Banned in Boston - The Watch and Ward Society’s Crusade against Books, Burlesque, and the Social Evil
Banned in Boston: The Watch and Ward Society’s Crusade against Books, Burlesque, and the Social Evil
Product Code: 5111
Binding Information: Paperback
Size: 6 X 9 Inches (US)
Copyright Date Ed: 09/20/2011
Trade Code: 00P
Price: $16.00 In stock.
It was a proverbial match of the titans. In one corner was H. L. Mencken, the most prominent editor in America, the great iconoclast and savage and sharp-tongued foe, in his words, of all “preposterous Puritans,” “malignant moralists,” and “Christians turned cannibals.” In the other corner was the Reverend J. Frank Chase, Boston’s reigning censor and moral policeman, secretary of the powerful New England Watch and Ward Society, scourge of small-time gamblers, burlesque promoters, and writers who trafficked in “hells” and “goddamns” and anything that smacked of frankness in terms of sex. The scene was Brimstone Corner, just off the Boston Common, in front of the Park Street Church, a block from the gilded dome of the State House. It was at the Park Street Church where the Watch and Ward Society (then called the New England Society for the Suppression of Vice) was originally established in 1878. A week before, Chase, whose word was law to Massachusetts booksellers and magazine vendors, had ordered the banning of the April 1926 issue of Mencken’s magazine, the American Mercury. It contained a vignette called “Hatrack,” a tale of prostitution and hypocrisy in a small Missouri town that Chase contended was obscene. Across the river in Cambridge, the proprietor of a Harvard Square newsstand had been arrested for selling a copy of the magazine to a Watch and Ward agent.
Mencken had taken the train up to Boston from his hometown of Baltimore on April 5, 1926, for the purpose of challenging the Watch and Ward Society by selling Chase a copy of that very issue. Henry Louis Mencken was a small man, with “a plum pudding of a body and a square head stuck on it with no intervening neck,” as British journalist Alistair Cooke described him. He parted his hair in the middle, and his eyes, so small that you could see the whites above the irises, gave him “the earnestness of a gas jet when he talked, an air of resigned incredulity when he listened, and a merry acceptance of the human race and all its foibles when he grinned.” He usually dressed “like the owner of a country hardware store,” noted Cooke. On ceremonial occasions, however, he dressed “like a plumber got up for church.” This day was one of the latter. More than a thousand curiosity-seekers--largely Harvard undergraduates-- turned out for the spectacle on the Common. Some hung off trees and out of windows. Mencken’s lawyer, Arthur Garfield Hays, lately a counsel for the defense at the Scopes “monkey” trial in Dayton, Tennessee, arrived first, at about 1:50 in the afternoon. He mounted the steps of the Park Street Church carrying a bundle of fifty copies of the American Mercury, clothed in its famous green cover, to sell just in case Chase declined to show up at the last minute. The crowd, impatient to snap up copies of the magazine, rushed towards him, holding out dollar bills. When Mencken stepped from a taxicab a few minutes later, accompanied by a Baltimore Sun reporter and an Alfred A. Knopf book salesman, he found no place to move or even stand. It was that crowded. Traffic officers tried unsuccessfully to disperse the mob as the editor and his lawyer pushed their way across Park Street to the Common, where they could barely gain their footing.
A man claiming to represent Chase approached Mencken and offered to buy a copy of the Mercury. Mencken waved him away. It was Chase he was waiting for. And then, amidst cries of “Here he is!” the superintendent of police, Michael H. Crowley, cleared a path for the Watch and Ward secretary. He was accompanied by Captain George W. Peterson, chief of Boston’s Vice Squad, and a young plainclothes officer named Oliver Garrett, later to become a notorious character in Boston.
“Are you Chase” demanded Mencken.
“I am,” replied a solidly built man with glasses and a walrus mustache.
“And do you want to buy a copy of the Mercury”
“I do,” came the reply.
Chase offered Mencken a silver half-dollar, and, in a theatrical moment that delighted the throng, the editor took the coin and bit the end of it to make sure that it was genuine. Then he handed over a copy of the magazine.
“Officer, arrest that man!” commanded Chase, addressing Captain Peterson. The Boston police and the Watch and Ward had had their differences over the years--sometimes the vice organization’s agents had acted as if they were the Boston police--but this time the police were more than happy to do the Watch and Ward’s bidding. Garrett, the plainclothes officer, tapped Mencken on the arm.
Mencken still had three copies of the Mercury in his hand. “Throw them away,” his lawyer counseled.
Mencken tossed the magazines into the air. There was a scramble, and, in the rush to get a copy, the crowd ripped the magazines to pieces. Chase handed his over to Peterson.
Then Mencken, hat low on his head and trademark cigar in hand, accompanied by Hays and followed by several hundred onlookers, was marched up Tremont Street to police headquarters at Pemberton Square, four blocks away. He was led to the second floor and booked on a charge of violating Chapter 272, Section 28, of the Public General Laws of Massachusetts. The charge was clear--that he, Mencken, “did sell to one Jason F. Chase certain obscene, indecent, and impure printing . . . manifestly tending to corrupt the morals of youth.” After that, Mencken was taken to the Central Municipal Court and formally arraigned. A hearing was set for 10 a.m. the following day, April 6. Mencken was released on his own recognizance, with a surety bond fixed at $500.
Chase had won round one.
A lively history of the Watch and Ward Society--New England’s notorious literary censor for over eighty years.
Banned in Boston is the first-ever history of the Watch and Ward Society--once Boston’s unofficial moral guardian. An influential watchdog organization, bankrolled by society’s upper crust, it actively suppressed vices like gambling and prostitution, and oversaw the mass censorship of books and plays. A spectacular romp through the Puritan City, here Neil Miller relates the scintillating story of how a powerful band of Brahmin moral crusaders helped make Boston the most straitlaced city in America, forever linked with the infamous catchphrase “banned in Boston.“
Review Choice Reviews - February 1, 2011
“This is a superb example of breathtaking research, presented in a style that will appeal to a broad audience…Rather than delivering a detailed history of the Watch and Ward, he offers up a series of vignettes that are historically accurate yet thoroughly entertaining in their telling. This is social history at its finest, and Miller should be applauded for resurrecting the history of this influential group that had a national reputation.”
“As a catchphrase, v´banned in Boston’ made history; as an imprimatur it sold books.” --Chronicle Review
“Miller relates a wealth of historical anecdotes...[they] left no shortage of entertaining censorship initiatives for Miller to recall here for readers’ enjoyment.” --Booklist
“With precision, perception, and wry wit, Neil Miller serves up a juicy tale of censorship past. From sex, drugs, and a swearing parrot to almost anything French, Banned in Boston demonstrates that campaigns to save us from ourselves never go out of fashion.” --Nan Levinson, author of Outspoken: Free Speech Stories
“The fight for artistic freedom in America begins in Boston, and Miller gives us a front-row seat.” --Christopher M. Finan, president of the American Booksellers Foundation for Free Expression and author of From the Palmer Raids to the Patriot Act
“A lively history of the notorious Watch and Ward Society, which for a century sought to establish decency by suppressing v´obscene’ works by authors such as Boccaccio, Whitman, Dreiser, Faulkner, and Mencken. This is a must read for anyone interested in understanding how censorship ultimately destroys not indecency, but freedom.” --Geoffrey R. Stone, author of Perilous Times: Free Speech in Wartime from the Sedition Act of 1798 to the War on Terrorism
“I read this book with one eye over my shoulder, fully expecting the Watch and Ward police to burst in and confiscate it for being too provocative! But it would have been worth it. Neil Miller has given us everything we could ask for in an enjoyable history--a revealing subject, well-drawn characters, and a colorful portrait of another era, all wrapped in a fast-paced, easy-to-read story. Banned in Boston is a Boston gem.” --Stephen Puleo, author of A City So Grand, The Boston Italians, and Dark Tide
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