Leslie Bricusse has died, the less famous of the Anthony Newley-Bricusse song-writing team, though he also had hits with other collaborators. Easily the most profitable and annoying of their creations was “The Candy Man,” from the score of “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.” But it was the opening number from the show that included my favorite among their scores that kept going through my head as I perused today’s ethics developments. There’s a beautiful land out there, I’m sure of it. But it sure is hard to see lately.
1.Yesterday, October 20, had two major ethics milestones attached to it that I should have noted. The first was in 1947, when the Red Scare began its assault on freedom of thought and association as a Congressional committee began investigating the allegedCommunist influence in Hollywood. The unconstitutional investigation by the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) grilled witnesses by asking “Are you or have you ever been a member of the Communist Party?” Those who refused to answer were found in contempt of Congress and jailed. Others, including director Elia Kazan, Gary Cooper and studio heads Walt Disney and Jack Warner, gave the committee names of colleagues they suspected of being communists. It all led to a so-called “blacklist” that kept actors, writers and directors, including some of the most talented in the industry, from working for years.
I thought of those hearings as I watched (as much as I could stand) the disgusting House January 6 riot hearing this morning where Attorney General Garland allowed the prestige of his office to be used for a flagrant abuse of the committee system for pure partisan propaganda of the most bilious sort, executed by the House Judiciary Committee. (More on that later.)
Garland also reminded me of the other ethics event in U.S. history that took place on the 20th: the so-called “Saturday Night Massacre.” Watergate special prosecutor Archibald Cox, an esteemed Harvard law professor so trusted that the Supreme Court once allowed him to argue both sides of a case before it (which was ridiculous), was getting too close to the ugly truth, so Nixon ordered his Attorney General Elliot Richardson to fire him. Richardson refused, and resigned. The mantle of AG then fell on Deputy Attorney General William Ruckelshaus, who also refused to fire Cox, and also resigned. Finally, Solicitor General Robert Bork did the deed, reasoning, as he explained later, that Nixon’s order was legal and not an abuse of power.
As I listened to Garland huminahumina this morning when asked by GOP committee members about this memorandum, which was designed to chill the speech of parents raising their legitimate objections to attempted political indoctrination in the public schools, I found myself wondering if he would have had the integrity and guts to refuse a lawful order by Nixon that nonetheless undermined the Constitution both the Attorney General and the President are sworn to defend. I doubt it. That memo was probably not Garland’s idea, and its goal was to stifle political dissent by using vague words like “harassment” and darkly suggesting that law enforcement would be watching.







