Then and now

It’s always worth remembering that the idea of America is aspirational.  A salute to our banner is a celebration of not only who we have been or who we are, but even more so of who we can be.  At America’s core since its founding, this vision for ourselves and for each other is one which can only be realized within the confines of a sobering reality: progress is neither guaranteed nor permanent.  But neither is our decline.  It takes very real, messy, and tireless work to ensure for ourselves a tomorrow that is at least as sound as today--and, in many cases, one that is better.  Along this procession, we will inevitably stumble.  America and Americans are not immune to devastation and challenge.  The imperfect republic for which we stand has seen dire days before and will see them again.  It is a privilege for each of us to take our turn at working for a more perfect union and a better world in which to place it.  To talk, to toil, and to inject our own hopes and desires into a shared future can be the greatest giving we can do.  And so with hearts full of joys and sorrows, we continue to dream, to give, to do the work of tomorrow, until the next person steps up to take our place.  When that time comes, with a knowing embrace, we pass the baton which carries with it the promise of a new day and a greater good.

Image: "Selma March for Voting Rights", National Archives & Records Administration, Public Domain.

Why a Donald Trump presidency has already made me a better man

Waking up to tragedy always feels the same.  There is no sensation of rest, no quiet rejuvenation.  Immediately, I feel betrayed.  Sleep has let me down.  Intended as an escape, it has run its course, and has now delivered me right back into the face of dread.  Dread, which weighs the rear of my scull.  Dread, which sits flatly in my stomach, like I've been eating clay.  The nature of each tragedy is almost secondary, as the feeling is so familiar from one to the other. 

Many people woke up similarly on Wednesday, to the results of the presidential election.  There was much gnashing of teeth across social media as a great grief settled throughout large portions of the country.  What happened in the face of that grief is something which I find supremely profound.

We started giving ourselves a collective talking-to.  Amid the calls to metaphorical arms and a steadfast pledge to keep up the fight, another cry emerged.  Many implored each other, along with themselves, to look closely at why the results were as they were.  To listen.  To learn.  To fix. 

This part of the fight is as important as the fight itself.

So now begins the path of reflection, debate, and progress.  The path on which those of us who are lost look to learn from those who have been through this before. 

Personally, I have not been through this before.  But my family has.  My life has never been touched by a McCarhty or a Cohn.  But I've been studying Cohn's protégé, Donald Trump.  And the Americans who backed the witch hunts of the 1950's are not so different from those who support our new president.  To look at our country then is in many ways to see our country now.

With renewed commitment, we push forward with this project.  There is no doubt that Matusow Affair needs to be a crucial part of our unfolding national dialog.  Certainly, it holds many important keys to unlocking our past and forecasting our future.  And most importantly, the story it tells is unvarnished; absent are the partisan tropes of flawless heroes or soulless villains.  It is real.  It is human.  It is both sides.  The same two sides which need to be understood for this country to truly move forward.

The election of Donald Trump did more than make me want to work harder on a TV show.  If any part of me was ever on the sidelines before, it is now off.  But I am unlike those whom I would consider to be my opposition in one important way.  This dedication, which will be lifelong, is not to being partisan - it is to fostering progress.  My plan is simple.  Develop a better command of all issues which I hold dear.  Seek out those with whom I disagree.  Be a better listener.  Learn how to talk their language.  Teach them about what I understand to be true.  And organize, organize, organize.

Yelling louder, disobeying, and delegitimizing will not allow us to escape the partisan cycle which has increasingly imprisoned our country.  Instead, it is learning, listening, talking, showing and debating that move hearts and minds.  Those are the wheels on which progress turns.  And progress is the only way out. 

If one thing makes me happy, it's the certainty that I am becoming a better person.  And a more effective one, at that.  By the chorus of voices already rising, I'd be willing to bet that there are millions of others who have been similarly galvanized.  Broken free from the complacency that is bred by comfort and power, a new breed of progressives is emerging with every day that passes. 

The Trump campaign promised a revolution.  It may well end up that they'll get one, but not the one they were hoping for.

- Ben Kahn, Executive Producer

Go west, young(ish) men

*Re-posted here on this date from an earlier, personal writing.

April 20, 2016.  We've just touched history.  So much of the work we've done to date has been poring over primary sources, scores of books, photographs, and old documents.  With that comes a definite sense of traveling back through time and constructing the past in one's own mind.  But there's nothing like the real, living, breathing (and singing) thing.

George and I embarked on this recent research trip out west without knowing exactly what we'd find.  During our stay in California, we interviewed the author of one of our principle texts and held strategy sessions with our fundraising team.  A brief stop in Arizona gave us our first glimpses of the Clint Jencks archive.  And Wisconsin saw us dive into the Albert E. Kahn collection with the help of our intrepid and able research assistant, as well as sit down to interview our expert historical advisor on the FBI during the McCarthy era.  Those are all gains which constitute a successful trip; we would have been happy enough with them alone.

But the crowning jewel came to us in New Mexico, where we traced the roots of several of our storylines to the now shuttered San Cristobal Valley Ranch.  The ranch was an idyllic haven for progressives during the days of McCarthy, run by Craig Vincent and his wife, the folk singer Jenny Vincent.  They created a safe space that was known for its diversity, equality, and sense of community, attracting the likes of Pete Seeger, Alan Arkin's family and many others, mine included.  My grandfather loved the dynamism of the Western frontier and did a healthy share of his writing in one of the Vincent's log cabins while my father and his brothers tore though the mountain foothills on horseback.  The San Cristobal Valley Ranch community became a true respite from the seemingly public insanity of the Red-Scare; it's only shortcoming was that it didn't last - or at least so we thought.

Mere days before George and I arrived in New Mexico, my father discovered that Jenny was still alive and received an invitation from her son to come see them both.  So, a couple of days later, we pulled up at a nursing home in Taos, New Mexico, and immediately noticed that we had joined a line of people filtering in from the parking lot.  The only difference between us and them was that whereas we were carrying camera equipment, they were all carrying musical instruments. 

We all found places along the walls of a common room as folks exchanged warm greetings and set their instruments in tune.  Then Jenny Vincent, all 102 years of her, rolled into the room in her wheelchair for her standing Tuesday sing-along.  Positioned before the piano, it didn't take long before she began leading the group in the songs that have echoed off the mountains there for decades, like "Red River Valley" and "This Land is Your Land".  I think the thought hit George and me about the same time as we exchanged glances from across the room: this was the same scene we had heard about in reminiscences of the ranch, with some of the very same people who had been there in the 50s still playing the very same songs.  The San Cristobal Valley Ranch community had survived.  And now we had come from the east, as my family had done decades earlier, to visit and connect with it once again.

The community was as welcoming as could be.  We were able to sit with Jenny and her son that evening, with cameras rolling.  She recounted the spirit of the ranch and remembered various guests, including Matusow.  By now, everyone familiar with the ranch knows that Harvey was informing for the FBI while he feigned friendship with Jenny, Craig, and Clint Jencks during his stay there in the summer of 1951.  His mark on this community was a destructive one.  When I asked Jenny about her feelings on Harvey, she offered a soft grunt, slowly extended her arm and turned her thumb to the floor.  We all laughed, but not for long.  Jenny surprised us when she next said "But if I were to see him today, I would ask him what song he loved to sing in those golden years.  And I would ask him to sing it with me."  The poignancy of her statement filled the space around us.  I thanked her for all she had done for my family so many decades earlier and George and I left her room in quiet.

Jenny's grace, compassion for all and love of connection through music are valuable reminders for us while we tackle Matusow Affair.  It's important to dissect the bitter divisions which have brought this country to its lowest points.  But when that happens, we need lessons like the one Jenny provided so simply, lest we forget how we are supposed to put it all back together.  Thank you, dear Jenny.

- Ben Kahn, Executive Producer

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2015 end of year update

*Re-posted here on this date in part from an earlier email update.

December 28, 2015.  Dear Friends and Supporters of “The Matusow Affair”,

As the year draws to a close, “The Matusow Affair” is ramping up to full speed.  Here’s a rundown of where things stand as of the close of 2015.

Fundraising

We start with fundraising because it is the most critical part of the project.  In order to facilitate raising funds, we are in the final stages of negotiating a contract with Filmmakers Collaborative, Inc. (“FC”) to serve as the 501(c)(3) fiscal agent/sponsor for the project.  Working with FC will allow our funders to contribute to the development of our project while receiving the tax benefits for donating to a charitable cause.  

We are in the process of drafting and revising solicitation materials to be submitted to potential funding sources.  Letters will begin going out to potential donors the moment we have a signed contract in hand with FC.

Primary Research

Ben and George traveled to Brighton, England in early November to take a first dive into the Harvey Matusow papers at the University of Sussex’s archive, known as The Keep.  Though we were there for a total of five days, there wasn’t enough time to make it through all of the material, but we began to get a lay of the land.  Harvey’s wartime and post-war correspondence to his parents, in particular, gave us a tantalizing and (we think) fresh perspective on what motivated his erratic, self-aggrandizing behavior.  There is more work to be done in the Matusow archive, and we will want to go back to continue reviewing his materials in early 2016.

Conversion of Reel-to-reel Tapes to Digital Format

While in England, Ben met with administrators at The Keep to discuss the process of converting the original audio recordings The Keep possesses of conversations between Albert and Harvey from reel-to-reel tape to digital files.  We view that conversion as critically important to our efforts, not only because of the essential content of the tapes to the story we want to tell, but also because we fear the physical tapes themselves are rapidly degrading and could soon be in irretrievable condition.  Since returning from England, we’ve researched firms in the UK that can perform the delicate task of digitally converting the tapes, with help from connections at the British Library and the Imperial War Museum.  We’ve also secured The Keep’s agreement to let us take the lead, and to say we are working “in collaboration” with the Keep, in soliciting bids from those firms to do the work.  Once bids are in hand, we plan to ask The Keep to share the cost of the conversion.

University of Wisconsin Research Assistant

We have retained a research assistant at the University of Wisconsin to help us go through Albert’s archives there.  After reviewing those archives, Ben believes that the research assistant is critical to helping us organize Albert’s materials and identify the most salient documents to use in the project.  We expect to send her a list of marching orders in early January.  She will sign a non-disclosure agreement, which we have already drafted.

Other Primary Sources

Clinton Jencks left his personal papers to Arizona State University.  Also, Columbia University has an oral history by Angus Cameron on tape, and transcribed into a 640 page tome.  We will want to visit both of these archives in early 2016.  We’ve also learned that an author in Virginia has been working on a biography of Angus.  We plan to reach out to him eventually.

Organizing our Research

We are in preliminary talks with a Boston-based document management company called Evidox that “hosts” document collections - such as our collection of archival material culled from Harvey’s and Albert’s archives - online for review and analysis.   Our hope is to upload the documents and other media we have collected, and expect to continue to collect, to an online database that will allow us to organize our thoughts and arrange our materials into a presentation for potential investors/buyers.  We expect to meet with representatives of Evidox in early January to discuss budgeting.

That is all for now. Please let us know if you have any questions or suggestions as we move forward.  The year 2016 holds lots of promise for The Matusow Affair!

Ben and George

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The dark side of Peter Pan

*Re-posted here on this date from an earlier, personal writing.

November 12, 2015. There's too much stuff here.   I need to sit back and breathe, to get my head out from underneath the cascading piles that Harvey Matusow left in his wake.  George Royle (who has joined the project to help with research and management) and I are in Brighton, England, where the Harvey Matusow collection is now housed at an impressive archive known as The Keep.  Surrounding us are bundles of letters tied with ribbon, which unfurl under delicate and deliberate touch.  And when they do, out spill photographs, keepsakes, and the inner secrets of Harvey's life. 

Immediately, a number of things become clear.  1 - The account of Harvey's voluminous files in Albert's Matusow Affiar: Memoir of a National Scandal was far from an exaggeration.  2 - This guy was prolific as much as he was eccentric.  3 - Big ego?  Uh, yeah.  4 - This thing is a mountain.  You need a well-planned route before you climb (thankfully, we made one).  5 - We'll definitely need to come back.

Incrementally, something else begins to take shape: the picture of Harvey as a young man.  Yes, he was relatively young during his ascent to power and national notoriety (all of 27 years old), but the key to his behavior seems to lie in the formative years of his early youth.  Without giving away too much, Harvey's letters home from his days in Army (sometimes two a day) portray a man who never really stopped being a child.  Future letters, musings, poetry, unfinished memoirs and a host of actions all tend to point to the same thing. 

There can be beauty in this: preservation of wonder at the world, boundless humor and unbridled optimism.  Those are, of course, the admirable traits of children.  Less admirable are those of impetuousness, vindictive tantrums, shallow desires, and a lack of understanding of consequences.  Put those traits in an adult who is commanding great power, and a comical man-child is suddenly a very dangerous person.

Though Harvey may have been loathe to ever admit it, he hurt a good number of people in pursuit of his own righteousness.  It's up to us to parse whether or not he was oblivious, in denial, or simply didn't care about the damage he left in his wake.  Naturally, our own opinions are taking form as we trek deeper into the mind of this paradoxical figure and we look forward to sharing them with everyone someday soon.

- Ben Kahn, Executive Producer

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Journey to the center of the earth

*Re-posted here on this date from an earlier, personal writing.

October 22, 2015.  I remember this TV show from when I was young.  Well, I think I do; there's a reasonable chance that memory and imagination are overlapping.  But in my mind's eye, it goes like this: an intrepid group encounters adventures while navigating subterranean worlds, attempting to find a missing explorer who has left them clues along the way, clues which lead them down his trail and pointing to where they might find him.  And as they descend deeper, they discover new things about him and, of course, themselves.  It wasn't a great show by any stretch, but I think about it a lot these days.

I'm tracing my grandfather's footsteps.  In doing so, I find myself getting to know the man who until now has been more story than memory for me.  And the surreal part of it all is realizing time and again how often my quest mirrors his own.

Albert E. Kahn was called many things.  A freedom fighter.  A turncoat.  A communist.  A Soviet agent.  One thing he could never be accused of: being dispassionate.  Albert felt that there were stories the world needed to hear and his dedication to telling them for the good of all led him from one Quixotic journey to the next.  Except his battles were real and his final ledger tells the tale of a man who, more often than not, emerged victorious.  

Albert tracked down Harvey Matusow from across the country.  I'll be traveling to Brighton, England, to resurrect Harvey from beyond the grave by virtue of his recorded voice and image.  Albert delved into long talks with Harvey, parsing reality from fiction and getting to the heart of the lies he told.  I am trying to peel back the layers of his psychology, to get to what makes someone like him feel compelled to lie in the first place. 

My grandfather relied on the assistance of family and allies to fulfill his pursuits, turning to them in crucial times of need.  I have had to do the same.  And as much as that pushes the boundaries of my comfort zone, I've come to realize what he perhaps knew: when people believe in each other, to help is not a burden. So, like Albert, I expect to be leaning on my family and friends for financial support of this project and collaboration.

The more that I put myself in Albert's place, the more tempting it becomes to emulate him.  I share Albert's drive, his love for people, and his faith in the power of storytelling.  But I have to remind myself that the parable of his life is as much a cautionary tale as it is an inspirational one.  The noble are not exempt from myopia.  It is possible to sacrifice too much for the fight.  I know that Albert's mania cost him some relationships and his health.  He is slowly revealing more of himself to me.  I have seen this in the clues left behind: scribbled notes, well-worn letters, and in the words of those who are still alive to tell me stories.  And so, I have come to learn my challenge is that I must follow him, but not too closely. 

- Ben Kahn, Executive Producer

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Somewhere over that highway, our story begins

*Re-posted here on this date from an earlier, personal writing.

October 8, 2015.  I'm driving across the country.  I haven't done this since early childhood, when the stories I was telling were the ones I was making up.  This time, I'm trying to chase someone else's story, uncover its truths, and discover how to tell it.

The first big stop will be Detroit, where my grandfather, Albert, grew up the wealthy son and nephew of celebrated architects and engineers.  Those days have been lost in the rubble to which some of the Kahn buildings around the city have been reduced.  But I expect to find echoes of the stark contrast between my rebellious grandfather and the generation of his uncle (and namesake) within the written pages of his personal library.

I haven't seen my grandfather's collection of papers and memorabilia in many years.  When I was in high school, it was moved from his former writing study in Glen Ellen, CA and donated to the Wisconsin Historical Society (working in connection with the University of Wisconsin), in Madison, the second stop on this trip.  At the time, I photocopied as much as I could before his boxes were packed and shipped.  I don't yet know the whole of what I'll unearth when reunited with his files, but I know that fresh discoveries await.  And that has me leaning forward in the passenger seat as my friend's old Mercedes races us closer and closer to the next chapter.

- Ben Kahn, Executive Producer

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Family affair

*Re-posted here on this date from an earlier, personal writing.     

October, 2015.  It strikes me how events in history reverberate throughout time.  They’re like links in our societal DNA; we might not know they’re there, but they form our very constitution, ruling both the collective consciousness and the private mind.  Take a look back on who we are, and you can see these watershed moments popping up like large flags.  In the case of my family on my father's side, it’s a red flag.  And it bears the hammer and sickle.

The McCarthy era looms large in my past.  It played a role in splitting one generation of my family from the other.  It galvanized within us a tradition of social responsibility.  It wreaked havoc on the lives of my father, his brothers and their parents.  It’s a badge of honor.  It’s a sad scar.  And I believe that it ultimately had a heavy hand in my grandfather Albert’s early death.                           

Contrary to what Harvey Matusow and the United States government tried to get people to think, Albert wasn't a card carrying Communist.  He had more faith in people and in ideas than in regimes.  But he was unabashedly liberal and could never keep himself out of the fight to set things right for those who he felt couldn't do so for themselves.  I didn't have to agree with all of his politics to learn that heroism is not reserved for the few and the distinguished.  It can live in every-day choices and in quiet acts. 

I've lived with the story of Albert's McCarthy era odyssey ever since I can remember.  I first tried my hand at a script on it when I was in high school.  And now, with the political climate the way it is, I'm convinced that the time is right to once again dig into this parable and to invite others to do the same.  So here goes. 

- Ben Kahn, Executive Producer

*Note from re-post: I picked today to start the blog on this site because celebrating the 4th of July is an important ritual for me.  Perhaps, like Albert, I'm drawn to ideas more than institutions; in that spirit, I'm proud of the founding ideals of this country and of all the good it embodies and has done.  I can't say the same for the harm this country has inflicted on so many (my own family included), but turning my back on it is not an option.  This is my country as much as I am its citizen.  And to disown our sins as simply the faults of others is to allow them to be repeated.  So, to that, I choose to say not "my country, right or wrong," but "my country, right and wrong."  Happy birthday, America.  To a more perfect union in a new year.  Now light that bottle rocket...

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