Among the nostalgists

When I was a kid in the 1970s, I would often hear my older brothers talking with each other and with my parents about Vietnam and Watergate. I would ask them to explain what those words meant, which presented them with quite a challenge when I was three or four years old. I never gave up, though, and by the time I’d figured them out I was not only hooked on those topics but on history in general, including the political history of the USA in the decades following the Second World War. I grew up to become a classical scholar, but when I’m not professionally engaged with ancient Greek and Latin literature my mind still wanders to those matters.

I’ve been spending a bit of my free time talking about such things on Twitter lately, especially in threads growing out of posts made by commentator Richard Brookhiser. The other day, for example, Mr Brookhiser brought up an interlocutor of his who speculated that right-wing Congressman John Ashbrook’s 1972 primary challenge to Richard Nixon’s reelection campaign was an attempt to clear the field for Ronald Reagan to replace Nixon as the Republican nominee. In response, I pointed out that Reagan already faced a formidable rival for conservative support in Vice President Spiro Agnew, and that if Ashbrook had somehow knocked Nixon out of the race he would have established himself as a substantial figure in his own right, another obstacle to any attempt Reagan might have made to launch a bid of his own.

The national attention given to yesterday’s election for mayor of New York reminded me of another 1960s-1970s figure who captured my attention when I was a child, John V. Lindsay. When I was about nine years old, I was watching the old Batman show when the character of Mayor Linseed appeared. My mother was with me, and she laughed out loud. She said that the actual mayor of New York in those days was named Lindsay. “Linseed” didn’t strike me as clever enough wordplay to account for her laughter, and she said that indeed it was not why she was laughing. What struck her as funny was that while the actual Mayor Lindsay was a ridiculously handsome man, whose good looks sometimes got in the way of his political career, the makers of Batman had cast a plain-faced character actor as his fictional counterpart. Evidently they were afraid that even in their fictional universe, it would be too much to ask people to believe that the mayor of such a big city could look like a movie star. I’ve also mentioned John Lindsay on Twitter quite a few times in recent months.

What has really kept Mayor Lindsay front of mind for me lately is not so much the comparisons I’ve seen between him and Mayor-elect Mamdani, but another item I’m checking off the list of things I was curious about when I was a kid. In those days, people ten or twenty years older than me would occasionally mention the TV show Dark Shadows, a daytime soap opera that added a vampire to its cast and became a big hit. I couldn’t imagine that- to me, soaps were the dullest things imaginable, windows into the lowest cavern of Hell, the circle of ice where absolutely nothing happens. I wasn’t a great horror fan, but I knew that vampires got people moving and couldn’t imagine how one would fit into a genre that seemed to cultivate tedium for its own sake.

I stumbled on Dark Shadows when the Sci Fi Channel was running it in the 90s, and was intrigued. I didn’t have the time to keep up with it for very long, though. So when during the COVID-19 lockdowns my wife and I found that the entire series was available for free to watch on demand, I suggested we take a look. We wound up watching the whole thing in a little more than a year. In the 2022, I realized that the calendar was the same as it was in 1966. I decided to watch each episode on the 56th anniversary of its original broadcast. So I watched episode #1 on Monday, 27 June 2022. My plan was to post any thoughts I might have in the comment sections of blogs about the show, as I had done in 2020 and 2021.

I quickly found that, while some blogs were still keeping their comboxes open, no community like the one I had participated in at Danny Horn’s Dark Shadows Every Day could be found in any of them. So if I were going to write up my thoughts about the show in the way I wanted to do, I would have to post them on a blog of my own. I decided to stick with my idea about the calendar, and have each post go live on the anniversary of the episode it reviews. At first I assumed no one would read the site, and gave it a name no one would be likely to find. But people did start reading and responding to it, so I changed its name to Dark Shadows Commentary. That’s where the bulk of my online writing as “Acilius” has been since then, which is one of the reasons this site has been so quiet. Since John Lindsay was Mayor of New York the entire time Dark Shadows was being produced in that city, it’s no wonder he keeps popping into my head.

Quantitative vs. Qualitative

My wife is a sociologist whose main interests are in qualitative research.  Unlike quantitative researchers, who collect a limited number of facts about each of a large number of people and use statistical methods to look for patterns in those collections, qualitative researchers collect a large amount of information about each of a relatively small number of people in order to discern just how those people go about making their decisions.  Qualitative and quantitative research are not schools of thought which compete with each other, but methods which depend on each other to be made useful.  While it is not possible for qualitative researchers to formulate general laws of behavior without transforming their conclusions into hypotheses to be tested by quantitative methods, neither is it possible for quantitative researchers to apply general laws of behavior to any case in the real world without conducting qualitative studies in which they ask people what’s on their minds.

I bring this up because of an item in the 13 December issue of The Nation.  In a review of some books about the history of New York city politics, Samuel Zipp writes of the administration of Mayor John Vliet Lindsay (1966-1973):

Lindsay was what [author Joe] Flood calls a “moralistic crusader.”  He hoped to unseat the old Tammany political machine, which had kept Democrats in power with a finely calibrated exchange of favors and services for votes greased by pervasive graft, and which rewarded loyal white ethnics with patronage while paying lip service to the concerns of the low-income migrants arriving in ever greater numbers from the black American South and Puerto Rico.  At the same time, Lindsay promised to master the chaos of the city by applying the technological marvels of computerization to city service delivery.  Systems analysis, game theory, computer modeling: these RAND innovations in information management promised to give Lindsay’s administration a way to turn the constant stream of information coursing through city agencies into “easily defined variables.”  Perhaps most important, though, was Lindsay’s sense that RAND would give him an advantage over the Tammany machine.  Flood ingeniously describes Tammany as an “information-gathering apparatus.”  As much pragmatic “intelligence network” as craven patronage machine, the system ran on stories collected on the street and sent up the ladder from the ward boss to the Democratic Party clubhouse to City Hall.  Reformers had often struggled to deliver on their promises if good government because they lacked the machine’s intelligence network.  Lindsay counted on RAND to supply an equivalent information system that would shift the power base “from using narrative to using numbers.”  With total information awareness, the city could be turned “into an assemblage of numbers,” a series of inputs and outputs that would easily surpass Tammany in the efficiency department.

As a liberal Republican reformer, Lindsay lacked the connections and manpower to govern the city “using narrative.”  What he found in his two terms in Gracie Mansion, however, was that he did not command even the political resources necessary to collect useful numbers.  Affluent New Yorkers blocked any study that might suggest that their neighborhoods could do with fewer city services, while longtime municipal employees refused to perform the analyses Lindsay wanted.  For example, when the fire department received stopwatches and supervisors were told to use them to produce reports on their reaction times, what fire battalion chiefs in fact reported was an epidemic level of stopwatches crushed as firetrucks accidentally drove over them.

I wonder if New York mightn’t have done better had reformers taken a different approach.  For over a hundred years, from the days when municipal reformer Theodore Roosevelt Senior left the Democratic Party in the 1850s until the fiscal crisis that overwhelmed the city when John Lindsay’s successor Abraham Beame was mayor in 1975, New Yorkers campaigned for good government by campaigning against Tammany Hall.  The goal of all these reformers seems to have been a rational, transparent government.  Perhaps the better way to create this rationality would have been for an enlightened set of leaders to rise to power within Tammany Hall.  One might imagine them formalizing the intelligence network using the tested methods of quantitative research.  Once that was done, we could imagine the machine itself becoming rational and transparent.  Perhaps a new system would have emerged in which Tammany’s long-established dominance in municipal policy and staffing would have been officially acknowledged, and the formal distinction between the machine and the city government would have been erased.