August 11, 1999

A nasty echo from WWII

The San Francisco Chronicle often demonstrates a sense of fairness and responsible behavior in its editorials. Like most of us, it could do better, but it does fairly reflect its location in a mostly rational, mostly fairminded Bay Area.

During World War II, some stupid and competitive White officers are reported to have carelessly risked the lives of segregated Black sailors by demanding the loading of ammunition in a rushed, sloppy manner at Port Chicago, near Concord, There was a monstrous explosion. The ship was demolished. Hundreds died. Many of those Blacks lucky enough to survive quite rightly objected to the working conditions, and a large number of these were selected to be quite wrongly punished for so-called mutiny. More than half a century later, some still wait for justice, still wait for a recalcitrant federal government to admit the so-called mutineers were in the right and the navy in the wrong.

A letter from a citizen of Marin disagreed with the Chronicle's evenhanded approach, and I in turn, wrote a letter to the Chronicle editor commenting.

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"After I read (the letter) criticizing the Chronicle's excellent editorial, "Overdue Port Chicago Pardon". it seemed appropriate to re-read Tennyson.

"Someone had blunder'd. Theirs not to make reply. Theirs not to reason why. Theirs but to do and die. Into the valley of death rode the six hundred."

I was a teenager during WWII. I was too young and too white to have been assigned to loading ammunition at Port Chicago. If I had been, and knew then what I know now, I would have refused. I suspect (the letter writer) would have done the same, if he knew then what he knows now. Full pardons are in order for those Black sailors, and 50 years overdue.

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Some anonymous soul who mails his stuff from the Santa Clara Valley wrote me. He was clever enough to discover my nine digit zip code, but so dumb he couldn't disagree with my comments in a rational manner. I wouldn't insult my readers by repeating his exact words. Sufficient that he tells me the location from which he suggests I remove my "stupid head." He continues with "Those (expletive, descriptive, expletive) cowards should have been hanged!"

He enclosed a clipping of my letter. A rubber stamp repeatedly defaced my letter with two words I've never felt the need to use in my column. He didn't give me his name or address, so I'm free to speculate. Since he went to the trouble of making the rubber stamp, he must send out similar vicious diatribes to other letter writers. I wonder if he's my age, or older? I wonder if he's had strokes or other health problems. Has he lost the ability to think rationally? Is he mentally ill? Does he lack the care of a competent professional?

The contrast makes me cherish Tribune letter writers even more, those who proudly sign their real names and addresses when disagreeing with the Reactor, or any other part of the Tribune opinion page.

Incidentally, I had a positive and stimulating exchange by e-mail with the letter writer I had originally commented on in my letter. Though we continue to disagree, I respect his intelligent, well thought out arguments.