Dear Dumb Dad
W. W. McClintock, maternal grandfather of frequent PJ Media contributor Charlie Martin, was born in the Choctaw Nation in about 1894. After a short and notably unsuccessful career as an Indian Bad Man, and a consequent interval in Mexico, he served in the U.S. Navy, became an inventor, entrepreneur, part owner of the Southern San Luis Valley Railroad, and rancher in the San Luis Valley in Colorado. He died in 1958.
“Dear Dumb Dad”
By W. W. McClintock
Ca. 1935
My father, poor misguided gent,
Wasted his life — a life misspent
By working hard and working late
From 6 A.M. till way past eight.
Poor Dad! He’d fume and fret and toil
And burn the blooming midnight oil
For nothing but a little cash
To buy the daily beans and hash.
Poor Dad! He was so mild and meek
He’d work six days in every week
And 14 hours every day
To try to keep the wolf away.
Now father, meaning well, but dumb,
Amassed a rather tidy sum
With which he planned to buy some beers
To brighten his declining years.
Then the NEW DEAL came; simple Dad!
Who worked so hard for all he had
Awoke one morn to find that he
Was now a public enemy.
A louse, a Scrooge, a national cyst!
An economic royalist!
So Dad, industrious but dumb,
Is now the source from which will come
The coin to buy the gasoline
For some poor underdog’s machine.
To bring the more abundant life
To every loafer and his wife.
From Dad will be extracted sums
For radios to ease the hells
Of all the chronic ne’er-do-wells:
For booze, so labor’s little Nell
Can tell the boss to go to hell.
Poor Dad, a faithful, trustful goon,
Was born just 30 years to soon.
L’ENVOI
A moral lurks along the hall
In all this fancy fol-derol,
And it is this: That any cheat
Who says you ought to work to eat,
Is simply nuts, out of his head–
Sit on your tail or stay in bed,
The government will see, by gad,
That you get yours from chumps like Dad!
brilliant!
I would like to respond with something eloquent, or whatever, because this little poem brought tears to my eyes thinking of those grandmothers, grandfathers, and greats of mine, and yours, and how dutiful they were, how hard they worked so the next generation could start out with something, get to college……
They wanted to better themselves and their condition, and often went through a lot to do so.
Talk about entrepreneurs. Those people, in addition to their daily jobs and chores, did additional work (side jobs)to put aside for special projects-things they dreamed of someday doing. At times a family tragedy would take it all and they would have to begin the process again.
Furthermore,they donated time and assets to their neighbours, communities, and infrastructure-all volunteered. I am talking about giving huge sums of money to schools/colleges, libraries, parks and churches. All of this meant real sacrifice.
All of this done willingly and prior to any government programs. I guess I could conceed the government stepped in at times and put an end to some unconscionable practices-this was needed but I can’t conclude the government has ever done anything that added to the improvement of our characters. In fact, hasn’t it really accomplished the opposite ?
So, here’s to dear dumb Dad(s),wishing everyone had one.
Just wonderful!
I hate poety but LOVE THIS POEM!!!!
Clever and poignant. Unfortunately today we don’t get to accumulate things like the elder Mr. McClintock only to be ambushed in our later years. Most of us are ambushed every day, every paycheck with taxes, fees and higher prices that result from excessive government regulation on all economic activities. The immense burden of government-gone-wild is never calculated directly but manifested in the now nearly impossible struggle of the middle class to live well while also providing for children and retirement. Unless, of course you can get a job in government. Then you are all set. A worry free work place for 30 years and then a comfortable retirement with the best health benefits and cost of living adjustments.
Why do we allow this to go on? On what basis do we allow our representatives to vote themselves and all government workers such tremendous advantages – to be paid for nearly entirely by the private sector workers? Is this not – on the face of it – fraudulent?
2. Elliot
Me too. My greatgrandmother taught in a one room school house and with a few ladies from the community started what was probably the first ‘free lunch program’ in the area. While these women, who were farmers and rancher’s wives who didn’t have a whole lot themselves in those days and had plenty of work to do at home, found the means and the time to feed hungry children. And there was no government funding, no New Deal assistance.
I hope there are enough of us still carring that spirit and pride. What a great legacy those grandparents left us.
Clever and poignant, short and sweet,
I think the poem’s really neat.
And on this day of Gippers birth,
it really brought me down to earth.
I must confess, with some aplomb,
to not believe his dad was dumb.
Quite unlike a liberal pagan,
he embodied all things Reagan.
Here in Michigan, it’s still necessary to work those long poetical hours when manufacturing cycles through auto slumps. Layoffs occur, and you grab what work you can. For many years, my work day began with 2 paper routes, then 4 hrs. at a small shop, then 8 at another shop. No biggie.
Every American under the age of 45 should read this and think about what has come to pass since we were born… How sad is this.
and to think till this very day i just want to be like dad.
if a chump the old man was, then i can be one just like him.
except i remember him as a stand up guy.
W. W. McClintock was one of the forgotten men who were required to pay for FDR’s New Deal policies. He was never fooled for a minute. Big government politicians imply that merely increasing the tax rates of the very wealthy by a few percentage points can fund their welfare schemes. The reality is that there is simply not enough of the super rich to accomplish this utopian goal. Those of more modest means will have to make up the difference. At the end of the day, the productive minority will be enslaved by a mooching majority.
I read this poem out to my husband, b/c I knew what his response would be — his family still calls FDR “That Man” for all the destruction wrought by the New Deal. Keep in mind, his family was by no means rich, but they did own their own businesses and had had enough of being vilified for accumulating capital.
A good tonic to anti-capitalism isn’t just poems like this, but a classic cartoon we found a couple years ago called “Make Mine Freedom” – I bet it’s on YouTube. You should check it out. We need more movies/cartoons like that today.
Hello,
You know i told you people that is no person called Tom Biggar Younger brother of Dim Chukwuemeka odumegwu Ojukwu,but they will tell you that he died with Major Chukwuma Nzeogwu and Younger brother of Pius Okigbo at Nsukka sector who does not exist too like Tom Bigger his name is Christopher Okigbo,who was the reason when ever an Igbo man sing a Biafra hymn ,song,song and anthem they always cry with tears running down their eyes.
In nut shell their no person that have lived on this earth called Christopher Okigbo from Ojoto that name was Created like Tom Bigger which was Gen.Odumegwu Chukwuemeka Ojukwu hunch and Pius Okigbo created a name called Christopher Okigbo.
A member of Okigbo from Ojoto in Idemili south local Goverment area of Anambra state Nigeria family works today as Microsoft Nigeria staff a senior executive.
A poignant reality that especially young people today ought to read and take to heart, for one day they too will get old…
a history lesson for some one willing to learn.
Intrigued, entralled, amazed, aglow I sat
To see genius beneath the poet’s hat.
I hadn’t read this poem until recently and then hadn’t known it was from my Grand Dad until Aunt Marty (WW’s sister) said so. But it sure sounds like him. Thanks cousin Charlie!
WW’s son/my Dad (WW Jr.) moved to Alaska for the adventure, opportunities, and some separation from big government and the socialist tendencies of the lower 48 states. Now that government is even catching us up here. Where do we go now? Or is our back against the wall?
Just remember: we’re not trapped in here with them. They’re trapped in here with us.
As a writer of prose and a family genealogist, I have read this poem several times and have left it, and come back to it because it carries a deeper story of our family. The writer is clearly bitter, and this appears now as a political piece used to advance a political agenda. Here though it is someone known, and at their expense who cannot be here to defend himself. There are personal undertones here as well. I have only the highest regard for W.W. McClintock as he is my Grandfather, J.W. McClintock’s only brother. I would never publish anything that would construe negativity towards my own family. Call me old fashion, call me a McClintock… but I do not want future generations to remember W.W. McClintock this way. By the way, his birthday was 13 Dec 1894.
Christine,
I see a man who is able to laugh at the situation enough by writing poetry. Clearly, he is saying that his father did what society said was the right thing for years, only to have the government change what they decided was “right”. This happened in many countries – those that went Communist, those that went Fascist, and for various reasons. I admire and respect your grandfather, and this isn’t anything negative about your family. Were he alive today, I suspect he’d write a poem about history repeating itself, and he’d approve of people reading his old poetry.
Christine,
Ah, so this is where the talent for writing in your family comes from then ? Very clever folks.
It is a great little poem and it reflects a time in history where the nation was undergoing quite a challange. I imagine more than a few folks had a temporary taste of bitterness-but they were strong and got over it. A testament to their spirit.
I became fascinated with family genealogy myself and this poem is one of those little gems that add greatly to family treasuries, many of which have been made public on genforum.com, rootsweb.com, etc.,since the pc became an essential part of our lives.Then all those people made real again through those county histories-mostly flattering but we certainly did get up to some things back in the day.
So, anyway, your grandfather is now part of our national treasury and I am glad to have met him, if only in part.
Another poem that says virtually the same thing, less eloquently but very polished. Well – known “fascist” poet Rudyard Kipling, wrote in 1919 The Gods of the Copy Book Headings. It too is a warning and prescient about political/social elements in the English speaking world the last half of the 20th century.
Thank you for your kind comments Eliot and Ken. As a historian, I too recognize this as having value in history, in historical context. First, let me say, W.W. McClintock is my Uncle. I am the Grandaughter of J.W (James Walker McClintock) for clarification, his only brother. We have for generations and generations back been writers. In fact in ancient times the McClintock’s, MacGilleFhiodaig’s were a sept clan to Colquhoun in Scotland. They were games keepers and before that, bairds, the storytellers. You might say Charlie and I have that gene. We carry the stories. Each in our own way, but very unique to our clan. My Father was published as is my brother. This does not take into account the famous writers who are in our line. That is a story for another day.
So looking at this piece from that perspective, and taking out the fact someone is speaking about someone I have a higher opinion of~ I, gentlemen do see your point. However further reflection makes me question the Ca 1935 date. No one at this time would have penned a piece during the ‘New Deal’ with this tone which we all should agree is retrospective. I think it was written later. Quite plainly, no one new if the the ‘New Deal’ was going to work and people were starving and out of work. These were such desperate times. Businesses failed and W.W. McClintock did what he could do to survive and keep his family alive. We now may look back and see the WPA programs, SS Programs, etc… and know they did not move us forward as they promised. Oh I too carry the gene for politics in our family.
By the way dearest Charlie, your Grandfather was born according to records TWP 9, Choctaw Nation, Indian Territory, Roll: T623. His Father also went by Charlie, his middle name. Just thought you would enjoy knowing. When you spend so much time finding those who came before you and learning about their struggles, they come alive again in our hearts.
Also, you are a cousin to Franklin D. Roosevelt. Oh, the stories I can tell and back up, would blow your mind.
Ah, I hadn’t even seen that a family argument had broken out and I was missing it. As always, I find I agree with parts, disagree with parts, and generally wonder what the fuss is about. I’ll save most of my reaction for where it belongs, somewhere between the second cocktail and passing the pecan pie. I do want to say two things.
Taking the second point first, Christine is probably right that 1935 is a little early — I rough-dated it based on Mom’s recollection of what she’s heard from Grandfather Bill, and a mistaken recollection that Roosevelt had decried “economic royalists” in his first inaugural speech; on a little research I find it was his second, 27 July 1936, and so the poem should be dated no earlier than that. On the other hand, I wouldn’t date it much later, on the same basis, because it wasn’t a term that hung on too long. At least until it was revived in the last couple years.
On the general point, I don’t see the poem as particularly bitter, as cousin Bill does; I see it as black humor, with some anger. Putting myself in his engineer’s boots and stockman hat, in 1946-37 WW was was a middle-aged man, an entrepreneur who had pulled himself up pretty far from a young punk on the run from the laws. I can easily see how he would resent being called an “economic royalist”.
In any case, my point in publishing it was that I liked the poem, and was proud that WW — very much an autodidact — had written it. My editors at PJM liked it too. The text stands up for itself.