Dougrnby Bruce GuernseyrnWhen my father came liome from the warrntwo years after I was bornrnI couldn’t match his voice with his picturernand cried each time he came near.rnLearning to talk, I called him, “Doug,”rnthe way my mother did,rnthis strange man who tried so hard to hold me —rnhow could he be my Dad?rnMy father was there, right there in black and whiternover my bed ever- morningrnwhere I could see him with his uniform on,rnboarding a train, waving good-by and smiling,rnnot that deep voice down the hall,rnnot those footsteps outside iriy door.rnNo, my Dad’s a soldier who’ll be home soon,rnso watch out you, whoever ou are.rnThen Doug went awa)’ like him,rnleaving for work before dawn,rnthe knocker on the front door alwas tappingrnas he closed it behind him in the dark,rnthe big brass knocker that brought me runningrnto peer through the mail slotrnfor him who never knocked, who never came,rnonly Doug, home late each night from workrntiptoeing into my dream,rnwithout a word in the Irush of my room;rnthis man Doug, come to cover mc,rnstepping down from the train.rnDICTATIONSrnClass Dismissedrni<. Ti ihaf’s a class act,” we sa)’, when mobsters or ]jrostiliitesrnrise above conventions and snobberies to dornwhatever they consider, correctlv or not, “thernright thing.” This use of “cla.ss” represents (obviously) an inversionrnof values, but it is still a backhanded tribute to thernolder conception of aristocracy as the social class that embodiesrnhigher values.rnThe word class is, of course, latin iclasm) and could bernapj)lied to any organized group (e.g., a fleet), but i)i the sociopoliHcalrnconlext, it refers to the tax categories established,rnso it was said, bv Servius rullius. Marxists have imaginedrnthat classes simply represent different economic interestsrn(e.g., owners and workers), and that the history of the humanrnrace is determined b- class conflict. Self-proclaimed ca].iitalists,rnby contrast, accuse their enemies of stirring up classrnenvy, as if the proletarians who make up the bottom strata ofrnour “classless” democracy need to be told they have no powerrnand .scant prospects of getting an^• in the future. Bothrnsides of this uninteresting dispute are really economic deterministsrn—-the only difference being that capitalists believernthat businessmen have earned the right to rule society, whilernMarxists believe they have stolen it. IJnfortunately, our businessrnclasses hae failed to provide any aristocracy that is notrnbased on pure jDrofit. Wltether it is literature or history or educationrnor simplv decent manners, our mercantile oligarchyrnhas displaed few of the leadership traits demanded of anrnaristocracy. At heart, they are Jacobins, still fearful that therernmight be a social club that might exclude them, still determinedrnto use the government as (in Calvin Coolidgc’srnwords) “a device for maintaining the rights of the peoplernwith the ultimate extinction of all privileged classes” (that is,rnof classes that base their privileges on anytiring but wealth).rn”^I’his reliance on money often leads to a cov^ardlv impatiencernwith anv call to sacrifice or dut or even good form.rnIn times of crisis, observed Cesare Favese, such people “becomernuncouth brutes.” Richard Nixon grew exasperatedrnwith “the American leader class” at the Wliite Ilou.se, hearingrnthem “whine and whimper.” He preferred to receivern”labor leaders and people from middle America who stillrnhave guts and a bit of patriotism.”rnNixon was nothing if not petty bourgeois, and he madernas many mistakes as it is ])ossible for a politician to makernwithout destroying his career—-and them some. But he aspiredrnto be something more than the tool of the interests thatrnput him in office. I’oday, Nixon’s dream of becomingrna statesman seems not only aristocratic but positivelyrnQuixotic.rn—Humpty Dumptyrn12/CHRONICLESrnrnrn