JACK MURPHY Copyright © 2018 Jack Murphy. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below. Front cover image by Kostis Pavlou. Book design by Rachelle Smiley. Editing by Stephanie Colestock and Rachelle Smiley. Printed by Jack Murphy Live, in the United States of America. ISBN: 9781981062522 First printing edition 2018. www.jackmurphylive.com @jackmurphylive Email: [email protected] II | JACK MURPHY To Rachelle and my children, I love you all. JACK MURPHY | III IV | JACK MURPHY Contents SECTION ONE: THE JOURNEY 1 DEMOCRAT SINCE BIRTH 3 DESEGREGATION 11 CHOCOLATE CITY DEMOCRAT 17 DIVORCED FROM NATURE 23 EDUCATION POWER 31 CLOCK BOY 43 WHAT WAS I SEEKING? 51 GOLDEN TOWER 57 ELECTION NIGHT 65 DEPLORABALL 71 SECTION TWO: THE PROJECT 91 HOW MANY OF US ARE THERE? 93 THE SURVEY 99 THE PEOPLE 105 GREG 109 SARAH 117 JACK MURPHY | V DEMOCRAT TO DEPLORABLE DIMITRI 133 GEORGE 145 LISA 153 SECTION THREE: THE BIG FINISH 167 STAGNATION 169 GLOBALISM IS ANTI-NATIONALIST HORROR 175 THE COLLEGE STUDENT IS PATIENT ZERO 187 ANTI-FEMINIST BUT PRO-WOMAN 211 THE BLUE CHURCH 233 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 261 APPENDIX 263 ENDNOTES 269 VI | JACK MURPHY Section One The Journey 2 | JACK MURPHY DEMOCRAT SINCE BIRTH was the product of an evolving nation. Both sides of my family were early 20th century immigrants to the IUnited States. My mother’s side was Irish, my father’s was Russian. Settling in Chicago, they lived their version of West Side Story – a north side Jew mixing with a south side Catholic. Being working class was about all they had in com- mon. While my mom’s father was stationed abroad during WWII, my dad’s father returned home each night covered in axle grease. My maternal grandmother taught remedi- al English at a small local college. My aunts, uncles, and cousins delivered the mail, put out house fires, and arrest- ed bad guys. They had calloused hands, dirty shirts, and everyone worked hard; this is who we were. So when my parents came together, their immigrant heritages produced a novel result: me – an Irish Catholic Russian Jew named John Murphy Goldman. My dad al- ways said it was the perfect politician’s name, and maybe in the 1970s it was. Back then, it was bold for a Jewish man to marry an Irish woman, and I represented a new kind of American. We lit Hanukkah candles in the glow of Christmas tree lights, listened to Hebrew chants one day and Latin prayers the next, and there were bar mitzvahs JACK MURPHY | 3 DEMOCRAT TO DEPLORABLE alongside first communions. It was a little of this and a little of that, all mixed together to make something new. My parents created this something new out of some- thing old. In the ‘60s, Irish and Russians – even those who had been here for a generation or two – were still distinct from one another. They had rich, unique cultures with their own languages, customs, and histories. However, these two nationalities were already united by the immigrant’s story. Famine, war, and poverty forced them to make a decision unimaginable to most people. My ancestors on both sides boarded crowded boats with ev- erything they owned, rode the cold waters of the Atlantic, and, once here, cleaned floors, hemmed clothes, and did whatever they could to scratch out a new life. Despite the risks, a scary new beginning in America offered hope and change over stagnation or even death. Eventually, my fam- ily’s stories fused to make one which could only be found in the United States. At age 13, I had my bar mitzvah, a Jewish ritual mark- ing a boy’s evolution into a man. Both sides of my family attended the Saturday morning service. As you might ex- pect, the Irish Catholic contingent outnumbered my Jewish relatives by about 10:1. By the looks of the crowd, it could have been a Sunday Mass instead of Saturday services. The Rabbi, Barry Silberg, with his slicked-back hair and black robe, played to the crowd during his sermon. He talked of the 10 lost tribes of Israel, groups who were supposed- ly exiled after the Assyrian Conquest, and suggested that maybe, just maybe, the Irish were actually one of those lost tribes. Folks laughed at what seemed to be obvious pandering, but they welcomed the sentiment of unity. Whether it’s true or not, Rabbi Silberg was able to make my two families feel as one that day. I stood on the altar 4 | JACK MURPHY DEMOCRAT SINCE BIRTH as the product of two completely different histories, fused together in a way that felt like a true American story. I Reconciling disparate histories, the darkness back home, and the challenges of assimilation are common American threads. For me, bridging different worlds would become a recurring theme in my life. And as an adult I came to understand that the burden of reconcilia- tion was not just mine, but the entire nation’s. Weaving different pasts together into new futures is an American archetype. Because so many of us came from different circumstances, a feature of the American experi- ment is the crisscrossing and mashing up of different iden- tities to produce a new act in the play. Over time, we’ve had a tendency to meld ourselves into new characters whose stories ended happier, safer, and freer than they began. But today it feels like the arc of reconciliation has bent away from unity, instead breaking hard towards enmity. Racial antagonism is on the rise. Women and men seem to understand each other less than ever. Globally-oriented ideas clash with notions of Nationalism, as born and raised Americans compete with new arrivals. The children of Isaac and Ishmael play out their ancient conflicts in mod- ern times. These people, ideas, and stories seem to be at an inflec- tion point: either come together and move forward, or peer into a future where conflict reigns over resolution. The national narratives are screaming. This is our make or break time. Will we swirl our traditions together to form the new core of American identity, or are we doomed to be “two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year”?1 JACK MURPHY | 5 DEMOCRAT TO DEPLORABLE In my youth, the nation sought to sooth the wounds caused by past generations of strife. The ‘60s, ‘70s, and ‘80s were a time when the country aggressively moved towards a more civil union – one where whites and blacks had the same legal rights, where men and women were offered the same opportunities, and where the laws and customs of our country evolved along with its people. There was a national commitment to unity, but on the local level we each experienced this process differently. Progressive types were in the midst of it all, acting as civil rights activists, change agents, or leaders of a movement meant to heal historic wounds. The closed-minded fought progress, comfortable with the way things were and hope- ful that nothing would change. As a child during this time, I was part of the solution. My role was to make new con- nections across color, class, and culture for the country’s common good. The march to civil rights and reconciliation led us to some extraordinary destinations. We’re all the same now before the law. There’s no more three-fifths of anything, no system-wide plan to render people ignorant and uneducat- ed, no formal barriers keeping the needy from the basic necessities of life. The language of power and oppression guided us out of legalized discrimination and the poli- tics of hate. Equality of opportunity has been enshrined in both law and practice. When Barack Obama shattered the black ceiling and became our first African American president, it felt like the final scene in an inspiring movie: America voted a black man to lead the country, and we were proud to do so. I know I was. But sometime during the Obama administration, the energy around race bent towards darkness and decades of progress seemed to evaporate. Racial and gender animus 6 | JACK MURPHY DEMOCRAT SINCE BIRTH began to worsen around 2011. Instead of coming together, we were now being torn apart. Obama’s election was the end of a journey which began generations ago. Each pass- ing decade built a stairway which helped lift him, and us, to the highest office in the land. But once we got there, it was as if we didn’t know where to go next. Instead of step- ping safely onto the landing, we stumbled and fell on our face. Peak unity was already behind us. The 2016 election marked the end of the civil rights era. An arc which began even before slavery was abolished, it crescendoed through the 20th century, finally hit top altitude, and then came crashing down, punctuated by the inauguration of Donald Trump. The righteous work which aimed to free the slaves, restore their individual lib- erty, and enshrine equal opportunity under the law didn’t deliver a harmonious new age where Dr. Martin Luther King’s vision of a colorless society reigned. Instead, gener- ations of effort delivered us burning cities, torch bearing mobs, and open street violence.