pretty good- sized. But the really big ones are up in southern Nevada. There was one, I remember, it was in the papers at the time, there was one that come in to Nellis Air Force Base up there, and they filled it up with high-octane fuel before they realized that it had the wrong markings on it. And- KURnLT [laughing): That was a big mosquito. GRIFFITH: That was a good- sized mosquito, yeah. That was pretty good-sized. I should mention again I'm not sure all these stories are true. Americans do lie sometimes. There was a fellow down home with such a reputation for lying that he had to have a neighbor come in to call his hogs. But if these aren't true stories, they're about as true as any other weather reports you'te likely to hear. 9 there in Nebraska, Roger And the guy said, "Well, I

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Y uu're alone in a darkened cockpit, hurtling through the night at 300 miles per hour All you have to do is land a 25-ton jet the size of a tennis court on a patch of moving deck space about the size of a small mobile home. If you're lucky, the sea will be calm and the deck won't be pitching up and down in the waves. There might even be a moon to show you where you're going. But likely as not, there'll be a thick cloud cover, and looking out the window will be as useless as trying to see the bottom of the mug through the black coffee you and your fellow pilots guzzle in the Ready Room between flights. And, just your luck, the ocean will probably be running high, bobbing the =ier up and down like a cork in a bathtub. Three miles out you should see the red "drop lights" on the rear of the carrier. That means you're at least lined up correctly with the ship's 700 precious feet of runway space. Being in the right place at the right time is not unimportant to you. The cost of landing too low is high: you fly your jet smack into the reinforced steel plates of the back of the carrier and they'll send people out to scrape you off in the moming. The cost of landing too high is missing the restraining cables that stop the plane, and having to "bolter"-to point your nose upward, swoop back around the carrier, and try the whole thing again. Some new pilots require a dozen attempts before they get it right. As if having to do it at all ~veren't bad enough, each landing is being watched, ana- lyzed and criticized by your peers, whose opinions you value, and by your superiors, whose opinions can affect your career. There are TV cameras bolted to the deck, and in the rec rooms below people stand around watch- ing your landings like segments of lt'tde IE"brld of Sportr, commenting on style and technique. Numerical scores are immediately posted for each pilot, so everyone knows where you stand even before you get to sit down, light up a cigarette and give the adren- aline some time to recede. Eaperts who measure such things-the doctors and psychologists who tape electrodes all over people to find out how frightened they are by different situations-agree that making a night landing on an aircraft carrier is the scariest thing a human being can do. And Lt. Cary "Dollar" Silvers, a 31-year-old, baby-faced Navy fighter pilot from Atlanta, agrees. "Making night landings is what I get paid to do," he says. "All the rest is fun." Right: Dollar Far• right: Fligbt gear 14 PHILIP bfORRIS MAGAZINE/SUMMER 19RCi

he men and women who take this scary and risky business in stride are the elite members of T the Navy's fighting fraternity: the fighter pilots. It takes about three vears and costs S 1 million to train each of them to fly the F-14 Tomcat-the most expensive and sophisticated piece of machin- ery in any nation's military arsenal. "God's own sportscar," as one of them affection- ately-and respectfully-refers to the plane; "a Federally subsidized motorcycle," quips another. Commander Skip "Torch" Nelson sits in the VF-43 Squadron's Ready Room at the Oceana Naval Air Station in Virginia Beach, Virginia. (All pilots acquire nicknames dur- ing Aight training ehat replace their given names in conversation and become their radio call signals. At Oceana, VF-43 indudes Stork, Ribit, Flaps, Rex, Harpo, Boomer, Monkey, Wolf, Mad Dog, Bad Bob, just plain Bad, PJ and Peaches. Some of the names are fairly easy to figure out. The derivation of others is less clear and probably best left unexamined.) Torch, a handsome, muscular man of 41 who grew up in southern Florida, draws re- flectively on his cigarette and talks about the kind of people who become Navy pilots. "They're the last of the cowboys," he says. "Back in 1836, they would have been gun- fighters, squaring offagainst the bad guys. A century earlier, they would have been pirates. Even earlier, they would have been gladiators fighting in the arena amidst the sawdust, playing for the big chips, with no way to walk out unless you win." Torch is typical of the current generation of fighter pilots: self-possessed, smart and sur- prisingly articulate about themselves and their chosen career. The post-%F%orld War II generation of fighter and test pilot legends-men like Chuck Yeager-would rather have made night carrier landings blindfolded than talk about their work, much less about them- selves. They personified those qualities of courage and daring that author Tom Wolfe memorably described as The Right Stuff. They not only had it-they uerr it. And it would have been terminally uncooi for any of them to try to put it into words. But their successors today are the products of different situations and different times. They're all college-trained officers who share the same need to fly as those early pioneers, but who reflect the changes that have taken place in America. Commander Herbert "Snake" Burton, 41, studied veterinary medicine at Georgia Southern College. When he graduated in 1966 the Vietnam war was building up. "I wanted to do something to serve my country," he says, "so I went to OCS and got First, and foremost, they all love to fly. They love "flying the machine." They need to fly. They have to do it. Slim, pretty 30-year-old Lt. Linda "Peaches" Shaffer, one of the few female Navy pilots, wanted to fly as far back as she can remember. She grew up in Valley Forge, Pennsylvania, and received a degree in Systems Science and Engineering from the University of Pennsylvania. After working as an en- gineer for Hughes Aircraft and taking private flying lessons, she realized that the military was the only way to achieve her ambition of flying the big planes and eventually being consid- ered for NASA's astronaut program. Commander Peter "Stork"Burggren As Peaches frankly expresses it, "Flying is the only thing I've ever felt driven to do." Lt. Marty "Flaps" Hile, 29, dreamed of flying while he grew up in the small town of Taylorville, Illinois. He got a private pilot's license when he was a teenager but small planes just whetted his appetite. He majored in mechanical engineering at Purdue, but, as he says, "I just became bored with everything else. I knew that the only thing I wanted to do was fly jets." Commander Peter "Stork" Burggren, the 42-year-old, tall, gray-haired Skipper of the UF-43 Squadron, combines rugged male-model looks with an easy sense of the authority of com- mand. "I was always turned on by the thought of flight," he says of his boyhood in Minnesota. "And since I started flying there's never been a day when I didn't wake up thinking, 'This is great!. " Lt. Bob "Bad Bob" Brauer, a 29-year-old Annapolis grad- uate who grew up in Kansas City, sounds almost poetic when he talks about the experience of flying. "The planes are pretty and fast," he says. "It's a real sen- sual thing: you're up there on a beautiful blue day, looking down through the douds at the whitecaps on the surface of the water, watching the dolphins jumping. You're on your own, away from all the roads and rules and structures. It's just you and this beautiful world and this phenomenal machine. And then you fire the afterburners and they catapult you up 30,000 feet in a minute with a big kick in the pants. It's an incredible physical rush. And it makes up for all the lousy rainy nights with lightning cracking the sky open while you're trying to find that one spot of light on the carrier somewhere down there before you run out of fuel," One junior officer waiting for an assignment to flight school describes his motivation simply and dearly. "I llke to go fast," he says. "I mean, really fast." • PHIllP MORRIS MAGAZ17dE/SUMMER 1986 15

i : my wings. In those days we were pretty cocky. Our attitude was, 'Show me where the war is, I want to kick ass and take names'." Within a few years, however, many young men in college were protesting against the war and trying to figure out how they could avoid serving their country. "It was pretty bad in the late '60s and early '70s," Torch recalls, "You almost looked for signs saying 'Sailors and dogs keep off the grass.' But that's almost completely changed in the last few years." Of the 29-person VF-43 Squadron at Oce- ana today, only Snake and Lt. Commander Jerry "Ribit" Merritt have actually flown in combat. "The new people are different, there's no doubt," Snake says. "Today they come in for better reasons. They're more dedicated to aca- demics and to having careers. They're re- quired to do more to get through training because the machines themselves are more demanding and more sophisticated," The pilots still do everything within their power to maintain their long-standing and thoroughly justified reputation for wild Gving and boisterous conduct. The faint-heaned are well-advised to avoid the mid-week pilot par- ties at the Miramar Naval Air Station near San Diego. At their very best, they combine the more extravagantly anti-social elements of Animal House and Friday the 13th. But even Dollar has felt the winds of change at his back. "For the first few years, everybody's a rowdy hot dog. But people tend to mature. They get married and have kids. They think about what they do. The intensity and pres- sure still generate a lot of steam and that has to be blown off, but basically you've got some serious people doing a serious job." Even the nature of the intense competition that underlies the camaraderie has changed. It used to be that the best flier was the best man. Today, the pilots compete to score the highest on evaluation sheets that cover everything from management skills and leadership, to speaking and writing ability. Some pursue graduate degrees in their spare time, T wo overhead screens dominate the small, highly air-condi- tioned room with an eerie, flickering green light. Loud- speakers squawk scraps of pi- lot-controller dialogue. The right-hand screen is filled with columns of numbers that change dizzily every second: speeds, angles, altitude, G-forces, rates of climb and descent. The other screen shows, with pencil-line computer graphics, the view from inside the cockpit of an F-14 Tomcat. "You've got a bogey {MIG] at your high 6 o'clock," a voice crackles. The man at the keyboard terminal types in 16 PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SUMMER 1986 The Tactical Air Crew Training Simulator (TACTS) can visualize actual mock dogfights Lt. Commander Chuck "Turps" Turpin conducts one of the morning briefings in VF-43's Fma

some instructions and the screen flashes an- other set of images. Now two planes are dearly visible: the big F-14 below and a smaller enemy MIG above and just slightly behind. Within seconds the F-14 has fired its afterburners and jumped to the top of the screen. Executing an enormous arc, it comes down behind the MIG. Little dash-like lines spew from its nose, headed for the MIG's tail. The MIG falls toward the bottom of the screen. The figures on the right immediately include a new tabulation: a probable kill per- centage. It was 87 percent unlikely that in this situation, the enemy could have avoided be- ing blown to smithereens. This particular dogfight to the death be- tween a Navy F-14 and one of the smaller, more MIG-like foreign planes the Navy leases for training purposes, actually took place sev- eral months ago in the peaceful skies off the coast of North Carolina. Because it included some interesting battle situations, the com- puter tapes of this flight have been kept and shown over and over to the VF-43 pilots. The Tactical Air Crew Training simulator at Oceana is the state of this particular art. Each of the VF-43 Squadron's hops is re- corded by computers which can translate the information into three-dimensional visual im- ages. VF-43 is the Adversary Training Squadron-the pilots who fly the "MIGs" and run the enemy's "play book," so to speak, against Navy fighter pilots from all across the country. In addition to what the pilot saw from the cockpit, the computer can show what the engagement looked like from above, from below and from the side. Any moment can be frozen and dissected, or played back and al- tered. Watching the pilots pore intensely over every second of these tapes, examining them from every angle, punching in different in- structions to see how infinitesimal variations in speed or direction would have changed the outcome, you get a sense of the kind of fast thinking it takes to be a Navy flier. As Bad Bob puts it, "You cari t stammer and stutter through the thought process when you're dosing on an enemy plane at nine miles a minute. You have to be able to think several miles ahead of your airplane. You have to make very quick, correct decisions." As a result of this kind of mental training, fighter pilots develop an intense awareness of their environment. They know where they are, physically and psychologically, at all times. "Some people standing at a bar will reach out and accidentally knock over a can of beer," Torch explains. "But if a Navy aviator does that, no matter how drunk he may be, he'll stop and figure out how he misjudged the angle of what he was reaching for, and OUTOFCONTROJJ There are technical descriptions for what happens-clinical terms like "uncommanded motion" and "stalled wing and yaw." What they mean is that one minute you're flying along peacefully and the next minute your plane is tumbling crazily toward the ground at 22,000 feet per minute. You are Out of Control. Lt..Ylarty, "Flaps"Hi1e It will happen to most pilots only a handful of times dur- ing the course of their careers. But when it does, "It sure gets your attention," as Lt. Linda "Peaches" Shaffer grimly puts it. "Usually you can sense problems as they're developing, but every so often you get hit with an'I'11 go to church every Sun- day for the next lifetime if I ju.tt get out of this one' kind of cri- sis. That's where our training comes in." Lt. Shaffer is one of three instructors at the Out of Control Spin School at the Oceana Naval Air Station. Lt. Martin "Flaps" Hile is another instructor. "We try to teach people to keep ca1m, to neutralize the problem and to analyze the situation," he explains. "The first thing we tell them is: 'recage your eyeballr'-in other words, when every- thing is going crazy around you, slow down and relax and pick up as much useful information as your instruments will give you and get your brain thinking again. That isn't easy to do when one minute you're being pushed back in your seat by the force of gravity and the next minute you're floating up against your harness while every second the horizon is going by in a different direction." The day-long program is popularly referred to as "A Short Course in Practical Bleeding." The head of the Out of Control School is Lt. Commander Herbert "Snake" Burton, a man who has seen a good number of spins in his time, including a few during his more than 300 combat missions over Vietnam. "A good pilot will fly right to the limit of the envelope without exceeding it," he says. "Fighter pilots always fly right at the edge, so we rehearse possible situations to help them act instantly and correctly. Our success is in the numbers: since the Out of Control syllabus was started, the numbers of ina- dents are down and we haven't lost a pilot or a plane through an out of control situation. We save money and we save lives. That's very important and very satisfying." • PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SUMMER 1980 17 1 11 I

t 1 TOPGII When American F-4 Phantom jets first started dogfights with the enemy in the skies over Vietnam, the results were disas- trous. The big, sophisticated, clumsy American planes were being creamed by the smaller, simpler, faster Soviet-built MIGs. For every two enemy aircraft we shot down, we lost one plane of our own-a deadly 2-to-1 ratio. In Korea, the ratio had been a more successful 17 to 1, and World War II, it had been 15 to 1. Something dearly had to be done. A group of air combat experts got together at the Miramar Naval Air Station near San Diego, and started to rethink our entire approach to war in the air. This was the beginning of the Top Gun School (named for an annual fighter pIlot com- petition) which is now probably the toughest and most presti- gious military outfit in America. When the air war was resumed in Viemam early in 1972, it was clear that Top Gun's lessons had been well learned: the kill ratio dimbed to 12 to 1. Top Gun graduates claim the only air kills since the Viemam war: in 1981 two F-14s from the carrier USS Nimitz shot down two Libyan SU-22 jets over the Gulf of Sidra. Top Gunners also led the April 1986 bombing raid on the Libyan capital of Tripoli. One of the hottest movies of this summer is Top Gun, made with the cooperation of the Navy Department, and based on the training at the Miramar school. Tom Cruise stars how he knocked over that can of beer." The best pilots also share the urge, the desire, the need to push their experience right to the limit. Each aircraft has its own particu- lar "envelope": the Gmits within which it can operate. Most people are content to live their lives within the envelopes of their own experi- ences. But fighter pilots have to go further, higher, faster: they have to push the edge of the envelope. "It's actually an addiction," one of them says. "You have to do it, you have to have it. When you do, you're euphoric. When you don't, you suffer withdrawal." The problem, of course, is that if you push the edge of the envelope too far, you may not be able to get back inside in time. Outside the envelope, the plane flies you instead of the other way around. So it's flying that fine line between experience and excess that provides the deadly underpinning of excitement that motivates and inspires the great pilots. T n the Ready Room at VF-43 NAS Oceana, there's a phone booth with a working pay phone inside it. The booth was a_gift from a fleet fighter Two liquids Navy coffee and jet fuel. A Top Gun pilot told actor Tom Cruise that there were only four things worth being in life: an actor, a rock star, President of the United States and a jet fighter pilot. with Kelly McGillis. The film's producers are the dynamic Hollywood duo of Don Bruckheimer and Jeny Simpson, whose earlier hits indude Flashdance and Beverly Hills Cop. A survey of fighter pilots at Oceana who have seen the film produces high marks. The spectacular flying scenes are rated as accurate and true to life. The romance is rated as mushy. Tom Cruise is rated as excellent. Kelly McGillis is rated as Out of Control. 9 ilots depend on: squadron that got suckered by VF-43 A slow speed flight is like a knife fight in a pilots into a classic maneuver called a Phone phone booth Booth. So they presented an actual phone booth as a classy tribute. The walls of the MIGr, sex, and rock 'n' roll booth have been inscribed with graffiti by various hands: It's better to have turned and died than never to have turned at all A MIG at your 6:00 is better than no MIG at all Speed is life 18 PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SUMMER 1986 The Ready Room has the look of being used by people who are busy doing other things: the wom linoleum floor; the big um always filled with fresh hot coffee; the mug rack with each pilot's nickname printed above the pegs, next to the stacks of styro- foam cups that everybody actually uses; the chalky blackboard for the briefings before and debriefings after each "hop"; the magazine rack with neatly labeled slots for everything from Aviation Week to Soviet Press Review. Groups of pilots stand around in their green flight suits and black boots, talking quietly and intensely, their arms and hands creating complicated arcs of flight as they describe events that have just taken place miles above this room. On the last hop one of the men was given a fright by a plane he didn't notice flying right beneath him. He's smiling at the ribbing he's raking-"Tally-ho!" his colleagues say as they clap him on the shoulder-but it's dear that he's embarrassed. Observing the scene, a pilot comments, "That's one of the great things about this business: it's self-regulating. At the end of each day you know whether you're the hero or the goat. There are no gray areas. And if you screw up today, you can go back up tomorrow and dean the slate." A newly-commissioned young officer, ea- gerly waiting for his orders to report to Navy flight training at Pensacola, stands looking around the Ready Room. Not so much in awe as if simply stating an obvious truth, the young officer says, "This is where the heroes of the '80s are, man. Right here." • t

OVERTAXED 4 NOTEBOOK D.C. GROUP BATTLES CORPORATE FREELOADERS Because any changes to tax laws are certain to affect American con.rumerr, we at Philip Morris Magazine will continue to follow the issues of taxation and tax re- form. We recently paid a visit to the Offices of Citizens for Tax Jurtice, an organization working for fair distribution of the federal tax burden. By now, everybody knows that many profitable companies in America pay little or no income tax. But few pcople realize that in order to make up for the companies that get off scot-free, others must shoulder the bulk of the nation's corporate tax bur- den. In other words, when it comes to federal income taxes all corporations are not created equal. Although many compa- nies-induding Philip Morris U.S.A-pay their fair share of income taxes and more, some of the nation's industrial giants continue to reap the benefits of tax code loopholes. "We have a tax system that seems to reward some compa- nies and penalize others," says David Wilhelm, executive direc- tor of Citizens for Tax Justice (CTJ), a Washington, D.C. or- ganization that reports on the companies that do and don't pay taxes. Wilhelm compares, for exam- ple, the radically different figures for Philip Morris and Boeing, the well-known aerospace firm based in Seattle. Between the years 1981 and 1984, according to CTJ figures, Philip Morris paid nearly S 1.5 billion (nearly one-third of its net income) in federal income taxes. During the same four-year period, CTJ re- ports, Boeing not only avoided income taxes entirely on its 52.1 billion in profits-it actually re- ceived 5285 million in tax re- Robert Mcln,~yre (left) and David Wilhelm of Citizen.r for Tax Jurtice funds. So according to CTJ, while Philip Morris was pouring money into federal coffers, Boeing was taking money right back out. The news is no better for the tobacco industry as a whole. In its 1981-84 study of 275 com- panies in 25 different industries, CTJ found that tobacco compa- nies devoted the highest percent- age of their profits-36 per- cent-to federal taxes. Aerospace companies averaged just 4.4 per- cent, while the average for all in- dustries was 15 percent_ Textile companies, by com- parison, paid an average of 33.5 percent of their profits in tax, according to CTJ figures, while food companies paid 21 percent, electrical companies paid nearly 12 percent, chemical companies 6 percent and telecommunica- tions companies 2 percent. The ten financial-service companies surveyed by CTJ-induding banks and investment firms- received tax refunds of S 139 million, reducing their tax rate to an astounding 2.9 percent! Wilhelm blames the tobacco industry's excessive tax burden on a "crazy quilt" system of tax loopholes, or "tax incentives," as they've often known. According to CTJ, a federal program of corporate tax breaks was insti- tuted in 1981, with the idea that tax relief would stimulate investment and employment. There are two problems with the program, according to CTJ. First, certain industries (such as aerospace and telec.ommunica- tions) have been more able to take advantage of these breaks than others (such as the tobacco, food and textile indusrries). Worse, the tax breaks have not, according to CTJ, actually achieved their intended goals. ' "There's no reason to believe that companies that pay nothing are any more efficient than com- panies that pay a lot," Wilhelm says. As a matter of fact, he claims, "we have evidence to the contrary. " Wilhelm says many compa- nies have received huge tax breaks over the past four years, yet actually laid off workers and invested less in their operations. During the years Boeing re- ceived tax ref-unds of $285 rnil- lion, CTJ reports, the company cut capital spending by 38 per- cent and reduced its workforce by 18 percent. The Whirlpool Corp., on the other hand, paid over 42 percent of its income in federal taxes over the same pe- riod, according to CTJ reports, yet increased investment by '6 percent and employment by 5 percent. According to CTJ, the 44 companies that paid no income taxes at all between 1981 and 1984 actually invested less and laid off more workers than the 43 companies that paid the most tax during the same pe- riod. Clearly, under current tax law, the corporate tax burden is not distributed fairly or effectively. But what can be done? CTJ is rallying for a revision of the tax system that will eliminate the loopholes, and return the tax system to one where everybody pays their fair share of the tax burden. The organization has drawn support from a broad range of groups, including the AFL-CIO, the League of Women Voters, the National Council of Senior Citizens, the American Federation of Teachers and Philip Morris U.S.A. According to Robert Mcln- tyre, CTJ's director of federal tax policy, several of the tax reform proposals currently before Con- gress would be a step in the right direction. The reform pro- posals "would raise substantial new revenues from corporations that are not paying their fair share," McIntyre says. Ideally, Mclnryre says, this would mean at least some tax relief not only for the individ- uals, but also for the corpora- tions, that are now bearing too large a part of the federal rax burden. ~ ~ PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SUMMER 1986 19

IN THE NEWS WEINBERGER KILLS CIGARETTE BAN IN MILITARY COMMISSARIES Defense Secretary Caspar Wein- berger recently stymied the at- tempts of pipe-smoking Chief Pentagon Physician Dr. William Mayer to prohibit cigarette sales in commissaries or, failing a to- tal ban, to raise sharply the commissary price of cigarettes in order to discourage the use of tobacco by military personnel. Veterans' organizations joined PM USA and others in the to- bacco industry in a successful fight against the proposals. Eventually, Weinberger con- cluded that a sales ban "would constitute the beginning of a bad precedent" because "other products which some people might consider offensive or un- desirable" might also become the target of similar bans. Wein- berger also noted that a ban would cause members of the military, retired veterans and their families to lose "an old, es- tablished and valued portion of military compensation." At the same time, the Secre- tary of Defense has issued a comprehensive anti-smoking di- rective. Dissemination of information on smoking is a central element of Weinberger's plan. He said, "I have conduded that we should give the education plan a reasonable chance to persuade people of their own free will to decrease or elimin.ate their own smoking." The Defense Secretary's deci- sion to focus on education was praised by The Tobacco Insti- tute. The cigarette manufactur- ers' trade association has consis- tently supported education programs that preserve freedom of choice and has criticized pro- posals that call for complete bans, In ;11ay 1945 a soldier tells the home town folks about his experiences overseas. In October 1969 a member of the 3rd Brigade of the 9th Division takes out time for a smoke near Saigon. 20 PHIUP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SUMMER 1986 HEALTH SECRETARY BACKS FREE CHOICE Parting ways with the American Medical Association over bans of cigarette advertising is Dr. Otis R. Bowen, Secretary of the U.S. Department of Health and Hu- man Services. Bowen says he cannot support the AMA ad ban proposal because it has not been determined that advertis- ing promotes smoking among youth. This spring, Bowen told re- porters that the role of govem ment is to provide the public with medical information about smoking. He said, however, that Dr. Otis R. Bowen he supports the "freedom of in- dividuals to do what they want to do."

P M NOTEBOOK ! t ; PEOPLE FIREFIGHTER TAKES DISMISSAL OVER SMOKING TO COURT OKLAHOMA CITY-As a boy, Greg Grusendorf rode his bike to his father's fire station here, and soon decided firemen were "Number One." By junior high, he knew there was noth- ing else he'd rather do than be part of that proud department. Today, the outcome of a suit in a federal appeals court about his being a smoker stands be- tween him and his realization of that dream. The story begins shortly after Greg turned 21, when he started to prepare for the depart- ment's physical and written ex- ams. The first time around, Greg failed. Undaunted, he be- gan preparing for the next round of tests by working out to build up strength, and studying books on fire service. But while Greg planned and worked for his future, the fire department began something new itself. A policy was insti- tuted in 1984 to require rookie firefighters to be nonsmokers both on and off the job during their first year of employment. Interestingly, the city also tried to make the smoking ban part of the collective bargaining agreement for all firefighters- nearly half of whom smoke- but the union stoutly refused to budge on the issue. But because rookies cannot join the union until their one- year probationary period is com- pleted-and technically are not union members-city fathers were able to force nonsmoking restrictions on the new recruits. Although Greg had enjoyed cig- arettes for several years, he felt nothing so minor would stand in the way of his dream, so he quit smoking. Greg sailed through the next series of written and physical tests, placing in the top five per- ~ Former fireman Glen Brusendorf is suirtg for his rights. cent of 500 applicants last fall. On November 30, 1984, he be- gan classes at the Oklahoma City fire training center, along with 25 other rookies. Just two weeks later, how- ever, Greg found himself stand- ing before department officials stripped of his job without ex- planation or inquiry, and sum- marily escorted out the back door. His crime? Being observed smoking a cigarette while off- duty at a local Dairy Queen and later admitting his action when questioned by superiors. "In the rookie classes, there's lots of pressure," Greg explains. "I hadn't done any real book work since high school. The smoking ban only applied to rookies, so you'd see the other firemen smoking around the training center. ... Still, when I was in rookie school, well, I hadn't been that happy in a long time," he adds, his soft Sooner twang catching with emotion. On December 14, while rid- ing to lunch off-duty in a car with three other trainees, Greg was offered a cigarette by one of the other rookies. He lit up, joining his fellow rookie, then entered the ice cream store, extinguishing his smoke. But he was observed by a district fire chief, who reported the incident. Apparently, the district chief had not known which rookie was smoking, so the entire rookie lunch group was rounded up and told if the smoker did not speak up, they would all be disciplined-whatever that meant. Greg raised his hand. Si- lently, he was taken off to head- quarters, where he received his dismissal papers on the spot, no questions asked, "I knew I'd goofed, but I fig- ured I could tell my story. I did expect to be disciplined," Greg says, more dismayed than bitter. "I thought it would be Gke the military .., if you were caught, they'd probably have you wash trucks or something. But they definitely made an ex- ample of me. I'd seen other city employees disciplined at my old job but it was nothing like this." The U.S. District Court re- cently dismissed Greg's case, nil- ing that Greg had voluntarily accepted employment with fiill knowledge that he would be re- quired not to smoke at any time during his probationary pe-riod. But the court did not address Greg's claim that the agreement violated his right to privacy and constituted unwarranted govem ment intrusion. The case is on appeal to the Tenth Circuit Court in Denver, where Greg may have a better chance to provide details of the case. "The real question here is how far the government can go in legislating what people do on their own time," Greg's attor- ney, Steven 1`r1. Angel points out. "It's at odds with jurispru- dence to force a waiver of con- ducting your lifestyle in a lawful manner. "If you're prevented from smoking, is the next step to reg- ulate how you conduct your homelife? They could conceiv- ably look at drinking, your diet, even your sex life," Angel says. While the law suit winds through the courts, Greg has tried to put the pieces of his life back together. Greg now works as a truck driver and route sales- man for a beer distributor. The hours are long and the money is better than rookie's pay, but Greg admits it's a job rather than a career. The fire department in Nor- man, a neighboring town, held tests not long ago, and while Greg placed eighth out of close to 300 applicants, during the in- terview he was singled out as the rookie fired for smoking. "This firing will be a black mark against me anywhere I go," Greg sighs. If he wins his case, however, Greg is prepared to return to the fire department. "I know it would be different," he says. "But I'd still go back." 1 PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE; SUMMER 1986 21

CllRIOSTT~ES: THE RIGHT SNUS Quickly now, w'hat's a "foom~" When was the last time you had some really good "snus"? If you faltered on any of your answers, take heart, for you can now consult the new English language edition of Ernst Voges' Tobacco Encyclopedia, recently re- leased by Tobacco Journal Inter- national (Mainz, Germany, 467 pages, $50). Inside this hefty, well-bound volume is the knowledge that a foom is the "thick, round mouthpiece of a Middle-Eastem water pipe," that fidibus is a "rolling paper strip used for lighting pipes in the Romantic era," and that snus is a type of "course- grained, highly moist snuff ' fa- vored in Scandinavia. Even a quick glance at the Tobacco Encyclopedia yields a de- lightful handful of facts. During the 16th and 17th centuries, for example, smokers used a red-hot glowing coal of juniper to light their pipes. Alfred Dunhill in- vented the sandblast pipe. Ground-up figs are added to many chewing tobaccos for fla- vor. The first machine capable of producing 1,000 cigarettes per hour was not invented until 1927. And so on. In addition to the exhaus- tively cross-referenced 360-page encyclopedia which makes up the bulk of the book, over 100 pages of scholarly artides are ap- pended to shed light on such topics as the history of tobacco, ~ its cultivation and manufacture into tobacco products, the chem- istry istry of the leaf, and its taxation. ~ It's all here in a single book, from "Aargua" (the center of ~ the Swiss cigar industry), to zware" (a specific type of dark, ~ fine-cut Dutch tobacco), exhaus- z tively researched and finely illus- o trated with some 31 color plates dotted throughout. ~ -Roderick Graham Smoking in the White House was for many years very much a gentleman's privilege. From the early 19th century until the early 1930s, every state dinner concluded with the Presi- dent leading other male guests into the "smoking room"-usu- Franklin D. Roosevelt ally the Green Room, the mas- culine equivalent of the ladies' Red Room-for political con- versation, liqueurs and a good stogie. The history of the President and tobacco, in fact, is a long and colorful one, dating back to the first Administration. At his Mount Vernon home and plan- tation, after all, George Wash- ington rasied tobacco as the main cash crop, not unlike thou- sands of small farm families to- day. James Madison was evi- dently the first President to Gerald R. Ford AN EXECUTIVE PRIVILEGE regularly smoke the "see-gar," as cigars were known back then, and continued to do so until his death in 1836 at age 85. General Andrew Jackson, elected President in 1826, smoked cigars and pipes and chewed tobacco. Jackson pre- ferred smoking from long- stemmed white day pipes while relaxing with his family in front of a fire, reading out loud or discussing the day's events. Jackson loved to chew tobacco so much that his Tennessee es- tate, the Hermitage, was deco- rated with brass spittoons. Evidently, Jackson's example of chewing tobacco caught on with the wild westemers who invaded the White House dur- ing his first Inauguration. Dur- ing a brawl that erupted among the backwoodsmen supporters of "Old Hickory" at the inaugural festivities, china was smashed, ladies fainted and the White House sofas and rugs became stained with tobacco. Another U.S. General who became President, Zachary Tay- lor, was a regular smoker. "Old Rough and Ready" Taylor re- laxed with his cigars in the pres- ence of male companions such as his son-in-law, Jefferson Davis, John F. Kenned}, who later became the President of the Confederacy. Taylor's ci- gars were said to bother his wife Margaret, however, and the President respected her by putting them out whenever she entered the room. No other President was more closely associated with cigars than Ulysses S. Grant. In fact, when he ran for President in 1868, his relish for tobacco was immortalized by the song "A' Smoking His Cigar." Even dur- ing the final moments of the Civil War, as Grant approached the courthouse at Appomattox to accept Lee's surrender, the scruffy little General was seen clenching his cigar. Nearly every political cartoon from his public life portrayed him with the ever- present stogie. Warren G. Harding, Presi- dent during the early 1920s, was like Andrew Jackson in his use of tobacco in several ways. He was the first President to smoke cigarettes and evidently the last to chew tobacco, but with both he was put to task by his imperious wife Florence, whom he nicknamed-not too kindly-"The Duchess." When Harding got to the White House, she forbade the =No { 22 PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SUMMER 1986 2040235372

. President to chew tobacco. "The Duchess says it isn't dignified to chew," moaned Harding to his poker-playing cronies, who were known as "The Ohio Gang." But Harding finally found a way around the Duchess' admonish- ings: he carried a cigarette in his jacket, crumbled it and chewed quickly whenever the Duchess left the room. He also smoked pipes and cigars when she went g shopping. l Ca vin Coolidge occasionally smoked a pipe, but also enjoyed the high-qualiry Havana cigars ~ that friends often gave him. "Si- lent lent Cal" used one-cent cigarholders for his seventy-five- cent cigars. On the other hand, Herbert Hoover puffed only on the biggest, strongest, finest and most expensive cigars, often while his wife served out-of-sea- son, rare tropical fruit at dinner. Franklin Delano Roosevelt's cigarette and elegant cigarette- holder became as closely associ- ated with him as the cigar was with Grant. Political cartoonists often featured FDR's cigarette- holder, clenched between his teeth, chin set. FDR's cigarette was part of a profile that be- came a symbol of his age. More recently, Presidents have used a variety of tobacco prod- ucts. John F. Kennedy loved smoking cigars with his father and associates, and Lyndon B. Johnson occasionally smoked cigarettes. Gerald R. Ford's fondness for the pipe became so well-known that early in his Ad- ministration a flood of pipes streamed into the White House as gifts. Today, while President Rea- gan himself does not smoke, the civilized pastime of smoking survives at the White House. Cigarettes are provided to guests at state dinners, and to foreign dignitaries fond of American to- bacco. -Carl Sferrazza OUT OF PLACE When a group of English anti- smoking activists got together for a strategy session this winter, they unwittingly paid tribute to one of history's greatest-and most resolute-smokers. The group met at Churchill College in Cambridge, England, an in- stitution named after former English Prime Minister Winston Churchill, Churchill, who lived to the ripe old age of 92, was rarely seen without a cigar in his mouth. The man was so closely associated with his cigar, in fact, that today many cigar manufac- turers produce a style known as a "Churchill"- ; ~ Churchill with a "Cburchill' usually around seven inches long, similar to those favored by 1 ` Sir Winston himself. OVERSEAS BRITISH SMOKERS BREAK FREE Readers who have been follow- ing the tremendous growth of PUFFS, the Georgia-based smokers' rights group, will be glad to learn that similar efforts are underway overseas. FOREST (Freedom Organisation for the Right to Enjoy Smoking To- bacco), a London-based mem- bership group, has been ausad- ing for the rights of Great Britain's 17 million smokers since 1981. "We wouldn't mind if no one smoked, or if 90 percent of the adult population smoked," says FOREST's director, Stephen Eyres. "What we mind about is the personal freedom of mature people." Eyres, a 38-year-old econo- mist and former political candi- dare, sees the fight for smokers' rights as the struggle for funda- mental individual liberties. The organization has been active in fighting total bans of smoking smoking day, FOREST coun- tered with a "national busy-bodies week." While FOREST always rec- ommends good manners on the part of both smokers and non- smokers, the organization's monthly membership publica- tion has recently adopted a slightly more aggressive stance. This spring, the publication's name was changed from Stay Free to Break Free, and it now features the sort of spunky news reporting, spirited editorials and attention-grabbing headlines that one often finds in English tabloids. "We have started to build up an alternative voice for personal choice and liberty," says Eyres, who himself enjoys cigarettes only on occasion. "We are fight- ing the nanny-state view of soci- ery-that the State has the right to Limit the individual's freedom to lead his own life." a w, YES, IT'S A &-~=u CHALLENGE -TO SMOKERS'= -_ RIGHTS The front page of a recent issue of FOREST's colorful newspaper Break Free, in public places, as well as in- creased taxation of tobacco prod- ucts. When proposals surfaced to ban smoking on buses and subways a few years back, FOR- EST polled the public and found overwhelming support for the status quo. When the anti- smoking lobby organized a non- PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SUMMER 1986 23

P M NOTEBOOK KEEP N TOUCH LETTERS TO PM MAGAZINE i~ In our Spring issue, Larry King wrote about chili-The Best Little ing about the same "guindilla." So chili, under a different name, ; Hot Stuff in Texas." He revealed his own recipe for "Better 'n Sex" may indeed have started in Spain. More specifically it may have chili, and closed his article in anticipation of the many offers of originated in Vasconia, where one of my ancestors, Juan Sebas- ~ marriage sure to follouc We can include only a few of the many let- tian Elcano, was first to circumnavigate the globe-mostly thanks t` ters Mr. King's modest words inspired, to the invigorating effect obtained from consuming chili onboard. Ij Lui.r M. Iniguez, Rochester, MN I would definitely send you a proposal of marriage, except for the slight technical difficulty of being married for forty years to an- other man, and he likes my cooking. How did I miss a gem like you all my life? Though I'm basi- cally anti-chili-which leaves me out for what you cook-you have me now tumed into an ardent fan because of the way you write recipes. I myself am a descendant of three generations of famous cooks also jealous of their art. I never reveal my culinary secrets except to a person living in Australia and entertaining where I can't shine. But you, Mr. King, with your jalapeno wit, are a Pied Piper who could lead me into breaking this rule and sending you one of my own recipes. Perish the thought.... Nina A Haas, Houston. TX Loyal a fan as I am of Larry King's writing, I must take excep- tion to his "chili" story (funny though it was) in your magazine. Larry may know a lot about a lot of things, but he's lilce most Texans when it comes to chili-nccy don't know their chile pep- pers from a pot of beans! "Chile" refers to chile pepper or chile powder, while "chili" refers to the dish made from meat and chiles. Chili is a great dish, but I've found that almost every arri- de written about it is pure B.S., and a good deal of that writing has been from Texans. Doug Fulton, Tucson, AZ (Editors' note: King the Texan had his chilis and his chiles straight. It was we, his gringo editors, who fouled it up.) Is Mr. Larry King really a connoisseur of chili or isn't he? I pur- posely left his article for reading last, and I proved myself right. However, in honor to the truth, I would like to insist upon and point out to you that (1) you learn Spanish, (2) if not, hire a Spanish-speaking editor, or (3) entirely eliminate any quotes or uses of Cervantes' language. In the article Mr. King wrote, we see that "chili con came" is taken for "chili with beans," when in fact "cxme" is meat-not a minor mistake indeed. Also, toward the end, a mention is made of "chile con caso," which means "chili with a case" in- stead of "with cheese," as intended. Correctly put, that would appear as "chile con queso." I am a Spaniard-more precisely from the Basque Country- where for centuries a similar type of pepper has been eaten either straight, after having been placed in vinegar bottles for a while, or else it is mixed, uncut, into hot dishes such as lentil soup. I have no doubt that considering the natural differences in soil con- ditions under which it is cultivated today, we are essentially talk- We are delighted to be on your mailing list, having received the Winter and Spring 1986 issues of Philip Momis. We rate a mag- azine by its "clippability": How much of it we want to save and re-read. You rank in the top five! The recent artide and photo- graphs on Monticello were very good, but the story on Poplar Forest was delightfully surprising. The quality and layout are superb-we hope you keep it com- ing. Carolyn C Bennett, San Diego, CA I really enjoyed your magazine and appreciated the opportunity to read it. I would like to continue to receive it and keep up on the tobacco industry-especially coming from a tobacco state such as Kentucky. I really enjoyed the article on PUFFS and will also be writing to them. Harry Palmer, Louisville, KY I received your Spring magazine and enjoyed reading it. I thought maybe you would like to see this statement that was published in the Des Moines Sunday Register on the opinion page on May 11, 1986. ["A study found that fat, lazy smokers are less likely to buckle their seat belts than other people. Iowa cops now know whom to watch for on July 1."} This is the kind of harrassment that we smokers are getting in Iowa. We are good enough to pay all the extra taxes they can think up. They have taken almost all our freedoms and rights away. I suppose the next thing will be the firing squad. Mrs. D. Rinehart, Fontanelle, IA Being a smoker myself, I have become somewhat incensed with the recent rash of politicians who climb on the bandwagon to claim that many of our government's financial woes may be re- lieved by socking another tax on gasoline, alcoholic beverages and tobacco products. They seem to feel that this approach is an easy alternative to having to live up to the responsibility of the huge amount of money already available. I hope that the following work of light verse will be enjoyed by readers of your publication. Tax Lax Heavy drinkers are now frowned upon, and smokers are taboo, So, the trend is now to tax these folks until they're turning blue. But, if the smokers all quit smoking and the drinkers slow down too, who will take up all the slack in that lost Tax Revenue? Bob Shinn, St. Helera, OR 24 PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINEiSUMMER 1996

e a 0 0 wX M 0 © ® ® ® 0 0 ~ ® ® ® ~ © a \\. ® ® 0 raditionally, the Fourth of July was always a kind of double- barreled celebration. The day- light hours were spent with one's own fireworks, carefully ordered from a catalogue. Twilight was awaited eagerly, since one's "best" fireworks -the fountains, the Roman candles, the rockets, the mines and so forth-were for use in the darkness. In the neighborhood, the colored stars rose from the lawns above the trees. And then, of course, there was the profes- sional show. Not only did those soft summer evenings always seem to have perfect weather, but perhaps they were the first community gatherings one experienced in childhood- the first instance of communal activity. The crowd had gathered for a common purpose, There was the occasional pop of a fire- cracker at its perimeter, or perhaps a sparkler or two fizzing and spitting a shower of sparks amid the scampering of children; then at the end of the dock or across the baseball dia- mond where the scaffolding with the lances outlining the American flag was discernible in the gathering darkness, a red flare suddenly glowed. Expectant murmurs sifted through the crowd, the Hare dipped, and then there was the thump of the first canister of the evening going up, the faint flutter of its pas- sage, and the faces tumed to the sky in expec- cation of what was going to happen up there. The professional show is, of course, still with us. Because of new techniques (electrical firing rather than with lighted flares), new interest in choreography (inspired largely by the Japanese after the war), and the enormous variety of imported shells (over 70 percent of the shells seen in a professional display are purchased in foreign countries, particularly Japan and China), the professional shows truly exemplify the concept that fireworks are the eighth of the Seven Lively Arts. Critic Gilbert Seldes would surely have added fireworks to his list of seven had the logic of it crossed his mind: Not only do fireworks combine noise and color in a mam- moth spectade, but certainly fireworks is the easiest of the arts to appreciate. After all, a considerable amount of intellectual savvy is required for the others-especially those arts in their more advanced stages. Who has not been utterly bewildered by what is going on in contemporary music, ballet or the theater? Not so with fireworks. There is only the won- der of an inert object being turned abruptly into an active one-into something that star- des with concussion or awes with beauty, or indeed combines the both for effect. That is not to say that fireworks lack emo- tional dimensions. In a remarkable treatise entitled Fireuvrks: The Art, Science, and Tech- nique, a Japanese fireworks specialist named Dr, Takoo Shimizu writes about the "feel- ® ~-~- `' r _- _ \ ~ \ . ... Sf~, .cr~~ ,- ® ® ® ® . . \ ~ ~\ `X~ ..,~ _ NQ ® ® ® ® ® ® ® ® ® 0 © 0 ® m 0 ® ® ® 0 0 ® ® ® ~ ® PIIILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE,'SiJiMER 1986 27 0 ®

ings" evinced by the different shells and color combinations that occur in the night sky dur- ing a show. For example, the willow shells with "rounded shoulders" that send out long tendrils of amber or silver toward the earth rend to promote relaxation. The quick thistle- like chrysanthemum bursts, especially with flashes at the end of the petals, provoke ten- sion. A shell called akisakura (or autumn cherry blossoms) suggests elegance. As far as the purists are concerned, each of the shells carrying these effects must perform perfectly. The Japanese fireworks theorist and choreog- rapher Thoshio Ogatsu writes with horror in his volume on pyrotechniques about a chrysantheum whose circular configuration is not exactly achieved: "It is as if a petal of a flower is missing or has been eaten by a cater- pLilar!„ But if, in recent years, the professional spectacular has flourished in technical bril- liance and scope (for example, the recent Lib- erry Weekend Fireworks in New York, The Brooklyn Bridge Centennial, the Bi-Centen- nial Celebration in 1976, the Venetian Nights in Chicago, the Million Dollar Perfect Liberty Annual Show in Tendabayashi, Ja- pan, the Feast of St. Joseph in Valencia dur- ing Spain's Easter Week), the small backyard celebration that was once such a part of the Fourth is slowly emerging from a state of near-extinction. For years, domestic fireworks-the back- yard variety, what the industry refers to as "toy" fireworks-have had a bad name. The statistics of the past are hard to believe. On July 4th, 1903, when the population of the United States was half what it is today, fire- works accidents killed 466 and injured nearly 4,000 people. Almost as many people died celebrating independence-around 4,000 over the years-as actually died fighting in the War of Independence itself. The Fourth became known as "The Bloody Fourth," and, because of bum infections, "The Carnival of Lockjaw." Public outrage mounted-led mostly by magazines and newspapers. The Chicago Tribune for years published long ca- sualty lists of the injured and dead. Edward W. Bok's Ladies Home, journal printed photo galleries of maimed children. A typical car- toon of the times (in 1913) showed the skele- tal figure of Death in a cloak and a tricom hat standing in a village street utterly decimated by fireworks (it looks like a suburb of Ver- dun, the wounded lying here and there) and he is calling out, "July Fifth-and all's well!" The National Society of the Prevention of Blindness was especially vehement: "Wipe out the entire (fireworks) industry and with it the barbarous practice of burning children alive, gouging their eyes out and blowing their hands off in the crazy notion that this is patriotism!" Finally, in 1938 a model law was written for the states to follow if they wished. Quite URLM-WEEIM I ® ® 0 simply, the law barred the public sale and use of all fireworks. The only people allowed to fire displays were professional pyrotechni- cians. Fourteen states, most of them on the Eastern seaboard, adopted this policy. To this day, in Connecticut it is not possible to buy even a party snapper for a birthday celebra- tion. Nine other stares allowed sparklers, three of the bolder ones (Iowa, Oregon and Wis- consin) permitting not only sparklers but snakes-those pellets that when ignited ex- tend alchemically and mysteriously into a foot or two of tubular ash. It was a sad day for fireworks enthusiasts. No one cared a joe about the demise of the deadly noisemakers which were responsible for the mass of inju- ries; it was the ban on all fireworks that was difficult to contemplate. Many in the fire- works industry remembered what a legendary personage, Thomas Gabriel "Ray" Hitt (who developed the flash powder component in fireworks that gives the aerial salutes such brilliance) had once plaintively said about government restrictions: "They've taken the independence out of Independence Day." Finally, in 1966, government safety guide- lines were set. Requirements for fuses were specified-they were to be coated and three inches long. Explosive fireworks could not contain more than 130 milligrams of flash powder. Ten years later this was cut to 50 milligrams-a veritable pinch of powder that would hardly cover a fingemail. If such an N ® W RN co

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amount went off in one's hand it could no more than sting-a far cry indeed from the huge firecrackers responsible for the carnage at the tum of the century, devices which were not only sloppily made but literally had the concussive capacity of a dynamite stick. Unfortunately, the descendants of those monsters are still around. Noisy enough to drive the family cat under the bed, these are the stiff-fused, mostly tubular firecrackers that go by various names: M-80 (a military designation-the device is supposed to simu- late small-arms fire in training exercises), the cherry bomb, the Silver Salute and so forth. Carrying twenty times more flash-powder than is legal, they are responsible for the ma- jority of the injuries from today's fireworks. The ones you hear reverberating down the s hf Jl bld street on te Fourth ouy areootegge m items, sold off the stem of a station wagon. y The fireworks industry believes such items ~ would tend to disappear if the state fireworks ~ laws were liberalized. That seems to be hap- pening. pening. Since 1976, eleven states have liberal- ized ized their own statutes to allow either the ~ "Safe and Sane" category (namely fireworks o~ which do not leave the ground, induding cones, fountains and such novelty items as the ~ Egg-Laying Hen) or Class C fireworks which ~ are provided with a propellant to get them up m into the air (namely aerial shells and rockets). o More like it! ~ This slow progress has not caused panic. In Felix Grucci Jr. sbows his stuff. a 1981 Consumer Product Safety Commis- sion report, 138 consumer products were listed as more dangerous than fireworks- induding paper currency, grocery carts, beds, golfing equipment and plumbing fixtures. Just ahead of fireworks on the list are pruning devices and high chairs. Drinking glass acci- dents rank thirteenth of the list. (One through four in rank, incidentally, are stairs, bicycles, baseballs and footballs). Skeptics point out, of course, that fire- works are used only once a year, if they were an item of daily usage, injuries due to them would mount substantially. Quite possibly. But then again, according to the lists, Christ- mas tree ornaments, which also come out of the box once a year, rank higher than fire- works. And surely, fireworks would rank far lower if it were not for the infamous and illegal cherry bombs and M-80s. The change toward the liberalization of fireworks laws has not been effected by a lobby. There is an organization of fireworks people (the American Pyrotechniques Associ- ation), but it is small and at its annual con- ventions the group tends to concentrate mostly on the various technical aspects and problems of the industry. It initiates a certain number of public service announcements, in- evitably on safety matters. Thus, the main thrust for the change has been the public itself and state legislators prodded by their constituencies. Artisans who wish to get into the fireworks business have also pushed. People want their own fireworks and to enjoy the ritual that goes with them- the smell of punk, the careful placement of the device on the lawn, the last-second read- ing of those awe-inspiring instructions: Lay on Ground-Light Fuse-Get Away ... and then the first splutter at the end of the fuse. Perhaps we are coming to a time which Ray Hitt, the old fireworks impresario, would applaud-the putting back of independence into Independence Day. •

a t ' ~~•~ I F 44 t ! E ~ WTER A COLORS 'l MW ® Merr.'t Harbor Lights-a spectacular displaj, of sights & sounds for AmerlcQfl waterfronts The skies above four American cities exploded with color this summer, as Merit cigarettes brought its dazzling Harbor Lights extravaganza to some of the nation's most vibrant water- front locations. The colorful dis- plays, which were scheduled to coincide with local watefront fes- tivals, combined the pyrotechnics of the world-famous Grucci fam- ily with a selection of some of America's finest music. Residents enjoyed the festivities in West Palm Beach, Florida; Baltimore, Maryland; Muskegon, Michigan; and Little Rock, Arkansas. The Merit Harbor Lights above Little Rock's Intercoastal Waterway u ® constituted the biggest fireworks display the area had ever seen. "Merit Harbor Lights is much more than a standard fireworks display," explains Donna Grucci, Vice President of Fireworks by Grucci, which is based on Long Island, N.Y. "We custom-de- signed this program for Merit. The fireworks are electrically fired, color-coordinated and syn- chronized to music. Merit Harbor Lights shows are technically ad- vanced and totally state-of-the- art." Indeed they are. The shows are managed electronically from an on-shore location by members of the Grucci family, but the fire- 30 P1 IILIP \iORRLS bLAGA7-I1VE,'SUM1fER 1.986. ® works themselves are based on three barges: one for the body of the show, one for the grand finale and one that spells out "Merit Harbor Lights" during the pro- gram. The entire presentation is syn- chronized to a soundtrack that in- dudes such American classics as Richard Rodgers' rousing "Vic- tory at Sea," which opens the pro- gram, flutist James Galway's ver- sion of "Shenandoah," Ray Charles' "America the Beautiful" and Aretha Franklin's hot rendi- tion of "Who's Zoomin' Who?" The program ends with a thun- derous bombardment of "sa- lutes," a Grucci family trade- :3 mark. Originally from the Adriatic seaport town of Bari, Italy, the Grucci clan ranks among the very best pyrotechnical teams in the world. The family has staged fire- works exhibitions for such no- table occasions as President Reagan's 1980 and 1984 In- augurations, the 1984 Summer Olympic Games and the spec- tacular Centennial Salute to the Statue of Liberty held in New York Harbor this past July 4. Merit Harbor Lights will close out this summer's performance calendar with a September 13 ap- pearance in Hampton Bays, Vir- ginia. i t27 ® Q H I Mn a q

llll9 BALANCE OF Some reflections on the changing American Spirit by one of our most distinguished journalists and observers -- __- here is nothing special, I sup- pose, in the happenstance of growing old as the century grows old. But it does tend to coax the mind. Reflection comes unbidden, and now, in my early old age I see the future with foreshortened vision, the present with less certainty than I would wish, but the past in sharper focus, blurred now and then, no doubt, by touches of nostal- gia. I find myself thinking about the nature of my country, more than about that of myself, though already my own lifetime encompasses more than a third of the story of America as a nation. There were more buggies, sleighs and wagons in my town when I was a small boy than there were automobiles. The village smithy, whose name was Montenach, did stand under the spreading oak (not chestnut) tree, and I was perplexed that a red-hot horse- shoe could be bent while a cold one could not be. I am a bit startled to realize that it was still the Dakota Territory when my mother was bum at Fargo and amazed that her sister, Laura, still speaks crisply of those days. She came on the telephone recently because she had just turned 98. She has lived one-half of America's constitutional life. Yet we are an old and stable republic, compared to nearly all other nations, however turbulent we may be as a society and culture. Measured by the longevity of its existing gov- eming institutions, only Britain is older. The past is not a perfect guide to present or future, but it is one of the few we have, and this past of essential stability is what persuades me that it will continue as the underpinning of our essential freedom. Freedom is what America is all about, and what is freedom? I know no better identifica- tion than the late Eric Hoffer's notion that BY ERIC SEVAJIEIb PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SUMMER 1986 31

freedom is the ability to feel like oneself. All my life I have felt like Eric Sevareid, no one else. I have often disapproved of him, but I knew who he was. I have never suffered that "identity crisis" which so many of the articu- late complained about in the narcissistic '60s. I have felt at home in America and comfort- able with my generation, and if this sense of satisfaction makes me a prejudiced witness, so be it. I don't think that what is good for me is necessarily good for my country, but I know that what is good for my country has always been good for me. I was bom, quite literally, on Main Street, and I think I have America in my blood. If it is a failing, then my failing as a life-long joumalist has been that I have been unable just to look at America. I have always looked with it, as well. . t is greatly revealing about the spirit of America that our biggest single in- dustry is education. Consider; the high school population at the turn of the century was a bit over ten percent of the appropriate age group. Today it is around 94 percent. In 1910 less than three percent of the 25-year-olds had graduated from college. Today it is around 18 percent. None of this guarantees more geniuses in any field, but it does uplift the great mass of the people. A democracy cannot avoid this im- mense effort and must not. And mass media, mass communications, go naturally with mass education, however much they may distress intellectual elitists. What higher good to give thanks for than life itself? The infant mortality rate is around a tenth of what it was at the time of World War I, and the maternal mortality rate is also far down. The life expectancy average for Americans at the rum of the century was a little over 47 years, both sexes taken together. The provisional figures for 1984 will show the average to be close to 75 years, a bit over 71 for men and 78 for women. All this in spite of this troubling, potentially dangerous age of chemicals that we take in with our lungs, our skin, our food and drink. Surely, life expectancy will be even longer when the century tums again. 9 A merica is denounced for its materialism. We do have the materials, better distributed amongst the people than they ~` used to be, in my observation. It was, after all, a miraculous stroke of pure luck that the early development of the Indus- trial Revolution coincided almost precisely with the early development and settlement of the richly-endowed United States. It was the Industrial Revolution, after all, with the com- ing of capitalism that broke the back of dire poverty for people generally after centuries of 32 Fl-III.IP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SUMMER 1986 All my life I have feh kke ft Seuareid, no one else. I have often disapproued of him, hot I knew who he was. Eric Sevareid broadcasts over CBS Radto in 1947. I don't tlhink ihat what is good fior me is necessarly good for my country, hot I koow that what is good for my couotry has a(ways been good for me. subsistence living in nearly all countries. But materialism is a matter of the spirit. I find that spirit no more deeply imbedded here than in most societies and less so in some-France, for one, or Black Africa and some Arab and Asian states among others, where the craving for the materials is like iron in the soul. No- where that I can think of is charity so omni- present an activity in daily life as it is here. We may love to acquire, but we also love to give away. So we have the materials; we live with hustle and rush; we live inside huge corporate wombs; we do a lot of shoving and pushing and marching, unseeing, down crowded streets. Unfortunately, a majority of foreign visitors get their first impressions from New York City. Think about Manhattan for a mo- ment where the people are observed in transit. On those streets there is no place to sit down, no place to get a drink of water, no place to go to the bathroom. They have to get where they are going, through canyons with a wall at one elbow, speeding death at the other. Of course they don't dawdle at the shop windows, ogle the girls, chat with a friend at an outdoor cafe. They can't. But observe them in their offices and their apartments; they are surely as friendly, human and concerned as civilized people anywhere. ow can our own political system work at all, where power is divided between fifty states and one central regime, and between execu- tive, legislative and judiciary within the re- gimes? I think it works because it allows peo- ple as individuals to go their own way while maintaining this institutionalized balance. Balance is the key. Countervailing powers are built into the system because the Founders knew something about human nature, They knew that man is a contradiction, an ambigu- ity, part good, part evil, part pacific, part aggressive, part social, part selfish, and that he must be protected against him.relf. These shrewd institutional arrangements must have quite a bit to do with the astonish- ing fact that a society consisting of so many races, backgrounds, national cultures and tongues can hang together and in great mea- sure become a people. Like others, I was brought up to believe that the secret of Amer- ica's national strength was its diversity. I doubt it. What diversity gives us is diversity, an enrichment of the cultural landscape. Even that is limited. We all absorb bits of the food, dothing, customs, expressions of ethnic groups other than our own, but only the mind and spirit of the rare individual can truly enter into the culture of those distinctly different. Israel Zangwell's cry of ecstasy was off the mark-we have not become, completely, a

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Melting Pot. We never really were and now to my own distress (though many friends feel I am just wrong in this) the Lumps in the pot seem to be reforming more than ever. Ethnicity is being apotheosized more than ever. More than ever, ethnic groups be- come not just cultural repositories and memory banks, but eco- nomic demand groups. It is a way to get things from government. I feel a certain sense of loss in this because I lvas raised in the glow of a different vision. I was taught to believe that out of the diversity (my parents, though born here, could speak Norwe- gian when appropriate) there would emerge The American. A new personality and culture, dis- tinctly, unmistakeably, eternally American. To a degree this has indeed happened. Even an Amer- ican black, observed in a foreign city, is dearly American, in his voice, his gait, his open face and bold expressions. But will this continue to hap- pen Could it be that this current turning back to ethnicity means that millions have concluded that it will not continue and that they must find their personal identity somewhere else? I pray not be- cause I see no gain for the nation in this. I have never thought that the threat to our civil democracy would come from a man on a white horse. Certainly not in the first instance. Anything like ehat would be preceded by a frag- mentation of our collective life so widespread and deep seated as to resemble anarchy. In the first book he ever wrote, when still in his twenties, Win- ston Churchill observed that there are limits to what one nation can do for other nations at the expense of its own people, I am sorry that this is so, but we are going to have to begin emulating-to a fair extent-those nations that know it to be so. To this day, I am stirred by the noble words of Emma Lazarus on the Statue of Liberty. But they constituted, not just an immortal expression of human compassion, but, however unintended, a very practical argument: America was half-empty and needed settle- ment by people of whatever ori- My aunt Lauca receatly turued 98. She has lived one-half of America`s coos8tutioual yie. Eric Seiaretd commented on the 1972 ppresidential nontinating conrentFons for CBS-TT.' freedom is the ahif~y to feel me ooeself. i There were mace huggies, sleighs and wagons in my town when t was a sgd hoy than there were autoumhiles. 34 PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINEfSUMMER 1986 gin. The year the statue was dedi- cated our total population was less than 58 million. It is now four times that much, and the open, arable, needed land is gone. Crowding now accounts for much, if not most, of the abra- siveness in our daily lives. Most new immigrants, legal or illegal, head, not for the fields but the cities. Immigration accounts for 40 percent or more of our own population growth. One way or another we shall face these realities and grapple with them; we are not labeled by the whole world as a pragmatic people for nothing. Change is al- most a definition of America. ne day, in Washington, I ran into the newly retired ambassador from a leading European nation. I asked him why he was staying in the United States. He replied, "lx'here else is there?' Indeed, where else is "the ac- tion" that counts for the long run, for the whole world? America re- mains the great experimental lab- oratory in human relations; it is the most dominating influence of this century; it all but defines this century. I believe that in all periods of history, men require three things if they are to be whole, to mean something in this life. These things are security, identity and stimulation. Because I have lived Life as an American, I have rarely felt lacking in any of the three. These three plants can thrive only in the air and the soil of freedom. Tens of millions of ordi- nary, uneducated human beings all over the world seem to know this, whatever their intellectual leaders may tell them to the con- trary. If, by some miracle, all bar- riers to emigration and immigra- tion were lifted tomorrow, world wide, vast migrations would be set in motion and the biggest car- avan by far would be heading in our direction. Throughout this now waning twentieth century this has been, and remains, the first and last and the unanswerable case for the hope and humanity of the Ameri- can Republic. •

8 0 ® s ~.; i A F l -i ~a. 4 r 1 l \ a a ® i © ~. ~ ~~.r' l V aseball offers us pleasure and insight at so many levels and in so many forms that, when we try to grasp the whole sport in our two hands, we end up with nothing. The game, because it is no one thing but, rather, dozens of things, has slipped through our fin- gers again- As each season begins, we always feel the desire to capsulize and de- fine the source of the sharp anticipa- tlon that we feel as opening day ap- proaches. We know that something fine, almost wondecful, is about to begin, but we can't quite say why baseball seems so valuable, almost indispensable, to us. . \ .M.If ~~_F+wyw d1s ~.! wR • i\~ F ~_ ~ A~ ~ ~~ ~ F~ ~ ~~ ~_ 7 , -~'~ - •Tla.,~f_ ~ • ~ S 1ti,;. : - -~- s ~- ~ ~ t i

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s living theater and physical poetry, the game will be available in twenty-six ballparks on more than two thousand occasions. Baseball is always there when we want it-seven days a week, seven months a year. Ali the tactile pleasures of the park are ready when the proper mood strikes us: evening twi- lights, sundowns, hot summer Sunday after- noons, the cool of the dark late innings of night games, quiet drives home as we de- compress and digest. Then, just when we think the game is es- sentially mellow and reflective, we find our- selves looped in the twists and coils of a 5-4 barn burner between two contenders. When the centerfielder jumps above the fence in the bottom of the ninth and comes down with the ball and the game in his hand, we realize that two to three hours is just the proper amount of time to tighten the main-spring of tension before letting us explode in one, final cheer. he ways that baseball insinu- ates itself into the empty cor- ners, cheering up the odd hour, are almost too ingrained to notice. Tape at eleven, the scores before bed, the Monday and Saturday games of the week. Into how many con- versations does George Steinbrenner's name creep, so that we may gauge the judgments of our friends, catch a glimpse of their val- ues on the sly The amateur statistician and the armchair strategist in us is roused. What fan doesn't have a new system for grading relief pitchers, or a theory on why the Expos never win? Sure, opening day is baseball's band- wagon. Pundits and politicians and every prose poet on the continent jumps on board for a few days. But they re gone soon, off in search of some other windy event worthy of their attention. Then, once more, all those long, slow months of baseball are left to us. And our time can begin again. •

. D ~ Bas ? 1986 Miller Brewing Co., Milwaukee. WI . , ~ sr © ~~ TNERE'S~ NLY ONE LITE BEER. MILLER~~TE. EER Latlier ,tetball Great- ~ "LITE'S TASTE IS THE BIGGE, I'VE RUN INTO SINCE 606'S Ht1E3:

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