Working class doesn’t have to involve actual work...

Written By Jim Heffernan for the Duluth News Tribune/3-8-25

Looks like Musk and Trump have taken over the Republican Party’s elephant from tusk to rump.

Hey…that has a ring to it.

I’m a donkey guy myself. Can’t help it; I come from a “working class” family, although I’ve never been that nuts about working. I think my father, a union man, voted for the GOP’s Eisenhower.  Practically everybody did. I’m so old I saw Eisenhower twice, more on which later. And don’t get me started on Truman. Saw him too. Missed Lincoln.

(Side note: Proper journalism requires using first names as well as last on initial mention. So, for the preceding paragraphs the first names are Elon, Donald, Dwight, Harry and Abraham. Thanks.)

I was never that comfortable with coming from a working class family because of my lack of affinity for work. I had an older relative on my father’s side who was infamously lazy and when I was young, I was constantly warned not to be like him.

But I couldn’t help it. I was never that nuts about “work,” preferring to sit around in my youth doing not much. Some young men of my generation were proudly known as “good hard workers.” I never had that problem.

It was noticed by an observant neighbor woman who told my mother I sat around too much. I didn’t even care for playing sandlot sports; too much work running around the bases or up and down the field. And don’t get me started on golf, and I never did. I preferred lying in hammocks, looking at the stars or going to theaters and looking at the movie stars.

When I got older, I held a few jobs that actually involved physical work, but then I discovered journalism, much of which involves sitting around until a house burns down, somebody gets shot or a flood occurs. Fine with me.

Before I found journalism, I found the study of economics in college encouraging (you get to sit around a lot in college), especially economist Thorstein Veblen’s “The Theory of the Leisure Class.” Finally, a social class I liked.

Veblen was a colorful Norwegian — yup, it can happen — who spent much of his life in Minnesota well over 100 years ago. He was highly respected in academic circles but not so much by the very wealthy, his “Leisure Class.”

I don’t sense that Trump and Musk (or Musk and Trump, if you prefer) think much in terms of their class affiliation, comfortable with being in the upper, billionaire classes, even leisure, although they seem pretty busy these days dealing with lower classes.

One sign of membership in the Trump/Musk classes: French cuffs. Trump never appears on TV without French cuffs poking out of his suit coat sleeves. This is a sure sign of an affluent upper class member, especially when the cuffs are fastened with gold cufflinks.

I suspect that many of the people who voted for him have never worn French cuffs.

Earlier in this treatise I mentioned seeing Eisenhower twice. The first time was at the Minnesota State Fair when I was a child shortly after World War II. He was still a general, wearing his uniform wandering through the fair with the governor. The second time was in 1952 while he was campaigning for president in Duluth. His motorcade drove to the airport not far from my home and I saw him smile through a limo window.

Truman, who as vice president became president when Franklin Roosevelt died in 1945, campaigned here in 1948. They let us out of school early so we could see him being driven down Superior Street sitting high on the back of a convertible, smiling and waving. He won.

I believe I mentioned those presidential visits in a column several years ago, but many of the then readers are no longer with us. Now I’d better get my (Biblical word for donkey) out of here and lie down.

Jim Heffernan is a former Duluth News Tribune news and opinion writer and continues as a columnist. He can be reached at jimheffernan@jimheffernan.org and maintains a blog at www.jimheffernan.org. 

Gulf of America? How about Lake Duluth...

Written by Jim Heffernan fortheDuluthNewsTribune/2-1-25

Here’s a big dose of fake news.

I recently ran into an up-and-coming future local politician with a lot of interesting ideas. We met seated on adjoining stools at a local pub enjoying what used to be called a “brew.”

 

This fellow vowed he is going to get into politics in the near future but hasn’t decided which political office he’ll run for. Maybe mayor, maybe Congress member, he said, or maybe it could lead to governor and then who knows where, “vice president?”

 

I was struck by his dedication to political issues, which he would outline to me if I promised not to reveal his name. “Not ready to go public yet,” he declared. Fair enough.

 

He said he admires our new president and added that some of his own ideas for the future were inspired by the recently inaugurated chief executive.

 

“For one thing,” my newfound acquaintance said, “I like his idea to change the name of the Gulf of Mexico to the Gulf of America. Why should Mexico get all the credit?”

 

“Hmmm,” I articulated. I’m not sure where I stand on that issue but I didn’t challenge him.

 

“I’d go further, though, for around here,” he continued.

 

“How’s that?”

 

“I believe we should change the name of Lake Superior to Lake Duluth.”  

Whew, that was a new one on me, but I let him ramble on. I’ll paraphrase rather than try to recall his every word. He said it’s unfair that the city of Superior gets all the credit for having the same name as the world’s largest freshwater lake (in terms of surface, not volume) just like Mexico gets all the good vibes from being the namesake of the Gulf.

 

“It just ain’t fair,” he asserted. “Duluth’s taller, broader and bigger and it’s got way more Kwik Trips than Superior,” he went on. “And look at all the brewing happening on this side of the bay.”

 

I had to admit that Superior used to be a much better beer town than Duluth. No more?

 

“If I get elected to political office that’s the first thing I’m going to introduce,” he vowed. “Lake Duluth. It’ll Make Duluth Great Again!”

 

“Don’t you think the city of Superior would resent this?” I queried.

 

Taking another sip of brew, he asserted: “Why should they care, they’ve got all the top nuns of the Catholic Church — the Mother Superiors.”

 

Flabbergasted, I moved on, asking him what his second issue might be.

 

“Well, our once and present president wants to secure the island of Greenland for the United States of America,” he asserted. “Great, I’m all for it,” he went on, “although I never figured out why they call it Greenland when it’s covered over with ice and snow.”

 

“Yeah, me too,” I responded. “Maybe Iceland was already taken.”

 

My new barstool buddy went on to say that in the same spirit as the idea of the United States taking over Greenland, Minnesota should take over Isle Royale in Lake Duluth — “I like to call it that” — pointing out that while Isle Royale is close to Minnesota’s north shore, it’s the property of the state of Michigan. 

 

“Yup, you’re right,” I had to admit.

 

“If Michigan won’t give it up, I believe the Minnesota National Guard could easily overpower any of Michigan’s defenses and secure Isle Royale for Minnesota with all the timber wolves, moose and snowshoe rabbits living there in one swell foop.” (Note: He must have meant fell swoop.)

 

I’m not so sure about that, I told him. I was once in the National Guard. These ideas got me wondering what else my newfound political acquaintance might have in mind. “What do you think about the president’s idea to make Canada the 51st American state?” I inquired.

 

“Makes sense to me,” he responded. “I like to fish up there and I’m sick and tired of having to produce a passport at the border just to troll for trout. But I do wonder how they’d get a 51st star on the American flag.”

 

He reflected for a moment, admiring himself in the mirror behind the bar before proclaiming: “Hey, if it becomes a state, I could end up governor of Canada.”

 

I said nothing, but ruminated briefly about that idea as I took a final sip. Let’s see, I found myself musing, “O Canada” is the title of the Canadian national anthem. Maybe they should change it to “Oh-Oh Canada.”

 

“I gotta go,” he suddenly announced, stepping off his stool, remarking as he moved toward the door, “I was happy for all of our fine American dentists, though, when the new president emphasized, ‘drill, baby, drill.’”

 

Waving, I said, “See ya, I think I’ll stick around awhile,” as I signaled the barkeep for a calming libation.

 

Jim Heffernan is a former Duluth News Tribune news and opinion writer and continues as a columnist. He can be reached at jimheffernan@jimheffernan.org and maintains a blog at www.jimheffernan.org.