Radio Script #1173

Little Talks on Common Things
October 15, 1978

Several years have now elapsed since the Air Force ROTC unit at Colby College was abandoned. It became unpopular during the student turbulence all over the nation in the late 1960s when many people besides college students became disillusioned by the Vietnam war, and there was reaction against all things military. Both students and faculty, in large numbers in most American colleges, came to feel that military units had no place in colleges, especially those not operated and financed by public funds. Comment on Colby ROTC may properly be made on this program devoted to state and local history, for already ROTC is history at Colby. Did the AFROTC accomplish anything for anybody at Colby College?

It certainly did. During its brief tenure, that unit commissioned by graduation from its program, more than 200 young men in what was then a relatively new, but rapidly growing branch of our nation’s defense, the U.S. Air Force. I have no doubt some of those young men left the service after serving their allotted time, but some remained to make that service a life-time career. Some of them piloted fighter planes in Vietnam; others flew reconnaissance flights from our many stations around the world.

So let me tell you a bit about one of those young men, one of a group of 7 commissioned as second lieutenants at the Colby Commencement in 1964. He was John L. Kreidweis, who four years earlier had entered Colby from Union, New Jersey. In the Air Force since his Colby graduation, his administrative talents were soon noticed by his superior officers, and he became an outstanding example of an Air Force officer who held a degree from a liberal arts college, a man whose education was broad and comprehensive, as well as subjected to intense military training. The service command sent John to the Armed Forces Staff College at Norfolk, Virginia, after he had been an executive officer at Ramstein Air Base in Germany. In 1974, ten years after Colby graduation, he earned a master’s degree at Auburn University, and rose in the service to the rank of major. His newest post is executive officer of the Defense Contract Administration Service for the Chicago region. As such, he is in charge of contract services for four billion dollars of defense contracts in Illinois, Indiana and Wisconsin. So at least we can point to one man who is an honor to his college because he followed a career begun in ROTC at Colby.

Watergate, resulting in the first resignation of an American president in 200 years, and the numerous indictments and convictions of Congressmen and others in high office make the American public today very forcibly aware of trickery in politics, but I assure those practices by a minority of officials, amongst a majority of honest statesmen, is nothing new. In fact, an historical review of those practices in times past clearly reveals that they were worse then than now, if only because they were taken for granted and seldom led to punishment.

One case now remembered by few persons living occurred in a Maine Congressional election some seventy years ago. Concerning what happened at the Republican convention in Bar Harbor, that nominated the party’s candidates, the Portland Argus commented: “Money or rum was ostensibly cut from the program, and the finesse of politics was substituted.” The victim of the chicanery was the seemingly favored candidate, Isaac Dyer, a resident of Gorham. Before the convention his nomination had been confidently assured. But it turned out otherwise. The candidate was Frederick Hale and Dyer was dumped.

Gorham had the reputation of turning out statesmen. At that time, its favorite son, Frederick Robie, was still living. He had completed his term as Maine’s governor, and it meant a lot to any candidate to have his endorsement. On this occasion he came out strongly for Isaac Dyer. The Argus said: “Both Dyer and Robie were betrayed in the house of their friends, and thereby hangs a tale. Mr. Dyer was led to believe that the nomination was now his. But Dyer was sold out, and his campaign manager was revealed as actually a worker for Hale. At the convention, Asher Hinds, publisher of the Portland Press, suddenly shuttled from Dyer to Hale, and the obvious explanation is the treachery of Dyer’s manager. Since the convention many delegates have been trying to explain why they backslid.”

As the leading voice of Democrats in Maine, the Argus chuckled and exulted at this upset in the Republican camp. It said, “This can only be beneficial to the Democratic ticket, for such sacrifice of principle is sure to backfire on the Republicans. The rebuke given to Governor Robie and the insult to Mr. Dyer, founded on false rumors and a raw political deal, certainly cannot help the Republican ticket. Anyhow, there is a smart family row in the Republican camp. Many Republicans themselves are disgusted by this trickery.”

Now of course, that political story from the early years of this century is not a story of corruption or disloyalty to a public trust. It is rather an instance of the trickery and undercover dealing that has characterized· too much of American politics since the days of the Founding Fathers.

Among holidays that have now sunk into oblivion is the once popular Fast Day. Long after it had anything to do with fasting or other signs of humiliation and repentance for public misfortunes, it continued to be observed. In my own boyhood, Maine had an annual Fast Day, but I know my family never went without meals when it was observed.

What the day was like in the mid-nineteenth century, long before I was born, is revealed by a Maine governor’s proclamation issued on March 7, 1860, only a short year before one of our nation’s greatest calamities, the Civil War. The printed document said: “State of Maine, by the Governor, a proclamation for a day of public humiliation, fasting and prayer. With the advice of the Executive Council, I hereby designate Thursday, April 5, as a day of public humiliation, fasting and prayer. Hallowed by time-honored usage, let the day be a season when the ordinary vocations of life are suspended, when thoughts shall be turned to the design of being a sacred trust, when everywhere throughout our borders, dependent and penitent man shall offer his tribute of adoration to his maker and Benefactor, and offer supplication to that Providence for continuance of life and health, domestic happiness and social tranquility, and preservation from public calamities. Let us beseech Him to strengthen the bonds of affection between all people and impress them with solemn regard for national faith and honor. Especially we need beseech Him to confound the councils of enemies of the Union of .these states, and increase the number and zeal of all friends of liberty.

“Given at the Council Chamber at Augusta, this seventh day of March, 1860, and of the Independence of the United States the 84th.” Lt. M. Morrill, Governor

Among the many old documents that have come to my attention is the certificate of a minister’s ordination in 1819, when Maine was still a part of Massachusetts. Amazingly this paper gives no clue as to the denomination of the clergyman. It is a simple slip of manilla paper, on which is the following handwritten statement: “This may certify that Brother Allen Files of Gorham in the County of Cumberland was publicly and regularly ordained in Lincolnville, April 21, 1819, to preach the gospel and administer its ordinances where God in his Providence may call him. Given under our hands this 24th day of April, 1819. Elder Moses McFarland, John Lamb, Thomas McKinney.”

Tree farms are now numerous throughout Maine and in the big holdings of the paper companies, reforestation is a regular program. It was not always so. In the 19th century Maine’s forests seemed inexhaustible, and it was believed that natural second growth would soon replace the fallen primeval trees. Early in this century, foresters began to foresee the eventual end of Maine lumbering if a program of reforestation was not adopted. The yearbook of the Department of Agriculture for the year 1906 tells us about it. It said: “1906 saw the greatest gain in forest products since the Department began to keep statistics. At last forest preservation has come to be regarded with concern. In Maine’s large forests, companies are now employing professional foresters to manage selective cutting. Allover the nation 250 million acres of national forest are now protected. Wasteful exploitation has devastated much woodland between the Atlantic and the prairies. The day of such wasteful cutting is now happily past. ”

One hardly expects humorous incidents in a hospital but I can record one from my own recent hospital experience. One afternoon a nurse came into my room and squirted liquid into my ears. Noting that I removed my hearing aid to let her do this, after the performance she said: “You can now put the hearing back in.” When I did so it immediately plugged up and was useless. When I told her what had happened, the nurse said, “I don’t know a thing about hearing aids.” I said, “You don’t have to. Just get me a common pin.” After a long delay she reappeared with a safety pin, saying, “Can you use this? I can’t find a common pin” Needing only a pointed instrument with a small diameter, I quickly opened the plugged tube and all was well again.

This program has for 30 years carried the title “Little Talks on Common Things.” Few things are more common than ordinary straight pins. But now I know that one of the finest and most efficient of Maine’s hospitals with all its expensive modern equipment, does not possess a common pin.

Year: 1978