(The Famous “Something Is Rotten in the State of Denmark” Speech)
Good evening, my fellow Americans.
I come before you tonight with a message of national importance. While it is true that I do not intend to offer you false hope by minimizing the nature of the crisis confronting our nation at this hour, I do not believe there is cause for any such alarm as you may have seen or heard in the news media from those critical of the decisions I have reached in the last twenty-four hours.
Now I know there are always those who would prefer that we take a weak, cowardly and dishonorable position in the face of a crisis. They of course are entitled to their opinion. I am certain, however, that the great majority of the American people will agree that the actions I have taken in the confrontation between the United States of America and the sovereign state of Denmark are indispensable to our dignity, our honor, our moral and spiritual idealism, our credibility around the world, the soundness of the economy, our greatness, our dedication to the vision of our forefathers, the human spirit, the divinely inspired dignity of man, our treaty commitments, the principles of the United Nations, and progress and peace for all people.
Now no one is more aware than I am of the political consequences of taking bold and forthright action in behalf of our dignity, idealism and honor, to choose just three. But I would rather be a one term President and take these noble, heroic measures against the state of Denmark, than to be a two-term President by accepting humiliation at the hands of a tenth-rate military power. I want to make that perfectly clear.
Let me tell you now the measures I have ordered taken to deal with Denmark, and the reasons for my decision. (Picks up his pointer and turns to map of Scandinavia)
First: despite the treacherous manner in which the Pro-Pornography government in Copenhagen has moved against the United States, I have responded swiftly and effectively to gain the military initiative. At this very moment, the American Sixth Fleet, dispatched by my order to the Baltic and the North Seas, is in complete command of the waterways to and from Denmark, as indicated on this map. (Points to the Baltic Sea and the North Sea) Aircraft carriers, troop ships and destroyers have been placed in a strategic ring around the Danish peninsula of Jutland (points) and the numerous adjacent Danish islands, all of which you see here colored in red. Taken together these territories make Denmark approximately as large (turns to map of United States) as the wonderful states of New Hampshire and Vermont, famous for their beautiful autumn foliage and delicious maple syrup, and colored here in white.
Now let me tell you the results of this action, ordered by me as Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces meeting his responsibilities. To all intents and purposes, Denmark is at this time isolated by a blockade as impenetrable as the blockade with which President John F. Charisma in 1962 prevented Soviet nuclear missiles from entering Cuba and the Western hemisphere, which is here (points to map of Western Hemisphere). And that as we all know was the finest and most courageous hour of his Presidency. This blockade, then, is exactly like that one.
Now while it is true that I have effectively isolated Denmark from the rest of the world, I have refused to take an isolationist position for America of the kind my critics would counsel me to take in this crisis. Because let there be no mistake about it: America cannot live in isolation if it expects to live in peace.
Now I hear you ask: “Mr. President, you have moved swiftly and effectively to protect our dignity, idealism and honor; but what about our national security — isn’t that endangered, too?”
Well, that is a good question and one that deserves a thoughtful answer. For we are all familiar with the belligerent and expansionist policies of the state of Denmark, in particular the territorial designs that country has had upon the continental United States ever since the eleventh century. As you remember, at that time landings were made upon the North American continent by forces under the command of Eric the Red, and later under the command of his son, Leif Erikson. These landings by the Red family and their Viking hordes were of course made without warning and in direct violation of the Monroe Doctrine. Aside from these invasions of a paramilitary nature, there were also various unsuccessful attempts made by these Vikings ‘ to establish privileged sanctuaries on our eastern seaboard, right here (points) in the vicinity of Boston, the birthplace of Paul Revere and his world-renowned midnight ride, and the site of the famous Boston Tea Party.
So when you ask me if our national security is threatened by these Danes, with their longstanding history of open contempt for our territorial integrity, I think I have to answer in all candor, yes it is. And that is why I have made clear to the Pro — Pornography government in Copenhagen tonight that I do not intend to react to any renewed threat to our territorial integrity, to our honor, or to our idealism, with plaintive diplomatic protests. And in order that there should be no misunderstanding of my position, I have ordered the American Seventh Army, stationed in West Germany, to be mobilized in striking position here (points) at the fifty-fifth parallel on the border between Germany and Denmark. And I assure you, my fellow Americans, as I have assured the Pro-Pornography government in Copenhagen, and as I would have assured the Red family regime in the eleventh century had I been your President at that time, that I will not for a moment hesitate to send our brave American fighting men over the border and into Denmark tonight, if that is what is necessary to prevent our children from having to fight the descendants of Eric the Red in the streets of (pointing with his pointer) Portland, Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, Norfolk, Wilmington, Charleston, Savannah, Jacksonville, Miami, Key Biscayne and, of course, points west.
Now, though Denmark is effectively isolated from the world by the Sixth Fleet, and effectively threatened with occupation by the Seventh Army, the fact is that the Danish people have yet to see a single armed American soldier on their soil. Contrary to whatever wild rumors have been irresponsibly disseminated by the alarmists and sensationalists in the news media, the fact of the matter is that (checks his watch) as of this hour, we have no troops inside Denmark, serving either in a combat capacity, or as advisers in uniform to the Danish Anti-Pornography Resistance, considered by many the legitimate Danish government-in-exile. Whatever reports you may have heard of an armed American invasion of Danish territory are categorically false, and constitute a deliberate distortion of the facts.
The truth is this: the amphibious landing by a detachment of one thousand brave American Marines that did occur only a few hours ago, at midnight Danish time, was not an invasion of Danish territory, but the liberation from Danish domination of a landmark that has been sacred for centuries to English-speaking peoples around the world, and particularly so to Americans. I am speaking of the liberation of the town of Elsinore, the home of the fortress popularly known to tourists as “Hamlet’s Castle.” After centuries of occupation and touristic exploitation by the Danes, the town and the castle, which owe their fame entirely to William Shakespeare, the greatest writer of English in all recorded history, are occupied tonight by American soldiers, speaking the tongue of the immortal bard.
Let’s look again at the map. Here on the coast is Elsinore, approximately thirty-five miles north of the capital city of Copenhagen. Because of its proximity to the capital, it was believed for centuries to be heavily guarded and impregnable to attack. It is surely a great tribute to both our intelligence units and our brave fighting Marines, that American forces were able to wade ashore at midnight and under cover of darkness drive the foreign invaders from the castle without firing a single shot. I am proud to report that the guard on duty at Elsinore was so taken by surprise that when roused from his bed by a knocking at the gate, he came to the door in his pajamas and opened it so wide that our brave Marines were able to overrun and secure the grounds in a matter of minutes. The guard, who was the only foreign invader on the premises at that time, has been taken into custody, along with his tourist guidebooks, and a thorough interrogation is currently under way in the famous dungeons of the castle, in accordance with the rules laid down at the Geneva Convention, to which this country is a proud signatory.
Following the liberation of Elsinore, I have sent a communique to the Pro-Pornography government in Copenhagen, making it absolutely clear that our action was in no way directed to the security interests of any nation, Denmark included. Any government that chooses to use these actions as a pretext for harming relations with the United States will be doing so on its own responsibility, and we will draw the appropriate conclusions. Incidentally, in that connection, if the Danish Army should attempt to harass or dislodge our Marines in any way whatsoever from “Hamlet’s Castle,” it would be interpreted by Americans of all walks of life, professors and poets as well as housewives and hardhats, as a direct affront to our national heritage. I would have no choice but to respond in kind by retaliating against the statue of Hans Christian Andersen in Copenhagen with the largest air strike ever called upon a European city. I realize that as a result of my decision to free Elsinore from the yoke of foreign domination, the American people are going to be assailed by counsels of defeat and doubt from some of the most widely known opinion leaders of the nation. But let me say this to those defeatists and doubters: should the state of Denmark, now or in the future, attempt to occupy Mark Twain’s Missouri, or the wonderful old South of Gone with the Wind, in the way that they have so ruthlessly occupied “Hamlet’s Castle” all these centuries, I would no more hesitate to send in the Marines to free Hannibal and Atlanta and Richmond and Jackson and St. Louis, than I did tonight to free Elsinore. And I firmly believe that the great majority of the American people would stand behind me then, as I know they do now. Fortunately, however, I now have every expectation that not only our children, but our children’s children, will never have to defend with their blood the literary landmarks of their native land from the onslaught of the Danish Tourist Office, because we, their parents, failed to do our duty by them in a quaint little seaside village in a faraway land.
The next move is up to Copenhagen. They have two choices. Either they can extend to us the diplomatic courtesy we have requested of them under international law; or, in the face of that request, they can continue to display the intransigence, belligerence and contempt that originally touched off this grave confrontation. Now if they choose within the next twelve hours to negotiate with us in good faith by conceding to us what we want, I shall immediately call off the blockade of their coast, just as John F. Charisma called off the blockade of Cuba in his finest hour. Furthermore, I will reduce at the rate of one sixteenth a year the number of troops massed at their borders. Lastly, the guard taken prisoner at Elsinore castle will be returned to Copenhagen, provided the interrogation now being conducted does not reveal him to be a Danish citizen in the employ of the Danish government.
If, however, Copenhagen should refuse to negotiate in good faith by giving us what we want, I shall immediately order 100,000 armed American troops onto Danish soil.
Now, quickly, let me make one thing very clear: this will not constitute an invasion, either. Once we have overrun the country, bombarded the major cities, devastated the countryside, destroyed the military, disarmed the citizenry, jailed the leaders of the Pro-Pornography government, and established in Copenhagen the government currently in exile so that, as Abraham Lincoln said, it shall not perish from this earth, we shall immediately withdraw our troops.
For unlike the Danes, this great country harbors no designs on foreign territory. Nor do we wish to interfere in the internal affairs of another country. Despite our very deep sympathy with the aspirations of the Danish Anti-Pornography Resistance, we have over the years maintained a scrupulous wait and — see attitude, in the hope that these eminently decent and idealistic men of the D.A.R. would be permitted to achieve political office in Copenhagen through democratic means. Unfortunately, the Pro — Pornography Party would not permit this to come about, but repeatedly, in one so-called free election after another, chose to brainwash the Danish people in voting against the D.A.R. So elaborate and thoroughgoing were these brainwashing techniques, that eventually the D.A.R. did not collect a single vote and, to all intents and purposes, might just as well not have been on the ballot. In this way did the forces of filth and smut make a mockery of the democratic processes in Denmark.
My fellow Americans, it is precisely this sort of contempt for the rights of others that Copenhagen would now display toward the United States of America. Only this country is not about to be bullied and disgraced by a tenth-rate military power, and see our credibility destroyed in every area of the world where only the power of the United States deters aggression. And that is why tonight I have put the leaders in Copenhagen on notice that if they continue to refuse what we ask them, I will bring all our military might to bear to restore to legitimate authority in Denmark a government that will respond to reason instead of force, a government that stands for decency instead of degradation, a government, as Abraham Lincoln said, of, by and for, not only the Danish people, but the American people and all good people everywhere.
What are we asking of Copenhagen, my fellow Americans? Neither more nor less than what we requested and received from the United Kingdom in 1968, when, according to the rules of international law and the custom of civilized nations, that country returned to our shores the fugitive from justice who was later convicted of the murder of Martin Luther King.
What are we asking of Copenhagen? Neither more nor less than what we would have requested of the Soviet Union in 1963, had President Charisma’s murderer attempted to take refuge for a second time in that country.
What are we asking of Copenhagen? Nothing more nor less than that they surrender to the proper American authorities the fugitive from the Washington Senators of the American League of Professional Baseball Clubs, the man who fled this country on April 27, 1971, exactly one week to the day before the uprising of the Boy Scouts in Washington — the man named Charles Curtis Flood.
Now events have moved so rapidly during these past twenty-four hours that in the interest of clarity I should like to review for you in all its pertinent details, the case of Charles Curtis Flood, who, previous to his disappearance, played baseball right here in Washington, under the alias “Curt Flood.” As always, I want to make everything as per perfectly clear to you as I can. That is why you hear me say over and over again, in my speeches and press conferences and interviews, that I want to make one thing very clear, or two things, or three things, or as many things as I have on my agenda to make very clear. To give you a little glimpse of the lighter side of the President’s life (impish endearing smile), my wife tells me that I even say it in my dreams. (Back to business) My fellow Americans, I am confident that you recognize as well as I do, that any man who says he wants to make things perfectly clear as often as I do, both awake and in his sleep, obviously does not have anything to hide.
Now who is this man who calls himself “Curt Flood”? To many Americans, particularly the wonderful mothers of our land, that name is probably as strange as the name Eric Starvo Galt, which, you may remember, was the alias taken by James Earl Ray, the convicted murderer of Martin Luther King.
Who is “Curt Flood”? Well, until a year or so ago, the answer would have been simple enough. Flood was a baseball player for the St. Louis Cardinals of the National League, a center fielder with a more than respectable lifetime batting average of.294. Not a Hall of Famer, not the best baseball player in the big leagues, but far from the worst. Many even believed that his finest years lay ahead of him. I am proud to say that I, as an avid fan of baseball as well as all manly sports, was among them.
Then tragedy struck. In 1970, with no more warning than the Japanese gave at Pearl Harbor, “Curt Flood,” as he then called himself, turned upon the very sport that had made him one of the highest-paid Negroes in the history of our country. In 1970, he announced — and this is an exact quotation from his own writings — “Somebody needs to go up against the system,” and proceeded to bring a legal action against Organized Baseball. According to the Commissioner of Baseball himself, this action would destroy the game of baseball as we know it, if Flood were to emerge victorious.
Now no one expects ordinary citizens, who earn their livelihoods outside the legal profession, to be able to wade through the intricacies of a legal suit such as this fugitive from justice has brought against our great national pastime for the purpose of destroying it. That’s why people hire lawyers in the first place. I know when I was a lawyer that was why people hired me, and I think without boasting, that I was able to help them. When I was a young, struggling lawyer, and Pitter and I were living on nine dollars a week out in Prissier, California, which is right here (points), I would read through my law books and study long into the night in order to help my clients, most of whom were wonderful 100.
young people just like Pitter and myself. At that time, by the way, I had the following debts outstanding:
—$1,000 on our neat little house.
—$200 to my dear parents.
—$110 to my loyal and devoted brother.
—$15 to our fine dentist, a warm-hearted Jewish man for whom we had the greatest respect.
—$4.35 to our kindly grocer, an old Italian who always had a good word for everybody. I still remember his name. Tony.
— 75 cents to our Chinese laundryman, a slightly built fellow who nonetheless worked long into the night over his shirts, just as I did over my law books, so that his children might one day attend the college of their choice. I am sure they have grown up to be fine and outstanding Chinese-Americans.
— 60 cents to the Polish man, or Polack, as the Vice President would affectionately call him, who delivered the ice for our old-fashioned icebox. He was a strong man with great pride in his native Poland.
We also owed moneys amounting to $2.90 to a wonderful Irish plumber, a wonderful Japanese — American handyman and a wonderful couple from the deep South who happened to be of the same race as we were, and whose children played with ours in perfect harmony, despite the fact that they were from another region. I am proud to say that every last dime that we owed to these wonderful people, I paid back through long hard hours of work in my law office. And the point I wish to make to you tonight, my fellow Americans, is that because of those long, hard hours of work, I believe myself qualified today to understand in all its cunning and clever intricacies the legal action that this fugitive has brought against the sport made famous by Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Ty Cobb, Tris Speaker, Roger Hornsby, Honus Wagner, Walter Johnson, Christy Mathewson and Ted Williams — Hall of Famers all, and men that America can well be proud of.
And let me tell you this: having studied this case in all its ramifications, I find I can only concur in the wise opinion of the Commissioner of Baseball when he says that a victory for this fugitive would inevitably lead to the death of the great game that has probably done more to make American boys into strong, decent and law-abiding men than any single institution in the land. Frankly, I do not know of a better way for our enemies to undermine the youth of this country, than to destroy this game of baseball and all it represents.
Now there is another question you may want to ask, and it is this: “Mr. President, if Curt Flood is out to undermine the youth of this country by destroying baseball, where could he possibly find a lawyer who would be willing to take his case to court?”
Now I am going to be as forthright as I know how in answering that question.
Scrupulous and honest and dedicated to the principles of justice as ninety-nine and ninetenths of the lawyers in this country are, there is in my profession, as in any other, I’m afraid, that tiny percentage who will do and say anything if the stakes are high enough or the price is right. In law school our professors used to call them “ambulance-chasers” and “shysters.” Unfortunately, these men cling not only to the bottom rungs of the profession, which would be bad enough, but on rare occasions manage to climb to the very top — yes, even to positions of great responsibility and power. Now I needn’t remind you of the scandal that took place here in Washington during the tenure of the last administration. You all remember that a lawyer appointed by my predecessor to the Supreme Court of the United States, the highest court in the entire land, had to resign as a justice of that court because of financial wrongdoing. Horrifying as that incident was to every decent American, there seems to me nothing to be gained now by reawakening the sense of moral outrage that swept the nation at that time. As some of you will be quick to point out, there were actually two men who found it necessary to resign from the Supreme Court, after they had been appointed justices of that court by my predecessor. But whether there was one, two, three, four or five, I simply do not believe it is in the interests of national unity to harp upon the errors, grievous though they were, of an administration that you voters, in your wisdom, repudiated three years ago. What is past is past; no one knows that better than I do. If I recall to you now the names of these two men who found it necessary to tender unprecedented resignations to the highest court in the land, it is only to answer, as forthrightly as I know how, your question, “What kind of lawyer would represent Curt Flood?”
The two men who resigned from the Supreme Court were Mr. Abe Fortas and Mr. Arthur Goldberg. My fellow Americans, the name of the lawyer representing Charles Curtis Flood is Arthur Goldberg. G-o-l-d-b-e-r-g.
Now, before I am accused of trying to shock or alarm the Ameriean public, let me say that I myself am not the least bit shocked or alarmed by this turn of events. Having served on the highest court of the land, Mr. Goldberg undoubtedly now knows the ins and the outs of the law as well as the most devious lawyer in the country. Moreover, none of us should be surprised to discover a man who has fallen from the pinnacle of his profession, willing to try just about anything to get back into the public eye. Before the Flood case is concluded, I would not be surprised to find Mr. Abe Fortas joining forces with Mr. Arthur Goldberg in defense of Charles Curtis Flood. Now you may say to me, “But surely, Mr.
President, any man who wishes to destroy the game of baseball, and enlists such attorneys as these in his attempt to accomplish that end, is not even entitled to a hearing in court. Not only is he making a mockery of our entire judicial system, but in order for him to go ‘up against the system’ we, the American taxpayers, have to pay for the upkeep of the very system he is working to annihilate. If we allow that, then we might as well allow selfconfessed Communists to teach our children in the classrooms. We might as well throw down our arms right now in the battle for freedom, and hand over our schools and our courtrooms without a fight to the avowed enemies of democracy.”
Well, let me assure you that I couldn’t agree more. In fact, we are right now studying ways of restoring the dignity and majesty and, sanctity of old to the courtrooms of the land. As, you know, one experiment that we have tried with some success here in Washington is the “Justice in the Streets Program.” This is a program whereby sentencing and punishment, for capital crimes as well as felonies and misdemeanors, is delivered on the spot at the very moment the crime is committed, or even appears to have been committed. Through J.I.T.S.P. and related methods of expediting the judicial process, we hope to be able not only to unclog the court calendars but to wind down the whole trial system by Election Day 1972. Now, winding down the trial system will of course be a great boon to the dignity of our judges, who will no longer be forced to demean themselves by dealing with the most undesirable elements in the population. Our judges, so terribly overworked as they are today, hopefully will not have to deal with any elements of the population once the trial system is completely phased out. This will leave them free for the reflection and reading that is so essential to maintaining a high level of judicial wisdom. The second benefit to be derived from replacing the archaic and slow-moving trial system by more modern judicial methods is this: the courtrooms of this land will once again be a wonderfully inspiring place for the schoolchildren of America to visit. I see a day, in fact, when parents will be able to send their children off to visit a courtroom without fear that they will have to witness anything inappropriate or unsettling to the eyes or ears of a growing youngster. I see a day in which not only schoolchildren, but mothers holding their babies, will be able to walk through the halls of justice to observe the judges in their wonderful black robes, relieved of the time-consuming burdens of the courtroom, gathering the wisdom of the ages from their thinking and their lawbooks. I see a day when schoolchildren and mothers holding their babies will be able to sit in the jury boxes, just as though a real trial were underway, and in this way experience at firsthand the age-old grandeur of a legal tradition that has come down to us in all its glory from Anglo-Saxon times.
But of course we cannot undo overnight the judicial mess that we have inherited from the previous administration, and the thirty-five administrations before his. As a result, even as we are winding down the trial system that has caused this country so much expense and confusion, we have still to deal in the courtroom with the likes of Charles Curtis Flood and his team of attorneys.
Now fortunately two different courts have already found against Charles Curtis Flood in his attempt to destroy the game of baseball. These decisions made during the tenure in office of this administration, have gone a long way, I am sure, to restoring the confidence of a public only recently so disappointed by the verdict reached in Mayor John Lancelot’s New York, to free thirteen members of the Black Panther Party.
Of course I have no more right to tell the Mayor of New York how to run his city than he has to tell me how — to run the country or the world. But I must, in all honesty, say that I was as startled as the great majority of Americans, first by that verdict, and second, by Mayor Lancelot’s decision, following the verdict, to allow these thirteen Black Panthers to resume their political activities in his city. All I can say as President is that I trust this will not become the model for the treatment of the acquitted in other cities around the country.
Now I have no doubt that if the Mayor of New York were in my place he would not hesitate to declare a hands-off policy where Charles Curtis Flood is concerned. If self-confessed Black Panthers are to be left free to stalk the streets that are no longer safe for our wives and daughters, why bother to bring to justice a man who has not confessed to being a Black Panther? So, I am afraid, the. logic would run, if another man were in my shoes.
But so long as he is not, so long as I am the duly elected President of the United States, I can assure you that there will be no mollycoddling of any fugitive who, after twice being prevented by the courts from destroying baseball and undermining the youth of this country, decided that he, Charles Curtis Flood, had had enough of law and order and life within the system. There will be no mollycoddling of a man who undertook to subvert and corrupt the youth of this country by the most insidious means imaginable, with a recklessness and a viciousness equalled not even by the most hardened drug pushers and the most loathsome pornographers.
No, it was not to the dissolute, unprincipled and overindulged on our college campuses that Charles Curtis Flood turned with his plan to destroy America. Nor was this yet another call to violence to the dropout and hippies and flagdefilers of the left.
Who then, you ask, did he seek to corrupt? The answer, my fellow Americans, is the Boy Scouts of America. Not only did Charles Curtis Flood incite them to riot, and tamper with their morals, but what is even worse, it was he and he alone who drove the Boy Scouts headlong into the tragedy that occurred here yesterday in Washington, D.C. Surely the great majority of Americans will agree that it is a tragedy in every sense of the word when the brave fighting men of our Army are called upon to risk their lives in the streets of Washington, D.C., instead of in a foreign country. But that is what happened here in the nation’s capital, when, through a long day and a long night, our brave soldiers, armed only with loaded rifles, fixed bayonets, tear-gas canisters and gas masks, faced a mob of Boy Scouts, numbering nearly ten thousand.
I am sure you all know by now the nature of the chants and the songs that these ten thousand Boy Scouts were singing in the streets of the nation’s capital. I am sure you are familiar with the kind of placards they were waving before the television cameras. I do not intend to repeat to you the wording of those posters. It should suffice to say that they did justice to the language and interests of Charles Curtis Flood, whose favorite city, according to his own writings, is Copenhagen, Denmark, the pornography capital of the world.
The posters are presently in the hands of the FBI, whose laboratories have already begun the painstaking job of fingerprinting each and every poster, and submitting them to blood tests so as to determine the correlation between the obscenity printed on an individual poster and the blood type of the Boy Scout bearing the poster containing those objectionable words. If such correlations can be established with a reasonable degree of accuracyand we think they can — it will of course be of great assistance to our law enforcement agencies. Under our program of “preventive detention,” we will be able to round up those with suspect blood types before sueh demonstrations as this even get under way, thus preventing them from violating community standards of decency, and the ordinary everyday rules of courtesy, decorum and good taste that are sacred to the great majority of Americans.
As you all know from the headlines, of the approximately ten thousand Boy Scouts who assembled here in Washington during the two-day uprising to threaten the lives of our brave fighting men, it was necessary to kill only three in order to maintain law and order. That breaks down to one and one-half Scouts dead per diem, while nine thousand nine hundred and ninetyeight and a half Scouts continued to live full and active lives the first day, and nine thousand, nine hundred and ninetyseven the second.
Now I would think that by anyone’s standards, a mortality rate in a crisis of this kind of.0003 is a wonderful tribute to the very great restraint with which we were able to confront what could have been a terrible’ tragedy for our soldiers. Certainly it should give solace to all of those who detest bloodshed as much as I do, and put the lie once and for all to the vicious charge that it was the military and not the Scouts who were responsible for the violence. On the other hand, I think the fact that we did have three Scouts dead by the end of the second day is a good indication of the necessary firmness with which we always try to balance off our very great restraint.
Of course, I am sure the great majority of Americans realize that there is always going to be a small, vocal minority of cavilers and critics, who are never going to be satisfied, no matter how perfectly balanced the restraint and the firmness with which we deal with civil disruptions of this kind. Even if there should be only one person dead over a twoday period, or as little as half a person a day; even if over a two-day period there should be only one person who is slightly maimed — these critics will begin to talk as though the tragedy wasn’t the overwhelming danger to which tens of thousands of our brave soldiers were subjected, but the maiming of one person out of only ten thousand, and what is more than likely, an out-of-towner who, unlike our brave soldiers, had only to remain at home to stay out of harm’s way.
Well, to this small vocal minority, let me make one thing very clear.
I too have great sympathy for the families of the three Boy Scouts who were killed here in Washington. I am a father, and I know full well how important children can be to a man’s career; and incidentally, in that connection, a wife. As a matter of fact, my wife and I and our wonderful children had condolence messages prepared for far more than the three who died here, and were prepared to dispatch them on a moment’s notice. Throughout the crisis I was in continuous touch with the morgue here in Washington, as I am with the morgues around the country, by a special “hot line,” and had it been necessary to wire not three, but three thousand such messages, I assure you that my family and I would have seen that those words of sympathy had left the White House before the bodies were even cold. I am proud to say that my wife and my daughters were prepared to work’ far into the night in order that families less fortunate than our own might have some small comfort in their hour of need. Nor do we intend to forget these people when Christmas time rolls around.
But let there be no mistake about it: quick on the trigger as I may be with compassion for the innocent families, I am equally swift in my condemnation of these three guilty Scouts. And I say “guilty” because if they were not guilty they would not be dead. That is not the kind of country we live in.
Now I know there are those apologists for the Boy Scout uprising who have attempted to arouse sympathy for the three guilty Scouts by pointing out that while one had attained the rank of Eagle Scout, the other two were “only” Tenderfoots. If pressed they will concede that an Eagle Scout is a highly trained and disciplined youngster, capable of functioning as a guerrilla insurrectionist because of the various survival tactics he has had to master in order to attain his key position in the Scout infrastructure. But what of the two Tenderfoots, they ask. How could two little Tenderfoots pose so serious a threat to our national security as to make it necessary to kill them? Well, let me answer that question, my fellow Americans, by showing you the weapons that were found concealed, hanging from the belts, of these “two little Tenderfoot Scouts” when their bodies were searched by the FBI, the Secret Service, the CIA, the Military Police, the Shore Patrol, the Attorney General’s office, the Capitol Police Force, the Police Force of the District of Columbia, as well as by law enforcement officers summoned from around the country, to guarantee the probity and thoroughness of this investigation.
Now I am sure that we all still remember with a sad and mournful heart the 6.5-millimeter Italian carbine rifle purchased for $12.78 from a Chicago mail-order house by President Charisma’s assassin, Lee Harvey Oswald, whom I mentioned earlier in connection with James Earl Ray and Charles Curtis Flood. In the mail-order catalog that rifle probably did not appear to be any more sophisticated than the weapon I am about to show you now, or any more capable of changing the course of history. And yet none of us will ever forget the impact it had upon President Charisma’s career and my own. I know that to many of you this object that I am holding in my right hand looks as innocent and harmless as that $12.78 mail-order rifle undoubtedly did in the mail-order catalog. But let there be no mistake about it, it is just as effective, if not more so.
Firstly: whereas the rifle that destroyed President Charisma’s political career measured forty inches overall, this knife that I hold here in my hand measures, with the blades sheathed, only four and five-eighths inches. This makes it an ideal weapon to use in public places, as opposed to a forty-inch rifle which might arouse suspicion on a school bus, or in a supermarket, or any of the hundred places where you and your loved ones find yourselves in the course of an ordinary day.
Secondly: it is a far more vicious weapon than an ordinary rifle and, needless to say, does not even begin to approach in humaneness a simple thousand-pound bomb, let alone a nuclear explosive. As one who was raised as a Quaker, you know, I have a particularly strong interest in being humane. That is why, since coming to office, I have done everything I can to get Congress to appropriate money for a weapons system that would make us number one in the world in that department. Surely there is no reason why a country with our scientific and technological resources cannot develop weapons with destructive powers so total and immediate as to guarantee to every man, woman and child on this planet what until now has been reserved for those few fortunate people who die in their sleep, and that is the comfort of passing unknowingly from this life into the next. Now that is the type of death people have dreamed about for themselves since time immemorial, and let it not be recorded that Trick E. Dixon lacked the moral and spiritual idealism to address himself to that dream. But now let me ask you this, my fellow Americans. What could be further from the kind of painless death for men everywhere that this administration is working so hard to bring about, than that which is experienced by the victim of a knife such as I am holding in my hand? Not only is it necessary to deliver as many as five to ten horrifyingly painful stab wounds in order to kill somebody with a weapon this small, but in order to accomplish this the murderer must exhibit a sustained viciousness, a cold-blooded determination to kill, that, I assure you, would shock and appall a combat-tried B-52 bomber pilot no less than it does you and me.
And let me tell you how they manage that sustained viciousness: Unlike our pilots in Vietnam, whose satisfaction consists solely in getting the job done as quickly and thoroughly as possible, and who have no interest at all in whatever cries and moans may happen to arise from those who do not die instantly in the blast, the people who use weapons like these are obviously sadists of the sort who enjoy watching the blood run out of their victims, and, incidentally in that connection, hearing the cries of a person in physical torment. Why else would they use a weapon that takes up to half an hour to do the sort of job our pilots accomplish in a split second, and without the groaning and the gore?
Now let’s look at the knife closely. I am going to open out the blades one by one, and describe to you the purpose and function of each. You should not be misled by its four-and-five-eighths-inch exterior into imagining that it is simply an instrument designed to kill. Like so many of the weapons carried by guerrilla revolutionaries around the world, it has multiple uses, of which murder of the agonizing and sadistic variety is but one. Let’s begin here, with the smallest of the four blades. In the language of those who employ such weapons, it is known as “the bottle opener.” I’ll tell you how it got that name in a moment. You will observe that it is hook-shaped at the end, and measures one inch and one eighth. It is employed during the interrogation of prisoners primarily to gouge out one or both of the eyes. It is also used on the soles of the feet, which are sliced open, like so, with the point of the hook. Last, but not least, it is sometimes inserted into the mouth of a prisoner who will not talk, in order to slit the flesh at the upper part of the larynx, between the vocal cords. That opening up there is called the glottis, and “bottle opener” is derived from “glottal opener,” the pet name originally attached to the blade by its most coldblooded practitioners.
This second largest blade, measuring one inch and three-quarters, tapers to a point and probably looks to you to be a miniature bayonet. Do not be fooled by appearances. It has nothing to do with bayonets such as those our brave soldiers found it necessary to fix to their rifles in selfdefense during the two-day Boy Scout uprising. This little blade is known as “the leather punch,” and far from being an instrument of self-defense, it is yet another torture device, along the lines of the bottle opener. As its name suggests, it is used to punch holes in human flesh, or “leather” as the flesh is called by revolutionaries who consider their enemies to be no more than animals. It will come as no surprise to you to learn that it is most frequently driven into the palms of the hands, much the same way that the nails were in the movie The Greatest Story Ever Told.
Now this third blade, an eighth of an inch longer than the leather punch, is also wider and less tapered, and has a flat rather than a pointed end. It is known as “the screwdriver.” Traditionally, it is inserted into the groove between the nails and the flesh and turned in a rotary fashion, like so. However, we know from intelligence reports that the screwdriver may also on occasion be introduced into bodily apertures, of which the nostrils and the ears are the only ones I shall choose to make mention of on nationwide television. Some of my political opponents may think otherwise — and they have every right to disagree with my position — but I, for one, have never believed it necessary to use bad language to make my point, and I have no intention of resorting to those kinds of tactics in the midst of a major address to the nation.
This last blade of the four is probably the one you’re most familiar with from your nightmares. Two inches and three-quarters in length, ninesixteenths of an inch at its widest point, it has a sharp cutting edge that I shall demonstrate for you on this piece of paper.
Incidentally, it is no accident that printed on this piece of paper is the Preamble to the Constitution, the Bill of Rights and the oft-quoted and much beloved Ten Commandments, with their famous “Thou shalt nots.” As you all remember, these same Ten Commandments provided the wonderful and inspiring background for another motion picture of great spiritual value that I am sure the great majority of American families enjoyed as much as our family did. I don’t think I am too far afield when I say that what you see printed on this sheet of paper (close-up of paper) is just about everything we believe in and cherish as a people. I want you to watch as I demonstrate what this blade can do in a matter of seconds to all that you and I hold near and dear.
(He slices the piece of paper into one-inch strips and then holds them up for the audience to see) Of course you can peel apples with a blade like this, you can slice your potatoes for frying and you can cut up your cucumbers, radishes, tomatoes, onions and celery for salad. And I am sure that those who would seek to exonerate these three Scouts will maintain that it was only to prepare a delicious salad such as I described that they secreted these weapons upon their belts and carried them hundreds of miles across state lines to the nation’s capital. I am afraid that whether it is knife-carrying Boy Scouts or cardcarrying Communists, there will always be a handful of apologists around to come to their defense.
My fellow Americans, I want to leave it to you, and not to the apologists, to decide.,I ask you to look at this knife, with all four of its blades unsheathed, blades capable of inflicting physical torment of a kind that goes all the way back to the Crucifixion and beyond. I ask you to look at this four-pronged instrument of torture. I ask you to look at what just one of those blades was able to do to the Preamble to the Constitution, the Bill of Rights and the beloved Ten Commandments. And now I ask you if you think there is anything at all to be said in defense of three Boy Scouts carrying such knives into the nation’s capital.
And incidentally, in that connection, these were not the only three Boy Scouts in Washington bearing concealed weapons on their belts. These were only the three we happened to kill. In all, a total of eight thousand four hundred and sixty-three knives, each resembling this one in every last detail, were confiscated during the two days the Scouts were here. That means a grand total of thirty-three thousand, eight hundred and fifty-two blades, or enough blades to torture simultaneously every single resident of Chevy Chase, Maryland, including women and children.
Now you ask, how did we prevent this bloodbath from taking place in Chevy Chase? The answer is by setting up an enclosed camping site for the Scouts who were not shot. The answer is by diverting their attention from — violence and lawbreaking by giving them a chance to test their scouting abilities overnight in a wilderness environment without food or shelter.
And let me tell you something: it is to the very great credit of the scouting movement in this country, that once we were able to get these boys off the streets and into a rugged camping situation and we have the police to thank for volunteering their help in getting all the boys out there — they showed themselves worthy in every way of their famous motto, “Be Prepared.”
Let’s take a look at just a few of their accomplishments: First, in the absence of toilet facilities, they did a tremendous job in disposing of their waste matter and the leaves they used for personal hygiene. Next, what little water they had in their canteens, they shared in an admirable way, or so it would seem from the fact that not a single one of the nearly ten thousand died of thirst. Nor did they make the mistake of drinking from, or even daring to bathe in, the pond at the campsite, so familiar were they with the danger signs of sewage and stagnation.
Now anyone familiar with Boy Scout training could have expected that they would be able to use their kerchiefs as tourniquets to stop one another’s bleeding, but few of us believed they could ever do the kind of near professional job they did making splints out of vines and branches and shirts torn up into rags.
As for eating, well, I’m proud to say that by morning they had discovered edible roots and berries we didn’t even know were there. And as for warmth, as you could expect, they managed during the night to start several fires in the classic Boy Scout manner of rubbing two sticks together. In all, what might have been a nightmare for the citizens of Chevy Chase, Maryland, was converted into wonderful scouting experience for the boys themselves, and one that I’m sure they’ll remember for a long time to come. I know that when the police vans returned this morning to take them away, many of the boys were reluctant to leave the campsite. So anxious were some to spend another night under the stars, and away from the so-called “comforts” of civilization such as medical attention, lawyers, telephones and food, that it was necessary for the police to chase after them and literally drag them off the premises and into the waiting trucks. With fewer and fewer opportunities available to our youth for “roughing it,” this administration naturally takes pride in what we were able to do for these youngsters last night. Moreover, we have given them every assurance that if and when they ever come to Washington again, we will make every effort to provide them with the same facilities, or ones even more primitive, if we can find any. Now I know that many of you out there across the country are asking yourselves why I should be making such a generous offer to the Scouts. Why do I praise them for their behavior at the campsite? Why am I willing to forgive these youngsters and give them another chance to make a decent start in life? It must seem to those of you who saw the Scouts waving their signs here in the streets of the nation’s capital signs offensive and insulting not only to me but, what is far worse, to my innocent family that I more than anyone have a right to harbor a grievance against these ten thousand Boy Scouts; and particularly against the three who are now dead and will never be able to come to me like responsible children and apologize for trying to smear my reputation. Why, you may ask, am I so compassionate, judicious, charitable, tolerant and wise, when it was my very own political career that stood to be most damaged by these signs? Well, those are good and intelligent questions. Let me try to answer them as forthrightly as I know how.
My fellow Americans, it is as simple as this (quickly passes a sponge over his upper lip and slips it back into his breast pocket): I would rather be a one-term President than carry a grudge against a lot of twelve- and thirteen-year-old American kids. Oh sure, somebody else might try to make political capital out of a vendetta against these youngsters, calling them hoodlums and bums and rotten apples, but I am afraid I am just too big a man for that. As far as I am concerned, these boys have learned their lesson, as they proved at the campsite; and that goes for the three dead Scouts as well. Even if those three dead boys don’t come and apologize, as far as I am concerned the past is past and I for one am willing to forgive and forget. For make no mistake about it: while it is true that I am strongly opposed to permissiveness, I am just as opposed to vindictiveness. I no more believe in punishing a wrongdoer to excess than I would subscribe to the liberal philosophy that allows a criminal to go merrily on his way, after he has committed a crime.
But of even greater importance, I just don’t think we ever cure a disease by treating one of its symptoms. Rather, we must get to the cause of the illness. And certainly you know as well as I do, that the cause of America’s problems is not the Boy Scouts of America. Nobody is ever going to believe that, and that is why I don’t even attempt to make a case for it.
No, the Boy Scouts of America — and I think this will come as a relief to all of you — are no more guilty of anything than you are or I am. They are just another group of American youngsters who have fallen prey to that small dedicated band of malcontents and revolutionaries who are out to destroy our country by destroying our most important natural resource of all, our wonderful youth. And unless we cut these sources of contagion from our society as swiftly and thoroughly as we would excise a cancer from a living body — and I know we are all united in our opposition to cancer, Democrats and Republicans alike — this disease that has spread even to the Boy Scouts will grow in virulence until it has infected every last child in the land, including your own. And so long as I am President, I am not going to stand idly by while the children of this country come down with cancer, leukemia, or, incidentally in that connection, muscular dystrophy.
No, it is not the Boy Scouts of America, but the man who incited them to this riot by tampering with their morals who must be made to take the punishment that comes to all who would corrupt the youth of our nation. And that man, my fellow Americans, is the very same fugitive for whom the Pro-Pornography government in Copenhagen is providing refuge at this moment.
Now I cannot divulge to you over nationwide television the overwhelming evidence compiled by the justice Department and the FBI, linking Charles Curtis Flood to the uprising of the Boy Scouts. We all know, however, the tremendous influence that major league baseball players have over the minds and hearts of the young boys of this nation. I am sure that anyone who remembers how he himself idolized the great ballplayers of his youth, will not even need the evidence in order to imagine just how Charles Curtis Flood might misuse and mislead these boys for his own subversive ends. I am afraid that is all I can say to you tonight about the evidence proving Flood’s guilt. As one who has practiced law, I am particularly sensitive to the Constitutional rights which every defendant is entitled to. And I certainly do not intend to endanger the chances of a conviction by appearing to try this fugitive on nationwide TV. Once he is returned to America, he will be entitled to a fair trial, despite what he has done, and by a jury that has not been prejudiced against him by so august a person as the President of the United States of America.
Right now, as your President, my duty is to do everything within my power to see that this fugitive from justice is returned to our shores. Of course, we have never expected of Flood that he would voluntarily leave his sanctuary in Denmark, given the kinds of pleasures such a man might feel free to pursue in a ‘Country with customs that are hardly those of our own. And if Flood is incapable of tearing himself away from his pleasures so as to face the consequences of his vicious actions, neither has the Pro-Pornography government in Copenhagen done anything whatsoever to force him to surrender himself to the proper authorities for extradition. On the contrary, they have rejected out of hand every legitimate request we have made of them. Even now, with the American Army massed on their borders, the American Navy blockading their coast, and the American Marines firmly in control of “Hamlet’s Castle,” they continue to provide him with the same protection from the law that they provide to pornographers and filth peddlers from around the globe.
I know that in the face of such profound contempt for American power and prestige, the great majority of Americans would agree that I have no choice but to order our troops onto Danish soil so as to establish the D.A.R. as the freely elected government in Copenhagen. However, I want to tell you this: because of my Quaker background, I have, only two hours ago, made one last valiant effort to bring about a peaceful resolution of our differences with Denmark. I am going to conclude my address to you tonight by recounting in some detail the nature of that effort. It is a story of bravery and devotion to country that every American will be proud of. It is a story that will convince the entire world how very far this great nation has gone in its attempt to avoid the armed confrontation that the state of Denmark seems committed to forcing upon us. My fellow Americans, only two hours before coming on television to address you, I gave the order, as Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces meeting his responsibilities, for a fleet of helicopters to make a surprise landing on the large Danish island of Zealand at a spot right here (points), only twenty nautical miles from the capital of Copenhagen.
Now I realized how dangerous such a gallant humanitarian effort might be. So did the brave Green Berets and Rangers who volunteered to carry it out. Not only would they have to fly in at treetop level to avoid detection by the Danish radar system, but there was no precise way of telling the exact size of the arsenal that Flood had managed to assemble, with the approval, if not the outright assistance, of the Danish government. Would he resort to poison gas? Would he dare to employ tactical nuclear weapons? There was no way in which our aerial photography could penetrate this man’s skull, to see just how far he would go in violating the written and unwritten rules of warfare. But in that reconnaissance by satellite, as well as by manned and drone aircraft, h t l established beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was where the fugitive was in hiding; and in that I also knew that there was no way to force the Danish government to return Flood to the United States, short off the armed conflict which I am so opposed to as a Quaker, I proceeded to give the order for this raid to take place.
Designed to capture Flood, remove him by helicopter to Elsinore, and hence by military jet to America, the mission was named, by me, Operation Courage, and assigned to joint Contingency Task Force Derring-Do.
It is with deep pride, my fellow Americans, that I can now tell you that Operation Courage has been carried out to perfection, exactly in accordance with the meticulously rehearsed schedule drawn up beforehand.
First off, the dangerous flight from Elsinore to the landing site was made in twenty-two minutes and fourteen seconds, precisely according to the plan. Next, the hazardous search of the farmhouse, the outbuildings and the tilled acreage was accomplished in thirty-four minutes and eighteen seconds; in other words, with two full seconds to spare. The ticklish evacuation proceedings required precisely the seven minutes called for in the schedule, and the daring return flight to Elsinore, at treetop level, was accomplished in twenty-two minutes flat. That is not only four seconds under the time allotted, but I am proud to say, a new record for that distance for a Danish domestic helicopter flight. Moreover, our forces returned to safety without sustaining a single casualty. As at Elsinore, the enemy was so completely taken by surprise that they did not fire a single shot.
I am proud to tell you that the intelligence on Operation Courage was equally as impressive as the split-second timing with which this perilous mission was accomplished.
First, the seven blond-haired females who were identified on the aerial photos moving in and out of the farmhouse at all hours of the day were present at the time of the landing. They were found, as expected, in beds scattered throughout the house, and taken immediately into custody for interrogation by the Green Berets, as was the couple claiming to be their “father” and “mother.” The blond-haired females found in the beds in various stages of undress ranged in age from seven to eighteen.
Second, the dark round objects visible in the aerial photographs and identified positively by intelligence as watermelons, were no longer in the field, or “patch,” at the time of the landing, nor was there evidence any longer of the watermelon vines themselves. This has led intelligence to conclude that only hours before the raid, the telltale watermelons were removed and replaced with the ordinary rocks and potato plants found at the time of the landing. Obviously, this constituted a desperate last-minute attempt on the part of the fugitive to avoid detection from the air. As for the large dark object identified as Charles Curtis Flood himself, apparently at the very last minute he too was replaced with a big black Labrador dog. This was verified when the dog was found romping in the very fields where photographs, taken the previous night, revealed the fugitive exercising by moonlight.
It is to the great credit of the commander in charge of Operation Courage — and represents the highest order of dedication and professionalism — that in order to keep faithfully to the plan, the dog was taken into custody in precisely the same amount of time as had been allotted for the capture of Flood. She was then transported in the command helicopter, bound and under heavy guard, to “Hamlet’s Castle” at Elsinore. However, once the helicopters touched safely clown, I immediately gave the order from the White House that the interrogation of the dog was to be suspended, and that she was to be released from her bindings and allowed to roam on a leash in a grassy enclosure on the castle grounds.
My fellow Americans, I can assure you that the friendly treatment that dog is receiving now at the hands of American soldiers is in sharp contrast to the heartlessness and cynicism with which the fugitive himself forced this defenseless animal to serve as his “stand-in” while he took flight from justice yet again.
Now it had been my hope that I could come before you tonight to tell you that Flood was in the custody of American officials, and that it would not be necessary to take further measures against a recalcitrant and contemptuous Danish government in order to secure his release. And make no mistake about it. If we were not dealing with a man so vicious that he would rather risk the life of an innocent female dog than his own, I could have done just that.
However, even though they were unable to apprehend the fugitive at this time, I should still like to take this opportunity to pay a tribute to the skill, courage and devotion with which joint Contingency Task Force Derring-Do carried out Operation Courage. The flawless fashion in which they executed this delicate secret mission was inspirational to all Americans. And surely it must be accounted the most successful single operation of its kind staged thus far in the Danish crisis. The embarrassment alone that we have caused Copenhagen by pointing up the holes in their radar system, will inevitably have a profound effect upon the morale of the Danish people and their armed forces. They were written by the immortal bard and renowned humanitarian, William Shakespeare. Yes, they were written with a quill pen on a piece of parchment hundreds and hundreds of years ago, but probably never have they been so true as they are tonight. This is what Shakespeare said: “Something,” he said, “is rotten in the state of Denmark.” Little did the immortal bard know then, how prophetic those words would be in the centuries to come. My fellow Americans (here Tricky rises from his chair to sit on the edge of his desk), something is rotten in Denmark — let there be no mistake about it. And if it has now fallen to American boys to step in and eradicate the rottenness that Danish boys are unable to step in and eradicate, I know they will not hesitate to do so. (Makes fist) Because we will not watch as the once-great homeland of Hamlet slips down the drain of depravity. (Looks down) Instead, with all the might that we can summon in our righteous cause, we shall (quick friendly glance at ceiling), with God’s help, purge Denmark of corruption, now and for all time. (Looks for a moment into eternity without batting eyelashes) Thank you, and good night.
My fellow Americans, I am going to conclude my address with the words of a very great man.