For the most part, it's bayonets and puffed political egos that rate a statue. That's a pity, since there are many truly great people whose contributions are immense.
By Jim Terminiello
Really effective killers and hugely successful politicians.
When it comes to earning a statue, these appear to be the main qualifications. You might occasionally stumble upon a Mark Twain gazing at you with bemused disapproval or encounter something bronze, safe, and noncommittal honoring a voluptuously generous benefactor. (See Henry Rowan and Rowan University).
For the most part, it's bayonets and puffed political egos. That's a pity, since there are many truly great people whose contributions are immense and far-reaching. Strangely, we take them for granted and they drift from our collective memories.
Consider:
Robert E. Lee. He is revered, honored, and statuefied (to coin a word) throughout the South for his nobility and tactical brilliance on the Civil War battlefield. He could also be reviled for making one of the worst choices in history. Lee was offered a command in the UNION Army and turned it down, as he could not fight against his beloved and seceded Virginia. His devotion to his native soil likely cost tens of thousands of lives on both sides and almost certainly extended the war and existence of slavery.
George Washington Carver, on the other hand, pioneered the growth of peanut, soybean and sweet potato farming in the reconstructing South. His groundbreaking work prevented people from starving and continues to help feed millions. No hideously bad decisions blot his career. Seen many George Washington Carver statues? Neither have I.
Warriors and elected officials aside, shouldn't we honor people who have contributed to our well-being in other ways? Here are just a few.
Willis Carrier: It's a blazing August day. You've just come home and all you want is to enjoy the refreshing caress of cool air. You flip on the air conditioner and within minutes, your sweat-beaded brow is experiencing a delightful chill. Thank Willis Carrier who, in 1902, found a way to control humidity that earned him the moniker "Father of Air Conditioning." Every time I plop on a couch after a steaming summer's day, I say "Thanks, Dad!" to old Willis. I think he has earned bronze somewhere.
Martin Cooper: Checking up on your kid at college? Calling for help on a lonely back road after the car broke down? Martin Cooper is happy to help. He's regarded as the father of the cell phone -- a device that merely changed the way we do almost everything. Holder of 11 related patents and a successful businessman, Cooper has the honor of being the first person to actually make a handheld cell phone call in public.
It has been said that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Frances Oldham Kelsey delivered a thousand pounds of prevention in one brave act. A pharmacologist who reviewed drugs for the U.S. Food and Drug Administration, Kelsey withheld authorization for thalidomide in the United States despite pressure from the manufacturer. The drug was intended as a painkiller for pregnant women with morning sickness. Kelsey insisted on more testing. She was proven right when the drug was found to cause horrific birth defects. How many people came into this world free of deformity because of her intelligence, grit, and determination?
Catherine S. Lawrence and Sister May Bernard are recognized as pioneer nurse anesthetists. Lawrence administered anesthesia during the Civil War -- a comfort unknown to soldiers on countless prior battlefields. The fact that doctors practiced for years without these near-angelic pain easers should put fear into anyone who thinks this entire profession doesn't deserve an honoring statue or two.
And now, a heartfelt round of huzzahs for Sir John Harrington. This unsuccessful poet developed something that is sheer poetry for those to whom it provides great relief -- that is, all of us. Sir John invented a valve that, when pulled, could release water from a water closet. This is the foundation of today's toilet. Sir John had fallen out of favor with Queen Elizabeth I at the time of his invention, and he built the first flushing lavatory in his own house. Eventually, the queen forgave him and even ordered one of his contraptions for herself. His grand achievement bubbles and swirls to this very day. For this relief, much thanks, Sir John.
Each of these people, and many others whose monumental achievements are rarely sung today, deserve some of the bronze and plaster that is disproportionately directed toward regimental heroes and politicos.
James Terminiello writes from Glassboro.
Editor's note: There IS a George Washington Carver national monument in Missouri.