The Rebel in the Red Jeep: Ken Hechler's Life in West Virginia Politics
439
The Rebel in the Red Jeep: Ken Hechler's Life in West Virginia Politics
439eBook
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Overview
This biography recounts a century of accomplishments, from Hechler’s introduction of innovative teaching methods at major universities, to his work as a speechwriter and researcher for President Harry Truman, and finally to his time representing West Virginia in the US House of Representatives and as the secretary of state.
In West Virginia, where he resisted mainstream political ideology, Hechler was the principal architect behind the Federal Coal Mine Health and Safety Act of 1969 and constantly battled big coal, strip-mining, and fellow politicians alike. He and his signature red jeep remain a fixture in West Virginia. Since 2004, Hechler has campaigned against mountaintop removal mining. He was arrested for trespassing during a protest in 2009 at the age of 94.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781943665624 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | West Virginia University Press |
| Publication date: | 06/01/2017 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 439 |
| File size: | 26 MB |
| Note: | This product may take a few minutes to download. |
About the Author
Carter Taylor Seaton is the author of Hippie Homesteaders:Arts, Crafts, Music, and Living on the Land in West Virginia, two novels, and numerous magazine articles. A ceramic sculptor, she previously directed a rural craft cooperative and was a marketing professional for thirty years. She is the recipient of the 2014 West Virginia Library Association’s Literary Merit Award, 2015 Marshall University Distinguished Alumni Award, and the 2016 Governor’s Award for Lifetime Achievement in the Arts.
Read an Excerpt
The Rebel In The Red Jeep
Ken Hechler's Life in West Virginia Politics
By Carter Taylor Seaton
West Virginia University Press
Copyright © 2017 Carter Taylor SeatonAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-943665-61-7
CHAPTER 1
BEHIND THE WROUGHT IRON GATES
A small boy, hair cut in a Dutch bob, wears a determined look as he trudges down a gravel driveway pulling a wooden wagon. It's filled with pots of hyacinths and jonquils in full bloom. From under his straw hat, he looks back at his best friend, Billy Letson. The five-year-old pulling the wagon is Kenneth William Hechler, whose father, Charles Hechler, is the superintendent of Harbor Hill — the 648-acre Clarence Mackay estate in Roslyn, New York, where Billy's father manages the dairy. The two are on their way to peddle the flowers to other families on the estate. The year is 1919, and the estate is the boys' entire world, with acres of woods in which to play, free from worry or traffic. Since the workers' children were to remain unseen, their parents' only rule was, "Don't let the Mackay family see you."
Beyond the estate is the town of Roslyn, about thirty-five miles from New York City, on Long Island, which is often called America's Gold Coast. There, wealthy families built palatial estates in the early part of the twentieth century as a retreat from the stress and bustle of the city. About a mile from the Mackay estate, the Long Island Rail Road ferried the owners of these mansions — William C. Whitney, financier; Henry Phipps, philanthropist; and Clarence Mackay, owner of Postal Telegraph and Commercial Cable company — back to the city for work and for the social season.
On the island, the larger world remained at bay. Back then, the town's weekly paper, the Roslyn News, reported primarily on parties, town elections, recipes, and the latest fashions. Those interested in the broader issues of world politics or current events had to read about them in the New York Times. Although Mrs. Mackay — former debutante Katherine Duer — was a suffragette, it's likely that news of the 1920 passage of the Nineteenth Amendment granting women the right to vote had little impact on others on the Mackay estate. Nor is it likely that news of the Panama Canal's opening in August 1914 made much difference to the Hechlers, whose son, Kenneth, would be born a month later. Although the outbreak of World War I would soon become an intrusion on idyllic Long Island life, when the French and their English Allies declared victory in the first official battle of World War I near Paris on September 12, 1914, life at Harbor Hill rolled on peacefully.
As these larger world events unfolded, Kenneth William Hechler mewled his way into the world at the Hechler home in North Hempstead, New York. With the birth of a third son, September 20, 1914, marked a big day for the Hechler family. Perhaps Kenneth's father had dreams that this boy would become a lawyer or doctor. His mother, Catherine, who had been a teacher in suburban St. Louis before marrying, felt strongly that he would need a good education to succeed in whatever he undertook. Like most parents, they could only dream and hope. This son's accomplishments, however, would eclipse their most far-fetched dreams. He would grow up to make a significant civic mark on history over the next one hundred years — as a nine-term U.S. congressman, a World War II military historian, a trusted advisor to President Harry Truman, West Virginia's longtime secretary of state, and an environmental activist.
It is likely Clarence Mackay took note of this auspicious occasion, for he and Charles Hechler were as close as employers and employees can be. Yet as long as his prize Guernsey cattle were tended, and the rest of the sprawling estate functioned smoothly, Mackay gave only brief attention to what occurred in the homes of his other employees. Indeed, their children seldom saw this well-dressed man, who sported a large red mustache.
The task of running the estate belonged to the proud new papa, hired as its superintendent in 1909 without having to even apply for the job. Charles Hechler, a graduate of the University of Missouri, had such a far-reaching reputation in animal husbandry that Mackay had sent for him. When Hechler arrived on the estate for his interview, the construction of the mansion, sprawling gardens, cow barn and dairy, swimming pool, polo stables, greenhouse, indoor and outdoor tennis courts, and casino, as well as homes for the superintendent, tennis pro, dairyman, and other top level managers, had been completed. Rumors of the cost of building the estate, which was double the size of the principality of Monaco, reached $6 million, when in reality it was a fraction of that. Nevertheless, the house alone cost $830,000 when completed in 1902. This was before Mackay amassed his extraordinary collection of art, tapestries, and medieval armor for display there. With a commanding view of Long Island Sound, the mansion resembled a somewhat smaller version of Asheville's Biltmore House, home of George Vanderbilt. Designed by famed architect Stanford White and erected on the highest point on Long Island, Mackay's three-story manor home, enormous for the times, was twice as large as the Parthenon in Athens, Greece. Sadly, the estate no longer exists; only the ornate gates remain.
Behind those wrought iron gates, Ken Hechler spent a charmed but somewhat lonely childhood. His only playmates were the other children of estate workers, and according to Ken, there weren't enough boys to form a sandlot baseball team except at birthday parties. On those occasions, however, no one wanted to play for fear that sliding into base would dirty his good clothes. Though Ken preferred to play outside, reading and learning were at the top of his mother's list of acceptable pastimes for her children. She taught each of her boys to read when they were toddlers. Ken could recite poetry at age two and continued to love it for the rest of his life. Ken recalls that instead of reading fairy tales to him and his brothers at bedtime, his mother chose biographies of famous men and women throughout history, hoping to inspire her sons to achieve great things. She also paid the boys ten cents for each Bible verse they memorized. When he entered first grade, Ken already knew addition, subtraction, multiplication, and long division, and was familiar with the lives of many important historical figures. This educational head start meant he usually earned the best grades in his classes; in addition, it enabled him to skip third grade.
Even though his mother often referred to him in public as her baby and kept him in bobbed hair long after he should have been allowed to sport a more manly style, Ken admired her and believes he's more like her than his father. Freed from most household chores by two servants, Catherine Hechler delighted in growing prize-winning chrysanthemums and spent countless hours volunteering for the Red Cross and the Roslyn Garden Club when her boys were young. A lifelong Republican, she was active in local politics by the time Ken was in junior high school. Later, when Ken began leaning toward a more liberal position after becoming disillusioned with Herbert Hoover's handling of the Depression and its aftermath, his mother wrote to him at Swarthmore, saying, "You can become a damn Democrat if you like, but please do not argue about it at home. I do not like quarreling." Apparently, her rule against using bad language, for which she once washed Ken's mouth out with soap, didn't apply to her. Still, her greatest wish for her sons was that they succeed. As Ken grew, his father encouraged him to become a businessman, but his mother simply challenged him to be the best he could be.
Having two brothers relieved Ken's loneliness only when they were young, for they were not particularly close as they matured.
Indeed, the three were quite competitive, perhaps contributing to Ken's feelings of being alone. He maintains that each was always jealous of the others. Charles, the middle brother, was exceedingly handsome and popular with the girls, a source of jealousy for Ken. He recalls, "I asked Charles, 'How do you get such nice black eyebrows?' and Charles said 'I comb them every morning.' I resorted to combing my eyebrows to make them jet black." Although George, the eldest son, was very bright, he envied Ken, whose grades were consistently better.
The Hechler home, supplied rent-free by Mr. Mackay, was a rambling, two-story, sixteen-room frame, with a covered porch that stretched its entire length. Since the estate had its own water and sewage system, the Hechlers, like the rest of the employees, had indoor plumbing. Since most villagers had outhouses, Ken recalls a steady stream of visitors who came not to visit but to use the bathrooms. He also remembers tricycle racing his brothers down the long front hall, hiding from his parents in the memorabilia-filled attic or the massive cellar to avoid punishment, and stealing forbidden strawberries from the strawberry patch. The only time he was able to avoid his father's razor strap — his weapon of choice, according to Ken — was when, at age three, he said he'd eaten only the green ones, since his father had described strawberries as "those red berries." His parents laughed instead of punishing him. This is Ken's earliest memory.
Ken also recalls with pride his father's civic accomplishments as well as his success in managing Mackay's some 180 employees and the affairs of the estate. In a move to reduce Mackay's property taxes, Charles Hechler supervised the 1931 organization of the Village of East Hills, where the rates were set below those that were imposed by the town of Roslyn at the time. His mother served as a village trustee, while his father was elected town clerk. For a time, the Hechler's living room served as the new village's town hall. A loyal employee, Hechler did not believe in talking about either his own or Mackay's personal affairs, since his boss chose to give information only through his company. It was a lesson Hechler learned well and passed on to his sons. As an adult, Charles Jr. was upset when another employee's son, Stewart Donaldson, wrote and distributed a lengthy description of life at Harbor Hill. Even though Ken has always been quick to publicize his accomplishments, to a large degree he, too, always kept his private life under wraps.
Like most boys, Ken ran afoul of his father on more than one occasion. Mr. Hechler's reaction was usually exacting. When Ken wanted a baseball glove during the Depression, he pleaded for money to add to that which he had earned in order to buy it. But his father considered sports foolish and, at the height of the argument, slapped Ken in the face. More often than not, however, Mr. Hechler used the silent treatment on his boys, and Ken says it was very effective. In the face of his dad's harsh temper, especially when he was drinking, Ken tried hard to please both his parents and, as he matured, wanted to emulate them. His respect for his parents stemmed from their positions in the community, their sense of ethics, and the moral compass he could sense in both of them. According to Ken, as a boy he felt they were the greatest hero and heroine in Roslyn. He recalls everyone in the community calling them for interviews about their involvement in political and charitable organizations. He especially noticed the attention their activities gained them. However, there was one time when this admiration backfired. His father smoked long black cigars, and Ken thought they were evidence of his high standing. Perceptively, his father recognized this and left them in plain sight one day as he announced he'd be leaving for a couple of hours. "He put two on the table with matches, knowing full well what I would do," Ken says. "I never got so sick in my life. That cured me forever of smoking."
It wasn't always tense at the Hechler home, however. As superintendent of the estate, Ken's father had access to the mansion when the Mackay family was not in residence, which was often. On January 24, 1925, he took his own family to the topmost pavilion of the soaring country home to watch the total eclipse of the sun. Ken recalls, "It was so magnificent to see the shadow of the moon obliterating the sun into complete darkness down at the Atlantic Ocean and then to see that darkness spread from the Atlantic Ocean north across Long Island, which is about twenty miles wide, and then to go out across to Connecticut." Two years later, Ken and his father watched Charles Lindbergh take off down the dirt runway of Long Island's Roosevelt Field on his solo flight across the Atlantic. The following month, after Lindbergh's return, Ken hid in the shrubbery hoping to catch a glimpse of the famous aviator, who was the guest of honor at a spectacular party at Harbor Hill. For the occasion, Mackay had festooned the trees and shrubbery with seven thousand illuminated Japanese lanterns and installed spotlights that played over the entire estate. No doubt Ken's father would have meted out a punishment if he'd known, but the guards all recognized Ken and said nothing.
Ken's father also taught him the value of good customer relations, a lesson that no doubt colored the way he dealt with his electoral constituents later in life. As a magazine route salesman at age twelve, Ken attained senior rank among the junior salesmen ranks of the Curtis Publication Company. The newspaper article that accompanied this honor noted, "He sells sixty Saturday Evening Post and twenty-four Country Gentlemen magazines per week as well as thirty-five Ladies Home Journals per month." But Ken recalls one Saturday when he didn't want to leave his cozy fireside seat on a fur rug to deliver his magazines in eight inches of snow. His father reminded him that his customers would be quite upset if they didn't have their magazines to read the next day. Angry with his father, he went nonetheless. His first customer was so overjoyed to see his magazine arrive that he invited Ken in for hot chocolate. As he sipped the warming beverage, he realized his father was a lot smarter than he was.
Ken loved and admired his paternal grandfather, George, as well, and recalls sitting on his lap during visits to hear stories of his Civil War service. Eventually, Ken wrote the book Soldier of the Union about him. As he was writing it, he regretted not asking his grandfather more questions before he died in 1927. Born near Heidelberg, Germany, in 1840, George was the son of Gottfried Hechler, a farmer. Traditionally, the Hechlers were craftsmen — coopers, carpenters, and glaziers — or farmers. In 1850, Gottfried left Germany and settled in Marietta, Ohio; his son George was thirteen. Seven years later, when their father broke his leg, George and his younger brother, John, assumed all the farm duties.
The stories of how his grandfather enlisted in the Ohio Volunteer Infantry Regiment after the harvesting was completed captivated young Ken. From grandfather George, Ken learned how his great-uncle John, who had enlisted a month earlier, was captured at Chickamauga and died in Andersonville Prison three years later; and how George fought valiantly throughout the war, was discharged at the end of it, and returned to Marietta for a short time. Ken heard how George then struck out for Missouri, where he later operated a 357-acre livestock and grain farm in Dalton, about seventy miles from Columbia. It was there, at the University of Missouri, that he afforded all three of his sons — Ken's father and his brothers, George and Roy — a college degree. Following in the farming tradition, Charles earned his degree in animal husbandry, but he had greater hopes for his own sons.
Ken first wanted to become a forester, because he thought an outdoor life would be a healthy one, but by high school, writing had become his passion. Actually, he'd been writing since he was much younger. At age twelve he wrote the Weekly Grunt, a newspaper he gave away to his weekly Saturday Evening Post subscribers; other customers received only a monthly free copy. At age fifteen he kept a diary, in which he sounded quite mature in his early musings on politics but typically youthful in the listing of Christmas gifts he was thrilled to receive: "two pencils, a fountain pen, four books, three neckties, a pair of gloves, socks, a cap, Arctics, [boots] and a handball." When a local supervisor was reelected in his district, Ken vowed to become a Socialist because he didn't like the man's politics. At about the same time, Ken began writing sports columns at ten cents a line for both the local newspaper and the New York Times, reporting on a local minor league baseball team, the Roslyn Red Sox. As salutatorian of his 1931 high school graduating class, his speech, titled "Journalism as a Career," extolled the virtues of writing about great athletes.
Outdoor activities and sports were important to him throughout his youth, and professional athletes, especially baseball stars, were his heroes. He wanted to follow in the footsteps of his track-star brother George, but Ken wore thick glasses and wasn't athletically gifted. Therefore, he settled for managing the school's various athletic teams instead. He did play tennis, however, and played it vigorously until a hip replacement at age ninety-three kept him from being able to charge the net successfully. It was the only competitive sport at which he excelled.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Rebel In The Red Jeep by Carter Taylor Seaton. Copyright © 2017 Carter Taylor Seaton. Excerpted by permission of West Virginia University Press.
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