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July 10, 1509:  John Calvin Begins Denouncing the World

This is an awkward day in Heaven.  God help the Angel so tactless as to wish John Calvin a Happy Birthday.  The Protestant Reformer does not  mind being over 500 years old; on the contrary, decrepitude becomes him.  No, he just finds that the adjective “happy” is an accusation, the insinuation of a human pleasure. However, Reverend Calvin might appreciate a cake with 500 lit candles because that would remind him of the fires of Hell that only God’s arbitrary mercy spared him.

You have to wonder:  this curmudgeon was preferable to syphilitic Popes?  Certainly not at a dinner party or as a friend on Facebook, but something in the Manic-Repressive did have a certain appeal.  He could be considered the gentile Ayn Rand.  When you are miserable, you are holy; and you are doing God’s Will by making everyone else miserable, too.  Furthermore, Calvin could also be regarded as the gentile Milton Friedman; if you are making money, it must be God’s Will.  So, if you regard bad manners and greed as sacraments, then Calvin has a theology for you.

The Dutch adhered to the greed,  the Presbyterians of Scotland worshipped the misery, and the Puritans of England embraced both.  Unfortunately, this leaves us with an ironic fact of evolution.  The dour, repressive John Calvin is the Godfather of Liberals. 

Liberals were not always the kindly if patronizing, ineffectual, open-minded to the point of chaotic, “secular humanists” that you know and love. No, in the beginning, liberals were grim, ruthless bigots. In the 17th century, Fox News actually would have been right: these liberals really did have a war against Christmas. 

Yes, just as Creationists deny the family resemblance to Neanderthals, liberals seem loathe to admit their descent from the Calvinists.  The Puritans are the antithesis of modern liberal values. They were miserable, dogmatic misanthropes, regarding all but themselves as the appetizers of Satan.  When they were in power, under Cromwell, they suppressed cards, dance, theater, even the celebration of Christmas. Any hint of color was suspiciously Catholic. (The Puritans did permit beer, cider and ale, but those beverages were more sanitary than 17th century water.).

However, their misanthropism had an egalitarian character; they hated everyone equally. The monarchy was not beyond their censure; indeed, they deeply resented that their taxes should subsidize the royal pleasures. They would have restricted Elizabeth I to one good dress (plain black silk) and two or three frocks. Yet, these dour curmudgeons were the first to realize that Parliament offered them a weekday pulpit to denounce the vices and faults of England. Their numbers in Parliament grew over time, reflecting the middle class alienation from the monarchy. They were a handful of cantankerous pennypinchers in the reign of Elizabeth. They were the vociferous minority that attacked the incompetence of James I. They were the militant core of the majority that resisted the intimidation of Charles I. And they were the vanguard of the triumphant army that established the supremacy of Parliament over the monarchy.

Once in power, the Puritans succeeded in making England miserable, but England was neither sanctified nor grateful for the experience. Indeed, after a decade of Cromwell, Puritanism had lost its Calvinist charisma for the middle class. England longed for pageantry and syphilis; and Charles II would offer both. If, however, the Puritans now receded from political domination, they had left one legacy that the Restoration could never undo. Parliament was the supreme institution of the land; and the monarch served at its sufferance.

As for the Puritans, power–however shortlived–had proved both corrupting and enlightening. They had liked dominance and, in hope of regaining it, they realized that politics was more useful than dogma. They did not immediately or completely forsake their cherished prejudices; they still hated Catholics and distrusted the Stuarts. However, they shed their repressive theocratic personality, and reinvented Calvinism into a self-improvement, assertiveness training. They became the champions of a rising–secular–middle class struggling against the hereditary rule of upper-class twits. The new and improved faction needed a more appealing name than Puritan. In hindsight, Whig wasn’t a great choice but it did escape that dour Calvinist stigma.

New name, new image. True, over the next two hundred years, there was an occasional lapse from those lurking, recessive genes: William Gladstone was creepy enough to be a Puritan. Nonetheless, the modern liberal would gladly claim his Whig descent from John Locke, Robert Walpole, William Pitt and their American kinsmen (Franklin, Jefferson and the rest). But one cannot claim that the modern liberal sprang forth fully developed from the mind of John Locke. Whether we like it or not, the family tree includes John Calvin.

Of course, the fact would make Calvin miserable, but isn’t that what he would want?

The funeral of Michael Jackson should begin with 15 minutes of global wailing.

This will be followed by a procession of every Nobel laureate doing the moonwalk.

Then there will be a medley of Michael’s greatest hits.  Representing Hollywood, Ernest Borgnine will sing “Ben.”  As a personal greeting from God, “Ease On Down the Road” will be sung by Pope Benedict XVI, the Dalai Lama and Oprah Winfrey.  “Thriller” will be performed by Barack Obama accompanied by the exhumed and animated corpses of 39 deceased Presidents. 

The United Nations will announce the renaming of the Sun.

Finally, the funeral pyre will be lit and the 3500 reporters covering the event will commit suttee.  Please!

(Since it is the Fourth of July, I feel obliged to defend the English members of my family: our Pugs.)

The New York Times seems to have declared war on Pugs, denouncing the endearing little lapdogs as being designer-breed concoctions of recessive genes. Of course, you could say that the same thing about the couples in the Times’ wedding announcements. I will admit that Pugs have not retained many of their ancestral lupine traits. Even two thousand years ago, a pack of Pugs would have only hunted egg rolls dropped from the imperial banquet table.

Here is my tribute to the Pug.

It is said that owners resemble their dogs. I will never be that fortunate. As the nominal owner but actual servant of Pugs, I may yet achieve their wrinkles but Semitic inbreeding precludes the hope of a pug nose. Beyond my physical inferiority, I cannot emulate the charm and grace of a Pug. My Pugs have maintained their decorum despite the frequent queries, “Is that the dog in ‘Pocahontas’ and ‘Men in Black’?” I am the one ready to snarl.

In its creation of Percy, the obnoxious lapdog of the wicked governor of Jamestown, “Pocahontas” depicts the Pug as the embodiment of imperialism: cruel, arrogant, avaricious and corrupt. Percy combines the worst features of Cujo and Oscar Wilde. That is a slanderous representation of the Pug’s ethics and its role in history. The Pug is the most politically correct of pets, with a pedigree of liberal causes.

A Pug could hardly be a symbol of western imperialism since it happens to be Chinese. As early as 600 B.C. the Chinese aristocracy decided that Pugs made better pets than entrees. With the advent of Buddhism, the Pug also acquired a reputation for sanctity: its affable stupor was regarded as a model of Zen contemplation. Pugs often were employed as the guard pet of temples; in a culture of silk garments, a shedding dog might be a deterrent.

The encrouching Europeans of the 16th century should have appreciated the Pug. Its small size and good nature accommodated theft. Yet, the Spaniards and the Portuguese showed terrified restraint. The customs officials of the Ming Dynasty could not have been more intimidating than the Aztecs.

This raises the question: Was the Pug Anti-Catholic? One could never be too paranoid in the Age of Torquemada and Philip II. No flammable person would want to risk the curiosity of the Inquisition by importing a furry avatar of Buddha. The Pug evidently was not permitted in Iberia unless it first converted to a Saint Bernard.

Dutch mariners may not have recognized the Pug as a fellow Protestant, but they clearly saw a market for the ecumenical charmer. One merchant, hopeful for future favors or mindful of past offenses, presented one of these rare oriental dogs to Prince William of Orange. That little bribe, named Pompey, was to save William and the Netherlands.

Through a web of political marriages in the early 16th century, the Spanish royal family got the Hapsburg chin and the Low Countries. Ferdinand, Isabella and Charles V could keep themselves busy in Spain, burning anyone with a suspicious reluctance to pork; but the tax revenues from the Netherlands would justify a little myopia toward Calvinism. Philip II, however, “would rather rule over a desert than a land full of heretics.” Since the Dutch did not appreciate being kindling, they rose in a rebellion led by William of Orange.

“Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!” This does not remotely refer to the Pug, but Prince William insisted on taking Pompey along on campaigns. It was an act of self-indulgence, but so is survival; and Pompey proved a better bodyguard than the Dutch army. One night in 1572, a troupe of assassins eluded the Dutch sentries but not Pompey.

In all probability, the Pug regarded the conspirators as an audience rather than a threat, but his snorts and capers awakened William to the danger. The Prince of Orange survived and, with him, Dutch independence. Without his leadership, the Netherlands might have been reduced to being the northern parish of Belgium. Neither the Prince nor his descendants forgot their debt to Pompey: the Pug became the official dog of the House of Orange and was conferred an orange collar.

Since the English were more interested in robbing the Spaniards rather than the Chinese, there were no Pugs in England (and certainly not in Jamestown) during Pocahantas’ lifetime. The first Pugs crossed the Channel in 1688, when William III of the Netherlands became William III of England. He had been hired by Parliament to replace his uncle and father-in-law, James II, who had been ousted for being too obnoxious and too Catholic. This is remembered as the Glorious Revolution, which established the constitutional supremacy of a mean and bigoted parliament over a mean and bigoted king.

William III proved just as dislikable and not as attractive as his predecessor, but he was impeccably Protestant. Furthermore, he did not need looks or charm; his Pugs provided that. The Pugs became popular as both a loyalty oath and a fashion statement.

Europe’s intellectuals began to regard the English as a race of idiot savants, whose savoir was government. Mindful of royal censors and dungeons, they did not dare openly to espouse the English political system, but owning a Pug was a discreet way of admiring English “fashion.” The Pug developed subversive popularity as an emblem of the Enlightenment. A Masonic Lodge in southern Germany was called the Order of the Pug. In the leading salons of Paris, Pugs associated with Voltaire and Diderot, and shared mistresses with Ben Franklin.

By the mid-19th century, the Pug had lived down any blame for the French Revolution as well as its resemblance to Napoleon. The Pug arrived in America after the Civil War, imported by a Nouveau Riche in need of status symbols. In the Victorian scheme of things, the Pug served as a consolation prize for slighted wives, bored mistresses, ignored children or anyone with a trust fund instead of a life.

Today, guilt by association has left the impression that the Pug is a decadent little twit. The Duke of Windsor certainly was, but his Pugs were not. Of course, Pugs love comfort but that is not a Fascist tendency. Even if a Pug did prefer to chew Mussolini‘s Gucci rather than Mao‘s sandals, who wouldn’t? The Pug’s politics should be judged by his character. Since the Pug is good-natured, naive, defenseless and ineffectual, it obviously is a Liberal.

p.s.  Despite my Pug’s hurt feelings, I suppose that I should acknowledge the historic significance of this day: 

https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2008/07/03/the-commercial-of-independence/

https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2007/07/04/taking-liberties-with-the-american-revolution-part-i/

July 3, 1778:  The Why in Wyoming

We Americans tend to misuse the word “massacre”.  When five rowdies in Boston get shot by British troops defending themselves, that is remembered as the Boston Massacre.  When seven members of the Moran gang are gunned down by their Capone rivals, that is the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre.  Now, really, do seven corpses even add up to a  misdemeanor?  A massacre should amount to a mass of dead.  The St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre certainly meets that standard; in 1572 as many as 30,000 French Protestants discovered the disadvantage of being the chosen elect.  (In fact, the appalling number left the English at a loss for words–so they borrowed one from the French:  massacre.)

But on this day in 1778 there really was a massacre in the Wyoming Valley in northeastern Pennsylvania.  A raiding party of some 600 Tories and Iroquois attacked the settlements there.  The Patriots–as they fancied themselves–(and Rebels by the British definition) had only half of that number in their militia.  But their commander, a Colonel Zebulon Butler, decided to attack.  Frederick the Great would have done the same thing; Napoleon probably would not because at the time he was only nine.  However, both Frederick and a grown-up Napoleon might have used more tactics than just blind audacity.  So Zebulon Butler is not remembered as a military genius.  He was lucky enough to survive the battle and manage to avoid being captured.  About twenty of his men were also that fortunate.

The Tories and the Iroquois did take prisoners; they just didn’t keep them.  The British commander counted 273 scalps, but he did curtail his troops’ tonsorial enthusiasm.  The civilians of the Wyoming Valley were not harmed.   Of course, the late and defoliated militia men had been their husbands and sons; so they were not exactly grateful to the Empire.  The British had gained a minor victory and major notoriety. 

Indeed, the lurid story of the Wyoming Valley Massacre spread well beyond Pennsylvania.  Thomas Campbell, a Scotsman who could empathize with anyone hating the English, wrote an epic poem recounting the life and losses of a witness to the massacre:  “Gertrude of Wyoming”.  Stop laughing.  At the time (1809), that seemed like a serious title. The poem really was very popular.  It must have been a favorite of Ohio Congressman J.M. Ashley; in 1865 he proposed a bill naming a stretch of the Great Plains for a valley in eastern Pennsylvania.  The choice of Wyoming was irrelevant, incongruous and absurd, but it stuck.

Mark Sanford mentions King David as his role model.  To spare him having to associate with a Jew, I recommend these paragons of Victorian hypocrisy. 

Scandal Number One

Charles Parnell (1846-1891), the leader of the Irish representatives in Parliament, was a veritable kingmaker. Shifting his bloc to the Tories or the Liberals, he could determine who would be Prime Minister. However, Parnell was not quite so adroit in his personal affairs. A Captain O’Shea noticed that his wife’s younger children seemed to resemble Mr. Parnell, and the indignant husband began divorce proceedings. Mr. Parnell’s name was conspicuous in the accusations.

A certain Church prominent in Ireland does not approve of divorce. Parnell only outraged the Church further when he married his divorced mistress. From pulpits and in the Irish press, Parnell was condemned. With his status as a pariah, he was abandoned by the Irish members of Parliament. Under the strain, Parnell died soon after of a heart attack.

“The Uncrowned King of Ireland“, Parnell had been a proponent of Home Rule for this country. He alone seemed capable of controlling the sectarian rifts between the Ulster and Catholic Irish members of Parliament. Prime Minister Gladstone needed that solid Irish bloc to support his bill for Irish Home Rule. Without Parnell’s leadership, the Ulster members joined with the Tories and blocked the passage of Home Rule. The best chance for a peaceful integration of Ireland into the United Kingdoms was lost, and the consequence was to be rebellion and civil war.

Parnell might have been consoled to know that he would portrayed by Clark Gable in a Hollywood saga.  Unfortunately, it also was Gable’s worst role.

Scandal Number Two

Sir Charles Dilke (1843-1911) might have been a likely Prime Minister. Unfortunately, the Liberal star in Parliament was accused of being a little too liberal with other men’s wives. Balancing both his wife and his married mistress were not the problem; any Victorian gentleman could manage that. However, Dilke found himself dragged into a divorce court, accused of adultery with his mistress’ married daughter.

That woman further accused Dilke of infecting her with syphilis. Dilke denied any involvement with his mistress’ daughter. The evidence was circumstantial. Both had the disease but not necessarily from each other. Furthermore, she seemed to have had a number of intimate acquaintances.

The Court acquitted Dilke of this particular adultery, but the press and public opinion did not. His prospects for leadership were ruined.

And Dilke’s scandal never even merited a movie.

The death of Gale Storm left many of you wondering, “Who?”  The rest of us were pondering her  degrees of separation from Kevin Bacon.  My wife actually challenged me to make the link, and since it is a recession I have nothing better to do. 

Being an antiquity, I actually remember “The Gale Storm Show” in which she played the social director on a cruise ship.  (The ship apparently had no casino or 24-hour buffet because the passengers’ only entertainment was listening to Miss Storm sing.)  Her costar on the show was Zasu Pitts–who despite looking like a gargoyle’s homely sister–played the ship’s beautician.  Miss Pitts was in silent films, one of which was “The Marriage March” with Erich von Stroiheim.  (He married her for her money, she married him for his title; raw sensuality was not a major factor.)  We know von Stroiheim from “Sunset Boulevard” with William Holden.  Along with 800 other actors, Holden took a paycheck for “The Towering Inferno”.  Robert Wagner was in that, too; he also was one of the few actors who didn’t do a nude scene in “Wild Things”.  And guess who played a crooked detective and one of the love interests for the omnisexual Matt Dillon?  So, Gale Storm–Zasu Pitts–Erich von Stroiheim–William Holden–Robert Wagner–Kevin Bacon:  five degrees.

That is too tenuous.  Most of China’s population is five degrees from Mr. Bacon.  Let’s try again.

I actually saw Gale Storm in a movie, “Tom Brown’s School Days”.  The headmaster of Rugby was played by Sir Cedric Hardwicke.  You will remember him as the likable old pharoah in “The Ten Commandments.”  His unlikable son was played by Yul Brynner.  (The two probably quarreled over accents; Hardwicke believing that Pharoahs should sound British, while Brynner thought they had Russian accents.)  With the aforementioned Russian accent, Mr. Brynner gunned down Eli Wallach in “The Magnificent Seven”.  Mr. Wallach was in “Mystic River”, the only one in the cast who did not try to sound South Boston Irish.  (Even Laurence Fishburne tried.)  And guess who played a crooked detective in that film? 

So:  Gale Storm–Sir Cedric Hardwicke–Yul Brynner–Eli Wallach–Kevin Bacon.

Four degrees–and I quit.

p.s.  And let’s not forget the historic significance of this day.  Lieutenant John Tolkien would have a very exciting summer and, in some way, he would be writing about it for the rest of his life.

https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2008/07/01/douglas-haigs-stroll-in-the-country/

April 24, 1547.

The Hapsburg Hipster

Charles V–Holy Roman Emperor, King of Spain, Archduke of Austria, Grand Duke of Burgundy and general landlord of Christendom–must have felt very good in 1547. Aside from his damn gout, everything was going his way.   His chronic enemy–Francis I–was preoccupied with dying of syphilis. His greatest threat–the Ottoman Empire–was pinned down in a war with the Persia. (The Turks had seized three of Persia’s western provinces, but discovered that it is easier to invade Mesopotamia than to hold it.) Yes, the Council of Trent was bugging Charles to crush the Protestant heresy–but so what! He had never been particularly fond of Popes and Cardinals; indeed, he had tolerated Luther for being less offensive than the Medici Popes. No, the Church’s most powerful parishioner would move against the Protestants only when–and if–he was ready; and Charles, having his father’s Flemish temperament rather than his Mother’s Spanish one, first had to be provoked.

But the Protestant princes of Northern Germany were flouting imperial authority. They were confiscating the Church’s property and appointing Protestants to bishoprics, defying Charles’ edicts to respect the rights and privileges of the Catholic Church. The Princes further aggravated the Emperor by forming a defensive alliance in 1531, the cacophonous named Schmalkaldic League. Charles was insulted but not endangered; so he could wait.

In fact, Charles waited 15 years; and in 1546, the timing was right. Saxony was the bastion of Protestantism. It had provided sanctuary and support to the young Professor Luther. Saxony’s prince Johan Frederick had founded the Schmalkaldic League. Now, however, Johan Frederick was threatened by the usurping designs of an ambitious cousin. And guess who Charles decided to support? Of course, the Schmalkaldic League rallied to the support of Johan Frederick and, in effect, declared war on the Emperor.

The Northern Princes may have had religion in common, but apparently little else. They were still trying to coordinate their forces when the Emperor’s much larger army descended upon them at Muhlberg in 1547. The battle was short, decisive, and not the most encouraging affirmation of the Reformation. The Schmalkaldic League proved to be as ridiculous as it sounded.  Johan Frederick of Saxony was captured, threatened with death and forced to cede his sovereignty and most of his lands to his annoying cousin.

The Protestant Princes once again were mindful of etiquette: the Emperor always takes precedence. Charles’ sovereignty was reestablished, but the Emperor sensed that his victory had limits. Any attempt to eradicate Protestantism would be prolonged, very bloody and probably impossible. (His great-great-nephews would fight a Thirty Years War to learn that.) Charles was happy with a political victory rather than a theological chimera.

Johan Frederick had to be content with his life. His cousin reigned in Saxony and that branch of the family would continue to do so until 1918. The dispossessed Prince–now a mere duke–and his descendants were reduced to ruling over a few motley towns and estates. Their little realm was known by its most prominent properties: the town of Coburg and the duchy of Gotha.

And in time, the family of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha would acquire a few more properties to alleviate the loss of Saxony. The job in Brussels helped, and the position in London is pretty prestigious.

June 28, 1914: Belgrade

The Serbian Press Secretary opened the news conference with this statement.

“The Serbian government was sad to learn that the Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife the Archduchess Sophie shot each other today. We wish that they had found a more peaceful way to solve their marital problems.”

I will now answer your questions.

Reporter: Eyewitnesses report that the couple was assassinated by a terrorist linked to Serbia. Is the Serbian government denying any connection to this terrorist organization?

Spokesmanvic: There have been so many assassinations and it is just pointless and malicious to allege that this government had any knowledge, link or responsibility for the murder of President McKinley.

Reporter: The Austrian government is accusing Serbia of supporting terrorists.

Spokesmanvic: Look, this “event” probably was a carjacking that got out of hand. If the conspiracy-paranoids in Austria need a culprit, they should accuse Mexico. There is no question that the Mexicans killed the Archduke Maximilian, and a Chicano street gang may have killed Franz Ferdinand as a member initiation.

Reporter: I’m Clive Murdoch of the Melbourne Swagman. Got me a two part question. Is it possible that the assassination was the work of bolshevik-anarchists and do you got nude photos of the Archduchess for our page three?

Spokesmanvic: Yes and no. And those were excellent questions. Thank you.

Reporter: Do you feel that the controversial, iconoclastic studies of Freud and the provocative, scathing plays of Arthur Schnitzler offer any predicative insights into the psychology and actions of pre-post-modernist Vienna?

Spokesmanvic: You’re from The New York Times, aren’t you? Yes, the Austrians want to kill us. Interestingly enough, they also want to kill Freud and Schnitzler.

Obituary I

It is day 87 of the coverage of the death of Michael Jackson.  Since his posthumous appointment as America’s Good Will Ambassador, Mr. Jackson has visited 47 countries.

It is a tribute to America’s plastic surgeons as well as Michael’s stamina that the decomposition has been minimal.  No one really is going to notice a disintegrating pancreas.  Ambassador Jackson has been credited with the disarmament agreement with North Korea.  Kim Jung Il was a big fan, and was willing to make any concession to have Mr. Jackson’s visit.

Iran has been omitted from itinerary, but Ayatollah Khamenei tried not to seem hurt.  “Who wants that Jew anyway?  He is no Petula Clarke!”

Obituary II

Alas, on this day in 363, Julian the Apostate was killed.  Ruling the Roman Empire from 361 to 363, Julian was the last pagan emperor and the first management consultant.

Since 312, the Empire had been operating on a new managerial system called Christianity. The prototype of Total Quality Management, Christianity provided the benefits of monotheism without circumcision. It also offered eternal retirement benefits, which proved very popular among the meek.

Constantine imagined that Christianity would be a cohesive and subservient force for the government. Instead, the Christian sects were fighting each other when they weren’t persecuting everyone else. Christianity certainly did not discourage fraticide in the Imperial family. Constantine’s sons killed each other off, leaving the throne to cousin Julian. Having barely survived the carnage, he was not impressed with Christianity.

To save the Empire, Julian tried to reinvent Paganism.But as a graduate of the best schools in the Empire, Julian felt that Paganism needed intellectual dignity: fewer orgies, more seminars. So the Emperor preached Neo-Platonism, a unique combination of philosophy and animal sacrifices. His religion would appeal to the masses’ minds rather than to their fears and hopes.His approach certainly had cerebral appeal. Pagans had fun, Christians had solace but Neoplatonists had metaphysics. There weren’t many converts. The Christians resented Julian, while the pagans were just bewildered. (The Jews liked him because he wasn’t persecuting them.)

Unfortunately, Julian did not have a chance to promote his metaphysical, synergized paradigm. While leading the Roman army against Persia, he was killed in battle. We still don’t know by which side.

On this day in 1876, George Armstrong Custer thought he had a brilliant idea to propel his Presidential campaign. He would wipe out an Indian encampment on the Little Big Horn River. Such a glorious victory would overshadow the other contenders for the Democratic nomination. Unfortunately, Col. Custer seemed to have underestimated the number of Indian braves or Tilden supporters at the Little Big Horn. 

He didn’t live to regret it. Neither did half of the Seventh Cavalry.

If ever a blundering buffoon deserved to be portrayed by Adam Sandler, it was Custer. Hollywood, however, has usually depicted him in heroic glory. Perhaps the most entertaining and definitely the least accurate depiction was in “They Died With Their Boots On,” a 1941 deification starring Errol Flynn.

In that saga, Flynn deliberately sacrificed himself against at least 5000 Sioux who, if unimpeded by Custer, would have rampaged through the nation, ruined the Philadelphia Exposition and scalped Alexander Graham Bell.

Now if I correctly recall…the Sioux were made all the more dangerous and sinister by having Eric von Stroiheim and Peter van Eyck play the Indian leaders Sitting von Bulow and Crazy Horst.