nuanced account of Freud is nothing ifrnnot critical, vet she sees the modern erarnas Freudian both explicitly and bv implication.rnShe also sees the more “open”rn’isions of William James and GertrudernStein as alternatives that were widelyrnaccessible to the modern mind. Butrnthese presences do not, to mv own mind,rnseem to have connected as decisively asrnshe claims with New York in the 1920’s.rnTwo other presences, T.S. Eliot andrnErnest Hemingwav, were conspicuousrnabsences from Manhattan though notrnfrom Professor Douglas’s book, because,rnas she insists, thev were part of modernrnconsciousness. That’s true enough, butrna bit awkward when vou arc definingrnthings bv a location.rnYet I suppose that she has won herrnpoint: New York is a state of mind. Still,rna striking weakness of her book is onernthat is bound with its subject, and that isrnthe lack of stature of the host of minorrnfigures who peopled Manhattan in thern1920’s. Only some of them—F. Scottrnk’itzgerald, I lart Crane—are worth citingrnin the context of Freud, James, Stein,rnEliot, and Hemingwav. The skvscrapcrsrnshe admires so much cast longer shadowsrnthan do Dorothy Parker, Elinor Wylie,rnIvlna St. Vincent Millav, and man’ othersrnof the period. At least three poetsrnamong these writers were obsessed withrnwriting sonnets in quaint diction—rndefensible perhaps, but rather odd as arnmodernist stance.rnThe logic of literary ranking is sweptrnaway bv Ann Douglas’s panoramic approach,rnwhich flattens the perspective sornthat all New York writers are just that,rnllcr broadly cultural approach equatesrnall the arts, especially the popular arts asrnthe- become mass culture, with elite categories.rnJosephine Baker, whose “dancingrnseemed to center on shaking her rearrnend,” is juxtaposed with Martha Graham.rnIndeed, alcoholism itself seems tornbecome a cultural statement related tornthe rebellion against Mother. Consideringrnwho foisted Prohibition on America,rnDouglas lias a point—one that deservesrnto ])e extended.rnBut the pairing of Baker and Grahamrnseems to nic to be less productive of insightrnthan Douglas’s repeated citation ofrnEdward Bcrnavs, Freud’s nephew, thern”Father of Public Relations” and authorrnoi Propaganda (1928). Bernavs .showedrnMadison Avenue how to exploit k’reud’srntheories in a way that did and does separaternour world from what went before—arnway that continues to offer leverage forrnpower through all the media of expression,rnand identifies that manipulationrnwith New York and its extensions.rnThough this defining complex is one ofrnher strongest points, Ms. Douglas doesrnnot seem aware that it confirms muchrnAmerican (and international) suspicionrnof New York. But, as ud^an lingo wouldrnhave it, so what? The rest of Americarndoes not have much presence in TerriblernHonesty anyway, being mostly an endlessrnsource of hicks and suckers as well as anrnextended site of Ku Klux Klan gatheringsrnand lynchings.rnRelating her exposition to this countr-rnin some wa, Professor Douglas continuesrnher argument from The Feminizationrnof American Culture (1977) as to therncultural ascendancy of the matriarch,rnand the attendant sentimentality andrnspurious spiritualism of the Victorianrnera in America. The revolt against thern(s)mother was provoked and even justifiedrnby what she is riglit to see as the rotrnof liberal Protestantism. She understandsrnthe polities of smarm as well asrnthe cost of toughness, and has relatedrnthem in a unique and imposing vision.rnIn many was though not in all, Ms.rnDouglas argues from a firm grasp of thernmost literal definition of culture. Shernhas a sure sense of the continuities of culturalrnand ultimately spiritual failure—itrnis rather on the point of success thatrnmany would take issue with her.rnThe most positive aspect of TerriblernHonesty is its emphasis on sheerrnfun—on exuberance and zest, on theatricality,rnrole-playing, and reversal. Thernaccount of the Jazz Age itself swings andrnindulges in notable riffs. The oncernvaunted “mongrclization of the races”rnfortifies Douglas’s subtitle with subtextualrnirony, for she shows a world in whichrnblack creativity depended on a whiterncontext, and in which white awarenessrnrequired a black presence. The culturalrnprominence of the “New Negro” was arnform of compensation for political andrneconomic suppression. The new synthesisrnof mass culture arose just as the organsrnof the media were developed to dispersernit globally—and this was a New Yorkrnphenomenon, even though ragtime andrnblues and jazz were imported there. Inrnthis context, however, the distinction ofrnsuch an artist and clown as Fats Waller isrnlost in the big picture that focuses onrnBessie Smith and P’.thcl Waters. ProfessorrnDouglas’s unrelenting evenhandednessrnsometimes reminds me of therndreaded pieties of the matriarch she hasrnvividly portrayed.rnThe best qualities of her book, I think,rnare two: she reminds us, in a time of resentmentrnand resegregation, that somernof the most successful American culturalrninnovations were produced bv responsernand cooperation between blacks andrnwhites. And as a feminist, she insists thatrn”any view of women that slights socialrnconstructions and historical perspectivesrnappears . . . misguided, self-serving, andrndangerous; self-criticism must play arnlarger role than self-promotion in anyrnseriously feminist enterprise.” Thesernaffirmations, remarkable today, must berncommended on social, historical, political,rnand intellectual grounds, and alsornbecause I feel like it.rnI am less satisfied, however, with otherrnaspects of Terrible Honesty, particuladyrnthe absence of an account of the risernof organized crime in New York andrnin the country during Prohibition, andrnthe penetration by organized crime ofrnthe entertainment industry. Douglasrnacknowledges the law-breaking style ofrnthe 20’s and implies that gangster talkrnand logic pervaded the language ofrntoughness and truth-telling, but she letsrnthe point go. It should be dwelt on, for ifrnnaughtiness is justified, then in the daysrnof corporate capitalism, what’s wrongrnwith a little business savvy?rnJazz began in New Orleans, and so didrnthe Mafia. Jazz came out of whorehouses,rnwas always connected with alcohol,rnbecame associated with drugs, and wasrnsituated in night clubs controlled by thernmob. What did organized crime organize?rnProstitution, gambling, alcohol,rnand drugs—a wink gets you in where thernhot times are going on, and the toughrnguys get their cut. Harlem wasn’t innocentrneven in the old days. Dutch Schultzrncontrolled the numbers racket there untilrnhe was shot in 1935. Joe Glaser managedrnLouis Armstrong and fronted for AlrnCapone. The Cotton Club was a mobrnjoint that made Duke Ellington an offerrnhe couldn’t refuse. Fats Waller oncernplayed for Al Capone for three days. ButrnI don’t mean to attribute connectionsrnwith the mob solely to the best blackrnjazzmen.rnThere was in New York in the 20’srnwhat we can call a culture of crime.rnGangsters were cool. The mayor of NewrnYork, Jimmy Walker, admired by AnnrnDouglas and others for his style, was arncrook. As Stephen Fox has indicated,rnWalter Winehell was not a crook, butrnSEPTEMBER 1995/29rnrnrn