Swing (Feb-Dec 1951)

334 August, 1931 Said the lady: "He's so good with people like that. Right down to their level." This lofty attitude requires no further comment beyond pointing out that the bandying about of heroes' names or faces is not always to their advantage and doesn't contribute much to the enlightenment of the rest of us. There is great com' petition among the programs for Medal of Honor winners. There aren't really enough to go around, more's the pity, and the available ones are likely to bob up all over the place, venting sentiments which would greatly surprise their comrades in a prose style which greatly surprises me. The other night three Medal of Honor winners who had been shipped back from Korea were on "We, The People" and were asked by Dan Seymour, the proprietor of that show, to say a few words about their exploits. One of them, in lines that had obviously been written for him, said that the real heroes were still in Korea: "A lot of guys who didn't get medals, who didn't get to meet the President of the United States, who didn't get to Washington, who didn't even get to be alive — they're the ones who paid my ticket to Washington," he declared with reasonable conviction. "And mine," said Medal of Honor No. 2. ^ "And mine," said Medal of Honor No. 3. It sounded like a commercial for a floor wax — a little too neat, much too contrived, and entirely lacking in the essential dignity of their hazardous profession. Our mission in Korea, our mission in the world cannot be explained in the terms used to sell soup. The issues are too grave and far too complicated for that. Earlier on the same program, a good deal of space was devoted to the function of the Navy's frogmen, the fighting men who swim in to enemy territory and destroy mines and other obstacles to landing parties. One genuine frogman described his occupation in words of such sweeping grandeur that I completely lost sight of the fact that his was one of the world's most dangerous and difficult and valuable jobs. That's hardly the idea. ^ If this stuff has to be written and re * hearsed, let's get it down in the boy's own words, scrub it up a little and present it unadorned. | And Now — Color PERHAPS the most pregnant words issued in the Supreme Court decision which made the C.B.S. color system the law of the land were those contained in the dubitante handed down by Justice Felix Frankfurter. A duhitante, I'm told, | is not a dissent but an expression of j doubt. In other words, a Supreme Court Justice, while playing along with the rest of the mob, is dragging one foot; he is venting skepticism, just talking aloud, while still grudgingly signing his name on the proper line. Frankly, I'm enchanted that Supreme Justices are permitted the privilege of say ing well, yes and, on the other hand no. Supreme Court decisions have always been a little too black and white (take your hands off that pun, brother; I'm permitted one pun a year and that's it) to suit me. Duhitante is almost exactly the right word to sum up my feelings about C.B.S. color. I have always been dubitante as ! hell about C.B.S. color. No outright dissent, you understand, but no outright assent either. To put it another way, I'm just plain exasperated by the whole thing and I think I sum up the attitude of millions. To thrust color upon us after we have just got the confounded black and white sets to operate with reasonable reliability is a bloody nuisance. "The enthusiasm which both the public and important national advertisers have shown for color television gives great encouragement that this exciting new medium will grow rapidly," said Frank Stanton, president of C.B.S. Well, I have kept my ear pretty close to the ground for years. In fact, my friends say I'd better get that ear off the ground very soon or I'll catch cold down ^. there. Anyhow, the popular clamor for color television somehow eluded that ear