Editor's Column: “We are the jury”: Steinbeck's America under Threat

Abstract

John Steinbeck loved his country with an abiding passion that permeates his finest fiction—The Grapes of Wrath, East of Eden, The Winter of Our Discontent. And the very titles of his nonfiction works of the 1960s—Travels with Charley in Search of America and America and Americans—speak of that consuming focus on his country. In the foreword to the latter work, he avows that it has been “informed by America, and inspired by curiosity, impatience, some anger, and a passionate love of America and the Americans.” From the heart, he writes that his country is “unspeakably dear and very beautiful” (317–18). Recognizing Steinbeck's passion, early critic Harry Thornton Moore dubbed him “the poet of our dispossessed” (72). Such a role and task Steinbeck delineates for himself in his “Nobel Prize Acceptance Speech”: “The ancient commission of the writer has not changed. He is charged with exposing our many grievous faults and failures, with dredging to light our dark and dangerous dreams for the purpose of improvement” (America and Americans and Selected Nonfiction 173).Given Steinbeck's declared intention to bring to light whatever dangers might lie before his country, it is not surprising that in America and Americans, written in the 1960s, he saw the possibility that a president might overreach his exercise of power and that a branch of the federal government might acquit him, creating a virtual dictatorship. Now, the House of Representatives in Congress has impeached an overreaching president who was found guilty on two counts: first, for the use of excessive power in asking a foreign government to investigate a rival in the upcoming 2020 presidential election, thereby putting the country's national security at risk; and second, for obstructing Congress's ability to investigate his wrongdoing by blocking relevant documents and witnesses. Sadly, to the horror and dismay of a great many Americans, when the trial was brought before the largely Republican Senate, neither supporting documents nor witnesses were allowed. Although the House offered mountains of evidence and proved its case beyond reasonable doubt, the president was acquitted and remains in office. All Republican Senators, save one, voted for acquittal. Maintaining that he must be true to God and country, Mitt Romney broke ranks with his party and voted with the Democrats to convict and remove from office. At grave risk to his own political future, Democratic Senator Doug Jones of red-state Alabama likewise followed his own conscience and voted to convict. House managers warn that “this is the first impeachment trial in the history of the United States without witnesses and documents, which were blocked by President Trump during the inquiry” (Easley, Web). Thus, American democracy is under threat and at risk.In the Fall 2019 editor's column, we considered the darkness, evil, and distortion of truth emanating from Trump and his cohorts, and we looked at Steinbeck's definition of light as a “beacon thing” wherein certain people—such as East of Eden's Sam Hamilton and the Chinese servant Lee—hold torches to guide the faltering. And we asked questions: Who is leading us today? And where?Steinbeck has given beacons to light the way. Like the words of presidential historian Jon Meacham, who maintains that “we are the jury” and our “task is to push forward,” in The Grapes of Wrath, the words of Ma Joad echo across time: “We're the people that live. They ain't gonna wipe us out. Why, we're the people—we go on” (Web; 280). In the conclusion of East of Eden, the dying Adam struggles to get out his final word, “Timshel.” The word is a blessing for his son, Cal—one that is fraught with meaning. Behind it lies the Cain story of good and evil and the human ability and right to choose between the two. It is his father's prayer that Cal will choose what is good, that he will be a light-bearer, a beacon. In The Winter of Our Discontent, struggling to escape his place in a cave by the sea, resisting surging tide and “brisking waves” that push him against the sea wall, Ethan Allen Hawley is a light-bearer clutching the family talisman, determined to return it to its new owner, his daughter, Ellen, “else another light might go out” (276). (Considering Hawley as an Every American, he may be viewed symbolically as a citizen holding onto the Constitution, preserving it for future generations.) Steinbeck's nonfictional America and Americans concludes, “We have failed sometimes, taken wrong paths, paused for renewal, …, but we have never slipped back—never” (404). Steinbeck's addition of “never” here is almost wistful, but certainly hopeful, with faith in the American people to “push forward,” as Meacham maintains we must do.John Steinbeck's America—our America—is under threat. As Steinbeck foresaw it might be, it has all come down to us, the American people. It is now up to us to fulfill his expectations and bear the burden well. For now we must all answer the call to be light-bearers for our own time, leading the way toward justice, truth, and right, lest the lights go out on our democracy as we know it. For now is our moment. We are the jury.The lead article in this issue is Robin DeMerell Provey's “Seeds of #MeToo Planted under the Orange Trees in The Grapes of Wrath”—a timely article since the February 24, 2020, Washington Post reports the conviction of “disgraced movie producer” Harvey Weinstein on two counts of sexual misconduct. Provey outlines the seeds for collective action that Steinbeck delineates in The Grapes of Wrath. Next, in “Steinbeck's Mayor Orden” William Ray revisits the genesis of Steinbeck's oft-maligned and perhaps equally misjudged wartime propaganda piece, The Moon Is Down. Ray challenges traditional understanding of the history surrounding the work's composition and brings to light additional evidence suggesting Steinbeck likely based his play on the real experiences of Theodor Broch, former mayor of the Norwegian town of Narvik, who told the tale of his own experiences in his memoir The Mountains Wait. Broch's account of his own escape appeared in the December 16, 1940, issue of Life magazine a mere two years before The Moon Is Down was published, and Ray presents additional evidence that the two men knew, or at minimum, knew of, each other, and he traces similarities between the representations and aims of the two respective works. Ray concludes by suggesting further research may shed additional light on the relationship between the two authors, whose works, when read together, provide a more comprehensive and accurate picture of the historical landscape in which Steinbeck wrote his novella-play.“‘We, the Joads’: The Grapes of Wrath in the Farm Security Administration Camps,” by Christopher Bowman, surveys evidence from the Farm Security Administration (F.S.A.) camps’ newspapers and other cultural proofs to challenge a pervasive critical misperception that Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath was widely unpopular with Dust Bowl migrants. On the contrary, he argues, the newspapers demonstrate that the “migrant campers enthusiastically discussed the author, the novel, and the film.” Bowman traces Steinbeck's implicit and explicit connections to the camps through charity societies and events and the presence of The Grapes of Wrath in the camps’ libraries, along with reading groups, film screenings, and reviews as evidenced in camp newspapers. Bowman concludes that a preponderance of evidence from F.S.A. newspapers shows that Steinbeck and his work was viewed in a positive light among a significant portion of the migrant population—the weightiest evidence being their willingness to personally identify with the Joads and adopt the language of the novel as their own.The first essay in the Intercalary section, “‘It's terrible and I'm not going to try to tell you it isn't’: Steinbeck's Perspectives on Education,” by Mary Adler, explores Steinbeck's distaste for formal education, which he saw as steeped in conformity and neglectful of creativity. Adler traces Steinbeck's perspective on an array of educational issues in both his fiction and nonfiction, considering his reflections on his personal experiences, his observations on the contemporary state of education, and his fictional characters’ experiences as they encounter educational opportunities both in and out of the classroom. Adler concludes that while Steinbeck never stipulated specific reforms to educational policy or curriculum design, his works and life model the value of participating “in the act of learning—chiefly by seeking out excellent mentors and reading broadly.” His privileging of a more self-directed educational program stands in stark contrast to the rigidity and conformity of contemporary education.Colin Levings's “Connecting to Edward Flanders Ricketts through Mentors and an Iconic Ship Sailing in the Gulf of Alaska” is an engaging reflection on the surprising significance of the Western Flyer in his professional career as a marine scientist, which he discovered nearly forty years after having worked on the boat at the young age of nineteen when he was totally unaware of its affiliation with Steinbeck and Ricketts's iconic journey. Levings explains how he happened across the connection by seeing a picture of the boat on the cover of The Log from the Sea of Cortez while visiting Cannery Row. He goes on to reflect on his deeper connection to Ricketts through mentors and teachers he had while studying in California and through his relationship with the Western Flyer. Levings concludes with praise for the boat's future, as it is currently being restored to serve as an educational vessel for future students and marine scientists—a vocation worthy of its interesting and significant history.In “Reading John Steinbeck in Algeria,” Chaker Mohamed Ben Ali and Kathleen Hicks report the findings of a survey they administered to university students and professors at several Algerian universities. The goal of the survey was to determine the extent to which Algerian university students are exposed to the works of Steinbeck and through what means. The survey also attempted to gauge respondents’ attitudes and perceptions of the value of Steinbeck's work in Algerian culture. The findings reveal that while the respondents’ attitudes were somewhat mixed, overall there was consensus that Steinbeck's most well-known works—including Of Mice and Men, The Grapes of Wrath, and East of Eden—shed useful insight into several issues relevant to Algerian culture, including morality, family values, immigration, and the spread of capitalism. The survey concludes that more readily available, high-quality translations of more of Steinbeck's works are in definite demand in Algeria.The Intercalary section ends with William Ray's contemporary notes in “Steinbeck Today,” which describes events held by institutions in San José, Palo Alto, and Salinas, California, focusing on Steinbeck's local legacy and international influence. Additionally, Ray notes that the enduring impact of The Grapes of Wrath and other Steinbeck works were “the subject of homage, remembrance, and analysis in a variety of media, including film” in the latter half of 2019.Finally, this issue concludes with two book reviews and the annual bibliography of Steinbeck criticism published in 2019, compiled by Peter Van Coutren, with Ume Ali. Robert DeMott reviews Wesley W. Stillwagon's The Song of The Pearl: An Essay About Steinbeck's Short Novel, The Pearl. DeMott concedes that “there is a germ of a good idea in his booklet: The Song of the Pearl functions as a metaphor or vehicle for a whole series of intangible, thematic, or narrative qualities and possibilities associated with the fated gem that protagonist Kino finds.” Unfortunately, however, he finds that the merits of the work end there as the rest of it seems a heavy-handed, unsophisticated application of Jungian psychology to The Pearl that adds little value to the critical discourse surrounding the novel. Cecilia Donohue has a bit more praise for Mike Lauterborn's Chasing Charley, a travel memoir written as an ode to Steinbeck's Travels with Charley. Lauterborn, following somewhat in the footsteps of Steinbeck's journey, interweaves themes and observations from Steinbeck's work with those from his own trip, providing a more contemporary view of America from the perspective of 2003.The Fall 2020 issue of the Steinbeck Review will feature Gavin Jones of Stanford University. Also, Charles Etheridge is writing an essay review comparing the three editions of Susan Shillinglaw's A Journey into Steinbeck's California.