The Cultural Front
James T. Farrell
I.ASMUCH
AS
THIS COLUMN ;,
callod
The Culturol F,ont,
my
""d'"
wm
be expecting me to write about culture. But I dare not do that in times
such as the present. Like Diderot, I believe that martyrdom only proves
that our party is the weaker. And were I to write about culture, I might
be a martyr. For recently Archibald MacLeish, Waldo Frank, and Lewis
Mumford have proven in the liberal weeklies that culture is subversive.
So, I am going to tell my readers why I am a baseball fan. I am sure that
MacLeish, Frank, and Mumford will not consider baseball subversive.
Even President Roosevelt likes baseball. And President Roosevelt said that
Archibald MacLeish is a "poet, scholar, and a gentleman."
Last week, I was out at the Yankee stadium. A tall, rangy first base·
man for the Cleveland Indians strode up to the plate and hit a home run.
Thousands cheered his lusty wallop. I confess that I should have joined
them had I not a hot dog in one hand and a score card in the other. While
this fellow trotted around the bases, I suddenly realized how lucky I was
in
not being able to applaud him. For his name is Trosky. To be sure that
damaging extra
t
is absent from his name, but if you pronounce it care–
lessly, one can't be sure of the name you are mentioning.
If
I were to
cheer a baseball player named Trosky, I am doubtful if Waldo Frank
would compromise with me on that missing
t.
At all events, I hope that even my high brow readers will not be dis–
appointed with me for not writing on culture. I trust that they will read
me on baseball. One of them may. I refer to Delmore Schwartz. He was
slated to become the regular third base man on my team, the Studs Loni–
gan A. C. After playing brilliantly for one Sunday, he went off to busy
himself with culture at Yaddo and Harvard. I warned him that he should
stick to baseball. But he disregarded my advice. So I lost a star ball
player, and Delmore is now in the doghouse, and liable, any day, to find
Archibald MacLeish rapping at his door ·with a warrant. Well, neither
MacLeish, Frank, nor Mumford will get me the way they have Schwartz.
I have abandoned culture, and all its pomps.
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