Letters from William McKinley, from Beyond the Grave

Citizens of Arcata -I am indeed offended at the outrageous behavior and the rubbish left behind on All Hallows Eve. What was done upon my statue was an affront, but I have been around the Plaza much longer than Dracula, Frankenstein and the Phantom; let alone any of these ragamuffins, and they can't touch me. I am more concerned that the young fellows don't know who I am. I am not, as they might say, the Man. What I am, it might be more aptly put, is an Anacronism. This is not, I want to tell you, the same as Undead. I am also concerned about what Halloween has become. The costumes once displayed in Arcata and elsewhere represented let us say, more the forces of imagination and whimsy than the forces of evil. Little children were dressed in the most tasteful costumes: brownies, pixies, forest sprites, and the like. In Arcata I was treated to an enormous variety of cakes and pies, certainly the finest in the land. Blackberries are such a treat. I suppose the country boys might lock up a goat in the schoolmarm's privvy, and that was cruel enough; but the Plaza was decorated in the most beautiful fashion, a festival of lights, and a celebration of Fall, in all its majesty. What is to be done about all this? First, the Plaza needs a docent. An actor, or rather, a spokesman, to represent me, that is to be sure, but charged to interpret the spirit of the season, whatever it might be. In times past, my statue alone fulfilled this function. Believe it or not, I once inspired. Second, I would advocate a festival for children encompassing the Netherworlds of the Forest Kingdoms. This would be a vast improvement over the concoctions of base literature which are currently seen everywhere. Even a festival or parade honoring that most under appreciated creature, the Spider, who decorates the houses this time of year, would be an improvement. Finally, I would recommend that you elect a Lord of Misrule to officiate at this, or any of the various Plaza festivals. I will gladly apply, if I am able to materialize anytime soon. William McKinley

Brownies, pixies, forest sprites, and the like... My dear Arcatans -I feel that, as I am the oldest citizen of Arcata, I should share my unique perspective on this fair city; this being entirely appropriate, considering the disturbances of late. I was awakened from a rather unpleasant dream, I was fending off a gang of Madagascarian lemurs, pesky little devils, when I awoke and was aghast at the sight of revelers urinating from the base of my statue. I soon became indignant, considering the fact that I have not relieved myself for one hundred years. Young people are frequently caught up in the spirit of revelry, and may do unconscionable things. I suppose I can forgive this, even though I am no longer possessed of all my human faculties. But I feel that I should defend myself. Last year, a group of citizens suggested that my statue be relocated, for the reason that I no longer had any relevance to today's politics. I was very surprised at this assertion: for many years, politicians, both amateur and duly elected officials, have used my pedestal as a gathering point for public discourse. Perhaps people have forgotten that I was renowned for my oratory. I should hope that, people should require of their public servants an ample facility with the English language, to adequately transmit the view of the Oversoul, so to speak. Other times, I have benevolently watched over the Plaza and its habitus. I rather like the hippies who hang around here. As a senator and as a president, I tried to represent the young men who needed work. These young men, oft criticized by the Plaza merchants, are frequently the product of small towns where the lumber industry has stranded its former workers and their families. I was a protectionist, in favor of tariffs, to protect the American Worker. I also was against the cheapening of American Labor. These young people and I have a lot in common. Furthermore, my statue has achieved an attractive patina, over the years. I am one politician who can say that he is quite literally, green. I also deplore the behavior of the current leadership in Washington. My presidency was heavily financed by Mark Hanna, a powerful industrialist. I was lampooned mercilessly by the press for that, but I want to tell you, I informed him after I was elected, that I was not "his man". I was then and am still the servant of the American People. I don't think anyone else in his lifetime ever told him that, and got away with it. William McKinley

My fellow citizens -I have lately been thinking about the comparisons made between me and certain "war presidents". This is certainly accurate, but there are many circumstantial issues to which I would like to direct your attention. I was the Army guy, Teddy was the Navy guy. I guess, running on a platform like that, we would be sucked into some kind of war. In my private opinion, I felt it was all Teddy's fault. We made him Secretary of the Navy, and it went to his head. Teddy couldn't do anything at all, if it wasn't in a big way. If he wanted one hundred battleships, that's what he would get. Nobody could say no to the man. A few years ago, it was discovered that the Maine explosion was entirely accidental, or due to some incompetence on the part of the men supervising the explosives. Smoking Cuban cigars, maybe. This is truly embarrassing. Soon, Teddy wanted to send the battleships to the Pacific, to attack other Spanish colonies. That's how we ended up in the Philippines. After we chased the Spanish out, the inhabitants didn't like us any better. My Viet Nam. Teddy and I set up a War Room in the White House. I have to admit, war gaming is extremely addictive. I woke up one night, unable to sleep. I summoned the nurse, and asked her to make sure Ida didn't stop breathing. I put on my smoking jacket and tiptoed down to the Game Room. I was surprised to find Teddy there, hard at work. He had brought some new action figures with him. He said he knew a pewterer who was still making them. I was a little upset: he only brought naval figures. I said, "What about mine? I only have wooden pegs, and you have fully accurate military figures". He said, "Go buy you own." Anyway, we started at it, and drinking some nice scotch all the while. We went to the balcony once, and relieved ourselves. It was a beautiful night, the moon was resplendent over the growing city of Washington. Teddy said he knew a fellow, back in school, who was sacked for peeing out a window. My role in the army was never very dashing. I was not a general. I concerned myself primarily with the morale of the common soldier. I suppose that is why I was so caught up in gaming -- it filled in all lot of the gaps in my military career. But I just wanted to get it (the real war) all over. I made a few decisions which would not be acceptable today. It was a short, satisfying war. But messy. I don't think anyone in the Army today is doing anything like I did, back in my Civil War days. They don't care very much about the little people, the foot soldiers, in my opinion. William McKinley

The Statue Dreams...

I dreamed I was the green man My leafy visage a thing of beauty I see all I'm in the brook, on the forest floor in the fall My stony pedestal becomes a solitary tree The expanse of fields dotted with a thousand fires A tree laden with strange fruit The stench of human sacrifice I hate the forces that enslave men To such misery In the cities the factories churn Out the war machines The rude men I couldn't control have awakened Their crude striving for gold Makes all a wasteland Speak! I say Say your mind A robber baron is but a man He trembled when I spoke He fears you William McKinley

On Anachronisms
I, William McKinley, inhabitant of the Arcata Plaza, first senior citizen, green man and living work of art, hereby set forth this brief discourse concerning the significance of anachronisms: Being an anachronism myself, I would like you to consider the idea that an anachronism is the purest form of art. When an art object is first created, it is burdened with symbolism, patriotic significance, and a whole array of sentimental baggage. all of which obscures the actual creation of the artist. With time, this is stripped away. Like the ancient dolmen and standing stones in Britain, very little is left of the original idea for these monuments. What was the wine of yesteryear, is now brandy. Only a skeleton composed of a few stones, or a single monolith may remain. Pure art. In my case, a statue was erected here, but the situation of my death, and the sentiment that led to the creation of my statue, is lost to present human memory. I stand, in plain clothes, a gesture, a plan, a forthright look, what else? What imagination dances among the standing stones, stirring us from the depths of consciousness? Since my substance is naught by art itself, I live again. My spirit roams free of the constraints of history.

A spomenik. In Yugoslavia, thousands of monuments were erected in memory of the World War. They were free from the realistic artistic dictates of the Soviet elite, and each was a futuristic vision of abstract pain and beauty. It is a pity that no one remembers much about their symbolism. The spomeniks, as they are called, fall into disrepair: forests grow back, and vines encroach upon every pathway. But their abstract beauty persists, even as the monument falls apart. They are like the Parthenon in Athens, in that even the dynamite of the Turks could not suppress this kind of beauty. I am not particularly beautiful. I am probably most appreciated when a seagull perches upon my head. Perhaps this is as it should be. My spirit roams free, and I travel with Brig, goddess of river and lake, and of the bounty which comes from these waters. Green man, green woman, forest and glen: watershed, vehicle of living things. Take this water, take it with you, wherever you may go. William McKinley

On Talking, and Saying Nothing

I'm certainly guilty of it. I had a friend, a minister, who could give an hour-long sermon, full of wit and other wonderful language, and say absolutely nothing. Brilliant man. All the same, when I was stumping for votes, I would tell them who I am. I'm on your side. I feel what you feel. It works. It is such a pity that the human spirit remembers nothing important. All the relief of finding peace after a war, forgotten. What is remembered, is the loss. The unfortunate decisions made by those willing to compromise, to put an end to it. The simmering, undying hatreds, so easily drummed into motion, to life again, beginning war anew. I see before me an image of winged victory, but it asks me: "At what cost, at what cost, is all of this?" A crushing of the human spirit. When will they ever learn? The words of tyrants are particularly vague. He wants you to know that he knows what you are thinking, that he cares about what you think, and that he is a very caring person. He manages to communicate this one message, no matter what words he chooses. It's a kind of clarity, even if deliberately obscure. William McKinley

Not one of my more glorious moments.