Gumption: America's Gutsiest Troublemakers Read online

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  Copyright © 2015 by Nick Offerman

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  ISBN 978-0-698-19444-1

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  For Cathy and Ric Offerman—my dear mom and dad—who first taught me the ways of gumption; and for Mike Schur, for teaching me that we can still be very funny while saying “I love you.”

  CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  EPIGRAPH

  INTRODUCTION

  PART 1

  FREEMASONS

  1 GEORGE WASHINGTON

  2 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

  3 JAMES MADISON

  4 FREDERICK DOUGLASS

  PART 2

  IDEALISTS

  5 THEODORE ROOSEVELT

  6 FREDERICK LAW OLMSTED

  7 ELEANOR ROOSEVELT

  8 TOM LAUGHLIN

  9 WENDELL BERRY

  10 BARNEY FRANK

  11 YOKO ONO

  12 MICHAEL POLLAN

  PART 3

  MAKERS

  13 THOMAS LIE-NIELSEN

  14 NAT BENJAMIN

  15 GEORGE NAKASHIMA

  16 CAROL BURNETT

  17 JEFF TWEEDY

  18 GEORGE SAUNDERS

  19 LAURIE ANDERSON

  20 WILLIE NELSON

  21 CONAN O’BRIEN

  EPILOGUE

  FURTHER READING BY SUBJECT

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  CREDITS

  To succeed in life, you need two things:

  ignorance and confidence.

  —MARK TWAIN

  INTRODUCTION

  How does one compile a list of great Americans? It’s an embarrassment of riches. To narrow the field, I decided to begin with my choice for number one. I imagine, or at least I would hope, that most of our citizenry would agree by an overwhelming percentage that the first person landing upon that list is—no, not Ray Kroc, the progenitor of the McShit sandwich. No, not Miley Cyrus or Beyoncé Knowles, or even Oprah Winfrey. Jesus! Goddamn. No, people, not Jesus! Yes, he was reportedly a supercool guy, but he just doesn’t qualify as an American. I am referring, of course, to George Washington. The father of our country. I want to note that, of all the possible subjects, he easily sprang to mind first, based merely on my foggy grade school knowledge of his life’s achievements in helping to create our republic and then sticking around to lead it as our nation’s first president. Plus, he had wooden teeth! I’m a woodworker! Slam dunk—a sports metaphor, specifically basketball, meaning that the point(s) has (have) been scored emphatically!

  I then began a list of other possible great Americans, basing my selections upon achievements of one kind or another that I considered to be “great” in scope. Leaders of men and women. Leaders of 4-H clubs. Activists, artists, zealots. Woodworkers, boatbuilders, farmers. Musicians. Priests. Muckrakers. Stoners. Hillary. Because after all, for the purposes of my examination, what exactly constitutes a “great” American? Runs batted in? Military victories? Humanitarian efforts? Amassing wealth? Collecting scalps? A number one single on the Billboard charts? A larder full of bacon? Ford F-250 in the barn? Well, duh.

  While I continued to compile a roster of potential icons and discuss the book’s overall direction with my great American editor, Jill, I began to read anew about Washington and the birth of our nation. I was powerfully stricken when I contemplated the actual situation in which our Founding Fathers found themselves, well, foundering: faced with the choice of either a continued subservience to an overweening Mother England or a gathering of their colonial brass balls in their mitts with which to cast off the taxing yoke of England’s imperial control. Years earlier, when I learned all this history as a lad in school, I suppose the full implications of the events were lost on me, as I was not yet wielding a complete grasp of adult responsibility or governmental culpability as it applies to our daily lives.

  The magnificent sons of bitches who founded our United States truly brandished a courage that is hard to fathom and a serving of foresight that very well beggars my modern imagination. Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and the like saw the extremely rare opportunity to create a new “American experiment,” one in which the best organizational techniques and brewing methods could be retained from the oldguard European governments, while discarding all the more unsavory trappings (clotted cream) of the monarchies and oligarchies they’d left behind “on the continent.” These forward thinkers envisioned a nation ruled “by the people, for the people,” founded on notions like “liberty and justice for all.” Now all they had to do was liberate themselves from the iron grip of the military equivalent of Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson that was eighteenth-century Great Britain.

  As I will explore in the coming pages, our country’s inception had a lot of heroic nobility deservedly draped about its innovative framework, but it was also a series of events conducted by human beings, and so the intrepid experiment could not help but display some flaws as well. Not only were our fledgling American government and society crafted by human beings, but further, it must be noted with appropriate gravity, by all white dudes. With no small irony, the Declaration of Independence was composed, ratified, and signed by several Caucasian men, some of whom owned a great many slaves. If that wasn’t bad enough, the Native American tribes in the Ohio Country were being mercilessly murdered and/or driven off their ancestral lands so that “we” could eventually build the pastoral suburbs of Cleveland, an assemblage of neighborhoods that, it must be noted, really are quite leafy and serene, but are they worthy of genocide? That is precisely the stripe of conundrum I hope to probe in the following pages.

  In their inaugural documents, our Founding Fathers framed a somewhat malleable structure as a means by which the population could govern itself, truly remarkable in its place and time, which allowed the citizens of the United States to set about building, in rather short order, the most prosperous and powerful nation in the world. The seemingly limitless wealth of natural resources in our stretch of North America allowed our predecessors to excel in many fields of industry and artistry, soon surpassing the manufacturing capabilities of their European fathers and the world at large. Our young society flourished, exhibiting a gaiety and “rascally” nature that the rest of the globe found (very) briefly adorable. This was our puppy phase. In many ways, an attitude of “free-thinking” grew fulsome and took root in the burgeoning states, finally logging some long-overdue advance
s in civil rights for every person residing under the Stars and Stripes. Or so we proclaimed, anyway.

  This writing will endeavor to examine some examples of the ways in which we as Americans have used the powers of freedom bestowed upon us to become more decent as a people, which I believe was loosely the idea when the whole shebang got started. This book will also strive to cast a light on some instances in which we have not used our powers for good and have most assuredly not become more decent.

  Beyond the inspiration of my chosen historical figures (who set the bar very high for us indeed), I will illustrate for you a group of idealists who have continued to pay homage to America’s foundational principles. In their varied lives of rigorous employment, these high-minded individuals have set a further fine example of just how much good may be accomplished with active eyes and loving observation. On many levels, this collection of visionaries has inspired me with selfless choices made for the good of all the people—not just the white guys—but I don’t want to get ahead of myself.

  Bringing up the back of the bus are some pretty cool kids, all of whom make things like music, furniture, poetry, art, and laughter. In many ways, their creations enkindle within us the flames of gumption, as we seek each our own path to lead lives that enlarge and also depend upon the lives of others in America and beyond. Please enjoy my mixtape of great Americans, twenty-one in number, whom I sincerely hope will affect you like they do me—in a way that makes you examine your own God-given gumption and react accordingly, so that we may all end up with a little more decency and several more chuckles.

  PART 1

  FREEMASONS

  1

  GEORGE WASHINGTON

  Before I began reading about Washington in preparation for this book, I had a loose idea of his life and achievements based upon a mixed bag of remembered stories and images. The Emanuel Leutze painting of Washington’s historic crossing of the Delaware River on the night of December 25, 1776, has always stuck with me as a clear representation of his military chutzpah. Having rowed a lot of boats in my day, I was astonished to see these men rowing in a river full of large chunks of ice, which would obviously be incredibly uncomfortable and difficult, especially long before the advent of “boat fuel” (canned beer).

  It was that image that cemented in my child’s mind the hardships that this man endured in the securing of our original freedoms, because if you had to row across an icy river at night, it meant that shit was pretty rough. Besides that noble image, I have always appreciated the two most well-known stories about Washington, which are the chopping down of the cherry tree and the story of his wooden teeth. Long before I knew that wood, especially American cherry, would play such an important role in my own life, I was charmed, along with the rest of the suckers, by the tale of Washington’s famous honesty in the great cherry tree caper.

  The story has it that as a young boy, Washington was given a new hatchet. Now, I can tell you from experience that there is really nothing more fun for a young person who likes to spend time in the woods than either a sharp knife, for obvious reasons, or, just as obviously, a hammer, and by crikey, a hatchet combines the two into one devastating tool of destruction. There are very few surfaces inside the house or out that cannot be thoroughly butchered with an energetically brandished hatchet.

  Our little George knew what he was about—he set to chopping everything within reach with his new hatchet, including his father’s favorite cherry tree. When questioned on the subject, George answered truthfully, “I cannot tell a lie. I chopped down the cherry tree.” His father was reportedly so moved by his son’s integrity, he chose not to punish him, stating that “honesty is worth much more than any number of cherry trees.”’Twas a winning anecdote, however apocryphal, displaying Washington’s pith from the get-go, written well after his death as part of a lionizing tribute to the great man.

  Now, in hindsight, I could have shot holes in this story all day long. First of all, for a cherry tree to develop enough character, size, and, presumably, fruit yield to make it anybody’s “favorite” would take many years, with said tree developing a trunk that would be much too thick and sturdy to fall easy prey to a boy’s hatchet, no matter how robust the lad.

  Second, the father of our country exhibited an adherence to the principles of gentility and politeness just about as soon as he could pee standing up (three months of age, legend has it). Little George would have known better than to destroy a fruit tree near the house, particularly one to which a family member had taken a shine. With his trademark good sense, he would have simply detoured several yards to the left of the cherry tree in question, entered the nearby forest, and made vast piles of wood chips with the chopping action of his hatchet upon any number of forest trees, deciduous or conifer, and nobody’s feelings would have been bruised in the least. I consider this particular tall tale debunked.

  Now on to those storied wooden teeth. Everyone knows George Washington had terrible dental trouble, and so he had dentures made of wood, right? Wrong! Our first president did have a terribly rotten set of original teeth—while they lasted, that is, because he had lost them all by late middle age. His final lower molar served as the anchor for a full set of hinged dentures, upper and lower, until it, too, finally fell victim to the barber’s pliers, rendering our finest statesman completely toothless. As an avid eater of foodstuffs who loves to masticate red meat, not to mention the occasional churro, I shudder to imagine the complete loss of my chewing tackle.

  Dentures of the period were often constructed of hard materials such as hippopotamus ivory, bone, or even actual human teeth, often “purchased” from slaves. Some of the organic materials used in eighteenth-century false teeth are suspected to have stained in a grainy pattern similar to wood, which seems to be the detail from whence that “wooden teeth” rumor sprang. More aggrandizing!

  Whatever the story’s origin, I have to wonder why we would ever even begin to feel the need to mythologize this man, whose real-life accomplishments were so goddamn impressive that I wet myself seven times reading Ron Chernow’s amazing, Pulitzer-winning biography, Washington. I suppose this is how we as a society end up remembering these larger-than-life figures, tucking them neatly into a file drawer using landmarks like “wooden teeth”—Hoover: “wore a dress”; Woody Allen: “played clarinet”; Margaret Thatcher: “had three testicles”—satisfying a need to make these historical characters more iconic. In the case of George Washington, such embroidery was entirely unnecessary, as the reality of the complex and emotional man behind his steely visage was much more engaging than a mere accessory like false pearly not-so-whites.

  As a teenager, young George transcribed, as a writing exercise, some 110 “Rules of Civility & Decent Behaviour in Company and Conversation.” I dislike very much the contrast of this task with the diversions I see pursued by modern sixteen-year-olds. That accusation includes myself, by the way. As a teenager, I didn’t have a video game in my pocket but instead ran obsessively to the bowling alley or the pizza parlor, where stood the noisome machines of escapism with names like Donkey Kong and Frogger.

  Instead of burying his attention in his smartphone or video-gaming system, our nation’s future father sat laboriously scribing phrases like “3d. Shew Nothing to your Freind that may affright him.” (Translation: “Don’t freak me out, dude.”) “35th. Let your Discourse with Men of Business be Short and Comprehensive.” (“Wrap it up, asswipe.”) “54th. Play not the Peacock, looking every where about you, to See if you be well Deck’t, if your Shoes fit well if your Stokings sit neatly, and Cloths handsomely.” (“This ain’t a fashion show, brah.”) “56th. Associate yourself with Men of good Quality if you Esteem your own Reputation; for ’tis better to be alone than in bad Company.” (“Steer clear of the mall.”) “89th. Speak not Evil of the absent for it is unjust.” (“Why’n’t you say that to my face, Chad?”) “92. Take no Salt or cut Bread with your Knife Greasy.” (I believe this one to be a sexual e
uphemism.) “101st. Rince not your Mouth in the Presence of Others.” (“Say it, don’t spray it.”)

  I mean, come on! Those are amazing and also chock-full of terrific advice. Since I read these, my wife, Megan, has commended me on keeping my “knife” much less “greasy.” My own parents did an excellent job of teaching me good and decent manners, despite my irrepressible desire to this day to lie back on a table or car hood, legs in the air, and light up a fart in a most bewitching fireball. Still, I can’t help but think that we could all benefit from having to write out these simple but effective phrases, to better commit them to our respective remembering parts (noggins).

  Had Washington lived in our era, he would have undoubtedly been the leader of a troop of elite Eagle Scouts as well as the star of the local football team, with a side business building post-and-beam barns. He was a renowned physical specimen in his young manhood, often impressing his family and friends with feats of incredible strength and fortitude, whilst training for a career as a surveyor of land.

  The journeys he would undertake for the purpose of land speculation, sleeping on little more than a handkerchief, truly entailed the most badass of arduous outdoor living, a full century before the Thermos bottle came onto the scene with its savory payload of hot stew.

  He and his peers were rugged, far beyond any toughness we might imagine today, sitting in our air-conditioning, whining about how long it’s taking Zappos to deliver our new UGG slippers from Australia. A strapping man jack like Washington would have shot and cleaned a buck, cured its hide, and sewn himself two pairs of boots in the time it would take us to update our credit card information on Amazon.

  In the journal he kept of his journey over the mountains, floridly entitled Journal of My Journey over the Mountains, George Washington firmly established his lifelong habit of chronicling the important events of every campaign to which he applied his considerable energies. The sheer volume of written correspondence he produced in his lifetime is staggering, especially to the urbanized inhabitants of this modern age, to whom handwriting letters seems as farfetched as scraping leather out in the tanning shed for harnesses, belts, and shoes.