Sugar Creek Publishing

This community has lost a gem. I knew John Grigsby as a child. His eldest daughter, Mary Lou, and I grew up together in the First Presbyterian Church. We’ve been lifelong friends, and our memories mesh in a familiar patchwork of small town life in the Indiana of the 1950s.

Our parents worked in the church, and both John and Louise were very active with Westminster Fellowship (the youth group of that era). Later, as an adult, I had a friendship with the man I had always known as “Mr. Grigsby” that outstripped anything I had ever imagined.

You see, we belonged to a small coffee group known as “The Round Table”
— so-named for the location of our table in what was then the downtown Chicken Inn. Martin Zinser played host to us every morning and our numbers ranged from five to more than eleven.

Our compliment included businessmen like John, attorneys, insurance men, a barber, a fireman, a minister or two, a golf pro, and a traveling salesman. If I’ve omitted a category, forgive me. The group disbanded with the closure of the downtown restaurant, and although members have gathered in other places over the last few years, it just hasn’t been the same.

Crowded around that table in good weather or foul, good times or bad, we tackled topics that ranged from basketball and football to the politics of the day. Now, politics have a way of changing, but problems seem to endure — either ones of too much spending or too little. If someone had a health problem, everyone tried valiantly to put a bright face on it.

Over the years, we’ve lost a lot of people. There are likely less than six of the original members now. John came whenever he could, although at the group’s zenith, he was busy with Culligan and Grigsby Realty. He had a zest for life. He was a man of faith. I had seen that all my life, but perhaps never so much as I watched him care for his wife after a debilitating stroke. She never lacked for care or love, and he kept her at home. Today, many people don’t do that. John did.

Looking back, I realize that I didn’t take the time to appreciate the qualities of my parents’ generation. They were — and in some cases today — are different. A few of my classmates still enjoy the pleasure of a parent’s company. I can never walk into the First Presbyterian Church without closing my eyes as I sit in the pew and seeing the faces of all the people who helped guide me to adulthood.

As today’s children are driven to this event or that, I grieve that more are not driven to church activities. Oh, there are families who involve their children in religion, but I think the numbers are fewer these days than in the past.

If you are as fortunate as I am, perhaps you will forge a friendship with the parent of a friend. If you are really lucky, it will be a person of the high moral character and ethics of a John Grigsby. Whenever I glimpse a picture of a golfer kneeling to assess that last putt on the green, I will smile and think of a similar photo in the Grigsby home. John is studying his putt and his wife and girls are looking on with pride — just before he brought home the Elks Blue River Golf Course Championship.

If there’s golf in heaven, they’ve gained a grand player. Good-bye, John. Many of us will miss you. You were a gem among stones.

There’s only one scenario that tops sitting comfortably in the privacy of your own home to be insulted or disgusted by drug ads on TV and that’s being bombarded by them in someone else’s home — or worse yet — in a public place on a “big screen”.
I have been disturbed by the specter of big pharmaceutical ads on television for some time. I must admit that the advent of Cialis and Viagra only exacerbated an already-existing bias; but, all that aside, haven’t we had enough of this?
Not only do these ads account for billions of dollars that could be better spent in research and development, but they also seed a really bad habit. There are those who, despite being fairly well, desire attention from the medical community. TV ads that describe conditions in great detail can inspire those with little medical knowledge to cite symptoms chapter and verse at the next doctor’s appointment. Oops! Dare I suggest corporate-influenced hypochondria?
After going to professional sources, I am relieved to learn that I am not alone in my opinions. Many who know the pharmaceutical business inside and out feel much the same way.
An article printed in 2008 cited that a study by two York University researchers estimated that the U.S. pharmaceutical industry spends almost twice as much on promotion as it does on research and development, contrary to the industry’s claim.
The researchers’ estimate is based on the systematic collection of data directly from the industry and doctors during 2004, which shows the U.S. pharmaceutical industry spent 24.4% of the sales dollar on promotion, versus 13.4% for research and development, as a percentage of US domestic sales of US$235.4 billion.
The research is co-authored by PhD candidate Marc-André Gagnon, who led the study with Joel Lexchin, a long-time researcher of pharmaceutical promotion, Toronto physician, and Associate Chair of York’s School of Health Policy & Management in the Faculty of Health.
It is hard to imagine the man-hours lost to drug representative visits in doctors’ offices nationwide. You’ve glimpsed them. Slickly coifed and impeccably clad, they saunter in with trays of food or wrapped gifts — as you and the other patients wait for the doctor. Many doctors, disgusted with the interruptions, have banned all such visits during office hours.
Add to this dilemma the angst of listening to the long list of adverse affects from the advertised drugs and you can see how far this has gone over the past few years. My favorite is an oft-aired side effects question. “If you have experienced any of these (problems with a drug), stop taking the medication and contact your doctor immediately.” Of course, that warning followed a list that included death. Now, if someone has experienced death and obeys this instruction, I want to be there to see that encounter!
And the future….? Well, who knows at this point? As for me, I wish the large pharmaceutical companies would leave diagnostics to the doctors and channel their dollars marked for advertising toward a powerful combination of both lowering drug prices and advancing research and development. I’m tired of all of it. How about you?

13 – Hoosier legacy

When I learned that Ruth Lilly had died in late December, my mind drifted back to stories from my mother who grew up in Madison, Indiana. There, in the wake of the Great Depression, she and my grandmother were left destitute after my grandfather died at the age of 35. The farm payments made to their insurance agent had been pocketed and not forwarded to the mortgage company. Alas, fraud and theft are not new in American society.

Miss Drusilla Cravens was the granddaughter of J.F.D. Lanier, who, with the help of famous architect Francis Costigan, built the magnificent Lanier Mansion in 1844. Lanier finally relinquished title to the Madison property and deeded it to his oldest son, Alexander, in 1861. Moving to New York City, he maintained close ties to his former home state. As an interesting side note, you should know that during the Civil War, Lanier made unsecured loans totaling over $1 million, first to enable Governor Oliver P. Morton to outfit troops, then to enable the state to keep up interest payments on its debt. By 1870, these loans were repaid with interest. Lanier died in 1881.

Getting back to Miss Cravens, she learned of my mother and grandmother’s situation and took them into her home, where they lived until my mother graduated from Madison High School with The Class of 1935. While living with Miss Cravens, my mother was exposed to a wide variety of impressive visitors. Among these was Josiah K. Lilly, Jr., who would have been about 45 years of age when mother was a senior in high school.

Mr. Lilly brought my mother a lovely beaded necklace from one of his European trips. A delicate piece, it reposes in the safe haven of a vault. I can’t bear to think of losing it. I treasure it as a relic from that golden time when movers and shakers who would build a pharmaceutical giant were simply known as hard working entrepreneurs — men borne of a family from Greencastle.

Most of us have grown up with Eli Lilly as a familiar part of our lives, since many local people have worked for the pharmaceutical company over its many years. Stories abound about Ruth Lilly, and I find it intriguing that her own family’s company produced a drug that gave her some respite from a dogging depression with which she had struggled for years.

Her passion for poetry is well known. As a novice poet myself, I appreciate her efforts on behalf of American poets at large. This coming Monday, Indiana will inter a woman of considerable influence and generosity. Crown Hill Cemetery is a fitting last resting place for this gentle woman. Its beauty and symmetry equal that of a great poem and its history is replete with legends and lore common to such a large cemetery.

As for me, I will think of Ruth Lilly on Monday, and later on I will pick up that old necklace and muse about a man who took the time to bring a fatherless, seventeen-year-old girl something precious from a faraway land…. a man whose family impacted— and continues to impact — the lives of countless Hoosiers. Indiana is, in large measure, a better state for the work of the Lilly family. I wish them continued success.

The other day, as I say musing over the past year’s events, I was reminded of an old children’s story, “The Emperor’s New Clothes”. You probably recall it. The story line was that a costumer came to a ruler claiming to have the most beautiful fabric in the world, but only a royal person could see it. Not wishing to admit that he might be less than royal, the emperor agreed to have a new robe made from the fabric.

When word spread that the Emperor would appear in a parade wearing the new outfit, crowds of subjects lined the thoroughfare. The people, unwilling to disappoint the emperor made glowing comments about his clothes as he passed. Then small child piped up, and the “jig was up”, so to speak. A tiny voice called out that the Emperor was not wearing any clothes.

We are faced with a similar situation today. All manner of legislation is coming out way disguised in invisible fabric. If we peel back the impressive rhetoric, these initiatives — like that culpable ruler — are not a pretty sight.

I yearn for a time when both print and broadcast journalists live up to their names. The very profession that not only extols, but exists by, freedom of speech lays waste to it daily. Any dissenting voice is either ignored or impugned. Any facts that fail to fit into what the mainstream consider the “truth” is discredited and those who present it called names.

I learned as a child that fine minds discuss ideas and weak minds call names. I am sick and tired of politicians constantly calling their opponents names. When an issue cannot be supported by facts, it is worthless. I am beginning to think that the majority party not only heralds such personalities, but also cultivates them.

It’s time to put a stop to this insanity. Start today and look for candidates who vow to vote on behalf on their constituents and not claim to know “what’s best for them”. Refresh the mix. Keep up the pressure on our legislators to work for us, not in spite of us. We deserve better. Think about it. Let 2010 be a real “10” for the American people. Push the Congress to knuckle down and quit spending our money. We can weather any financial storm without the government’s help.

Remember, the government doesn’t make money — it takes money.

For years, I have lauded a particular bent of mind. Once it was a near synonym for American. Yet, now, as I sift through the morass once labeled “the print news”, I fail to find a vestige of it.

We are a hardy lot. It takes a lot to rile us. Memorable examples are the War of 1812, Pearl Harbor, 9/11…. I am waiting for the rise to action against a volley without guns — a volley launched from our own houses of Congress.

We are under attack, folks. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that the concept of representative government hangs in the balance.

If the environmentalists are searching for air quality, maybe they should open the closed doors of Democrat meetings within the US Capitol Building and the White House.

Leaving people out of meetings is as against the American system as anything I could name. Bicameral legislation and division of power should afford us protection against such childish practices, yet — at the present time — they do not.

Keeps those phones humming in the Congressional offices. Pound away at the fact that these people are supposed to represent you.

If I hear the phrase “we know what’s best for you” one more time, I may scream. I cringe at the prospect of the damage that could rain down on every taxpayer.

The other day I was reminded that many prices would be far lower were it not for regulation and its inherent cost. Don’t get me wrong; some regulation is not only good, but also sensible. However, I fear we are becoming a nation whose future will be stilted by frivolous regulation written by those with a very pointed agenda — taking over the nation without firing a shot.

Where is the veto pen promised by our president? Why does he continue to sign legislation rife with earmarks when he vowed to end them all? Where are the bills promised to be public on the Internet when even the members of the US Senate have not seen a bill that threatens our pocketbooks as well as our health?

Soaring rhetoric is one thing. Obfuscation is quite another. A void exists — one I never expected to witness. The precipitating event must have happened when I wasn’t paying attention.

I missed the obituary. Common sense has died. I fear that her offspring are endangered, too. I remember one writer who condensed it perfectly. Common sense died and her children, reason and logic, are terminally ill.

If there is one condition we can do something about, it’s the life of logic and reason. Remember the man who hung out the window in the movie “Network”? Would that the press would take his view today.

His scream should be yours. Recall it? “I’m a mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore!”

Go for it. Vent that anger. Melt those phone lines in Washington, DC and in regional and state offices. Write letters. E-mail. Sign on line petitions. Take a hint from Jack Webb of “Dragnet” — taking a play on words — “…. just the FAX, Ma’am”!

It’s high time the Democrats accepted the fact that nearly 70% of the American people want no part of government involvement in health care. We don’t lack health care in America. We do need a few things. First of all, we need a system that absent of huge punitive damages. Put plainly, we need tort reform desperately.

We need to close our borders and deport —yes, deport — illegals. California’s health system is crushed by their numbers. How far you do think you would get if you entered a foreign country illegally and demanded free anything? I guess few of those pushing for this mess ever thinks about anything like that.

Every day, I hear Democrats tout FDR. Do they recall that he deported huge numbers of illegals in order to assure jobs for Americans? They need to bone up on his actions. I hear them cite the Commerce Clause of the Constitution when asked how they have the authority to mandate we purchase health insurance. The Commerce Clause regulates business, folks, not individuals.

It’s time they were stopped in their tracks. The year 2010 is pivotal. We need to clean house — literally. Send these foolish representatives and senators packing.

Many people with whom I have spoken were duped by a campaign flush with dreams that delivered an administration of nightmares. You may have made a mistake with a vote in 2008, but you can cripple the current power structure easily in 2010.

The ballot box is the answer. Let’s write the obituary we have yet to see, the demise of an incessant power grab manned by agenda-driven zealots. America is better than that. Change it.

Only you can.

My father was not only a sage advisor but also a keen judge of character, especially when it came to business people and politicians. Undoubtedly, his ashes are churning at the very thought of this health care debacle on the table in Washington these days.

He knew the value of a healthy debate and could talk you under the table with an almost inexhaustible supply of facts peppered with his trademark humor.

Some of you might remember the time when open discussion included both sides of a situation. Well, that’s gone. It’s odd how, when the political tables are turned in a pivotal election, what was perfectly fine for the minority party of the previous administration is suddenly completely unacceptable when they are in the majority, i.e. no opposing views allowed.

I don’t care what kind of a personality a politician has. He, or she, could be the most charming person in the room for all I care. What I want is someone who openly espouses their points of view, but accepts dissension without rancor.

I weary of the majority today. Whenever someone disagrees with them, they take the opponent alright — but not on the issues. They attack the opponent personally. As the old story goes, “let he without sin cast the first stone.” Don’t look for that anytime soon.

I once heard that fine minds talk about ideas and small minds talk about other people. Consider the recent comments of the Senate leader when he compared his assumed “right” to health care to slavery. Oh, please. Get a life, fella! There is no such comparison that would pass the smell test.

It’s about time we had a little of what one of my favorite commentators calls “adult supervision” in the halls of Congress. I hear solid voices such as Mike Pence and Joe Wilson. They don’t screech and scream when they make their points. Calm and collected, they state their side and ask only that they be heard and that all the facts be checked before any action is taken.

All these folks that push for this so-called “public option” better remember a critical decision for any patient when faced with a serious illness. The one aim that a resounding majority seek is a “second opinion”. Would that our majority Representatives and Senators apply that wisdom to the current discussion.

Oh, and by the way, do you know that you will pay into the fund for the “public option” for five years before it kicks into gear? Nice, huh? They take your money for five years and you have nothing to show for it. That’s certainly one way to keep the financial projections look good.

Remember, these are the people that run Medicare and Medicaid — programs that will crash and burn. They are unsustainable. So is this health care legislation. Don’t let a day pass before you contact your Congressional delegation and let them know what you want them to do. They work for you! Think about it.

December 2, 2009

Thumb through the telephone directory and you will find lots of them. An ethnic preface for a wide variety of listings, with the exception of the occasional one additional letter, they all begin the same way.

For my purposes, I will capitalize both of them and laud them in terms that shout tradition! The letters? MC. The message? Merry Christmas.

Once upon a time, we saw the words emblazoned on nearly every retailer in the nation. Sadly, that is not the case today. As an integral movement to remove God from American life, holiday spoilers claim inequity and want everything labeled for Christmas to be retitled “holiday”. Give me oxygen.

Our Founding Fathers based this nation on Christianity and that faith has buoyed us not only in good times but on the stormy seas of both civil and world wars.

Spires of countless churches aim toward heaven. Our art and music reflect our close relationship with the Creator. The Declaration of Independence is but one of our most precious documents that strongly reference God. Abraham Lincoln, in his second inaugural, noted God many times.

Likely, it has not escaped your notice that more and more mega-stores bend to the pressure of the minority — yes, minority. America is, overall, a Christian nation. We welcome other religions. We do not force Christianity on newcomers. We stand aside and say nothing when non-believers observe their religious traditions. You don’t see us moving to abolish or diminish the holy days of other faiths.

Why, then, are we — as a people — so quiet when others push Christmas to the side and relegate it to a generic holiday category? It is, of course, complacency, but a complacency borne of openness.

Make it a habit to wish all comers “Merry Christmas”! If you see a retailer use the holiday wording, complain. An overwhelming majority of Americans profess their Christian faith. Traditional, mainline churches remain very active, yet their attendance is waning a bit. New, non-denominational churches are growing in numbers. It isn’t unusual to see a congregation begin meeting in a storefront setting.

Tolerance is laudable, but that practice goes both ways. If Christians are perfectly comfortable with other faiths and their holidays, then those who believe otherwise — or do not believe at all — should adopt that position.

Bask in the sights, sounds, and smells of the season. Inhale the scents of Christmas candles… the sounds of bell ringers… the lyrics of familiar carols… the pleasure of giving…. Yes, in the end, the initials MC mean much more than the introduction to a surname that heralds from Scotland. MC means Merry Christmas. Don’t allow anyone to remove it from the American scene.

Enjoy the season. Take its message to heart. You won’t be sorry that you did. Think about it.

When Thanksgiving comes to mind, many of us grab the waistline and grumble. Inevitably, eating too much goes with the territory on that festive Thursday in November.

Such was not always the case. Those first hardy souls who joined with the Indians to enjoy a repast in the woodlands never could have envisioned what we maintain as “a normal Thanksgiving” today. Their focus was the next meal, and the ingredient were not as important as its existence.

Few of us went out to hunt our main course, but there are exceptions. I remember one particular Thanksgiving day when my father did furnish all the meat — and not from the neighborhood grocery store! That meal was different. Let’s say that we did it just that once.

Looking back, let’s reflect on the motives that spurred the Pilgrims to venture forth over a huge expanse of water in search of a new home. It was religious freedom.

We pride ourselves on that freedom today, and a plethora of religions practice within America’s borders.

Take a moment and put yourself in the position of a Pilgrim. Your main job is to stay alive in a virtually untamed environment. Forest creatures abound, and not all of them are friendly. Weather is unpredictable and shelter is paramount.

You are thankful, not only for food for sustenance, but also for the friendship of natives who join with you to exalt the Almighty. While you name Him God, your Indian neighbors deem Him The Great Spirit.

In any event, you recognize that there is something greater than yourself. A timeless lesson, that knowledge humbles us and prods us to use our time on this earth wisely.

On this Thanksgiving Day, vow to make a difference in your world. Your efforts need not be global. They can be within your own family or neighborhood. By extension, they could be in your township or community. Join with others. There IS strength in numbers.

Encourage others to espouse religion and select a house of worship. We all need a good dose of God on a regular basis. If you are truly thankful for each week, then set aside one hour of it to spend with the Lord. Make sure your children recognize the importance of faith in their lives. You won’t be sorry that you did.

Happy Thanksgiving, readers.

Journalists are warned to confirm sources for their work. Sadly, not all of them do it, but they should. Of the words and phrases we hear everyday, language, some are not understood by their actual definitions, but are seen, through the lens of those who coined them. Take the phrase “The Final Solution”, for example. Anyone familiar with World War II links them to Adolf Hitler. The two words hardly sanitize the practice of murdering millions of people in an attempt to produce an Aryan race. His avowed goal is odd, isn’t it? Hitler hardly fit the description he praised. Instead of blond and fair skinned, he was dark and swarthy.

Today, another term assails us. “Political correctness” is so much a part of every discourse that few recognize its source. Do you? People routinely use the term with a cavalier attitude, applying it to almost every instance of assumed discrimination. Yet, once you understand its roots, you may demand that proponents grab the soap and wash out their political mouths!

According to both political scientists and sociologists, “political correctness” roots in the ideology of Karl Marx. Basically, it requires a radical inversion of the prevailing traditional culture using cultural Marxism to achieve a social revolution. Such a social revolution is the kind envisioned by Karl Marx as an inversion of the social order and a commensurate inversion of the structure of power.

Since those pushing for “hope and change” cite the term redistribution of wealth, we need to be very alert. Is it any wonder that historically savvy onlookers view the current events in Washington with great suspicion? I see Marxism as a social cancer. It begins with a few cells (and/or people and groups) and then, over time, grows exponentially —- often unrecognized until it threatens the entire organism. Don’t ignore this movement, readers. It threatens America.

Decades ago, Richard Carlson starred in a TV series titled “I led three lives”. Plots focused on a man who held down a regular job, worked undercover for the US government, and functioned within the Communist party. The theme is not new. Covert operations have never been limited to military personnel. I, for one, hope that our government has thousands upon thousands of agents now working tirelessly to uncover plots against this nation. The inordinate risks they take keep us all safe.

Coined phrases can enrich language or sully it. The incessant use of political correctness, then, can be considered a form of misinformation. Some see the value of repetition. Haven’t you noticed that when a statement is repeatedly, it assumes a life of its own? It happens, and there are so many examples that it would take a book to list them. The book, sadly, would be outdated in no time, since the practice of rampant repetition seems endemic given all means of communication today.

What happens if you challenge someone on the veracity of a widely disseminated fallacy or blatant lie? An accusation immediately prompts a proclamation of innocence. What was that phrase from Hamlet? Ah, yes “Methinks he doth protest too much.” In addition, when you cite facts to back up your argument, you immediately find yourself the target. Suddenly, facts don’t matter. The reply is name-calling.

If you doubt this, just watch the news a bit closer. Watch the exchanges between opposing sides, and you’ll see how the side without facts resorts to calling the other side names such as insensitive, uninformed, backward, red neck, provincial….. The list goes on interminably.

We should all take it upon ourselves to eliminate “political correctness” from the national vocabulary. Although it can take generations to take meaningful action to remove elements of discrimination from society, it can be done. Old wounds can heal. We move ahead.

Begin with yourself. Refute the use of “political correctness” as an operative term in everyday speech. If you take a side, get your facts straight — but be prepared to fend off personal slurs. Unless you are speaking with a person with better than average manners, you will find yourself the “bad guy” (or gal, as the case may be). Many, when faced with facts, can only reply with name-calling. How sad.

Political change often comes as the direct result of social change — a term used to describe the clearly stated goal of some in Washington today. They pledge to issue in massive change. As I have stated before, change applies as much to weather as diapers, the former is natural, the latter — of necessity. Methinks the aroma wafting from inside The Beltway more closely resembles the latter.

The ongoing effort to upend America and change her “fundamentally” should scare you to death. America’s fundamentals are solid as the bedrock beneath our topsoil.

As a people, we need to set our feet firmly on the principles of our Founding Fathers and vow to be Americans first and ignore partisan labels. There’s enough blame on both sides of the political aisle to sink our ship of state. Don’t allow that to happen!

When we pledge to save this previous republic, we insure our future — and, more importantly, that of generations unborn. Reserve the initials “PC” to personal computers. Don’t utter “political correctness”. It is not a term for freedom loving people. Think about it.

The Reel Thing!  — Think you know James Stewart?  Maybe not…

Who among us hasn’t winced or gasped in a particularly emotional scene of a war movie? I surely have. Undoubtedly, you have a favorite war movie. Actually, I have several. Thankfully, film is about as close a most of us will ever come to top-secret war planning, a frenzied fight for survival, or the grisly reality of a battlefield.

The saving grace of such films is that they constantly remind the general population that America’s freedom and way of life came at great cost — both in terms of money and lives.

If you are a movie buff, then the mention of Jimmy Stewart brings forth all manner of mental images… Elwood P. Dowd in Mary Chase’s film version of the classic play about the huge white rabbit “Harvey”… George Bailey in “It’s a Wonderful Life”… Jefferson Smith in “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington”… Virginia farmer Charlie Anderson in “Shenandoah”… photographer L. B. Jeffries in the Alfred Hitchcock Classic “Rear Window….

A five-time Oscar nominee, he amassed a venerable reputation over his career. Jimmy Stewart has always been a favorite of mine and I recently read a mesmerizing book on him by World War II war correspondent Starr Smith.

While many of us are familiar with his acting career, few of us are aware of his role as a World War II bomber pilot. Reporting to Draft Board # 245 in Los Angeles in February of 1941, he was — at 138 — underweight by five pounds. While many men sought to avoid the draft, Jimmy Stewart relished the opportunity. In fact, he was the first Hollywood star to enter military service prior to, or during, World War II. An avid pilot who held a commercial license, he volunteered to serve his country in the US Army Air Corps (now the US Air Force). Of particular interest to Hoosiers is the fact that his first flight experience was in Indiana — riding with a traveling barnstorming pilot.

After serving as a pilot in bombardier Training at Kirtland for six months, he transferred to Hobbs for four-engine training. An instructor on the B-17, he went to Gowen Field for nine months and then made Squadron Commander of the 703rd Squadron of the 445th Bomb Group at Sioux City, Iowa.

Heed his own words about the planes he flew stateside in the early 1940s:
“I put the B-24 to a severe test one night in Iowa: ‘I was making a landing in a thunderstorm and, between lots of lightning and some bad judgment on my part, I flew the poor bird into the ground at 120 miles an hour. The nose wheel gave way and was never found again, but, other than that, she just bounced and settled down with a groan. I remember the B-24 very well and, although it came out of the war with a rather questionable reputation for some reason I think most of those who flew the airplane have a very soft spot in their hearts for the machine. I learned four-engine operation in the B-17. But while I was instructing in that airplane the change was suddenly made to the B-24; the transition didn’t seem at all difficult, which speaks well for the bird. In combat, the airplane was no match for the B-17 as a formation bomber above 25,000 feet, but, from 12,000 to, 18,000 feet the airplane did a fine job.”

By 1942 and the rank of 2nd Lieutenant, he was a four-engine flight instructor at Mather Field, California, and oversaw pilots on both the B-17 and the B-24 heavy bombers. After constant requests for overseas duty, Captain James Maitland Stewart finally arrived as Operations Officer for the 703rd bombe Squadron, 445th Bombardment Group of the Eighth Air Force in Tibenham, England.

Starr Smith tells how the men in his unit were apprehensive about having a major film star for their superior, but those fears were put to rest in short order. Efficient, fair, and a talented leader, Stewart fit in with his men and earned their loyalty and respect. By 1944, he transferred to the 453rd at Buckenham and flew — as he had throughout his overseas career — as the lead pilot in B-24 Liberators.

Many web sources cite that his record included 20 combat missions as command pilot over enemy territory, including bombing raids to Berlin, Brunswick, Bremen, Frankfurt and Schweinfurt. He led the 2nd Combat Wing — the 389th, 445th and 453rd groups — to Berlin on March 22, 1944. Historians deem the most memorable mission of his career as flight leader of a 1000-plane raid to Berlin for which he was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross with two Oak Leaf Clusters, the Air Medal with three Oak Leaf Clusters, and the French Croix de Guerre with Palm. Early in 1944, he transferred to the 453rd Bomb Group, one of the 445th’s two sister groups, as group operations officer. Stewart held the rank of Colonel at war’s end and returned to the states in 1945. His first post-war movie was Frank Capra’s 1946 film “It’s a Wonderful Life” — a classic work with a timeless message.

Jimmy Stewart remained with the Air Force Reserve and made Brigadier General in 1959. In 1966, during his annual two weeks of active duty, he participated in a bombing strike in Vietnam as an observer on a B-52 bomber. Sadly, Stewart’s stepson, 1st Lt. Ronald McLean was killed at age 24 in the Vietnam War. Clearly, sources were nearly verbatim in text when it came to biographical information on James Maitland Stewart. In poring over seven sources for this information, I found that one in particular was most helpful. Titled, Something about Everything Military, the website should be of interest to anyone wishing to research war topics for the United States. Consult www.jcs-group.com.

Stewart retired from the Air Force in 1968 and received the Distinguished Service Medal and — ultimately — the Presidential Medal of Freedom. Like other World War II veterans, Jimmy Stewart seldom spoke of the war years. I was especially struck by the words of one of his daughters, Kelly Stewart.

“Starr Smith’s book has opened a door for me into this part of my father’s life. Mr. Smith conveys with great skill what it meant to fly in the Eighth Air Force during the war; to be Operations Officer of a Bomb Group; what was involved, for example, in the planning and execution of missions. Above all, Mr. Smith, who worked with my father during that time, shows us what he was like as an individual in his role of pilot and leader. I know the war held terrible memories for my father, as it must for anyone who lived through that combat. But he was also deeply proud to have served his country. He would feel honored by this book.

I recommend the book highly. Jimmy Stewart, Bomber Pilot by Starr Smith (Foreword by Walter Cronkite) is well worth your time. James Maitland Stewart is a vivid reminder of what it means to love one’s country and put one’s life on the line to defend her.