
On October 26, 1963, just four weeks before his assassination, John Kennedy traveled to Amherst College to honor an American poet. Robert Frost, who read “The Expressed Gift” at Kennedy’s inauguration, died earlier in the year, at the age of eighty-eight. Now the college has dedicated a library in his name. Kennedy arrived in Amherst by helicopter and, before an audience of students and scholars, praised the independent artist’s role in society and Frost himself — “one of the granite figures of our time in America.”
“When power leads a man toward arrogance,” Kennedy said, “poetry reminds him of his limits.” “When power narrows man’s spheres of interest, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of his existence. When power corrupts, poetry purifies. For art establishes the basic human truth that should serve as the touchstone for our judgment.”
The rhetoric and rhythms of the speech, penned by historian and Kennedy confidant Arthur Schlesinger Jr., are of a high standard and very much of their time. in “Kennedy prison“, Gary Wells was particularly scathing about the New Frontiersmen and their self-civilized manner, their determination to leave behind what they saw as the cultural frustration and irritating suburbia of the Eisenhower years. The Kennedy circle, “the best and the brightest” as David Halberstam described it, vibrated with Ivy League self-regard. Schlesinger recalled the early days of the administration in which “Washington seemed engaged in a collective effort.” To make itself brighter, funnier, more intellectual. . . . One’s life seemed to pass by. Almost by review when confronted by Harvard classmates, wartime colleagues, and faces seen after the war at the ADA conventions Kennedy’s language on the stage at Amherst is unimaginable in the mouth of any modern political orator—say, Barack Obama—not because Obama is incapable of dealing with Kennedy’s complexities, but because he knows he will speak. past His audience as much as he spoke to they.
But beyond the blatant elitism of Kennedy’s style, there was a serious effort in his administration to highlight the value of the arts. The Kennedys invited Pablo Casals to the White House, where he played Schumann, Mendelssohn, and Couperin in the East Room. American Ballet Theater presented “Billy the Kid.” Paul Winter’s sextet played “Saudade da Bahia”. André Malraux came to dinner. At a reception for forty-nine Nobel laureates, Kennedy famously said: “I believe this is the most extraordinary collection of human talent and knowledge that has ever been assembled in the White House, with the possible exception of when Thomas Jefferson dined alone.”
Since the Eisenhower era, there have been bipartisan efforts to build a national cultural center in Washington, DC. After Kennedy was killed, Lyndon Johnson renamed the center as a living memorial to John F. Kennedy. When it opened in September 1971, Leonard Bernstein gave the premiere of his play Requiem: A Theater Piece for Singers, Players and Dancers, performed by Judith Jamison, of the Alvin Ailey Company.
As of this week, thanks to the selfish efforts of the sitting president and his dutiful cronies and friends, the name of the place has been changed to the Donald J. Trump Center for the Performing Arts. The center’s board, now filled with loyalists like Maria Bartiromo and Fox News’ Laura Ingraham, made the risky decision at the Palm Beach mansion of casino magnate Steve Wynn, whose wife Andrea sits on the board. When Trump, who had been widely alluding to the honor online for months, heard the news, he feigned gratitude and shock. “I was surprised,” he said, lying effortlessly. The council insisted the vote was unanimous, but one Democrat who has not yet been ousted from their midst, Ohio Congresswoman Joyce Beatty, said she called the meeting but was put on silence. “Everything has been cut,” she told Sean McCreesh. times“Then they immediately said, ‘Well, it’s a consensus. Everyone supports it.’ Several members of the Kennedy family (but not the Secretary of Health and Human Services) expressed their dismay. Maria Shriver, John F. Kennedy’s niece, described the move as “beyond comprehension.” But, with respect, is it really beyond comprehension?
This week, the president and his administration were able to perform an astonishing array of their most distinctive qualities. First came the cruelty of Trump’s statements regarding the horrific murder of Rob Reiner and his wife, Michelle Singer, Reiner. Then came the messy revelations of his chief of staff, Susie Wiles, which she told a writer in no less than 11 interviews. Vanity gallery That the vice president was a “conspiracy theorist” and that the president had an “alcoholic personality.” Her indiscretions came amid some tense meetings at the White House (wake up, Mr. President!) and Trump’s rant about the economy, in which he emphatically assured citizens that things were great: “Boy, are we making progress!” Criticism of Trump carried with it a whiff of despair. As his popularity declines, many voters who once might have excused his myriad character flaws as a low price to pay for his alleged virtues now seem to be asking: “What is this thing?” mistake With this person?