Forbes Advances a Compelling Socio-Economic Argument

Forbes with a book fan. (Bergeron Image)

A week ago yesterday, on a beautifully sunny afternoon, Priscille and I attended Steve Forbes’ discussion of his latest book, Reviving America, at the library in Bridgewater.

The nature of book signings is as varied as the personality of the authors.  Some writers, pleasant as they can be, will simply be introduced to their audience, say a few words, and politely put their John Hancock to paper.

On the other hand, some writers will speak at length to a captivating audience that is just as eager to hear what the author has to say as they are to obtain his signature.

Listening to Forbes falls in the second category.  It’s like being exposed to a flow of information presented with a rare clarity dispensed from a man who has devoted a lifetime honing his skills on economic matters.

Non-fiction books can be very dry and boring, but not this one.

Archibald Cox II, Plainfield’s Native Son

Libraries are magnificent places. They are full of dreams and living history jumping out of books. The Bridgewater Library in particular – jewel of the Somerset County Library system – exemplifies what an effective public library should be.

After leaving with the book, Plainfield, New Jersey’s History & Architecture, by John Grady & Dorothe Pollard, I discovered a notation about one of Plainfield’s famous native sons, Archibald Cox II. The book is easy reading. It’s loaded with photos of Plainfield’s past and short explanations near each picture.

On page 49, I discovered a 1997 photo of Archibald Cox II, one of seven siblings who all lived in a big estate home on Rahway Road. Cox attended the Wardlaw Country Day School in New Jersey, followed by St. Paul’s college prep in New Hampshire, before progressing to Harvard and establishing his law career in the Boston area.

Cox eventually joined the Harvard faculty and established close ties with the Kennedys. He became an advisor and speech-writer for Senator John F. Kennedy. After JFK was elevated to the presidency, Cox became solicitor-general in his administration.

However, the most famous single moment of Cox’s career would come years later when, as Watergate special prosecutor in the Nixon administration, he was fired in what notoriously became known as the “Saturday Night Massacre.”

U.S. District Judge John Sirica had ordered Nixon to comply with Cox’s and the Senate Watergate Committee’s demand to release the Watergate tapes, but Nixon refused. Instead, Nixon counter-offered to have a senator listen to the tapes and to give Cox a synopsis of them which would be prepared with help from the White House.

Cox insisted on having the full tapes. As a result, a chain reaction of political blood-letting began when, on October 20, 1973, Nixon ordered his Attorney General, Elliott Richardson to dismiss Cox. Richardson, a Boston Brahmin, refused and resigned.

Next, Nixon called upon his Deputy Attorney General, William D. Ruckelshaus, who also refused and was promptly fired. Nixon then called upon the next highest ranking Justice Department official, Solicitor General Robert Bork who quickly carried out Nixon’s order and fired Cox. In 1974, the Supreme Court upheld Sirica’s order for release of all tapes and, under threat of impeachment, Nixon resigned.

Those were paradoxical times. Not only was there deception at the highest levels in the White House, but there was also accountability and integrity by other high-level people in Nixon’s administration who would not yield to corrupt practices under pressure from the president who had appointed them.

New Jersey can be exceptionally proud of Plainfield’s Archibald Cox II. Where, in New Jersey and in Washington today, are the people in high public office with his and his colleagues’ fortitude and political integrity?

Verizon’s Dreaded ‘Service Teams’

It happened quite suddenly and unexpectedly: One moment last week, I was enjoying an upgrade to my Verizon high speed Internet service; the next moment, kaput: nothing but digital silence. About an hour before the line disappeared, I received a call from a Verizon service person in Silver Springs, Maryland, advising me that my line was about to be cut.

She went on to explain that while implementing the upgrade, a technician had “accidentally pushed the wrong button in the central office” and that my line was about to crash. There was nothing she could do about it right then and there, she explained, because Verizon’s erroneous disconnect order had to go through before a second order to restore service could be processed. Not to worry, the Verizon lady assured me, the Internet service would be up and running again before the close of business on Friday.

The day before that conversation, another Verizon person in Westfield advised me that my upgraded service would be available the following day: Two separate assurances of service on two separate days, and I still have an “accidentally disconnected” Verizon Internet line.

But that’s not all! About a week before those episodes, I found myself in an endless loop of international 800 telephone service calls to Verizon because the Internet line was acting funky. It was erratically dropping its connection: The modem’s LED Internet light was toggling from a pulsating green to solid red or no light at all. Not good! That means constant line interruptions.

The latter is what prompted my initial calls to Verizon and what led to a decision to upgrade to higher speeds. Ugh! The take-away behind all this is: May the gods have mercy on you if you ever have to deal with Verizon service people.

ASSESSMENT: Verizon is plagued by an inability to coordinate its disparate service units. The people who control service in the central offices where the rubber meets the road have no effective tie-in with the service people who man the 800 lines. The latter are located worldwide: On this single service issue, I spoke with at least two persons in the Philippines, as well as others located there or elsewhere. The total number of calls which I made (I have profuse notes) is beyond the threshold of what is required to fix a still unresolved, mundane technical issue.

EXAMPLE: Sensing customer frustration, one service person at the end of an 800 line tried to reassure me: She “promised” that my Internet service would be up and running “within 12 hours.” That’s when I heard the rooster crow in the background, with the sinking feeling that I was being betrayed for the third time by a company whose representatives like to end calls by telling us how much Verizon values our business.

Saturday afternoon, the wisest Verizon person was the one who admitted, “I can’t tell you when your Internet service will be restored.” Around 1:30 pm, Monday, when I left my home office for the Bridgewater Library to post this entry, the Internet line was still buried somewhere in a technical graveyard.