Must feds wash TV’s mouth out with soap?

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Updated: February 14, 2012 10:12AM

Regarding my column on Chicago closing its libraries on Mondays, Ronald Pyke, a reader in London, writes:

“Upon a viewing of ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’ a couple weeks ago, my wife pointed out that even a dystopian hellhole like Pottersville still kept the public library open.”

That’s a good line and a keen observation. (Why do wives serve up the best lines? If you think I can toss off a sharp phrase, you should hear my wife — she is so quick, she can tear out your heart and show it to you without spilling any blood.) Pottersville might have snarling B-girls being hustled into police vans, but old-maid Mary is still closing up the library. Must not be a Monday.

Caution: dashing obscenities

I’m assuming “hellhole” did not upset you — it isn’t a particularly strong epithet, and it has a certain literary quality. The parent of a toddler who came home and said, “Mom, that pre-school is a hellhole,” would feel, at worst, a flash of worried pride.

Had I been forced to render it “h---hole,” something would have been lost. The readers who were confused, amused or annoyed by the dashes would far outweigh the delicate few whose sensibilities were protected.

Which summarizes my view toward obscenity. The Supreme Court is hearing arguments about whether the United States government should be in the business of policing dirty words on broadcast television. In my view, to pose the question is to answer it.

I try to be aware of the sensitivities of others but keep circling back to Robert Crumb’s observation, “Not everything’s for children.” Nor should it be. Broadcast TV has seen its business eroded by cable TV despite people swearing on cable, because obscenity not only isn’t a concern for the average viewer, it’s a draw. Were the opposite the case, the government wouldn’t have to enforce obscenity standards; the market would. Avoiding obscenity is part of a subset of concerns — no nudity, no blasphemy, no subversion — with a shrinking but vocal base who skew the debate. Most people don’t care. We used to get worked up over car dealerships being open on Sundays, too.

But times change. Values change. The easiest way to see this is to look back at obscenity controversies of the past: Lenny Bruce being dragged off stage by the police for holding up a photograph of a breast at the Gate of Horn in 1962. The struggle to allow Clark Gable to say, “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn,” at the end of “Gone with the Wind” in 1939. Or 100 other examples. Most of us don’t see these cases and think, “Wow, why’d they permit THAT? Wish they had stuck to contemporary standards.” Instead we grin at past quaintness. Because values shift, and while some of us — older, religious folk, generally — feel they’re sliding as we slouch toward Babylon, the rest understand that we’re just learning to focus on what’s important, and obscenity is more a measure of personal taste than something requiring government control. So I might be uncomfortable, in my old age, to turn on the television and see a new sedan sweeping around mountain curves and the tagline, “Buy a f---ing Chrysler.” But I also know it would be funnier now without the dashes.

More magic here than just a flute

One hundred Sun-Times readers, winners of our contest, went to Lyric Opera of Chicago to hear Mozart’s “The Magic Flute” Wednesday. I was lucky enough to meet many of them in the Lyric’s soaring lobby before the performance and at intermission. Every one was a solid, salt-of-the-earth type, boldly exploring an artistic experience that was new to most. I enjoyed chatting with everybody but was particularly glad to meet Susan Silvano of Chicago, who came up and said her sister, Remy Alforque, is fighting cervical cancer, and that when she was diagnosed, she had just two wishes: one, to get a scooter so she could go to her job at Osco for as long as possible during chemo; and two, to see a live opera at the Lyric.

“This is a dream to her,” said Silvano, who was ecstatic to win tickets. “This is my very first time,” said Alforque, 68, who like her sister hails from the Philippines. “It’s difficult to have sickness in your family,” said Silvano. “This has been a gift — a magic gift.”

I wish I knew how to get her that first wish, too, the scooter. Maybe you do. Let me know and we’ll put it in the paper.

Thanks to everybody at the Lyric for being such fine hosts and helping make so many dreams come true. God willing and the creek don’t rise, we’ll do this again next year.