The Winds of Influence: Blowing Out
And, in 1973, by extraordinary effort not his, John Philip Sousa, musician and bandmaster nonpareil, was elected. Every Independence Day throughout the land — on television, by radio, and live on bandstands — the United States loses its collective mind and stamping and waving, enjoys a patriotic catharsis to the strains of The Stars & Stripes Forever. On the strength of this and other tunes, and the unremitting efforts of a clever Wisconsin bandmaster named Dvorak (descendant of Antonin), the famous Sousa marched in with a slim 78 votes. He was duly sculptured, courtesy of the American Bandmasters Association, and uncovered in August, 1976 by his grandson, to the music of the United States Marine Band: a great day for America and for ardent advocacy.
That made 99 places reserved. Who would be 100? Noah? With 57 votes, he had run behind Sousa, in spite of strong endorsement by the Noah Webster Foundation (founded in 1965) whose leaders wrote every elector but were unable or unwilling to apply the high pressure that was apparently becoming sine qua non. Paid publicists, a different lot from the MacCracken “publicists” of 1900, are very effective when they are effective at all. It is hard to beat a man like Sousa, able enough to go in on his own, but almost unbeatable when given a tremendous push by a canny sponsor who obtains written endorsememtns from every state governor, and who sends copies of 200 other endorsements to every elector.
Webster was followed in the losers’ column of 1973 by two other prominent figures, Andrew Carnegie and Adolph Ochs, generous benefactors both. Carnegie distributed almost his entire fortune, with his name attached, for worthy human causes, including a rowing lake for Princeton to divert the boys’ attention from football. In doing his great work, he collected many keys to many cities — and with them lasting fame. Ochs created a truly magnificent newspaper and supported, quietly and modestly, the foundation and growth of, among other things, one of our nation’s best reference books, the Dictionary of American Biography (DAB). His deeds were mightier than his fame is wide.
The year ’73 also saw four American Indians in the race. Cochise and Geronimo, Apache chiefs, ran in the rear with no votes, as did Sitting Bull of the Sioux. Only Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce won any votes at all — two. Had the political and economic climate of ’73 been that of ’93, it is a good question whether the enrichment en revanche of the Indian tribes might not have produced sufficient power to admit all four as Native Americans.
Likable bamboozler P.T. Barnum was the nation’s first great showman — famous for introducing George Washington’s 160 year old nursemaid. For giving us Tom Thumb, Jenny Lind, Jumbo the elephant, the Bearded Lady, and the “Greatest Show on Earth,” the Barnum & Bailey circus, he was elected Mayor of Bridgeport and served in the Connecticut Legislature — and got just one vote for the Hall of Fame in 1973.
And far behind, neck-and-neck, W.C. Fields, Glenn Miller, and Houdini were all ignored, and in any case, belong in other shrines. The statistics on our many halls of fame will suggest that there is probably a place somewhere for each.