Two days after the destruction of the World Trade Center, Jerry Falwell appeared on Pat Robertson’s Television show called “The 700 Club.” That was September 13, 2001.
Laurie Goodstein of the New York Times reports that Falwell and Robertson claim “that an angry God had allowed the terrorists to succeed in their deadly mission because the United States has become a nation of abortion, homosexuality, secular schools and courts and the American Civil Liberties Union.”
Falwell went on to say, “God continues to lift the curtain and allow enemies of America to give us probably what we deserve.”
Robertson agreed saying that “We’ve just seen the antechamber of terror.” Then Falwell continued on. “I really believe that the Pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the A. C. L. U., People for the American Way, all of them who have tried to secularize America. I point the finger in their face and say, ‘You helped make this happen’.”
In a telephone interview with Gustav Niebuhr, the religious reporter for the New York Times, Falwell made a curious, conflicted statement. He said that he did not believe that “God had anything to do with the tragedy” but that God permitted it. “He lifted the curtain of protection …If America doesn’t repent and return to a genuine faith and dependence on him we may expect more tragedies, unfortunately.”
Now get this. After all of his prophetic announcements, even Bush growled softly at him. So Falwell says, “Despite the impression some may have from news reports today, I hold no one other than the terrorists and the people and the nations that harbor them responsible for Tuesday’s attack on this nation.”
Quite a comedown from God lifting the curtain of protection to permit the attack, to his now saying that the terrorists were responsible.
In deference to some who said that calling Falwell and Robertson a more robust name, I said, all right, the working title of this essay would be “Two Unspeakable Fools.” What I intended to say is that Falwell and Robertson are miserable and sorry bastards and have been for many years.
Not let me tell you about that terminology. I grew up during the depression in small towns near St. Louis. From age 15 through 19, I worked in filling stations. A large segment of the customers at those stations were not devotees of Emily Post or other advocates for a polite society. The men I saw every day were hard working, men hoping to get a few dollars ahead to buy gas for their trucks. By the time I went to work for AT&T at age 19, I knew all the curse words and off color words that anyone might want in his vocabulary.
And then with the onset of World War II, I enlisted in the United States Army. In my naïve way, I didn’t know how to custom make curse words and make them much worse with the proper adjectives. I will give you an example. When I stated that Falwell and Robertson are miserable and sorry bastards, I am indebted to Jack Botcowski for that construction.
In November, 1942 I found myself in Miami at the Embry-Riddle School of Aviation trying to learn what it took to become an Aerial Engineer and a Crew Chief. My recollection is that there were 100 men in that class, most of whom were voluntary enlistments. A few people still stand out after 59 years. For one, there was a bus driver from Sheboygan, Wisconsin who brought his pajamas with him. I served more than three years in the U. S. Army, and I never saw any one sleeping in pajamas. Not only did he wear pajamas, the bus driver was our resident spy from the FBI. We didn’t find that out until the course was half finished, but after we found out about the pajama man, he was completely avoided. I can’t imagine what secrets or scuttlebutt he could report to the FBI.
Two more interesting characters were two Brooklyn Jews. Neither I nor any of my other class mates ever asked about religious matters. It simply was not appropriate behavior. On the other hand, Ira Hudas and Jack Botcowski more of less went out of their way to tell you that they came from Brooklyn and that they practiced the Jewish faith.
Over the years that I served from 1942 until November 1945, I met a lot of people from the Midwest, from the southern states, from Ohio, Pennsylvania and New Jersey, but not many from Brooklyn. And none of those people wore their religion on their sleeves.
Ira Hudas was an observant Jew. He objected to attending class on Friday and Saturday. He didn’t care for Army chow because it wasn’t kosher. Ira was a nitpicker who expected the US Army to do things his way. The rest of us didn’t care for Saturday classes running from 4PM until midnight. We did not embrace Army chow but we figured that it would get a lot worse when we were overseas. It was. In any event, Ira made few friends among his classmates or the Embry Riddle instructors.
Jack Botcowski was a different person. He was loud and vulgar and tough. In civilian life, Jack was a longshoreman on the Brooklyn waterfront. He was about 5’ 10” tall and weighed nearly 225 pounds. His neck, his torso, his arms and his legs reflected what he did for a living. Jack volunteered to take guard duty on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day so that Christian soldiers could attend religious services. I volunteered for the same duty and found myself with Jack Botcowski as my guard partner. In those two days, Jack and I had four hours each day to talk. He was tough and vulgar and wasn’t an observant Jew, but if you were looking for someone to share a foxhole, Botcowski was your guy.
In observing Jack’s speech patterns, I discovered that he would attach colorful adjectives to his curse words and his coarse way of speaking. For example, if there was no hope for someone, if he had no hope of redemption, Jack would say that he was a sorry SOB. For someone to be as wrong as Falwell and Robertson, he would consider them sorry specimens of the human race. Similarly, if someone were far beyond the pale, Jack would use the word miserable as an adjective. Thus, Falwell and Robertson would become not merely bastards but miserable bastards.
I don’t recall Botcowski using both miserable and sorry as adjectives for one noun. I’m sure if Jack heard of Falwell’s and Robertson’s rantings, that he would join me in calling them miserable and sorry bastards. It’s been more than 58 years since I’ve seen Professor Botcowski, so I suppose he would by this time, have strengthened and improved his adjectives. But until I can find him, I suppose I’ll just have to follow Jack’s teaching and call those two miserable and sorry bastards.
Now as a postscript to this story about old Jack, I should point out that I have been a member of the American Civil Liberties Union for more than 35 years. So Falwell was talking about me. Barbara Bernstein who is Executive Director of the New York Civil Liberties Union in a letter to the New York Times says to Falwell, “Let him direct his anger at our founding fathers, who wrote the Bill of Rights that we defend.” How to go, Barbara Bernstein.
Beyond the ACLU, abortion providers and gay people are fine with me. Falwell finds fault with Federal Courts that banned school prayers. I shout “Amen” at banning school prayers. Falwell also finds fault with the Federal Courts because of legalized abortion. I can remember what it was like when abortion was criminalized. Do we want to go back to that uncivilized time? Of course not.
When Falwell claims that he points the finger at people like me and says you helped make this happen, then I believe that an appropriate response is to call him and his cohort miserable and sorry bastards. I strongly believe that my old friend, Professor Jack Botcowski would agree unless he has developed something worse to call Falwell and Robertson.
In case anyone questions this use of the English language, I would point to the Merriam Webster Collegiate Dictionary which says that “bastard” is an offensive or disagreeable person. The term “sorry” inspires scorn or ridicule. It says also to see contemptible. “Miserable” is defined as deploringly bad or mean. So Jack Botcowski was on solid ground when he used those terms. And I am as well.
E. E. CARR
September 16, 2001
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This is perhaps one of the first (of many) language-focused essays, which to me makes it pretty special. I regret very much that Jerry (and Pop) didn’t live to see the nationwide legalization of gay marriage, and the distinct lack of cataclysm that accompanied it. Perhaps the only thing I regret even more is that not only was Pat Robertson around to see said event, but he’s still around. He reminds me a little like like an open container of yogurt in the back of your fridge — one that been spoiled for months but that you don’t throw out because even touching it would seem ill-advised. Maybe God feels similarly, which is why he’s let him be. Anyway, Robertson continues to spout intolerance and bigotry whenever he’s allowed. The more things change, I guess.