Sunday is Independence Day. I have reasons to be cheerful that the Thirteen Colonies won the war, and so do you. Here are five of them, plucked at random and in no particular order. Obviously there are more than 5 things to like about America, but this is what I chose to write about today. Oh, and I was wrong, Iain. It turned out to have a recipe in after all. Call me Julie.
1. The First Amendment.
“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”
Freedom of the press, of thought, of speech, of conscience and of faith enshrined in law. I am entitled to my opinion and to express it, and so are you. I can pray the way I choose to, and so may you, or choose to not at all. I can associate with whom I want, and for whatever purpose as long as we’re mellow about it.
On a more abstracted level, it boils down to this: the State will not tell you how or what to think. This is the absolute basis for a free society, and was passed in 1791.
To contrast- almost 30 years later, a peaceful demonstration of 60,000 was brutally put down by cavalry at St Peter’s Fields in Manchester. 15 unarmed civilians were killed, and more than 600 wounded. They had dared to suggest that the city of Manchester should be represented in Parliament, as it had no MPs at the time (compared to Old Sarum, population Nil, which had 2.)
Four members of the Manchester Yeomanry were brought up in court, for having killed people guilty, it seems, of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was found that they had acted quite lawfully in dispersing an illegal gathering. Henry Hunt, the radical orator who the 60,000 had turned up to see, got 30 months in Ilchester prison for “sedition”. Not for planning or calling for bloody revolution and heads on pikes, but for asking if Manchester could have 2 MPs, please.
Incidentally, John Ashton, who was one of the civilians murdered because, like Hunt, he had neither the right to assemble nor to speak freely the way an American would have done 28 years previously, was carrying a flag on which was inscribed “Taxation without representation is unjust and tyrannical”. Sound familiar?
2. San Francisco
I’d quite like to buy San Francisco. A groovier place existeth not. It’s got class. It’s relaxed. It’s a large collection of wonderfully insane people doing whatever they want in a very relaxed way. It gives the impression of always being at the absolute optimum time of the day, no matter what time that is. Time for a really great morning cup of coffee. Time for a walk by the harbour. Time to meet up with people. Time just to chill under this nice big tree. Time to clock off work and go for a beer. Time to dress up and go out.
It is soaked in its own remarkable history. It was built on the strength of the Gold Rush, which turned it from a village to amajor world city in a matter of a few years. The price of one city property went from $16 to $45,000 in three years between 1848 and 1851. San Franciscans are more eccentric even than the English. They have the weather for it. For proof that this has ALWAYS been the case, please go here and here.
3. Reuben Sandwiches
I'm talkin 'bout enjoyin' a bowl of chicken soup, with a Reuben, and then makin' dirty Reuben love.”
- Legendary Anchorman Ron Burgundy
Reubens are an American classic. I would find any theory which suggested that this was not a Jewish-American dish hard to believe- salt beef, sauerkraut and caraway all scream Ashkenazi to me. Wherever it comes from, the effect is the same. The senses scream for seconds; the digestive and cardio-vascular systems protest loudly.
1 cup sauerkraut, well drained
1/2 tsp caraway seed
1/4 tsp garlic powder
1/2 cup Thousand Island dressing (or, better yet, Russian Dressing, if available)
12 slices of rye bread
1lb thinly sliced salt beef (good pastrami would almost do at a pinch- this variant is called a Rachel)
6 thick slices of American cheese (Or mild cheddar)
3tbs melted butter
serves 6
-Toss the sauerkraut, caraway and garlic powder together in a bowl. Set it aside.
-Spread the rye bread on one side with the dressing.
-Top 6 of the slices with the beef, sauerkraut and cheese, and then the second slice of bread. Brush with melted butter.
-Dry-fry the sandwiches butter-side down. Butter the other side and flip when browned.
-Continue cooking until the cheese melts and the bread is lightly browned.
4. The Chrysler Building
I really want to see this up close. When I was about 12 and getting into Jazz in a big way, I fell in love with Art Deco. Seriously, it’s no wonder they all thought I was gay. But never mind.
It’s one of the most beautiful buildings in the world and won a very bitterly-contested race to build the world’s tallest building after its architect, William van Alen, got permission to put a 53m spire on top of the stainless steel-clad crown. It was assembled in secret within the skyscraper and then hoisted up at the last minute, making the Chrysler Building the first man-made construction over 1000 feet in height, beating the rival 40 Wall Street project, which had been the tallest building in the world for all of a month. It retained the title for a year or so, before the Empire State Building was completed in 1931.
The Chrysler Building represented the end of an era, though. It started 
construction in 1928, and was completed in May 1930. Between these two dates, Walter P. Chrysler, the automotive giant who financed the building project to provide his children with a legacy was named Time Magazine’s Man of the Year for 1928, only the second time it had ever been awarded. Also, the Wall Street Crash occurred.
Gone were the days when magnates would compete to build skyscrapers. The Jazz Age was mortally wounded, and the days of the Great Depression had arrived. What remained was the Chrysler building, a gleaming steel obelisk commemorating the infallible style and arrogant ambition of the previous decade.
5. Tom Paine
Napoleon said of Thomas Paine that “A statue of gold should be erected to him in every city in the universe.” Tsk, the French, eh?
Paine wrote pamphlets which helped whip up popular support for the American Revolution. Born and brought up in England, he first moved to America in 1774 at the age of 37. He had few original ideas, but he did have a way with words. Tom Paine articulated complex, avante-garde ideas in a way which struck a chord with the common people. People who can do this are often groundbreaking. Lenin, for example, or Stephen Hawking, or Abraham Lincoln, would fit into this category. He came out with some crackers.
“A long habit of not thinking a thing wrong gives it a superficial appearance of being right.”, and
“These are the times that try men’s souls.” and
“He that would make his own liberty secure, must guard even his enemy from oppression; for if he violates this duty, he establishes a precedent that will reach to himself.”
His first job was an apprentice corset-maker and then in his teens he enlisted and served as a privateer. Years later he escaped execution during the French Revolution (which he had helped to foment) because his door, which would have shown the chalk mark which indicated one for the guillotine had been opened to let the air circulate, making him the world’s first draught dodger.
After his death, his bones were dug up by the English radical William Cobbett, who took them back to England to give him a triumphal re-burial. But apparently, reburying your political hero is one of those things which keeps slipping your mind, because Cobbett died before he got round to doing it. His heirs lost the bones, and Tom Paine was never seen again.
Happy 4th July, everybody!
