The Bowdoin Orient
Volume CXXXII, Number 1
September 8, 2000
News ... Features ... Opinion ... A&E ... Sports
In the past few days, we have debated the content of this, our first editorial
of the year. While our initial reaction was to address the derogatory graffiti
recently found in Coles Tower, each of us found ourselves, at one point or another,
trying to convince another editor to write this piece. Although we were all
eager to scold the disturbing behavior, no one wanted the daunting task of trying
to ascertain why some people are so threatened by difference, and more so, why
some members of our community felt it was acceptable to express their fear in
the form of derogatory slurs.
To these questions we found no concrete answers. Most of us are used to finding
the right answers when involved in an academic endeavor. That’s why we
were accepted to Bowdoin. When a definitive answer cannot be found, it is tempting
to deem the question invalid and move on to a problem we can more easily solve.
But, while we are frustrated by the lack of answers or any concrete conclusion
regarding the derogatory graffiti in Coles Tower, the question cannot be put
away, but rather, must continually be revisited so that with time, perhaps some
understanding will lead to positive change.
Some people have argued that perhaps the perpetrators were drunk. However, while
drinking alcohol may remove social inhibitions and affect a person’s judgment,
the influence of alcohol cannot transform a person’s true beliefs.
During the daylight hours, when we sit together in class, eat together in the
dining halls, and exchange greetings on the Quad, Bowdoin could be mistaken
for a utopian community in which, despite our differences, we freely accept
each other. While many members of our community do in fact value individual
differences, we too often find that, when not exposed to the community at large,
or after having a few beers at a party, people express feelings they know could
be deemed politically incorrect and insensitive by many of us.
Although such closet prejudice may seem less obtrusive than public displays
of intolerance, the results are just as damaging, perhaps more so. The graffiti
in Coles Tower reminded us that, despite the polite and pristine appearance
of our student body, we are not in fact a utopian community. Most frustrating
is the fact that we are deemed powerless by such acts of closet prejudice. Because
the perpetrator was too cowardly to constructively address his or her fear of
difference, we the community are left with no chance for rebuttal. However,
we can each make a conscious effort to confront members of the community who,
behind closed doors, express prejudiced views. What may seem like merely an
offensive comment will inevitably translate to offensive and possibly destructive
behavior in the future.
I’ll come right out and say it: I am a registered Republican. Not only
that, I am an active Republican. At this point, I expect one of three responses
from the reader: 1. Oh God, not an evil Republican; 2. Republican? What’s
that?; or 3. Yay! I’m not alone! For the number ones, I’m not going
to try to convert you in this letter, so feel free to stop reading now. For
the number twos, hang in there, you might learn something. For the number threes,
you aren’t alone.
First, what is a Republican? Someone who is anti-choice and anti-homosexuals?
Someone who wants a machine gun in every house? Someone who wants to pave the
forests and let the poor starve? If so, then I guess I am not a Republican.
Unfortunately, those are the things that people associate with Republicans,
simply because our solutions to problems are not the easy quick fixes that the
other guys offer. I consider myself a Republican because I believe in the power
of the individual, not the government. I believe that the government should
provide only those services that individuals and private groups cannot perform
themselves. In short, I believe that the government should act as a referee
in a baseball game, not as a parent caring for a helpless child.
When I came to Bowdoin last year, I hoped to get involved with a college Republican
group and “do something.” Instead, I found that any political talk
was taboo and many people had little idea of the principles behind either party
and no idea who their congressional representatives were. At a college where
government is the largest department and one of the most popular majors, the
lack of political activism is ridiculous. Not to mention the fact that the majority
of the student body are American citizens who will shortly be paying taxes and
ought to care about decisions which will directly affect their lives.
To fill the political void here, a few students have organized to bring back
the College Republicans. Already, there are Republicans coming out of the woodwork
who have felt that Bowdoin has not been a place where they can express their
political views. We have been busy recruiting the necessary ten members so that
we can have a nationally recognized chapter. In fact, we are receiving a surprisingly
enthusiastic response and we expect a membership of between 25 and 30 members.
Professor Jean Yarbrough has kindly agreed to serve as our advisor.
That’s all well and good. But what are we going to actually do to bring
some political involvement, activity, and discourse to an otherwise apathetic
campus? So far, we have made a small trip to attend George W. Bush’s arrival
rally in Portland and several of us even attended the Republican National Convention
in Philadelphia, PA, this summer. This fall, we will be supporting local politicians
such as congressional candidate Jane Amero, in addition to volunteering for
George W. Bush’s campaign. We also will organize on-campus events with
guest speakers, debates, and info sessions about the candidates.
Now, why should you, the persistent reader who is still with me, give up some
of your time and join the Bowdoin College Republicans? How about this: you are
in the awful situation of having your parents die in an airplane crash. While
you are mourning, you receive a call from the Internal Revenue Service telling
you that you owe the Federal Government approximately 72 percent of the money
that your parents had worked their entire lives for because of the combined
death tax and the federal income tax. Or this: the minimum wage increase is
passed, and you are excited because you think that you’ll be making more
money at your summer job, but when you talk to your boss you find that you have
no job at all because the increase means that your boss can no longer afford
to keep you on the payroll since the Democratic President refused to give small
businesses a tax break to offset the minimum wage increase. Or less personally:
Poor people in New York City die in record numbers this winter from the cold
because they cannot pay their home heating bill since the Democratic administration
refused to allow oil companies to produce more oil.
I can give you trillions of reasons to get involved. Literally, trillions. Trillions,
because that is how much money the government spends each year. That’s
your money: you should have a say in how it is spent and see that it is spent
wisely. To get involved, please email khorsman or tbuell. Let the debate begin.
Sincerely,
Katherine Horsman ’03
I really don’t like George W. Bush. To be completely honest, I’m
not a big fan of either major-party candidate. I’ve heard quite a few angry
remarks regarding Al Gore, some of which are completely rational, and several
(thousand) heated comments about George W. Bush, known affectionately to some,
albeit few, as “Dubya.” I don’t believe that either man has the
strengths nor leadership qualities necessary to become president. However, seeing
as how the other candidates are limited to a white-robed, red-faced, cross-burning
crusader and an underappreciated environmentalist (and we all know how they
never win), I don’t think we have much choice but to decide between the
first two.
Thinking about voting for Nader? Well, so am I, but unfortunately, casting a
vote for a third-party candidate is utterly useless. Sure, Nader would gain
some recognition. He’d go home to his Green-Party headquarters where he’ll
be thrown a splendid (read: dry) party for securing two percent of the vote,
and his wife will give him a little extra loving in bed, but where does that
leave us? Since every vote for Nader is presumably one taken from Gore, it leaves
us with Dubya, a man who admittedly inhaled (unlike Clinton with his little
weed experiment) cocaine. Cocaine that was shipped first class from Columbia
next to a pound of Juan Valdez’s finest roast. Somewhere outside of Bogota,
a baron is being given a French manicure paid for by our potential future president.
Keep in mind that this same individual, albeit reformed by the almighty will
of God, supports mandatory minimum sentencing for marijuana dealers. Now, as
GWBush.com (a parody site) so eloquently pointed out, we’re not just talking
seasoned-veteran pot smugglers. No no. Under Dubya’s system of justice,
a 40-year-old mother of two would be incarcerated for selling a poppy plant
that, unknown to her, was later used to produce opium in someone’s basement
lab. This is not just unfair, this is hypocrisy, pure and raw. A man who evaded
being punished for his crime wishes to crack down on those committing far less
grievous offences. This is like drunkenly running over a small child, then chastising
others for jaywalking. Or, to use a more recent and relevant analogy, like condemning
a man for having an extramarital affair (it wasn’t even real sex!) while
sleeping with your secretary.
Oh wait. In all of this excitement about Bush, I almost forgot to discuss his
cheery running mate, Dick Cheney. But know what? I’d really just prefer
talking about his wife. According to Newsweek, her desire to abolish the National
Endowment for the Arts was so conservative, even NRA leader/Moses Charlton Heston
opposed it. And what does Lynne, an opponent of gays in the military and of
homosexual marriages, have to say about the fact that her daughter is a lesbian?
“No comment.” That shows a lot of class. It seems to me if husband
Dick’s smiling photo weren’t plastered on billboards all over the
nation, their daughter would be locked up in the broom closet with a weekly
bucket of fish heads to munch on. Compassionate conservatism, eh? Oh, and Dick
was opposed to the abolition of apartheid. True fact. But back to Dubya…
Bush’s main faults lie in the fact that he’s just plain stupid, yet
has had everything handed to him on a silver plate since childbirth. You all
know the types. Like that kid that made the soccer team just because his dad
was the coach? Remember him? Bush attended Phillips Andover Acadamy in Massachusetts
for four years with a cumulative grade point average hovering around a C. Not
that there’s anything wrong with that; it’s just that it makes the
fact that he got into Yale a bit curious. I know students who virtually governed
small nations who didn’t get into Yale. And so we ask the inevitable question:
who’s pulling the strings?
Okay, so to speed things up a bit, we’ll now fast-forward through Bush’s
adult years as financial devastator for several oil companies, hooded executioner,
and courageous educator (he reaches out to those poor Mexican children and addresses
them in their own language!!). Let’s jump right to a quote from Alex Nosnik
across the hall: “George W. Bush Jr., the present governor of my lovely
state of Texas, is a nincompoop. He has done nothing for our state but increase
the death toll, both by giving any individual the right to walk the world strapped
to the tooth with weapons and by killing more prisoners then ever recorded.
He consistently dodges every question that is laid at his door, and not in the
manner that we have come to expect from politicians, but in a way that makes
me question whether or not he actually understands anything anyone says. He’s
a good old boy from the Northeast who struts the world as an egotistical Texan,
which turns out to be a very lethal combination. If you’re a fan of gun-slinging
Americans who disrespect women’s rights and assume to have a greater knowledge
about the “way life should be” then Bush is your man, but for now,
all I can say is be afraid. Be very, very afraid.”
Which reminds me, in an infamously scandalized TV reporter’s pop-quiz,
Bush conceded to not knowing the prime ministers of either India or Pakistan.
Admittedly, I don’t have the slightest idea as to who the prime minister
of Pakistan is. But I’m not running for president.
Well, Angie, welcome to Bowdoin College. Welcome to the campus that so many
of us adopted ‘Maineacs’ call home. Welcome to one of the most exciting
experiences that you will have yet encountered. There is just so much that one
can say to an incoming student, so very much to share and to reflect upon-and
so very much more to say when that incoming student is your younger sister.
But while advice abounds for a younger sibling, most of that information ironically
applies to many of us seasoned students.
As the new year approaches, most of us start class with a heightened enthusiasm
and an eagerness to learn. Despite the fact that this enthusiasm will quickly
fade as the work increases and the time somehow disappears, we inevitably approach
the upcoming fall months with positive anticipation. We all intend to take the
class that we never took last semester, join the club we never quite had time
for, plan the trip that was somehow forgotten in one of last year’s busy
weekends, go to those meetings that you know you should attend, or start training
for the sport you are quickly realizing that you should already be in shape
for. We all intend to spend more time with our freshman-year roommate, have
dinner with the professor who influenced our major, and to attend every common
hour offered by the College. It is with great intentions that we begin our fall
here at Bowdoin, but, all too often, we end the semester with four-month-old
“to do” lists. If there were one thing that would make this semester
better than the others, it would be to retain that initial enthusiasm one finds
after a summer of mental relaxation, for as long as the semester endures.
And yes, Angie, you may have no idea what I am referring to, since it is very
atypical of you to say and never do, but Bowdoin changes many of us. Be wary
first years: hang on to the identity that you brought with you. In the class
that is being hailed as the most diverse on campus, keep those things for which
you were chosen to be here. Retain those intentions that so many of us upperclassmen
see slipping away as fast as the weekends do.
And so, enjoy these upcoming months. Delve into anything and everything that
you have wanted to do. Comedian David Ester who appeared in the pub last Friday,
spoke of this very issue. He suggested that for one to get the most out of a
very expensive education, you should get involved with everything possible,
absolutely everything. He even suggested attending class lectures that we are
not signed up for. I say go for it. After all, that is what we are all here
for: to get the most out of our Bowdoin education. We are here to carry out
those intentions that we all initially bring to campus.
So, first years, welcome to Bowdoin. To us returning students, here’s to
making this semester the best yet. And, Angie, I am thrilled to have you here
with me, although I have so very much more advice to give you.
If you have been paying attention to the farce trying to pass itself off as
a political campaign this year and feeling more disgusted than an uptight Bible
Belter watching South Park, you probably really wish that someone else besides
the bickering Democrats and Republicans would present themselves as a legitimate
and unique choice. Well that candidate exists, and no, it is not Pat Buchanan,
although he would certainly redefine America, albeit more along the lines of
Nazi Germany. I am speaking of Ralph Nader, a man who has been tirelessly and
thanklessly advocating your rights as a citizen and consumer since before your
parents got drunk that night camping and decided to play “Smokey The Bear
puts out the bush fire.”
Ralph Nader is running for President as the nominee from the Green Party, and
right now he is America’s best alternative. The process of electing a president
in the United States is archaic, is unfair to small parties and panders to the
needs and desires of big business. In fact, that sums up the current status
of our entire government. At least we have a choice as to who we elect; but
in the past few decades that choice has become less and less clear, as party
platforms become more and more similar, and both stagnate behind a mask of change
and progress. In recent years, our choice of leaders has been effectively reduced
to our choice of fast food. The burger looks so good on television, but in reality
it is overpriced, cold, tiny, pumped up with hormones, and every restaurant,
from McDonalds to Burger King, is the same as the next.
There hasn’t been a time in America’s history when we and our leaders
have so blatantly ignored the shortcomings of government and society and harped
only on the positive. I, for one, can’t even use a public restroom without
seeing an essay scrawled on the wall about the booming economy. (Whatever happened
to witty limericks about that guy from Nantucket?) I’m sure you have all
heard the statistics before, but I’ll bring them out again just to refresh
your memory. The economic boom is benefiting only the richest percentage of
Americans, and that is mostly from special tax breaks for the rich and loopholes
in environmental laws for big companies. The richest 20 percent of the nation
controls 80 percent of the wealth. The gap between the rich and the poor is
the widest it has ever been in American history, and is increasing. Real wages
are lower than they were in 1979. For at least half of the nation (i.e. the
bottom half), there is no economic boom. None.
Many in America believe that this government and electoral process has to be
changed, and changed more urgently than my roommate’s socks (hey you don’t
live with him). But who are our traditional Democratic and Republican candidates
with which to effect change? They are George W. Bush, that great paragon of
American virtue and intelligence (Oh, nevermind, I was thinking of Dan Quayle),
or Al Gore, who is more whipped by Clinton and the latest public opinion poll
than my roommate by his girlfriend, and that’s saying a lot. Republicans
in their “compassionate conservatism” are adopting, or at least espousing
many staples of the Democratic platform. Bush is making concessions on abortion
and talking up education, while Gore talks of (seriously) a missile defense
system - a goal laughed at by anyone with a shred of common sense who isn’t
being paid billions to actually build the silly thing. Let’s face it, there
isn’t any more real difference between Gore and Bush than between Burger
King and McDonalds, or Pepsi and Coke: You think you can taste the difference,
but you can’t.
Okay, so maybe I have embellished a bit, because there are differences between
Gore and Bush, and one could even argue that they are significant. But if you
desire the kind of restructuring of the electoral process and of the government’s
relationship with big business that I do, then neither is a viable option. Ralph
Nader is. Born in 1934 to immigrant Lebanese parents in Winsted, Connecticut,
Nader attended Princeton as an undergraduate and then went on to Harvard Law
School. He gained national recognition as an activist and a consumer rights
advocate when he wrote Unsafe At Any Speed, an exposé of Chevrolet’s
shoddily built Corvair. He is also responsible for founding many civil and environmental
activist groups around the nation and has spurred such landmark laws as the
Freedom of Information Act and the Clean Air Act.
Nader is a man who genuinely wants to change the way things are. His biggest
goal is to remove corporate interest from Washington and to replace it with
(gasp!) public interest. He also wants to completely revamp the electoral process,
which is mired in the politics of big business. He wants stricter enforcement
of current environ-mental standards and eventually stricter environmental laws.
Nader wants people to become active participants in their government and to
have children take a class or two in school on how to become active and caring
citizens and to let their voices be heard. He wants to crack down on corporate
crime and fraud. He wants universal healthcare. He’s not a revolutionary.
He desires simply to make all of America great, not just the top 20 percent
of it.
Now, what has Gore or Bush done that demonstrates either deserves to be president?
Gore has done a respectable job, fighting in Vietnam and eventually serving
in the Senate for a number of years before being elected Vice-President, but
his associations with and actions in the Clinton Administration (no, he didn’t
have an intern) show that while Gore has good ideas (i.e. protecting the environment),
he really hasn’t acted on his beliefs and often sacrifices his ideals to
please corporate interest. Bush is another story altogether. He graduated from
Princeton with a gentlemen’s C, and then immediately and fearlessly joined
the National Guard and defended Texas from the Communists. After that he worked
overtime on his alcoholism until someone bought him the Texas Rangers, and poof!
he was qualified to be governor of Texas and is now, according to some, the
most popular option for leader of the free world. Only in America, right?
Ralph Nader is a patriot. He believes in the fundamental systems on which our
forefathers founded this nation. But he believes that somewhere along the way
the explosion of huge, powerful, and unchecked corporations has not only drowned
out their voices but has also brainwashed most Americans. The guy working in
the local factory who feels abused by his company can’t pay $10,000 for
a chance to plead his case to Gore or Bush at a fundraising dinner. Exxon and
Dupont can, and do. And they don’t ask for simple things like raising the
minimum wage to a livable level. No, they say “Hey Al, buddy, you know
that bill that could prevent us from logging the national wildlife reserve,
gee that’s really a thorn in our side. We’ve always been a big supporter
of you and do you think you could just see to it that it doesn’t get passed?”
That is straight-up bribery, it happens all the time, and it’s legal. The
last I was aware, everyone in America had an equal voice: one vote. If you think
this corporate corruption needs to change, then vote for Ralph Nader, because
neither the Republicans nor the Democrats are going to do anything about it.
They are the same platform with different clothes on. McDonalds and Burger King.
Ralph Nader is different. He’s the local hamburger joint where the wait
is longer and the food more expensive; but it’s still worth it. Go buy
a burger at McDonalds or Burger King, and what do you get? A big roll with pickles,
onions, ketchup, and mustard, and an insignificant little pre-formed hamburger
patty: all fancy dressing with no substance. Go to your local restaurant and
what do you get? A big honkin’ half pound of beef that you have to eat
with two hands and a plate full of steaming hot fries.
Vote Nader for the 2000 presidential election and visit his website at www.votenader.com.
He brings the beef. (No offense to vegetarians, it’s just an analogy.)
There’s something about September that appeals to me, and I don’t
know why. Even though it signals the end of summer, it also signals the beginning
of cold, crisp days, of trees painted red and gold, and of the first day of
school.
I suppose that it’s a bit of a cliché to be writing my first column
about the first day of school, but I read something recently that reminded me
of the universality of this experience. Last Friday, the Associated Press carried
a story about the return to school of Elian Gonzalez, Cuba’s most infamous
youngster. The story chronicles Elian’s first day at the Marcelo Salado
school in Cardenas, and relates the seemingly mundane goings-on of a group of
children who would otherwise be distant from our lives, if not for their well-known
classmate. Perhaps most interestingly (and heart-warmingly), the A.P. article
describes the scene as the students go around the room, introducing themselves:
“My name is Elian,” the 6-year-old piped up when the teacher asked
all 28 kids in his second-grade class to introduce themselves. There was no
applause, no commentary, until every child has said his or her name - and then
they all applauded themselves.”
There is something wonderfully comforting and reassuring in that sentiment.
While I am sure that Elian has suffered more than his share of sidelong glances,
this vignette illustrates that his classmates know something that the journalists
don’t:
It’s time to start over.
Even for those of us who are not as famous as Elian, the beginning of school
oftentimes carries that feeling with it. I can remember only a few first days
from my own elementary school, but I’m sure that I always wore my new clothes,
and that I always had my shiny new pencils and my Trapper Keeper with the dinosaurs
on the front. And, even though I had been going to school with many of my classmates
for years, the first day always felt like a day unlike any other. There were,
I imagined, so many different possibilities. Anything could happen! As I got
older, first days got more and more complicated, and I found myself with more
and more responsibilities. Nevertheless, I couldn’t shake that feeling
of newness, of beginning again.
So, as we embark upon another year at Bowdoin College, let’s think about
it as a year of firsts. Last week, Craig Bradley reminded the senior class that
“the year is almost over,” and, although I understand his sentiment,
I couldn’t disagree more. There is still so much to do this year, even
if there is so little time to do it in. For those of us who are at Bowdoin for
the first time: explore the campus, and the town of Brunswick. Take a drive
up the coast. Sign up to volunteer at the animal shelter or at the junior high.
Try to get a radio show on WBOR. And, for those of us who are nearing the end
of our careers here, take a moment to think about everything that you ever wanted
to do at Bowdoin, and do it. Now. Because, hey: this might be your last chance.
Over the course of the year, you’ll see me write about a lot of things
- music, Halloween, the presidential election, people who yell at their children
in supermarkets - but I will say nothing that is as important as what I am going
to say now:
Happy first day of school. Now go have some fun.
Shortly before the end of my first year of college I, a lonely homesick kid from the West Coast was accepted to become a proctor here at Bowdoin College. The contract began two weeks before the majority of students were scheduled to arrive on campus. Now after nearly three weeks, I sit in my homey college brick watching and critiquing the campus from a new but still familiar point of view. I’ll begin with a little letter to the students of Bowdoin College.
To Whom It May Concern:
What is the deal with campus elections? I find it hard to believe that such
a diverse, bright, and accomplished new freshman class has the stomach to allow
future sleazy politicians to poster their homes with ridiculous promises and
virtually no helpful information. It is very frustrating to walk around campus
reading these posters knowing that inevitably one of these promise toting anonymous
public servants will someday make some decision that may actually affect the
students of the Class of 2004.
More than anything, this is a call to action. I want to see the first-year students
pull their heads from beneath pages and ask those who want to run their class
to explain themselves and their goals. And I’m not talking about some high
and mighty little paragraph posted on some multi-linked page deep in the Bowdoin
technological maze. I want to see students getting up on an orange crate right
next to our favorite mascot and fielding questions about what it might actually
mean to be the president of a class of four hundred and fifty students.
Is it really necessary for these students to campaign now? To plaster their
names across brick and wood that they barely recognize? Give these future Gore
and Bush followers some time to actually form opinions and ideas about what
it’s like to live here. How can these William Cohens cope with any problems
they encounter or decisions they have to make if they do not have knowledge
of either what the problems are or where to find the solutions?
It’s frustrating for me, an active member of this lovely little “community”,
to sit back and watch this atrocity occur. What an opportunity we have to make
things happen around this often lonely and monotonous campus. Come one folks,
let’s shake things up.
Sarah Orne Jewett H’1901 once wrote, “When one really knows a village
like this and its surroundings, it is like becoming acquainted with a single
person.” This Maine born and raised writer was no stranger to the Bowdoin
College campus, her father was a professor of the medical College, and in her
lifetime she would become the first woman to receive any sort of degree from
the College. Aside from being closely associated with the college, Jewett lived
with her finger on the pulse of Maine life. Her interest in Maine was sparked
as a young child as she made house calls with her father, who served the town
of South Berwick as their physician. Arguably no author has paralleled her ability
to capture the essence of what she regarded as a vanishing culture, the Down
Eastern way of living. Writing with an urgency similar to Melville’s attempts
to record the dying breed of New England’s sailors, Jewett pinpoints a
way of life that she saw as vanishing, but that may not be completely extinct
today.
On Sunday, August 28, I pull out of my driveway in Saint Louis, Missouri. Ahead
of me lies 1,300 miles of highway leading to Bowdoin College, or as I say to
many Midwesterners, a small liberal arts college in Maine, just about half an
hour up the coast from Portland. They acknowledge the city of Portland, and
look back into their short-term memory to check if I said Maine, or Oregon.
I cross through the states of Illinois and Indiana before lunch time, passing
thousands of Amoco stations, Cracker Barrels, and Steak ‘n Shakes - Midwestern
establishments that become fewer and farther between the deeper into the Northeast
I drive. With CDs that skip too often and farm town radio stations that crack
and fade before disappearing, I tune out whatever is emanating from the stereo
and open my eyes to the mammoth that is the state of Ohio. The seemingly impenetrable
final Midwestern state. It is between Columbus and Cleveland, heading Northeast
for the first time, that the land first begins to change noticeably. The cornfields
have been left behind at this point, and as I briefly cut through Pennsylvania,
I sense that I am fast approaching New England. I begin to feel like I am finally
making a dent in my journey- that is, before my spirit is crushed by the behemoth
that is known as the New York Thruway.
The globalization of major corporations will be the death of regionalism in
the United States; there’s not a major city in this world that hasn’t
been tainted in some way by corporate America. There’s a McDonald’s
in Saigon. I’ve found though, that Brunswick is a die-hard town when it
comes to fighting off the bombardments of fast food, establishments that have
been cut straight off the assembly line. Brunswick pushes said businesses to
the virtually characterless Cook’s Corner intersection just east down Bath
Road. Just across from the Brunswick Naval Air Station, rests Fatboy, the last
refuge of independent charm. Ahead lies Burger King, Staples, Papa Ginos, and
the like. I like walking into downtown Brunswick, and choosing between Big Top
and Broadway Deli, rather than between Burger King and McDonald’s.
Just after I’ve passed through Portsmouth, NH, and across the Maine border,
my gas light comes on, a cruelty as I begin my homestretch. So having come over
1,200 miles, and with less than 75 remaining, I’m almost out of gas. Taking
the off ramp at the next advertised exit, I come to a fork in the road, with
no indication as to the direction of the nearest gas station. Another thing
about New England’s charm: it’s assumed too often that everyone already
knows where they are, and where they’re going, thus there is no need for
road signs, street signs, etc. So I did the easiest thing I could have done,
I lost my way. And after pulling several U-turns, I spotted an older man working
in his yard. And as I asked him directions, I knew for the first time in nearly
four months that I was back in Maine. The dialect is like none other, not so
general as say, a Southern accent. Somewhat similar to that of other New England
states, but at the same time unmistakably Maine. The man provided directions
to the gas station, and from there, he told me how I would find my way back
to the highway. I got the sense that he’d been asked before.
Sarah Orne Jewett feared the disappearance of a people, a way of life, and a
culture in itself. As one who comes from halfway across the country, and one
who spent his freshman year adjusting to a different way of life, I feel that
the Maine Jewett wrote so passionately about is safely off the endangered cultures
list. While in the 21st Century Bowdoin College students might be experiencing
a diluted version of Maine life compared to a century ago, life in Maine remains
unlike any other.
Christina Aguilera never saw it coming. But then again, neither did he. What
started out as a seemingly innocent quote on MTV has created a bitter whirlwind
of media that lands both Eminem and the teen pop-queen in a flailing heap on
the tongues of just about every American.
In response to what she thought about the blonde-haired rapper, Aguilera responded,
“He’s cute and everything, but he’s got too many girls after
him. Besides, he’s married, so I’m going to stay away from that.”
While her comments were both complimentary and cautious, Eminem’s replies
have come in the form of inflatable dolls, slanderous sexual suggestions and
a “Christina lyric” on two of his last three singles (“The Real
Slim Shady” and “Off the Wall”). Aguilera, however, isn’t
the only figure to be cut up by the sharp tongue of hip-hop’s most controversial
artist since Ice T back in the days of “Cop Killer.”
And that’s just the problem. Though the media and the public are willing
to brush off the very lopsided verbal sparring between Eminem and Christina
(and Britney Spears, N’SYNC, Insane Clown Posse, his mother, his wife…),
his newest CD, The Marshall Mathers LP has brought him a tremendous amount of
criticism despite its multi-platinum status. Too many different groups and people
have been attacked: from Clinton to Sonny Bono to Versace. In response to a
barrage of public outcry, Mathers responds, “I do say things that I think
will shock people…but I don’t know how long I’m going to be on
this planet. So while I’m here, I might as well make the most of it.”
It’s safe to say that if Eminem dropped out of the entertainment business
tonight, he would create enough stir to carry over until the next white rapper
from Detroit appears on the Billboard charts and TRL countdown. However, since
it’s also not likely that this will happen, let me address the biggest
problem with Slim Shady’s public problems. Though many of his lyrics are
undoubtedly offensive, they are also some of the most impressive in the hip-hop
world. His constant stream of menacing yet perfectly placed verses puts Eminem
atop both the pop charts and the “underground” music scene.
This is where the dilemma arises. While rap icons such as The Notorious B.I.G.,
Method Man, and DMX have risen to the top of the hip-hop world, they haven’t
entirely crossed over to the mainstream. However, their white counterpart has
become fully immersed in a sea of teenage pop fans who bring home his CDs and
play them over and over, while their parents read in the next room. All of a
sudden, a public outcry is heard because of the offensive lyrics that Shady
is pumping into children’s ears.
With this outcry comes the inevitable volley of accusations and defenses. The
latest and most potable complaints have come recently from the Gay/Lesbian Alliance
Against Defamation. GLAAD executive director, Joan M. Gerry states, “The
Marshall Mathers LP contains the most blatantly offensive homophobic lyrics
GLAAD has ever seen.” While the First Amendment rightfully shields Eminem
from complaints from the outside world, his own seemingly invincible armor has
become dinged up in the argument.
Mathers was quoted in his defense as saying, “’Faggot to me doesn’t
necessarily mean gay people…when I started saying ‘faggot,’ I
started getting people going. [They said] ‘You have something against gay
people’ and I thought it was funny, because I don’t.” Yet, when
you listen to the lyrics in many of his songs, it’s clear that this is
not the case. The poster-verse for GLAAD’s argument go a little something
like this: MY WORDS ARE LIKE A DAGGER WITH A JAGGED EDGE// THAT’LL STAB
YOU IN THE HEAD WHETHER YOU’RE A FAG OR LES// OR A HOMOSEX, HERMAPH// OR
A TRANS-A-VES// PANTS OR DRESS// HATE FAGS?// THE ANSWER’S YES.
To his friends, colleagues and hip-hop heads, Eminem constantly maintains that
he says exactly what he thinks; what comes out in the recording studio is what
runs through his head. Yet when he is interviewed by the pop-culture media,
he skirts around the issues or replies that he has the right to create a stage
persona. When asked about his Slim Shady LP track, “’97 Bonnie &
Clyde” (in which he murders his wife and steals their baby), Mathers replied,
“Me and Kim have a special relation. She knows when I’m just fuckin’
around on stage. She can tell that I’m only doing it for fun.”
If this indeed is true, then Eminem should not claim to be “sharing [his]
point with the world” if his lyrics are based on stories he has made up
in order to create more record sales. Though his lyrical wizardry is undisputed,
his responses to the media are generally different from what he puts down on
his tracks and relays to his close circle of hip-hop friends. This takes something
away from his hardcore persona, and puts him somewhere between rap icon and
showman extra-ordinaire.
It recently dawned on me that I am indeed graduating in a few short weeks,
barring serious academic collapse. It’s been four years. Holy shit. Wait,
I can’t say that.
I arrived in Brunswick in the fall of 1996. It was a sunny day and I was a scrawny,
dorky looking kid with glasses and no fashion sense, struggling to grow his
hair out. Now I have blossomed into quite the stud.
I’m sure you are all asking yourselves, “What’s Pedro doing next
year?” I know I’m asking that question. With a Bowdoin degree under
my belt, the world is my oyster, whatever the hell that means. But I have two
conditions that guide my future. They are my desire not to work in an office
and my need not to live at home. So without any further pomp and circumstance,
it’s time to present my top three plans for the next chapter in the life
of Pedro.
I have been working for the Orient in some capacity every semester that I have
been at Bowdoin. It’s a bit scary to say, but I am really going to miss
it. Ah, the memories. “Bowdoin’s identity may lie in expelling women,”
“Victory at Columbine,” “Let the flag fly.” And those are
just the headlines.
There is something about the profession that appeals to me. I can’t quite
put my finger on it, but it revolves around the fact that I enjoy writing for
an audience. I enjoy soliciting responses, and inspiring discussion. I enjoy
pissing people off. Of the hundreds of pages I have typed over the past four
years, I have put much more consideration into what is read by my peers rather
than what is read by my professors. Sure, this may not be the best strategy
for anyone looking to graduate cum laude, but who cares? I have received the
greatest comment I could hope for, “I can’t believe you wrote that.”
Now the life of an aspiring columnist is not fun-filled. Syndication scares
me. Perhaps some of you gourmets out there in readers’ land have glanced
at one of my restaurant reviews. Now those I enjoy. They combine my love of
writing with my love of dining out. Unfortunately, my parents smoked throughout
my childhood, and I fear that my taste buds are much too dulled to truly sample
the subtleties of gourmet meals.
Regardless, journalism is a possibility. I am a procrastinator by nature and
have based much of my academic career on writing under time constraints. I love
the idea of people reading what I think they should know or think. Maybe it’s
a power trip.
And on to the second path. I have spent the past four summers and a few winter
breaks working in restaurants, and have found that I love the art of hospitality.
While washing dishes was a bit too menial to turn into a career, I found my
niche in running the door. The mid-priced restaurant-microbrewery might just
be the home for me.
While home over Spring Break, I paid visits to a few friends I have worked with
and for, and had offers of management positions. Of course in this business
that could mean $9 an hour or 75 hour weeks at $30K a year. But if I like it,
is that enough? Perhaps for a few years, but that’s pushing it. I’ve
seen people get sucked into the business, and it’s not pretty. Though casinos
still appeal to me…
I have a vision of taking a bus out to Vegas and taking any hospitality job
I can get, and living by the seat of my pants for a few years. I had a friend
for whom I washed dishes several years ago. I remember him sharing is sage-like
advice. “Pete, the best thing about cooking, is that I can pick up and
move anywhere in the country and have a job in 12 hours.”
Rereading what I’ve written, I realize that I have been painfully dull,
and you have my apologies for putting up with me, or my congratulations for
sticking it out so long. You pick whichever, depending on your mood.
The most off-the-wall option I have been considering is the military. Not many
kids from Bowdoin find their way into the enlisted ranks, which is a shame.
My military plan involves my joining the navy and finding myself in the Mediterranean
a year from now, operating sonar or weapons systems on a fast attack submarine.
Of all the answers I have given to the perennial, “What are you doing next
year?” this answer always draws the most criticism. There is a general
disdain for the armed forces among many of my peers, which is most unfortunate.
I have several reasons for pursuing this type of lifestyle for myself, at least
for a few years.
First of all is the superficial; I like the idea of being able to spend every
cent I’m worth, and still have a roof over my head and food in my tummy
at the end of the day. There is a sense of duty that strikes me every now and
then. Many of my relatives have found themselves in the military for a few years
both in times of war and times of peace, and I would hate to break the tradition.
Above all, I see the military as a chance to continue my education. I’m
not talking about learning the proper way to salute and how to make a bed that
quarters will bounce off of. I have led a very sheltered life thus far, and
enlisting would expose me to types of people I have not had the opportunity
to get to know. I see the military as a way to become a minority in several
ways for the first time in my life.
So there you have it. Don’t ask me what I’m doing; take a guess. It
could be a small town paper, it could be Vegas, it could be the Mediterranean.
But whatever happens, you won’t run into me on the streets of Boston.
Pedro is really cool.
I called with a request in mind, which I wasn’t sure would be fulfilled.
I knew they’d be closing at four, and would most likely want to shut down
at 3:59 like most other eating establishments. The phone rang once and a half,
and as the other side picked up, I heard the trailing off from an in-house order,
“Cordon Bleu…,” followed by the familiar “Hello, Big Top.”
Though I was aware of the closing time, I had been talking and thinking about
getting a sandwich and salad since about 2 a.m. the night before. I ordered
a bagel with lox and cream cheese and a caesar salad with extra dressing, and
told the voice on the other side that I had class till four. He took my order
graciously when I said I’d be there as soon as possible, but in a comment
that surprised me, the owner replied, “Don’t worry about it. If you’re
not here we’ll put it by the doorstep and you can pay tomorrow.” In
a time when it seems to be up front or not at all, it just caught me off guard.
But it really shouldn’t have; that’s just the way they run things
down at Big Top. They’ve been doing it ever since 1995. No one’s really
sure what stood at 70 Maine Street in the past, but since Alex Ho and Michael
Kunhardt decided to open the New York-style delicatessen, it hasn’t mattered.
While their sandwich creations are often elaborate, the origins of Big Top are
quite simple. Kunhardt wanted to start a business in the Big Apple, but his
partner favored Colorado. In a compromise which has proved beneficial for Brunswick
residents, they settled in Maine. Ho, 30, said, “We parked at Christy’s,
had a few beers at Joshua’s and just decided, ‘let’s have it
here.’” He also added that Bowdoin was a great influence in establishing
Big Top at its present location, saying, “the students definitely help
on weekends.”
Unlike its foundation, Big Top’s name and design has more of a background.
After Michael Kunhardt and his family finished working on a PBS documentary
involving circus life and history, he kept the various memorabilia. Much of
the pictures, news articles and old photographs now adorn the interior walls,
and the television program serves as the basis for the establishment’s
name. With Ho’s knowledge for running a business, and Kunhardt’s paraphernalia,
70th Maine has become a town favorite.
Big Top has been named Midcoast Maine’s Best Deli/Sandwich Shop (Market
Surveys of America) for three years running, but it’s not your classic
“order and go” place. While some may take their food elsewhere, many
customers enjoy the laid back atmosphere at one of the ten tables or numerous
stool seats overlooking the center of town. The walls are well decorated, and
fit perfectly under the name, Big Top. On your immediate left is a black and
white image of P.T. Barnum, flanked by an article written on the circus magnate.
Around the deli can be found an assortment of other framed photos or illustrations;
from the Golden Gate Park and Ringling Bros. & Barnum & Bailey to an
1873 shot of Maine Street. Towards the rear, a wavy mirror contorts anyone who
walks by the corridor. Another aspect of the deli that separates it from others
and adds to the atmosphere is the preparation area. Instead of closing it off
from view, a low counter opens up half the floor and allows clientele to see
what is being prepared.
It’s likely that other sandwich shop owners would like to take a peek at
what goes on at the cutting boards and meat slicers. Whether it’s a simple
sandwich, or a quarter-pound burger, patrons are continually satisfied and thinking
about seconds. Although Ho recommends, “anything,” some more specific
suggestions should be added for the Big Top beginner. For the basic palate,
an egg salad sandwich on a Kaiser roll does wonders; in an alteration from this
traditional selection, I’d recommend slices of (fresh daily) avocado on
top. As a Long Islander, the bagels with cream cheese and lox (complete with
capers) are truly New York-style, and the caesar salad competes with any sit-down
restaurant I’ve been to.
Some more exclusive Big Top creations have names to match. Scanning the colorful
chalkboard menu, one will find titles such as The Trapeze, Jenny Lind, Tightrope,
Oliphant, and The Rockies. Other favorites include the Tom Thumb, which at $2.50
is probably the best bargain there (it includes fried egg, avocado, tomato,
mayo and salt and pepper on a toasted English muffin); The Goose (turkey, muenster
cheese, honey mustard dressing, avocado on a 7” or 12” wedge); and
The Nick (a footlong hot roast beef with hot peppers, provolone cheese, tomatoes
and mayonnaise). The soups change three times a week, new sandwich creations
change daily, and a pickle and chips are included with every order. A number
of soft drink coolers can be found standing on the black and white checkered
floor, containing Snapple, a variety of sodas, and of course Fresh Samanthas.
Jaime Nichols ’03 says, “Even though I’m twenty, I still can’t
resist Samantha’s smile. I get three or four every time I eat there.”
While the school year is coming to a close, reading period and Senior Week provide
plenty of sunny days. For a great meal—and procrastination break—walk
down to Big Top and order one of their hundred menu selections, or create one
of your own. They’ll call you by name, bring the food outside on wicker
baskets, and be there when you go back for seconds.
Big Top accepts credit cards and is not affiliated with P.T. Barnum himself.