ing the perspective of the common mannand criticizing any who did not live upnto their standards. The flight of the middlenclass into the suburbs left the Americanncity with the odd conjunction of welferestatenpoor and hedonistic rich; thenhumorists, already dulled by ideology,nfound little in the city to inspire them.nThe mild Horatian humor which had becomentraditional, however, was abandonednnot for sharp, Juvenalian satire,nwhich depends on a strong moral vision,nbut for a bitter, directionless resentment,nusually attributed to the machinationsnof “robber barons.”nMuch of this early-20th-century urbannhumor simply hasn’t survived. TTie kingnof wits during this time was Will Rogers,na quintessential Midwesterner. InnChicago, the old mudslinging matchesnbetween the Times and the rumbustiousnTribune gave way to the disputes ofnmore isolated and self-important literarynsets. Looking back on the squabble overnJames Joyce’s Ulysses which Ben Hechtnpursued against various antagonists, it isnclear that Hecht was inspired more bynhis own taste than by the literary worthnof Joyce’s book. A few lone voices continuento speak from this period with annastringent humor. H. L Mencken’s acidnwit was put to the defense of true culture,nbut he often mistook the enemiesnof civilization, as when he indiscriminatelynlumped the South into his “Sahara ofnthe Bozart.” Chicago was the startingnpoint for Langston Hughes, who spokenfor the urban Negro through his abilitynto convey authentic experience in fictionalncharacters like Jesse B. Simple.nRing Lardner escaped from the casualnnihilism of his contemporaries by masteringna literary genre in which farce andnthe grotesque combined in a discomfortingnmanner. Lardner influenced notnonly Hemingway but also FlannerynO’Connor, who had her own ideas aboutnthe modem city.nWhat is the state of urban humorntoday? Since World War II, the developmentnof new communications medianmakes comparison with the past prob­nlematic. Much of what was the demesnenof the printed page has now become almostnexclusively the possession of radio,ntelevision, and now the home video. Thengains are obvious. Charles Kuralt canntake his urban intellect “on the road”nand cherish things like clotheslines andnodd-looking mailboxes with a particularitynthat only a camera can provide.nHeywood Hale Broun can fill the TVnscreen with his personality. But Brounnand Kuralt are of an older school of journalism.nThe losses of the new media arenconsiderable. For instance, there is nothingnin Andy Rooney’s stints for 60 Minutesn—^where he good-naturedly fiddles withnboxes of Wheaties and Cap’n Crunch tonpoke ftin at commercial hype—thatncouldn’t be done more imaginatively innprint. The screen lacks the subtlety ofnprose, v^Wch can dip in and out of parodynor burlesque and wield the fragilenweapon of irony. Television’s characteristicnfailing is its tendency toward spoonfeeding,nbut a weekly dose of AndynRooney is hardly a substitute for the craftnof public humor.nIn fact, it is diflScult to speak of actualnurban humor at present The New Yorkernwas the heir apparent to the tradition,nand John Updike’s silken (hence flimsy)nnnurbanities have maintained it to somenextent. The city today provides eithernevanescent fashions, which becomentedious as satiric material, or raw sensualitynand crime of lower- and upper-classnvarieties, which are too starkly decadentnto laugji about No wonder that the urbannaudience has turned out toward the socallednAmerican “heartland” for its jollies.nGarrison Keillor’s radio show “LakenWoebegone” has served as an admirablenvehicle for social and cultural commentary.nWhat began as a local radio programncentered aroimd rural Minnesotanlife is now listened to by an overwhelminglynliberal, eastern, urban audience. Inntheir Volvos equipped with elaboratensound systems, the liberals listen contentedlynas Keillor gently mocks them.nThe current split between town andncountry is also evident in Tom Wolfe. Innhis white suit Wolfe poses as the urbannaesthete, but, as vwth Evelyn Waugh’snloudly checked suits, Wolfe is reallynpoking holes in the culture of his peers.nIt is the Wolfe of the highly artificial andnsophisticated prose style who has gonenout to the ‘shine runners of Appalachianand to the fighter pilots and astronautsnto find the “stuff” of which America isnmade, and which it is bent on denying.nRadical Chic stands out as one of thenfew really adroit examples of recentnurban humor.nThe frenetic energy that has in the lastnfew years thrown up structures like Detroit’snRenaissance Center, which standsnlike a huge hypodermic needle vainlyntrying to inject life into the city, is notnlikely to bring about a lasting renewal.nThose glass and concrete tubes and conesnteeming with conventioneers, holidaynshoppers, and suburban fiin-seekers maynbe the stuff of light comedy, but withoutnreal community the modem city catmotnsupport what can only be called seriousncomedy. When public humor is eithernshallow, because liberalism is blind tonreal moral crisis, or cynical, becausenideology fosters resentment, it ceases tonmediate, to come between us and ournfedlen condition with the saving grace ofnlaughter. Dni37nFebruary 1984n