A TALE OF THREE CITIES: NEW YORK, L.A. AND SAN FRANCISCO IN OCTOBER OF ‘62 (64 page)

Kennedy had ordered a huge expansion over
the Eisenhower military. Ike, the military man, knew about waste
and corruption in the Military Industrial Complex. He purposely
kept his forces low. Deputy Secretary of Defense Roswell Gilpatric
said that U.S. strategic forces far surpassed the Soviet military
of that era, and nuclear first strike plans against the Soviet
Union were considered viable. Throughout the '50s, military
planners frequently used terms like "tactical nuclear weapons,"
"battlefield nuclear weapons," and other phraseology designed to
give the impression that these bombs could be employed if necessary
without the kind of "end of days" scenarios that were later
attributed to their use.

The Soviets, products of a history of
invasion and 19 years removed from Nazi attack, worried about
worst-case scenarios. They saw in the U.S. a young country, inbued
by the "cowboy" mentality handed down from Teddy Roosevelt; a
nation almost untouched by war and misery, led by the swashbuckler
Kennedy. The Russians and the Cubans were understandably nervous,
which was the intent of U.S. diplomacy, but was a strategy that
required a certain amount of delicacy.

Soviet placement of nukes
90 miles from Miami was risky and dangerous, but it did not
foreshadow Communist intent to destroy the West. Make no mistake,
if the Soviets thought they could have done it and gotten away with
it (or incurred "acceptable" retaliatory damage), they would have
bombed us to smithereens with as much glee as Hitler. But they did
not have that capability. The missiles in Cuba were a clumsy
diplomatic message
, and
despite the fact this episode cost Kruschev his job, it worked.
Keeping the nukes there was not necessary to the message. The
entire framework of Western thought regarding these weapons changed
after October of 1962. No longer did people accept "battlefield
nuclear" capability as anything but a lose-lose proposition. The
American anti-war, anti-nuke, peacenik Left was thrust into action
by the crisis. That was to the distinct advantage of the
Communists. Once all the layers are stripped away, the world gained
the in long-run advantage, too.

The "battle" between Kennedy and the J.C.S.,
the argument over use of these kinds of weapons, and the resulting
split between hawks and doves, brings up some interesting points.
Plato spoke about the "warrior spirit," and he appreciated the
courage and heroism of soldiers. But he felt that government needed
to be tempered by a civilian restraint. Stevenson has been depicted
as the "coward" who counter-balanced LeMay in the struggle for
Kennedy's soul. The Stevenson-LeMay points of view are emblematic
of the larger struggle between conservatives and liberals in the
West.

The Founding Fathers wanted this kind of
argument to take place, figuring that the end result would be
something in the middle, a moderate approach that might not satisfy
everybody but would, after all the checks and balances, be the
safest course. Occasionally, bold action is required. Kennedy
himself wrote about this; politicians who "go against the grain,"
in "Profiles in Courage". The two-party system is meant to create
advocates who occasionally venture towards extremism, but are
tempered by a majority will in the end.

History has demonstrated
that conservatives are in the right when it comes to the Cold War,
the Great Society and most of the pressing issues of the second
half of the 20
^th
Century. There are
members of the Left who have been shown to be outright traitors,
like the Rosenberg's and Alger Hiss. Certain vitriolic haters, like
Noam Chomsky and Gore Vidal, seem to be nothing more than
histrionic carriers of the Emma Goldman strain. These people, left
to their own devices, would do things so drastically
bad
to America that
their exposure and discreditation is much more than mere
sociological bragging rights.

However, liberalism and
the Democratic party, when presented as the loyal opposition in the
proper spirit, offer much for America. Democracy is a fragile
thing. The Framers wanted a two-party system because they
wanted
argument.
Liberals have provided the civilian side to counter-balance
Plato's warrior spirit, and the Cuban Missile Crisis is as good an
example of this as we have seen. When America goes to war,
flag-waving conservatives advocate patriotism, "coming together,"
politics ending "at the water's edge," and support for the troops.
All of this is fine. Some of the anarchists whose protests are
simple appeasement and moral equivalency are rightly identified and
marginalized. But the liberal point of view - intelligent,
reasoned, passionate yet still respectful - is not only allowed, it
is
necessary
. The
right
does
need
counter-balancing. When properly reigned in, it does the work of
greatness, but it can not always be counted on reigning themselves
in.

The true "useful idiots" who have dotted the
landscape for 50 years are a joke, and the challenge the Left faces
is in not letting them take over. While Republicans might secretly
(or not so secretly) root for this, since it means electoral
success for them, America is better off with a few Adlai
Stevenson's willing to stand up and offer enough alternatives so
the entire gamut of decision-making is available.

Politicians are human and subject to
irrational thought. In retrospect, the crisis saw its share of
irrationality from all sides. It also pointed out some extremely
important lessons, learned mostly by Nixon. The Communists may have
been evil incarnate, the architects of mass death and horror. But
the battle between the forces of good and evil were not to be won
in one fell swoop. The "great game" needed to be played out, and
the devil had to be dealt with. Any reader of Sun Tsu's "Art of
War" knew this. The Soviets and Cubans needed to be manipulated
before they could be defeated. Nixon learned how to play them
against each other. It required a deft touch.

The crisis was not won by brinkmanship. It
was won when Khruschev understood that events had the potential of
spiraling beyond his ability to manipulate them. Mortality turned
out to be our greatest ally. While the Soviets were evil, they
pursued an evil of worldly creation. They had no Osama bin
Laden-type desire to create a maelstrom, won by nobody. They wanted
to rule the world, but there had to be a world to rule.

The crisis also proved the importance of
executive leadership. Eisenhower was a "consensus gatherer" most of
the time, but the most important decisions of his career were his
alone. Kennedy easily could have deferred to the "best and the
brightest." His old man no doubt would have said that he could
blame the generals later if things went wrong. But for the first
time, JFK made the tough decision, instead of waiting passively for
the group to manipulate him.

The other lesson that may or may not be
important is the value of first impressions. Kennedy came off as an
inexperienced playboy when Kruschev met him in Vienna, and the
Communists decided to test his resolve. However, Kennedy's growth
as a man under fire dispels the concept that the first impression
is a true harbinger.

Rivals then and now

"You can talk all you want about Brooklyn
and New York, Minneapolis and St. Paul, Dallas and Fort Worth, but
there are no two cities in America where the people want to beat
each other's brains out more than San Francisco and Los
Angeles."

- Hall of Famer and San Francisco native Joe
Cronin

The Dodgers-Giants tradition remains the
greatest sports rivalry in athletics. Arguments can be made by
advocates of the Yankees-Red Sox, Cardinals-Cubs, Cowboys-Packers,
Giants-Bears, Celtics-Lakers, USC-UCLA, USC-Notre Dame, Ohio
State-Michigan, Alabama-Auburn, Oklahoma-Texas, and Duke-North
Carolina. When adding everything up: tradition over a long time,
competitiveness, socio-cultural factors, and ultimately the fact
that it has successfully spanned two coasts, the edge remains with
the Dodgers-Giants.

In the 2000s, the Yankees-Red Sox rivalry
has become far more impassioned. Perhaps it will stay that way, but
until recently this was less a rivalry and more a war won by the
Yankees and lost by the Red Sox with no in-between. The
Dodgers-Giants rivalry has swing up and down with even results
going back to the 1890s.

One can argue when the rivalry reached its
zenith. Certainly, the 1951 pennant race comes to mind, but upon
further study the 1960s in general and the 1962 season in
particular overshadows it. In terms of attendance, television
ratings, radio listenership, and the sheer numbers of people who
followed and cared, 1962 has it all over 1951. Over the years, the
numbers only grew larger, although that has not necessarily
translated into passion.

The Dodgers unquestionably found a much
larger, loyal and awesome fan base out west. That said, they are a
Hollywood crowd who leave games early to beat the traffic. The
easygoing nature of the Los Angeles fan, which carries over to all
sports, college and professional, is either something scorned by
East Coast people who think fans should be maniacs; or a badge of
honor by folks who feel life offers more important pursuits than
wins or losses.

In the case of the Giants, it is more
problematic, but in reality one probably needs to go back to the
John McGraw-Bill Terry era to find a time in which Giants fans were
as rabid or more rabid for their team as they were in San
Francisco.

Between 1963 and 1971, the Dodgers-Giants
rivalry was at its best, consistently maintaining passions close to
the 1962 level. The Angels never cut into the Dodger fan base, but
the arrival of the Oakland A's, combined with social factors in the
Bay Area, severely cut into the Giants.

Los Angeles totally and
completely redeemed themselves in 1963, a year that probably marks
(or at least ties with 1955) as the high point in the club's great
history. Sandy Koufax won 25 games, earned Cy Young and Most
Valuable Player honors, the club blew past the Giants and second
place St. Louis to capture the National League championship, and
for good measure slay the mighty Yankees in four straight games.
Koufax beat Whitey Ford and totally shut down Mickey Mantle and
Roger Maris. Don Drysdale dominated the Yankees in like manner.
Victory came in front of a home crowd at Dodger Stadium. It was
complete and total, without any reservation. Los Angeles was not in
the least bit "unsettled" by it, as the
Chronicle's
Charles McCabe fretted
San Francisco would have reacted to such unfettered
triumph.

The Giants and Dodgers (except for L.A.'s
late-season collapse in 1964) competed for the National League
pennant every year between 1963 and 1966, along with St. Louis,
Cincinnati, and Pittsburgh. Alvin Dark and the Giants were unable
to maintain the level of success attained in 1962. This has been
attributed to Dark's problem with minorities, in particular his
statement that they are a "different kine' " of player than whites,
which was disputed but probably reflected his attitude in some way.
But Willie Mays did not lose a step between 1963 and 1966; Willie
McCovey and Juan Marichal became genuine superstars, Hall of
Famers; and Orlando Cepeda's numbers were just as impressive until
a 1965 injury and a 1966 trade to St. Louis. The Giants did not
repeat their 103-victory performance because their veteran pitchers
got old. Jack Sanford, Billy Pierce and Billy O'Dell quickly went
downhill and Gaylord Perry's ascension did not occur until those
guys were gone.

In 1965, with Herman Franks at the helm, San
Francisco again made a run. Marichal was spectacular, but Perry was
a year away and pitching was the difference. Mays hit 52 homers and
won his second MVP award. Both the Giants and Dodgers ran off long
winning streaks, but the Dodgers got hot later and longer. Cepeda
was injured, but so was Tommy Davis. Whereas the 1962 Dodgers were
a strong offensive club, at least until the last week, the '65 crew
was known as the "Hitless Wonders." The pitching duo of Koufax and
Drysdale that season reached a level of lore and myth perhaps
unmatched by any mound combo before or since. True, they were Los
Angeles media sensations and Hollywood idols, but in terms of
dominance, clutch pitching and winning low-scoring games, they are
unequaled.

In August of that season, the rivalry went
overboard when Marichal clubbed John Roseboro over the head with
his bat at Candlestick Park. It was beyond soccer hooliganism,
ugliness personified, and something that everybody attributed to
Dodger-Giant tensions; it would not have happened with the
Cardinals or Pirates. It also cost San Francisco the pennant on
several levels. Marichal was suspended for several key starts, the
Giants slumped, Los Angeles used it as motivation, and the sense of
karmic justice favored the Dodgers, who then beat Minnesota in the
World Series.

Los Angeles and San
Francisco battled, along with Roberto Clemente's Pirates, in a
similarly tight pennant race in 1966 that featured all the same
elements: Dodger pitching and speed overcoming the Giants' power.
But a look at the statistics bears the question,
How did Walt Alston do it?
Unburdened of Leo Durocher, Alston established himself as the
best manager in baseball during the 1960s; the master of "little
ball" because he had no choice in the matter. The memory tells us
Los Angeles won because Koufax and Drysdale were so much better
than San Francisco's arms. Koufax was 27-9, but Juan Marichal was
25-6. After a celebrated double-holdout with Koufax, Drysdale was a
pedestrian 13-16, albeit on a team that seemingly had a rule
against scoring for him. His counterpart, Gaylord Perry, was 21-8.
Mays, McCovey, Haller, and Jim Ray Hart were superb. The 1962
offensive numbers of Tommy and Willie Davis, Frank Howard, and even
Maury Wills, were a thing of the past. Nevertheless, Alston's team
won the pennant before succumbing to Baltimore in the World
Series.