Getting to Grips with America - continued

 Scotland

Teens

In the teenage years of the 1950s, this love-affair with America continued and grew stronger.

In our school atlases, we learned where America was; and of course, we all became aware that America had won the 2nd World War all by itself!! We had seen Audi Murphy do so (a real genuine hero, by the way) and countless other film stars, like Richard Widmark and, yes, Big John Wayne. We were also aware these film stars were carving out fabulous careers and making lumps of money while doing so—boy, the envy this instilled. 

Uncles and aunts, however, who during the war had rubbed shoulders with Americans in London (you couldn't find them anywhere else, other than there and on American bases) informed us of how decent these real people were—and of their nylons, the chewing gum and of the clothes they wore, better than anything you could find at home.

Then there was the music that was coming out of America. It was magical: the crooners—yes, even Crosby and Sinatra—Perry Como, Nat King Cole; the big dance bands, Artie Shaw, Benny Goodman; and earlier, Glen Miller, whose death saddened us all. Swing, be-bop and JAZZ; 'heh, man, that Louis Armstrong was really somethin'. Ella Fitzgerald, her voice was just incredible—still is on CD. During my later teens, which were closely aligned with my introduction to girls and dance halls, the American influx just kept a comin': stars like Johnnie Ray, Kay Starr, Frankie Lane and Guy Mitchell kinda headed my list.

It was not really the same, however, with early motor cars. The 'Tin Lizzies' that Henry Ford's factories were pouring out were quite unfamiliar to us, as were all the others coming out of Detroit: the Packards, Buicks, Lincolns, and so on. We saw then in the many films depicting American family life; and they were integral to the lives of city gangsters being portrayed in the movies. Like the detached homes and the city skyscrapers they inhabited, these were all unfamiliar. Instead, we were driving our own wonderful cars: the Rovers, Bentleys (some hope!), Austins and Morrises. 

My dad had managed to acquire a 1937 Rover, a beautiful model, with running boards along the sides, doors that opened from the front, and a boot that was modelled with a wheel-shaped space to carry the spare. 

I passed my driving test in that car, but not before my old grandfather had knocked down a line of wall that belonged to the tallest men in Scotland — two brothers who almost reached the 8 foot mark!! Damage to the car? Well, nothing visible—she was made of solid stuff—only a bent track-rod end. Can't say the same about the wall!!

American mores were now completely familiar to us; and their everyday customs easily competed with the like of England's Tommy Handley. Mind you, he was stupendous in his own right, especially in the wonderful ITMA ('Its That Man Again') programme from London that we heard on the 'Cat's Whiskers' (battery radio). 

American jokes and slang were much more welcome—and definitely more often heard in the streets— than 'Wullie' Shakespeare—though 'The Sonnets' and the major plays made a deeper impression than I cared to admit then. 

The American shows also easily beat the Gilbert and Sullivan productions, like The Mikado that we were forced to watch (or participate in) at school. Funny, though, we never could speak with an authentic American voice—apart from 'stick 'em up' or 'reach for your gun' - kinda like Mel Gibson today trying on a Scottish brogue while being William Wallace, our national hero.

By this time, we adolescents understood better just how vital the American entry to the war had been: of Pearl Harbour and the truly brutal struggle against the Japanese: of Guadalcanal and Mid-Way. 

Newspapers were full of the North Africa campaign, followed by the ferocious fighting around Salerno and Monte Cassino, then onwards through Italy. Thankfully came the D-Day landings and the beginning of the end for the Nazis. 

It took a little longer for the Japanese surrender—and, of course, there was very little understanding regarding the fearsome weapon of war that ended things in the east. It soon became very clear, however, that the Atom bomb really signified the future course of mankind, of whether or not the human species would survive..

Our comprehension of the films, of comics ('Superman' especially) of the music and magazines emanating from America, was now much more advanced. We had more perspective, with advancing years, of the shape of events; though this did not negate our appreciation of the heroic American effort (of civilians as well as the fighting men and women); and that their endeavours had worked to our benefit. 

Now, however, we understood better what we too had accomplished; and also the tragic sacrifices made by the then USSR. The funny thing was that at that stage of life I had never ever seen a real live American, far less speak to one

.

However, though all the splendid things continued to gush forth from that fabled land beyond the Atlantic, such as: the promise of success, and assurances of progress and achievement for all, it was getting a bit more complicated, and difficult to have a fixed viewpoint on things. 

We had to work our way around Hiroshima and Nagasaki, evaluate the Cold War roles and the Berlin Airlift. It also became necessary to come to grips with a pivotal shift that had taken place in world affairs: the replacing of British, French and German overlordshhip with that of America and the USSR. It became imperative that we learning how these countries ruled themselves—and now us.

The checks and balances in the US system gained full marks: Separation of the Supreme Court from other branches, the Bill of Rights and the introduction of the 1st Amendment, all of this was excellent. 

But, why were coloured people still being treated this way: the segregation, hangings and hate. An awful lot of them had been killed and maimed during the war years, fighting for their country and for freedom; and still were—in every war that sprang up afterwards, from Korea onwards. Yet a black man couldn't walk into the front lobby of a grand hotel back home. 

We 'aliens' (how I hate being pigeon-holed by this word) could only scratch our heads at this, being powerless to do anything about it; but to say we regretted what was happening would be false—we hated it. This was a side of the America that had saved us with its intervention in the war (and that we cared for) which we did not like.

Newsreels now told their own story of the sheer power of the American dollar and of US military might throughout the world; of Britain's humiliation over Suez, when America pulled a few strings. 

Still, the US might have gone back into 'Splendid Isolation'. Instead, 'Old Joe' Stalin, until his death in 1954, knew what he was up against if he tried to muscle further west. It was a blow, nevertheless, that not even 'Uncle Sam' could prevent the atrocities of the Hungarian and then the Czechoslovakian uprisings, or help out.

Towards the end of the 1950s, there is little doubt that the nuclear presence at Faslane, on the Holy Loch, sitting on the outskirts of Glasgow, when combined with the rise of CND, soured further our regard for America's leaders. 

Nobody likes the idea of being a target for hostile forces to aim at; and with a population of millions on the doorstep it began to be asked whether the American military were more concerned with their own far-flung security than the support they had experienced from these 'cute' people in 'Scatland'. 

It is still a very live issue—the submarines, with their lethal warheads are still there, with the millions and millions required to keep them up-to-date emptying our pockets - and their dismissal providing a rallying point for Scottish independence.

to be continued...