The risk of assassination

Well, March certainly came in like a lion as Salisbury citizens braved the snowstorm to cast their gratifying 158-11 vote at the town meeting to proceed with a new firehouse. Some skiers may still want more, but many of us have had quite enough winter; I have measured 67 inches of the white stuff in the 2007-2008 season. Of course, by the time this appears, we may be wallowing in slush and runoff, wondering when the crocuses and jonquils will peek out.

What now seems to have been a lot of snow would have 25 years ago been a bit below normal.  Remember the 120 inches in 1996? The recent record 144 was measured in 1912. Some of you remember the tornado within a snowstorm in March 1977 — Storm Noah — when 10,000 or so  red pines at the Lakeville reservoir were snapped off at about 10 feet above the ground.  I wrote a headline: “Noah Clobbers Corner With Everything But Ark.â€�

And then there was the great blizzard of March 11-14, 1888. The Lakeville Journal wasn’t yet around to report on the totals, but John Rudd of Lakeville reported that one of his forbears had to climb out of a second story window to reach the railroad cut beside the house. And the late Paul Rebillard told me that his father, Ernest, who was a charcoal cutter on Mt. Riga, waited out the storm in a hut with colleagues, fortified by a barrel of flour and a hogshead of rum.

Those were the days. More fun to talk about later, I suspect, than actually to experience.

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Would you bet money that none of the major presidential candidates would be the object of an assassination attempt? Hillary Clinton or Barack Obama, who are vying for the Democratic nomination, or John McCain, who is now assured of the Republican choice. There are still crazies out there, and it has happened too many times in our political history.

We can all be grateful that all three principals have Secret Service protection. But good as it is, the Secret Service cannot be everywhere at once.  There have been numerous other assassination attempts even since John F. Kennedy was felled in Dallas in 1963 by the bullet of a sniper, Lee Harvey Oswald, hidden in a book repository. An attack in Washington by John Hinckley Jr. nearly cost the life of Ronald Reagan. Even if we had realistic gun control laws, it would take a long time to reduce the number of weapons readily available, even to persons with records of mental illness.      

The fact is that our system depends upon an assumption of minimal good faith between citizens and the leaders they elect — that whatever political differences there may be will be settled at the polls rather than through violence. But in addition to the immense physical and psychological strains they must endure, the candidates for our top office also run very real risks. These risks are part of the sacrifices we expect their families, as well as the candidates themselves, to bear.   

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It was fascinating to hear and watch the New York Philharmonic in its concert in Pyongyang, North Korea. Loren Maazel and the 105-piece orchestra appropriately played the respective national anthems and a Korean composition, “Airirangâ€�; the familiar overture to the third act of Wagner’s “Lohengrinâ€�; Dvorak’s evocative “From the New World Symphony,â€� composed in Iowa;  Gershwin’s “An American in Parisâ€�; and the overture to Bernstein’s “Candideâ€� as an encore. Members of the carefully chosen audience sat stonily, scarcely moving a muscle; but you had to speculate whether in their innermost thoughts at least a few did not wonder whether the Americans were really the monsters their regime’s propaganda had portrayed them to be.

Therein lies the hope.  No single visit is going to open many minds or hearts.  But the beginning of cultural contacts is at least a move away from confrontation toward consultation. And I have to give President Bush credit on this one. The road toward nuclear disarmament in North Korea has been rocky and filled with obstacles, but Mr. Bush has surmounted his rhetorical dismissal of the North Korean regime as part of an axis evil to allow diplomacy to work, with the substantial help of China.  This is one of the more constructive accomplishments of his administration.

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Last Friday’s town meeting furnished a good example of what can be accomplished by working together on a non-partisan basis.  A citizen commission headed by Rusty Chandler had done a thorough job of investigating the need for a new firehouse and of working with Fire Chief Rick Roger and the Lakeville Hose Company to determine the suitability of the available Illinois Tool Works plant.

 First Selectman Curtis Rand and his selectmen colleagues, Jim Dresser and Bob Riva, had looked carefully at the overall needs and benefits, including environmental requirements as well as the availability of grant assistance, and had worked with John Mongeau to liquidate the archaic Lakeville Fire District. Chairman Bill Willis and the Board of Finance had determined that the town could carry the costs without a tax increase.

Others joined in a smooth presentation of the case, with suitable acknowledgment of the points raised by critics. This sort of respectful accommodation has become a Salisbury hallmark and bodes well for the forthcoming need to acquire land for a new transfer station.

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To my regret I never got to know Bill Buckley.  I met him casually a couple of times, but he had transferred his attention from Sharon to national challenges and politics before we got here. Others have deified him as a sort of god of the new conservatism, and I am sure he and I would have clashed philosophically on many points, but I always admired his wit and his way with language. He raised many pertinent and provocative issues in The National Review. He said what he thought, but he was willing to concede a point or change his view when he found that he had been wrong.       

I shall remember him especially for his jaunty quip when, half in jest, he ran for mayor of New York City on the Conservative ticket and was asked what he would do if, contrary to expectations, he won the election: “Demand a recount.�

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