The Popes Against the Jews

By 

David I. Kertzer

Anyone who believes that George Washington never told a lie, that Betsy Ross stitched the first flag, or that the Liberty Bell cracked on July 4, 1776, needs not read this book. The Popes Against the Jews is not for the naïve, faint hearted, or for those whose religious zealotry prevents them from wanting to expand the boundaries of their knowledge.

Though hard to accept that Christianity and the Catholic Church, since their beginnings, would promote, encourage, and enforce anti-Semitism, the fact is that the self appointed “True Faith,” in its zeal to conquer the world, enrich itself, and control the masses, has done just that, and more. In the process, the Church became guilty of the very things it accused Jews: greed, hatred and having contempt for others. However, “The Popes Against the Jews” is not a tirade against Christianity or the Catholic Church, but a historical tracing of Church policies and practices, and how they led to anti-semitism. “The Popes Against the Jews” is an exposé which begs for clarification of what happened, and why.

“As late as the 1850s, the Pope was busy trying to evict Jews from most of the towns in the lands he controlled, and forcing them to live in the few cities that had ghettoes to close them in. Jews were barred from holding public office or teaching Christian children or even having friendly relations with Christians. Church ideology held that any contact with Jews was polluting to the larger society, that Jews were perpetual foreigners, a perennial threat to Christians (p. 9). [Jews in the Papal states were forced to wear a yellow badge, as] mandated by Church councils for over six hundred years…so all would know of their reviled status. [Those found without the] required yellow badge on their clothes [faced prosecution as late as the Nineteenth Century (pp. 10-11)]”

A modicum of objectivity would point out that the Nazi Nuremberg Laws from 1938, and legislation enacted by Italian Fascists, which were aimed at demoralizing Jews by stripping them of their citizenship and any rights associated with it, were modeled after those espoused and enforced by the Church for as long as it had the power to do so (p.9). In editorials, printed in the Vatican's official periodicals, Jews were portrayed as a foreign nation, and the sworn enemy of the well-being of all Christians. The solution to this situation was the immediate revocation of the Jews' civil equality, for they had no right to it. Thus Jews were to remain foreigners, the “Eternal Wandering Jew,” wherever they were allowed to live, and the enemy of any country where they settled (p.8).

Although the Vatican has gone out of its way to exonerate and absolve itself from any direct involvement, it has yet to recognize that its policies over the last two millennia paved the road for the Holocaust. To the Church, as indicated in “We Remember: A Reflection on the Shoah (the report of the Vatican's Commission for Religious Relations with the Jews),” while terrible things had been done, these atrocities were not the result of a long standing policy or practice by the Church, but due to misinterpretation of Christian teachings which, occasionally, had fostered such behavior (p. 4). As difficult as it is to imagine, even in the acknowledgement of its failures, the Church would deny any involvement. The Vatican has also failed to fully explain why and how it turned a blind eye to Nazi atrocities, or its involvement in, and support of “Catholic Croatia,” during World War II which resulted in atrocities committed against all non-Catholics, but in particular to the Jews.

In a typical use of smoking mirrors, the Vatican's report differentiated between anti-Judaism (a religious, sociological and political discrimination based on centuries of mistrust and hostility), and anti-Semitism (theories contrary to the constant teachings of Christianity and of the Catholic Church)—while denying both of which have their basis on Church practices. Contrary to the overwhelming evidence, the Church opted to reject any direct association with either philosophy in spite of the many instances which lead to the Church's association with religious anti-Judaism. The issue had already been addressed in 1928 by Father Enrico Rosa in “The Jewish Danger and the 'Friends of Israel,'” an article published in Civiltá cattolica, in which the prelate calls for the rejection of unchristian anti-Semitism. However, Father Rosa opined that the Church must protect itself from those who sought to eradicate views long held by the Church (p.270). As long as any of the actions by the Church could be disguised as “Religious,” they could be minimized or, at the very least, shown to be the lesser of the two evils of anti-Jewish/anti-Semitism (p.8). This is further justified because of the perceived ceaseless war Jewish religion demanded from Jews to wage against Christianity. But, cursed by God, the Jews' continued degradation validated the prophesies in the New Testament (p. 144). The Church's anti-Judaism stance was further defined by Father Giuseppe De Rosa in the year 2000, for the 150^th anniversary of Civiltá cattolica, a Vatican periodical. To Father De Rosa, it was necessary “to note that these [hostile articles] were not a matter of 'anti-Semitism,' the essential ingredient of which is hatred against the Jews because of their 'race,' but rather anti-Judaism, which opposes and combats the Jews for religious and social reasons (pp.7-8).” Of course, it would have been difficult for the Vatican to espouse anti-Semitism: If the crime of deicide passed to all subsequent generations of Jews, it would stand the test of logic that all Christians were also guilty, by virtue of their Jewish ancestry.

It wasn’t until the Second Vatican Council in the 1960s that, theoretically, the Church “renounced its view of the Jews as the perfidious people who had crucified Jesus. It removed negative references to the Jews from the liturgy, undertook a complete revision of what was taught about the Jews in Catholic schools and catechism, and…put an official end to the Catholic belief in Jewish ritual murder.” (p. 20) Even so, the sincerity of the Church remains in question by many.

The backbone of this book is in Roberto Farinacci’s speech, “The Church and the Jews,” given at Milan’s Institute of Fascist Culture in 1939, “We fascist Catholics …consider the Jewish problem from a strictly political point of view….But it comforts our souls to know that if, as Catholics, we became anti-Semites, we owe it to the teachings that the Church has promulgated over the past twenty centuries.” Until the end of the Eighteenth Century, Farinacci further states, that in all countries, “…their legislation inspired by that of the Church [excluded] Jews from public offices, from the schools, from university degrees, from exercising professional business positions. All this in harmony with the dispositions sanctioned by the Church through its councils and papal bulls.” Farinacci then asked whether the Church had altered its laws, its views, or decrees, once the Jews had been emancipated. “My question is ironic. The Church could not correct itself without dealing a death blow to the infallibility of its teaching; it could not, nor did it want to. On the contrary, it confirmed its anti-Jewish measures and principles.” (p.283)

The Holy Office for long had denied any such hatred towards Jews, insisting that Christians should instead pray for them, in spite of their rejection of Christianity. However, this Catholic charity should only go so far, and not blind people to the sad reality of the Jews (p.271).

Unfortunately, those who would most benefit from reading this book are the same who would most reject it, and be most offended by it: The faithful who believe the Pope to be infallible, and the clergy to be irreproachable. Far from it, as history has more than once shown, and the researched documents in this book support. These are men guilty of all the same faults as mere mortals are, and as such, they should be given the same scrutiny, probed under the same if not a stricter microscope, and be held as accountable for their crimes as common “sinners” are quickly dispatched to Hell for lesser offenses.

There are those who would be critical of Kertzer’s narrative, but readers should keep in mind that “The Popes against the Jews” is not fiction, and as an historian, the author is presenting the facts available to him from the Vatican archives, and other publications amply cited. Some may claim that those in the upper echelons of Church hierarchy did not know what others were doing, and therefore could not, or should not be held accountable. It would be naïve to think that, even if the Pope did not have first hand knowledge of all that was being printed in the Catholic periodicals, there was no one else in the Church hierarchy to have noticed it, and made no mention to the Pope, or to some other such person in a position of authority.

On the contrary; while one can assume the Popes did not read every word in the eventual 500 Catholic periodicals in Twentieth Century Italy (p. 13), Civiltá cattolica, founded in 1850 with the backing of Pius IX, became the unofficial voice of the Pope. Five days before the release of each issue, the journal's director was present at the Vatican, and reviewed the contents of the periodical for approval with the Secretary of State, and most often with the Pope. This practice of including the Pope in the approval process ended during the time of Pius XII, in the 1950s. The main purpose of Civiltá cattolica, from the point of view of the Popes and that of the journal, was to defend the actions and opinions of the Pope, and to spread them across its readership. This periodical, along with the Vatican’s daily paper, L’Osservatore romano (owned by the Holy See and founded in 1861), came to be regarded by the “network of Catholic newspapers throughout the world…as the most authoritative source for Vatican perspectives on current events, and quoted its articles constantly (p.135).” It is hard to argue against the Popes knowing of, and conscientiously giving their approval of the editorials.

The number of cases of Church-condoned violence and other atrocities against Jews is far too large to report in this venue; only in reading this book, can anyone fully understand the enormity of the abuse instituted, condoned, and enforced by the Church against the Jews.

As with most heads of state, the Popes controlled and still control, and hold the power and the responsibility. Not unusual then, for the Popes to create their own series of rules to benefit their ideology; not unusual, either, for the public at large to expect them to be held accountable. Just as history is a memory of the future, “the lessons that we draw from history are a poor guide for the future if they are based on a past that we wish had happened, rather than the past that truly did (p.19).”

A perfect companion to “Hitler's Pope (Viking, 1999),” by John Cornwell, and “Constantine's Sword: The Church and the Jews, a History," by James Carroll (Mariner Books, 2001),” “The Popes Against the Jews” is just as relevant today, as it was when first published in 2001. All the more ironic in light of the recent rise of extreme ideology in parts of the world, which is thoroughly condemned by the very Christians who would condemn Kertzer's book.

Hardcover:  355 pages

Publisher:  Alfred A. Knopf 2001

ISBN:        0-37540623-9

Language:   English

Bolivar: American Liberator

One benefit of reviews is that a prospective buyer gets a variety of opinions to help the decision making process. Quotes from the “Editorial Reviews,” generally tend to be nothing more than publicity tools to hype book sales—their only value being the name attached to the quote; as such, they can easily be overlooked. Instead, reviews written by the very people who have bought and read the books tend to be more reliable, when deciding on the purchase of a book. In the case of this publication, the reviews did not fail. Arana's departure from fiction appeared to be a sure winner, and with great anticipation the arrival of her experimental try-out in history, “Bolivar: American Libertador,” was eagerly awaited.

Readers should not confuse Arana's tenure as a writer of fiction, with her otherwise excellent education and qualifications; nor should her birth in Perú be taken to mean that she is biased, or that she is not qualified to write in English. On the contrary, Arana's mastery of the English language is beyond reproach, her imagery is vivid without a fault, and the straightforwardness of the narrative speaks for itself. Arana's style of writing makes it easy to get engrossed in the biography, its protagonist, and the seemingly endless cast of characters. That well balanced combination is what makes the reader look forward to turning the page, to see what comes next. In that sense, the book does read like a novel: Chatty, with flashes of seriousness, with dramatic and light moments, and filled with details which do not make the narrative esoteric, or tedious, and with comments and criticisms which do not make the protagonist another stereotypical “Third World Savage.” Arana's bibliography, too, is quite extensive and she injects the various opinions and bits of information casually, naturally, and without jolting the reader out of the magic she has created in the narrative.

A man forged by the culture and the land where he was born, Bolívar is by far too complex of an individual, at times rational, at times irrational but always with a “method to his madness,” and Arana unapologetically delves into each facet of his personality, exposing both the positive and the negative, and explaining the reasons for each qualifier. Unlike most biographies of Bolívar, Arana's style is not to prejudge; she is not a defense attorney, nor a prosecutor—whether Bolívar's departure from Puerto Cabello, his involvement in Francisco de Miranda's demise, the “War to Death,” Bolívar's penchant for female companionship, or his personal and military successes and failures, Arana simply provides both sides of the issue, and lets the reader understand the whys and hows of the events.

Speaking of Bolívar's arrest of Miranda is one such example, “The theme of betrayal is never far from any story of revolution; deceit is at the very heart of radical upheaval. But history has not looked kindly on the events that unravelled that early morning in La Guaira. For all the glory that would accrue to Bolívar, he would never be free from the stain of Miranda's fate. He had lured the old man to a revolution, and, after its failure, delivered him into enemy hands. There can be no doubt that it was a monstrous act of deception (p.123)” Though the author is unequivocal in her condemnation of Bolívar, and most other authors end their explanation at that point, Arana recognizes that like “betrayal,” there is enough blame to go around, and some of the blame falls on Miranda as well. “But there was no shortage of deceit on all sides. The patriots had been taken in by Miranda's swagger and braggadochio—had invested all their hopes in him—and they reacted now with all the fury of the betrayed. The leader they had trusted to guide them through the vicissitudes of revolution had turned out to be more comfortable with failure than with victory. Faltering and indecisive in the clear advantage, he always managed to be magnificent in the face of defeat. His fellow rebels believed they were seeing him now as he really was: a fraud (p.123).

There are those who will feel the book is too long, too short, or too tedious, with too much information, or that it does not provide much new information. At 464 pages of narrative, the book is just right, though to this reader, another one hundred or more pages would have been welcomed. While there may not be much new or groundbreaking information in this biography of Bolívar, something which is almost impossible to accomplish—as Arana points out, the Library of Congress has close to 3000 books/documents, and other estimates indicate there are over 5000 books on the man—this publication is still worthy of praise, and worthy of being read. It is one of the few biographies in which the author has managed to describe Bolívar's persona and his military career without detriment to one or the other,

and one in which the narrative is fully devoted to the protagonist. The only exception is the few introductory pages on General San Martín, Manuela Sáenz, and General Sucre; aside from that, Bolívar is ever present. The result is a highly balanced biography which hopefully, in the process, Arana can make him a better known, better understood, and better liked, individual in the United States.

Just as there is high praise for Arana and her book, there are some suggestions and comments. There is an editorial choice used in this publication, which should not become as standard as the lack of proper punctuation has become: The deliberate omission of numerical citations in the body of the narrative to lead the reader to the appropriate information in the “Notes,” at the back of the book. Instead, the reader is provided with several pages of endnotes which list the page number in the main body of the book, followed by a short quotation to indicate the reference. Without the proper numerical citation in the main text the reader is left adrift, and the information becomes disconnected. The reader has no option but to constantly refer to the back of the book whenever there is something of interest, only to find out there may or amy not be a reference. It is surprising that a reputable publishing company, such as Simon & Schuster, would engage in such a practice and attempt to pass it as “scholarly.” But even in this criticism, other publications are far worse; case in point, Richard Slatta's “Simon Bolivar's Quest for Glory,” (Texas A&M University Press; 2003) in which the author bluntly points out in the “Introduction,” the deliberate decision to omit “a plethora of notes...[and keeping] historical accouterments to a minimum.”

As authors in the United Stated have consistently but erroneously done, Arana makes some comparisons between Simón Bolívar and George Washington, when the only commonality between the two is that they led an army in the liberation of their respective countries. Aside from that, they had nothing in common and cannot therefore be compared. In fact, Bolívar did not like and rejected any comparison to Washington, not because he felt superior, but because he thought highly of Washington, and he understood their differences as being too far apart for their two names being discussed in the same sentence. As for Washington, he died when Bolívar was barely a teen-ager, and knew nothing of him. In the end, both men were happy with their accomplishments and accepted their failures; more importantly, neither man wanted to be the other. Personal, social, geographical, and political circumstances, as Bolívar constantly pointed out, also makes the comparison between these two men malapropos.

While Arana is not blind to Bolívar's faults, it is disappointing to see her use duplicitous, self-aggrandizing, and vindictive, individuals such as H.L.V. Ducoudray-Holstein and Gustavus Butler Hippisley as references or sources. Ducoudray-Holstein appears as having “served Bolívar in Angostura (p. 419).” Hopefully this is an editorial oversight; Ducoudray never made it beyond Carúpano, where he was discharged in June 1816—two months after embarking on the Los Cayos expedition; Bolívar did not go to Angostura until 1818.

On the death of José Félix Ribas, there is a departure from history, without providing a source for the comments, or further explanation. Although Arana's description of Ribas' torture and death are accurate, historians, consistently, have Ribas sentenced to death by a Judge in Tucupido, east of Valle de la Pascua, then shot, quartered; his head boiled in oil was sent to Caracas to be displayed as a warning to other would be patriots. Arana's version is that Ribas was dragged from the house where he was hiding, in “Pascua,” and immediately executed (p. 165).

Aside from these minor oversights, all in all, Arana's biography, “Bolívar: American Liberator” is very well written, concise, and one of the few which is well worth reading—and reading multiple times over. Bolívar comes off the pages not as the saint his apologists would like him to be, but as a flawed yet likeable individual; not as the devil manufactured by his opponents, but as a visionary whose ideas and good intentions, though they may have at times been in conflict, or misunderstood, were far greater than his flaws. Bolívar was self assured to the point of vanity, yet with an undercurrent of kindness and humility, but he was also a social animal who ended up a lonely individual A genius who, among other things, defined, planned, crafted, executed, and achieved, the independence of five nations, Bolívar's successes cover a not insignificant territory of 1, 853,681 square miles—4.31 times larger than the original 13 British Colonies. He was a visionary who foresaw the need for, and planned, a Pan American union of states to protect and secure the former Spanish colonies, and now independent Latin American nations, against outside pressure, and influences; and who foretold the need for a canal cutting through the Panama isthmus, fifty-three years before Ferdinand de Lesseps broke ground in 1881. In short, the kind of man with whom the reader can empathize, and identify, for having all of the human qualities, frailties, and dreams, mere mortals possess, but who, blinded by his own vision, could not at times see through the fog of his ideals. He was just as demanding of himself as of those under him, and yet forgiving of the internal and external enemies who plotted politically against him, or who wanted him dead. This is Bolívar, a selfless patriot and leader, who gave everything he was, and everything he had, to the cause of liberty—a charismatic innovator, leader and a patriot of whom can truly be said that he did not ask from anyone, anything he was not himself willing to give or do for the Motherland. Yet, that insatiable need to accomplish his mission, to be all, to do all, was in part what led to his downfall. But in spite of all he did or may have done, all he was or may have been, his prophetic words have had a more lasting, if unrecognized, effect throughout Latin America; it is impossible to look back and not realize it. “Fellow citizens,” Bolívar said in his last speech to Congress, “.... I am ashamed to admit it, but independence is the only thing we have won, at the cost of everything else (p. 430)[;]” and to General Flores in Ecuador, Bolívar would write, that “[t]he country is bound to fall into unimaginable chaos, after which it will pass into the hands of an indistinguishable string of tyrants of every color (p. 450) ....” For all the criticism of his ego, and supposed ambition to be a dictator for life, or to be crowned king, even his opponents knew that Bolívar was the glue holding together the ideals of Liberty, and Independence—the common thread between the different peoples and opinions of the five nations he had liberated. Bolívar's nemeses also knew or, perhaps in their urge to succeed him, they chose to ignore that upon his departure civil war would ensue, chaos would rule, and if Bolívar held dictatorial powers to maintain stability, most of those who followed, into the Twenty First Century, would give “dictator” a completely new and infinitely negative meaning.

Unlike other worldwide revolutionary leaders, who are no less deserving of praise, Bolívar embraced his mission, and received little in return. One of the wealthiest if not the wealthiest man in Venezuela at the time of his parents' death, Bolívar devoted his entire fortune to the War of Independence; he freed his slaves as the natural duty in the pursuit of liberty, and never accepted renumeration for his services during, or after, the war. For all he sacrificed, Bolívar died abandoned and rejected by the very people whose freedoms he had forged; without a clean shirt in which to be buried, he breathed his last breath accompanied by, among a few remaining loyal supporters, his old manservant José Palacios, a former slave in the house of Bolívar's mother.

Few authors have taken the time to be as objective and even handed, as Arana has, in showing Bolívar's multifaceted character, and to report history as it happened, instead of a particular notion of the events. In so doing, Arana has succeeded in presenting not only the thinker and unique military man, but the human being that is Bolívar, the American Liberator.

Hardcover:  601 Pages

Publisher:  Simon & Schuster (2013)

Language:  English

Simón Bolívar's Quest for Glory

by 

Richard W. Slatta and Jane Lucas De Drummond

There are commonalities among the many who have achieved recognition for their efforts. As it should be, these commonalities do not always fall within the categories of “exemplary” or “deplorable.” After all, these larger than life individuals are mere mortals, and like everyone else they are filled with conflicting principles, emotions, convictions, and bursts of self doubt amid moments of rejoice. What makes them great, however, is the persistent common denominator of achieving the tasks assigned to them by fate, destiny, or by personal choice. Then there is Simón Bolívar, who joined the movement of independence in 1807, and after six years of involvement in the War of Independence, he was appointed President of the Second Republic when he was thirty years old.

One would be hard pressed to find a more complex, intriguing, and misunderstood subject considering that while Bolívar had reached his zenith, and begun his decline by the time he turned forty, most other historical figures were comparatively much older when they got started: George Washington was forty-three years old when he was appointed to lead the Continental Army against the British; Abraham Lincoln was even older, at fifty-two, when he became President in 1861. In the Twentieth Century, Benito Musolini was thirty-nine when he became Prime Minister of Italy in 1922; Joseph Stalin was fifty-one when he consolidated his power in the Soviet Union in 1929; Adolf Hitler was forty-four when he became Chancellor of Germany in 1933; and Mao Zedong did not become Chairman of the Communist Party's Central Committee, in China, until 1945 when he was 52 years old. This age comparison does not make Bolívar better than the others; it makes him worthy of a more in depth and objective—objective being the key word—study of his life, his daring, his achievements, and his failures. Beginning with the title, “Simón Bolívar's Quest for Glory” this publication is not that study. Professor Richard W. Slatta falls victim to his own warning, “Bolívar remains little known out side Latin America [.... He] proved equally adept at wielding the pen and the sword [....]” But, because Bolívar “earned his glory on the fields of battle” and “much of our attention focuses on his military struggles.... (p. 7)” the reader never really gets to know Simón Bolívar, the man.

A biography, narrative, or history that begins by enumerating and dwelling on the main character's (at times perceived as ) negative traits, coupled with the overused mention of the man's sexual escapades to imply lack of responsibility, inadequacy, or some other such personality defect, leaves the reader with little reason to go beyond the initial chapters. If that were the case, John F. Kennedy and Bill Clinton would not be sitting right and left of Franklin D. Roosevelt at the Trinity on the altar of Politics.

Starting with the “Introduction,” Slatta subtly but negatively compares Bolívar to George Washington as a way to set up Bolívar as inadequate against the exemplary leader of the north. In an impartial comparison, Slatta would have delved into Washington's flaws and foils, just as he delved into Bolívar's, but that is not the case. Slatta fails to remark that, in spite of the recognition received from the governor of Virginia, Washington's failures in his early military career leading the Virginia militia against the French, stationed at Fort Duquesne (Pittsburgh, PA), were in part the reason he was denied service in the British Army. In fairness to Washington, at 22, he was not experienced enough to lead an attack against the French. Slatta also fails to point out that being turned down for service in the British army is what flared Washington's resentment against British rule, its military, and its attitude towards colonials. One could easily argue that, just as with Bolívar, Washington's “Glory” became his guiding light. Being that any successful warrior has to have some degree of preservation instinct, and a great desire to achieve, implying that someone who risks it all in the pursuit of freedom for his country, as a way to attain his due “glory,” is a rather odd way to start an objective biography. But while Bolívar did often mention his “glory,” the word is not always to be interpreted as an attestation of the man's ego, but of his “legacy.”

In spite of the research, and abundant bibliography, this publication lacks “scholarly” credence and reads more like a historical novel. Contrary to the author's comment in the Introduction, “Instead of a plethora of footnotes, there is a brief bibliographical essay that features other important sources ...” (p.8), keeping “historical accouterments to a minimum” clouds the reader's mind with doubt. It is most surprising that a reputable publisher, such as Texas A&M, would put this publication out as part of its Military History Series. Footnotes make a history book verifiable, providing the reader interested in further information with a direct link to a specific publication. Footnotes also identify specific passages which are not original to the author, but a reinterpretation of material extracted from another original source—otherwise, it becomes plagiarism. Footnotes and citations give credibility to the references or quotes used by the author, and likewise lack of footnotes reflect negatively on the author for not giving credit where credit is due, or for using sources which have long been discredited.

Slatta is disingenuous when he criticizes Guillermo Antonio Sherwell's biography on Bolívar for treating him as a “godlike figure rather than as a human being (p. 8).” True, Sherwell's work is short on criticism, and long on praise, however his book must be judged by the times and the circumstances under which it was written, and published: The sponsor of the book was the Bolivarian Society of Venezuela—hardly a disinterested party, or one which would have been keen in promoting a devastatingly negative portrayal of the Libertador. Sherwell's book was first published in 1921 under the watchful eye of Dictator Juan Vicente Gómez who, like all other dictators and pretend-presidents, used the name and image of Bolívar to drape himself in credibility: One needs to look no further than today's blind worship of Bolívar in Venezulea by government officials and the “pueblo” who have probably never read anything or anything negative about the man, his writings, or his ideas. Sherwell's portrayal, while flawed, is not worse than Slatta's present publication. In fact, in the omission of criticism, Sherwell's book may be more objective: Judging from the repeated use of “glory,” in the title and throughout the text, as if to imply Bolívar's only raison d'être, and the subtle overuse of other prejudicial phrases, the reader is left with the thought that Slatta's overall desire is to give credence to Bolívar's detractors. This is glaringly obvious in the unusual credibility Slatta gives discredited pseudo-biographer Ludwig Heinrich Villaume and his “Memoirs of Simon Bolivar and his Principal Generals.” A descendant of French Hugenots who emigrated as a result of the revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685, Villaume was born in Brandenburg, Prussia, in 1772 to Pierre Villaume and Suzane Marre. His father, a preacher in Schwedt, Germany, near the Polish border, instilled in his son a deep rooted hatred towards everything Catholic.¹ Villaume, himself a prisoner in Spain while in the French army, augmented that deep rooted hatred of Catholics to include Spaniards—mostly all Catholics themselves. While a mercenary in France, Villaume assumed the name Lafayette Ducoudray, at times simply Ducoudray (a bastardized version of du Coudray) to enhance his image; to pretend Danish origin, he added Holstein to his newly adopted surname (The province of Schleswig-Holstein did not fully become part of Germany until 1842).

Slatta appears not to know that Ducoudray was never a general in Bolívar's army, or that Ducoudray's claim that Francisco de Miranda “... preferred English and French officers to his own countrymen,” is just as dubious a claim considering that Bolívar, Carlos Soublette, Fernando del Toro, his brother the Marques del Toro, Marques Casa de León, José de Sata y Bussy, Manuel Aldao, and others, were Creoles among Miranda's officers and advisors. Indeed, while there were many European mercenaries in the Venezuelan army, this was largely due to the overwhelming number of soldiers who, as Slatta himself points out (p.164), suddenly found themselves out of work in their own countries after the French Revolution, and the wars against Napoleon. Slatta simply takes and repeats Ducoudray's comments, and undocumented quotes, as fact. Taking into account that Francis Loraine Petre's book Simon Bolivar “el libertador” (London, 1910) is listed in the bibliography, it is rather odd for Slatta to have placed such faith in Ducoudray. Petre, a well known historian of the time, was unequivocal about Ducoudray's unreliability, “Considering the marked bias of Ducoudray, and many notable instances where Bolivar showed plenty of personal courage, there seems very insufficient reason for believing this story, circumstantial though it be.”¹ “The impression of this author, [Ducoudray,] conveyed by a perusal of his work, is of a conceited [German of French ancestry] French Adventurer always striving to make himself out a person of much more ability and importance than he really was.”² Discredited British mercenary Gustavus Butler Hippisley also appears, though not as prominently, in Slatta's publication.

There is also the matter of unnecessary repetition of events, or circumstances which do not carry the story forward. In one such case, Slatta makes much of “eminent historian” E. Bradford Burn's comment, as though it were a heretofore unknown revelation, that of all the viceroys, captains-generals, and bishops, in Spanish America very few were Creoles, and of those, most were born to Spanish officials (p. 48). Considering that Spain's policy was one of crippling the colonies in favor of the mother country, it would have indeed been strange and newsworthy had the majority of appointees been Creoles. Being that most were Peninsular (a common term denoting those born in the Iberian Peninsula) added another reason for the Creoles to rise against Spain. But Slatta is well aware of this as he makes repeated mentions of it prior to, and after, he quotes Burn's passage.

There are some extended quotes/explanations which are totally unnecessary, and distract from the topic of discussion, particularly when the information could and should have easily been incorporated into the main body of the text. One such case is the incorporation of an online discussion, on the beneficial use of mules as beasts of burden, by six different commentators—none of whom had anything significant to add—as a way to explain Bolívar's urgent request for mules, and his concern over one particular animal, his personal mule. Slatta seems surprised enough to dedicate two pages (pp.162-163) to a subject that everyone in Latin America, or anyone who has lived outside of a metropolitan area, understands from birth.

Then there is the opposite problem: Not devoting enough space to explain a situation. John Quincy Adams' quote in reference to recognition of Spanish colonies as independent nations, at a time when the mother country could easily have taken the colonies back, is very valid. While Adams was not speaking from the point of view of a wise old sage, he was well aware, from personal experience, that the United States colonies had been in the same situation a mere thirty four years prior until the Treaty of Paris, signaling the colonies' independence, was ratified on 9 April, 1784. Prior to that ratification, the United States colonies were in the same situation as their southern hemisphere neighbors, when they declared themselves free of the English yoke, yet they were not totally free: European countries were not willing to officially recognize them as an independent nation when England could, at any point, take its former colonies back. Furthermore, in 1818 the United States was still suffering from growing pains and had recently been subject to a devastating invasion by England (1812-1814) in an effort restrain expansion by the United States; should England have prevailed, it could have retaken its former colonies. Slatta explains, by way of a dismissal, Adams' concern with a snide remark, “Obviously, with all the series of Patriot setbacks of the year, Bolívar could not expect recognition from the hemisphere's first republic (p.175).”

“Simón Bolívar's Quest for Glory” is an uncomplicated, easy to read, narrative of what should have been a great story. Slatta vacillates between criticism and praise of Bolívar, which is totally different from objective criticism and objective praise—damning criticism in the form of stereotypical notions and negative comparisons are never far behind of what Slatta tries to pass off as genuine praise.

It is perhaps because the original research belongs to Jane Lucas De Grummond, and Slatta was given the task of finishing the project, that he has two major problems in writing on Bolívar: As an author he comes off as never really wanting to immerse himself in the circumstances, and culture of the times, or to delve deeply into the mind of the man, enough to present a more objective picture. Instead Slatta comes off as having randomly gathered bits of information from different publications, which he reframed into one book. The other problem with Slatta is that he is unable to stand outside of Washington's shadow long enough to fully understand that neither Washington nor Bolívar wanted to be the other. Otherwise, Slatta would have been able to present a more accurate and diverse picture of the man that was and is Simón Bolívar.

Simon Bolivar's Quest for Glory

Texas A&M University Military History Series (Book 86)
Richard W. Slatta and Jane Lucas De Drummond

Hardcover: 368 pages

Publisher: Texas A&M University Press; 1 Edition (2003)

Language: English

ISBN-1-58544-339-9

1 Morón, Guillermo, Memorial de los agravios. Alfadil Ediciones, Caracas, 2005, pp.107-108

1 Petre, F. Lorraine. “Simon Bolivar 'el libertador': A life of the chief leader in the revolt against Spain in Venezuela, New Granada and Peru,” John Lane, London, 1910-Chapter VII, p. 172, n. 1.

2 Ibid. Chapter VII, p. 175 n. 1.

Wealth, Art, and Passionate Collecting: The McNay Art Museum

The McNay Museum of Modern Art in San Antonio, Texas

It is with great interest that people go to museums for the works of art, but seldom do people take the time to investigate the origins of the artwork, or more specifically the origin of the museum's collection. Unbeknown to most people and in most cases, private collections have become the foundation of many a great museum. Some institutions, like the Uffizi in Florence, Italy, started out in 1560 as an extension to the Medici Palace to house government offices, hence its name Galleria degli Uffizi, generally known as the Uffizi. The private Medici art collection was displayed in the piano nobile, or “noble floor” of the building, and was open to the public; eventually the collection expanded to all the galleries and became one of the largest and grandest private art collections to become a public museum housed in its original setting.

In Italy, all the well known family names have large and small palaces, which have also been turned into private museums, for the purpose of displaying the extensive family art collections. Two impressive collections in Rome are the Doria Pamphilj, and the Colonna, both housed in the families' exquisite palaces bearing their names.

Another gem, though less known, the Musee Jacquemart-André in Paris is another private collection turned museum, and housed in the owner's original home. Édward André devoted much of his banking fortune to purchasing works of art which he and his wife Néllie Jacquemart exhibited in their Paris palais, completed in 1875. The collection is one the finest private collections of Italian art in France, which the couple amassed through their yearly travels to Italy. The museum opened to the public in 1913 and the collection is displayed just as the owners enjoyed it in their life time.

On this side of the Atlantic there are as many private collections as there are wealthy collectors, most of whom are unknown to the general public, and their collections are still in private hands. However, through the years there have also been a number of collectors who like the Medici, the Jacquemart-André in Paris, or the Doria Pamphilij and Colonna in Italay, their collections are world renowned and open to the public in the original setting where their owners once enjoyed them.

In New York City, the Frick Collection is probably the most well known collection turned private museum in the East Coast of the United States. Millionaire industrialist and great art collector Henry Clay Frick built his Fifth Avenue mansion to house his incomparable collection of Old Masters, nineteenth century paintings, sculpture and decorative arts, and with the specific intention to leave it to the public upon his and his wife's death.

Marion Koogler McNay c.1935

Another significant private collection turned museum and now open to the public is the Huntington, in San Marino, California. Heir to a railroad fortune, Henry E. Huntington started collecting art and rare books late in life, in 1910, when he was already 60 years old. In 1913 he relocated with his second wife, his uncle's widow, to a 500 acre estate in San Marino where the couple built a mansion to house their art and rare book collection. The art collection focuses on 18^th Century English portraits, including Gainsborough's the Blue Boy, and Lawrence's Sarah Barrett Moulton: “Pinkie.” By the time he died in 1927, Huntington had amassed the largest ever assembled English portrait collection by one individual collector, and estimated to have been worth $50 million. As stipulated in his will Huntington's collection opened to the public in 1928.

In Texas, where everything is bigger and grander, there are plenty of collectors such as John and Dominique de Menil in Houston, who collected close to 16,000 pieces of modern art, and Kay Kimbell, successful Fort Worth businessman, who with his wife Velma collected significant works of art seldom seen in private collections. But notwithstanding the merits these collections possess in size and importance, they lack in intimacy and pale in comparison to Jessie Marion Koogler McNay's collection of early modern art at the McNay Museum in San Antonio.  Both, the de Menil and the Kimbell collections, unlike the McNay are housed in structures which were specifically built for the purpose of being a museum, and where the architecture, works of art on their own, is at times competing for attention. On the other hand the McNay, housed in its founder's Spanish colonial revival home, is one of those gems of a museum that does not boast, but quietly feeds the artistic soul of the greater San Antonio Metropolitan area, and imbues its visitors with an intimacy and a sense of personal relationship with each work art. The museum opened its doors to the public, for the first time, in 1954, and has the distinction of being the first museum of “modern” art in Texas.

On February 7, 1883, Jessie Marion Koogler was born in the small farming community of De Graff, Ohio, some 50 miles north of Dayton; Jessie Marion was the only child of Dr. Marion Koogler and his wife Clara Lippincott. But the Kooglers would not be long in De Graff; the following year, in 1884, the family moved to El Dorado, Kansas, where Dr. Koogler had invested in large tracts of grazing land. Call it luck or intuition, it is from these lands that the Koogler fortune derives after extensive oil deposits were discovered on Dr. Koogler's properties.

Poster for the 1913 Armory Exhibit

In 1900, after a rather strict childhood in which she was not permitted to participate in dances or other school functions so common among children and teenagers, Jessie Marion Koogler enrolled at the University of Kansas, in Lawrence—and much against her father's judgement who thought art was an undesirable subject for a proper young lady. Three years later, in 1903, she enrolled at the Art Institute of Chicago, a move that would forever change her life and her views on art. Liberated of what must have felt like a small town yoke, it was in Chicago that Jessie Marion dropped her first name in favor of Marion, the name with which she would be known for the rest of her life, and beyond. In Chicago, Marion's joie de vivre came into being in the company of other young, more liberated people her age with whom she could discuss a variety of subjects, and she met a number of artists who were making a living doing what they loved: art. In Chicago, Marion found a far more sophisticated cultural environment than her small town of El Dorado could have, heretofore, offered her.

Another watershed moment was in 1913. On a trip to New York City Marion attended what has been acknowledged as the first modern art exhibit in the United States, the groundbreaking and influential The New York Armory Show of 1913.¹ It was at this shocking and eye opening art exhibit that Marion experienced in vivo, for the first time, the revolutionary works of the many European and United States artists whose canvases would in the future adorn the walls of her home: Braque, Cezanne, Degas, Gauguin, Henri, Marin, Pendergast, Picasso, Pissarro, Renoir, Sloan, Weber, and Van Gogh.

But one year earlier, in 1912, Marion had joined her parents who by then had coincidentally retired to Marion, Ohio; there, she busied herself teaching art for the public school district, and where she was highly regarded. The Superintendent of schools in Marion wrote in June, 1915, that McNay was,

...one of the best qualified art teachers I have ever known .... She teaches Art in a manner that arouses and develops the child's observation and enlarges his aesthetic nature.²

Women Crossing the Fields, Vincent van Gogh, 1890, Oil on Paper
Bequest of Marion Koogler McNay

It was there, in her new hometown, that Marion met Donald Denton McNay, a manager at the local railway. To the shock of everyone, the couple married on 9 December, 1917, in spite of the bride being ten years older than the groom, who had recently enlisted in the United States Army as a Sergeant. Shortly after the wedding, the couple left en route to Laredo, Texas where the young Sergeant McNay was stationed at Fort McIntosh, and where the couple lived in an adobe cottage. Ordered to Florida in October 1918, the newlyweds stopped in San Antonio, staying at the socially fashionable Menger Hotel. It was here, across the Alamo Mission that the McNays said their last farewells: Sergeant McNay left for Florida where he died shortly thereafter, a victim of the world-wide influenza epidemic of 1918 which killed an estimated 50 million people.³

Marion filled her void with family, friends, and more importantly with art, and four more husbands. Returning to Marion, Ohio, she married local banker Charles Newton Phillips, in 1921, but the marriage broke apart four years later. Back in San Antonio, with her mother, Marion married local legend and renowned ophthalmologist Donald Taylor Atkinson in 1926, and she devoted herself to creating her “masterpiece,” a Spanish colonial revival-style home with the help of prominent architects Atlee B. Ayres in partnership with his son Robert M. Ayres. In the process of building the house (1927-1929), Marion designed and applied many of the elaborate stencils to the coffered ceilings and tiles, as well as assisting with many other decorative elements in the mansion. Her attention to detail is evident everywhere, including the outdoors where McNay planted the 23 acre Sunset Hills site with southwestern botanical specimens, palms, evergreen pines, yuccas, and magueys (agave). While the building process was a personal success, Marion's marriage to Atkinson was not, and this union also ended in divorce after ten years of marriage.⁴

Hay Makers Resting, Camille Pissarro, 1891, Oil on Canvas
Bequest of Marion Koogler McNay

In the late 20s and 30s Marion often traveled to Santa Fe, and to Taos where she studied under Emil Bisttram. In Taos, she bought a painting by Victor Higgins who had been a fellow Chicago Art Institute student, and had also trained in Europe. Higgins was greatly influenced by the southwest style of the Taos artistic community, but he added another dimension to his work: that of modernism which he had seen in Europe and shifted the subject matter of his canvases away from Pueblo inspired settings, to landscapes, still life, and nudes. After 1918, and quite possibly one of the reasons Marion married him in 1937, Higgins shifted his style further into Cubism, Impressionism and Modernism. But the artistic nexus that connected them broke, with the end result that, as with her two previous marriages, Marion and Higgins divorced in 1940.⁵

Delfina Flores, Diego Rivera, 1927, Oil on Canvas
Bequest of Marion Koogler McNay

But Marion may not have been troubled by this last divorce; that same year she married Chicago art dealer Adelbert E. Quest. Marion, who appeared determined to not give up on the institution of marriage, must have realized she was fighting a losing battle: she and Quest divorced after only one year. But married or not, Marion always returned to her first love, Donald McNay, choosing his surname as her own after every divorce until she died.

McNay devoted her time and wealth to the arts, not just in purchasing art, but in supporting the art communities in Taos, Santa Fe, and San Antonio, and other areas lesser known outside of the “art" colonies. In San Antonio, McNay rescued the Art Institute after World War II forced it to close its doors in 1942—collateral damage of the United States entering the war. Arrangements were made to renovate an aviary on her home's grounds to include classrooms, offices, storage rooms, and a library. Under McNay's joint sponsorship with the San Antonio Art league, the school re-opened on October 15, 1943 as the San Antonio Art Institute.⁶

McNay never forgot her love for the Pueblo culture and she collected Pueblo, southwestern and colonial art, and was an active participant in the preservation of the local culture of New Mexico. In 1943 when Congress proposed preliminary studies for the construction of a dam on the Rio Grande, McNay opposed it on the grounds that it would destroy the shrines and culture of several pueblos. With her help and that of other conservationists, the project was defeated.⁷

Girl with Blue Eyes, Amadeo Modigliani, 1918, Oil on Canvas
Bequest of Marion Koogler McNay

In her later years, McNay withdrew from the public eye, spending her time helping with the administration of the San Antonio Art Institute, and planning for the future of her fortune, her works of art, her charities, and most importantly the museum that would bear her and her first husband's name:  The McNay Museum. The end came too soon, in 1950, when McNay succumbed to pneumonia; she was 67 years old.

In 1954, Marion Koogler McNay's Spanish revival-style mansion, on 23 acres of lush landscaping, opened as the first modern art museum in Texas. From the 700 works of art collected by McNay, the collection has grown to over 20,000 pieces, and includes works by Paul Gauguin, Vincent Van Gogh, Edward Hopper, Georgia O'Keeffe, Pablo Picasso, Jackson Pollock, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Alberto Giacometti, and Rodin.

As with most museums, the McNay has overgrown its original building and has been forced to expand, adding gallery space, a library, a new entry hall and gift shop, theater and other necessary rooms. While the placement of some of the additions, like the Stieren Center for Exhibitions, works well with the original structure, in spite of its decidedly modern architecture, the library in particular is at odds with the “home” atmosphere throughout the rest of the museum—jarring the visitor passing from an a small and intimate room in the main house to a modern, sun filled glass enclosure holding the Rodin sculptures, and leading to the Tobin Collection of Theater Arts and library. But this is a minor wrinkle in an otherwise fantastic experience: the ability to get lost in the thought of admiring these magnificent works of art as though one were in one's home, and unconsciously being always appreciative and thankful to the woman who made it all possible, Marion Koogler McNay.

McNay Museum, Stieren Center for Exhibitions

D. A. Pardo-Rangel

Photograph Credit: The McNay

Photograph Credit: Marion Koogler McNay

Photograph Credit:  Armory Exhibit Poster

Photograph Credit: Artwork, the McNay Museum

Photograph Credit: The Stieren Center

The McNay Museum

Texas Highways: An Artful Life

Texas highways: Modern Art and More at the McNay

1  New York Armory Show of 1913

2  The McNay

3  National Archives

4  Texas State Historical Association

5  Victor Higgins

6  San Antonio Art Institute

7  Texas State Historical Association

The Art of the Snake ... Part II

Oceania

Though not as well known, other ancient societies have also paid homage to the humble snake. Estimates date the Australian Aborigine mythology, the Dreamtime, between 50,000 and 65,000 years old. In the Dreamtime, the sacred area where the world was created, and where patterns for living were set down, the Rainbow Serpent is known as Mother of Life, the creator, life giver, the law maker, the protector of the people and the punisher of those who break the laws.

In the Dreamtime, the land was lifeless and flat. When the appropriate time came, the Serpent woke from her sleep and came out of her under ground lair to travel the land. Striking the ground with her head, the Mother of Life created the mountains, and with her body, winding her way across the country side, she created the valleys and river beds; passing through rock she created water holes, and filled them with water. The Serpent brings the rainy season each year, and appears in the sky in the form of the rainbow. With the water she brings, the Rainbow Serpent allows all life to multiply; when tempted by those who break the laws, she brings the floods to punish them. As with all mythology, there are variations of the Dreamtime adapted to reflect conditions, and locality of each Australian tribe of Aborigines.

Aboriginal Snake painting

Storytelling is the way Aborigines pass the Dreamtime from one generation to the next, and sand painting is one of the most artistic forms to express what is known as the Journey, or the subject of their stories. Originally, the paintings were done on the ground, in the desert, as the tribes moved from place to place, using seeds, stones feathers, flowers, and other natural materials to tell the story of the Dreamtime. The paintings were done to the accompaniment of the tribe elders chanting through the process, and passing on their knowledge to the younger members of the tribe, as they described each of the symbols in the paintings.

From the desert floor, the sand paintings acquired a new life as dot paintings on canvas. These dots are created with different size rods which are dipped in paint. The dots and colors are arranged on the canvas in a particular pattern to depict a specific message. These messages, at times relating ceremonial details of a region, are often hidden within the design from the casual viewer, who is not familiar with Aborigine Dreamtime, and its symbols.

Aborigines' lack of written language was compensated with the use of songs and art to pass on their culture to future generaions. Because of the value place on their art, the Aborigine culture is validated and saved from extinction, as it is passed on through the purchase of the dot paintings.

Africa

Mami Wata as a snake charmer

The Mami Wata worship celebrated in Africa and areas of the African Diaspora, with its endless female and male personifications, is associated with water spirits, and more often than not portrayed as a mermaid or as having a female head and torso with the body of a snake, or as a snake charmer. Part cult part religion, Mami Wata is set of diverse beliefs and practices which guide and reflect the ever changing social and religious practices with its mixture of African, Hindu, Muslim and Christian faiths; its personification is not devoted only to a single image, nor is its identity constant: Mami Wata refers to the embodiment of the many water deities, and as with many mythological beings, she embodies complete opposites both good and evil, wealth and poverty, a healer and the source of ailment, a symbol of fidelity as well as lust and promiscuity.

The origins of Mami Wata are lost to history, though in the Dogon creation mythology, the world was created over 4,000 years ago by female and male mermaids called Nommos. The modern Mami Wata is believed to have originated as a “capitalist” deity in the fifteenth century as European commerce, in particular slave trade, brought wealth to various African countries. Mami Wata was thus brought to the Americas where it flourished under different names depending on the local culture.

Mami Wata's association with water is intrinsic to the religion and its worship. Water is the everlasting and ever changing link to the present world, life, death and afterlife; it is the vehicle which carries the soul back home to Africa, and its distant relatives.

Western scholars attribute the name to derive from two African words with origins in ancient Egypt and Ethiopia. Mami derives from “Ma” which means truth or wisdom, and Wata is a corruption of “Uati” which means ocean water. In Mesopotamian mythology and in Babylonian prayers “Mami” is the first great Water Goddess and the creator of human life, and in ancient Egypt, the oldest name for the goddess Isis is Uati.

In art, Mami Wata is portrayed in as many forms as the beliefs which make up the religion allows, and is often dressed in the contemporary attire of the time when the art was created. This contemporary  interpretation of Mami Wata as a Samoan Snake Charmer, c. 1926, is attributed to a German artist by the name of Schlesinger.

Mexico

While few ever think of snake mythology or its worship in the New World, it may come as a surprise to learn that, among the Indigenous Americans, and perhaps more than in any other culture, the snake was most widely worshiped in pre-colonial Mexico, and extending into Central, and South America.

Turquoise mosaic Double Headed Snake, 15th-16th Century CE

The snake held a significant place in the Indigenous Mexican mythology as demonstrated by the many gods whose incarnation was the snake: Xiuhcatl (Fire Serpent), Mixcoatl (Cloud Serpent), Coatlicue (Female of the Serpent Skin) Tlaloc (god of Rain and Fertility), Quetzalcoatl, (feathered serpent) also worshiped by the Mayan and other Mesoamerican cultures (Q'uq'umatz), and many others fill the pantheon of Aztec, Maya, Inca, and other minor tribes' gods. As with other civilizations, the snake, whose cult in Mexico started around 400 B.C.E., was a symbol of rebirth and continuity through its ability to shed its skin and appear to be “reborn,” again. The snake also represented the “bridge” between the underworld, water and sky.

One of the greater gods, Quetzalcoatl, attained its name from two words in Náhuatl, the language of the Aztecs. Quetzal means, aside from the bird whose feathers were symbolically used as decoration, tail feather, and precious; cóatl has the multiple meaning of snake and twin. Combined, the two words became the name of the god, the feathered snake.

This double headed serpent made of wood and covered in turquoise mosaics, oyster and conch shell, and colored resin, was brought back to Europe by Hernán Cortéz, as part of the gifts given to him by Montezuma. Cortéz, according to Aztec mythology, was believed to be the new Quetzalcoatl; instead of saving their culture, as the Aztec believed, Cortéz brought about its end. The back of the snake is hollow and unfinished, though the heads are decorated in front and back. The serpent, 17” x 8” is at the Mexican Gallery, British Museum.

Today, Mexico still honors the snake, giving it prominence in the country's coat of arms and flag since 1821. Legend has it that the god Huitzilopochtli, son of the goddess Coatlicue of the Serpent Skin, told the Aztecs to build the central city of the empire of Tenochtitlan at the location where they saw an eagle, perched on a cactus, with a rattle snake in its claws. When they found the eagle, it was in the middle of the lake Anáhuac. In order to build their city, the Aztecs proceeded to fill the lake by diverting the water, and building reed rafts on which to live and grow food. Today, Lake Anáhuac is Mexico City.

Aboriginal Painting:  Robert Hagan
Mami Wata: Wikipidea
Double Headed Snake: British Museum
Mexico's Coat of Arms:  Newspaper Tree

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