SHERIE, ROCK AND ROLL, AND MEYER LANSKY CRACKING NAZI SKULLS

Getting kicked out of my high school and having to go to Success Continuation High School is one of the best things that ever happened to me. That is where I met a teacher who would teach me so much more than the curriculum she’d been assigned by the state.

Sherie (we called our teachers by their first names) taught English, and a class of her own design called “Self-Esteem.” She introduced us kids to the idea that liking yourself was not only a worthwhile goal, but something you could actually do something about. Her classes were way off the beaten track, with guided visualization, students subjecting one another to their favorite music and discussing why they hated one another’s favorite music—I seem to remember some sage being burnt from time to time.

Whatever subject Sherie taught she managed to work in some real talk on civil rights. As a young woman in the sixties, Sherie answered the call of Martin Luther King Jr., leaving her parents’ comfortable house in the white suburbs to go to the Deep South and help register black people to vote. She put her life on the line, dealing with violence and death threats. I make it a point to thank her for her service every Veterans Day. Eventually she came back to California and continued to do good work, trying to teach us mostly white kids how to not be shitty people.

We watched several music documentaries in Sherie’s class. A good doc on American music IS a civil rights documentary. Jazz, rock and roll, doo wop, soul, funk, hip-hop—the African American Civil Rights Movement has the best soundtrack.

I’d watch these documentaries with great enthusiasm. They would always include an interview with some old racist gas station owner who didn’t want to hear that “black music.” White kids listening to black music was a slippery slope, he’d warn. It would lead to white kids dancing to black music! And this would lead to interracial dancing, which would lead to interracial dating, which would lead to interracial mating, which would lead to fire and brimstone and Satan and polyester blends and the end of civilization as we know it! My wish whenever I see one of these old racists talking about the slippery slope is that they were blessed with good health and led a good long life. I hope with all my might that they lived long enough to see that they were right. I love the idea of them on their deathbed being comforted by their lovely, blonde-haired, blue-eyed granddaughter, and her lovely, black, transgender wife.

But I’d also settle for, they died miserable and alone.

I think of these documentaries often, and I ask myself who I want to be in the documentaries of my time. I don’t want to be the scared old gas station owner trying to stop the world from spinning. But I don’t want to be the person who isn’t worth including in the documentary, either. I want to be one of those who stood up for the right thing at the right time.

And when it comes to violence, history shines brightly on those who stood up to tyranny and bigotry. Even abolitionist John Brown is a controversial figure at worst, but increasingly he is looked at as a hero, and certainly held in higher regard than the vile slave masters he targeted. Of course those who fought and won the Civil War are held in high regard. Violence is unquestionably acceptable when you have a uniform, and you win.

Meyer Lansky was a notorious Jewish gangster. He was a criminal, but even this criminal’s story has a bright spot, thanks to a bit of righteous violence. As Hitler and his Nazis rose in power in Germany, they had support in the United States from a group that called themselves The German American Bund.

In an article attributed to Sadie The Goat on AnarchoGeekReview.com, I found the delightful story of Lansky being asked, by judge, politician, and fellow Jew, Nathan D. Perlman, to go and beat some Nazi ass, for a reasonable fee of course. Lansky agreed to deliver the beatings but refused Perlman’s money. His Nazi punching would be done pro bono. Captain America is cool, and I love the Nazi punching prowess shown by Indiana Jones, but no fictional superhero Nazi puncher can come close to topping the coolness of a real-life Jewish wise guy roughing up American Nazis. Lansky not only punched Nazis, he trained other Nazi punchers. I love the idea of a Nazi punching workshop. “When you see a Nazi, will you be ready to punch them? Come get some solid Nazi punching techniques from experts in the field.”

Even my most ardently anti-Nazi punching friends can’t help but admire the story of yesterday’s Nazis taking a thrashing from a bunch of Jewish gangsters.

Did the media at the time wonder about these Nazis’ freedom of speech? Did they wring their hands worrying about civil discourse with Nazis? Did they think it was an overreaction to something that didn’t present a real threat? Journalist Walter Winchell did not: he cheered Lansky on as he spread the news of the Bund’s meetings being interrupted.

When they look back at our current period of white nationalism again rearing its ugly head and gaining ground, I hope it will be to report on a failed attempt foiled by people taking it seriously, not waiting for the police or the courts, but just standing up for their neighbors and themselves and saying, “No! Not on my street. Not on my campus. Not in my government. Never again!”

I don’t think I’m in any position to be a Meyer Lansky in this story, but I can at least be Walter Winchell. Who do you want to be?