Joseph N. Bell -- THE BELL CURVE

Three dozen or so male wimps spent a Saturday afternoon of luminous and

sparkling sunshine last week sitting in the Newport Public Library,

listening to a young recycled feminist named Susan Faludi explain to us

why we were wimps.

There were some exculpatory circumstances for our presence. There was no

football on TV, rain had been predicted and there were free cookies and

coffee afterward.

Although I listened very carefully to Faludi, I was unable to determine

after she had finished whether by being there on such a splendid Saturday

afternoon the men in her audience supported her thesis of wimphood or

offered a glimmer of hope that we were adjusting -- as she strongly

recommended -- to the social changes taking place in our society.

Faludi is the first speaker in the new season of the Newport Library’s

Distinguished Speakers Lecture Series. Although she is less than two

decades out of Harvard University, Faludi came to us with a working

pedigree -- including a Pulitzer for a Wall Street Journal story and a

National Book Critics Circle Award for her book “Backlash: The Undeclared

War Against American Women” -- that would put most octogenarians to

shame.

More recently, she has turned her hand to the plight of men with a new

book called “Stiffed: The Betrayal of the American Man.” Now, I must

admit up front that I haven’t read it. I have read long reviews of it in

several literary publications, which I have then discussed with other men

who also haven’t read the book.

So I can’t measure what she said against what she wrote. I can only

assume it follows the same thesis, which, as I understand it, is that men

are driven by a need to dominate that requires us to ignore societal

changes. As a result, American men are dealing badly with layers of

betrayal implicit in a rapidly changing world.

Faludi pointed out five major pressures on men today: living up to the

media picture of manliness; economic trauma that involves the emotional

stress of no longer being the sole family breadwinner; the negation and

disappearance of deep loyalties; the collapse of a father relationship

that should have helped build a bridge to manhood; and, finally, a

profound change from a utilitarian society where a man was badly needed

to a culture in which what he does takes a back seat to how many people

are watching him do it.

Most of these things have sociological validity, but the only one that

really resonates with me is the loyalty issue. It’s quite true that men

of my generation who survived the Great Depression and a world war put

great faith in human loyalty. We accepted and offered help routinely and

without any quid pro quo during the Depression. And we learned to trust

implicitly the guy sharing a foxhole or flying wing on us during the war.

This carried over to the workplace after the war, when we gave and

expected loyalty from the people who employed us.

That’s all changed now. We have employers downsizing and reneging on

retirement plans critical to people who have given them years of service.

Contracts are routinely being violated. High-profile confidence men

manipulate the market with no concern about the social implications. A

handshake agreement, once regarded as sacrosanct, is now an amusing and

foolish artifact in a litigious society.

As a result, many of our young people feel no sense of loyalty to

anything or anyone but themselves.

Many years ago, when I made a mistake on my registration papers as a

freshman at the University of Missouri, I was hit with an out-of-state

fee I couldn’t pay. My uncle in Jefferson City, Mo. got then Sen. Harry

Truman to write a letter to university officials on my behalf.

My uncle and Truman were violent political adversaries, but they had

fought together in World War I, and that bond was permanent and

transcended any other differences.

I have similar bonds with a great many men from my early life, men I

would trust implicitly, as I’m sure they would me. I don’t see a lot of

that around any more.

But I’m not at all sure the men I know aren’t coping reasonably well with

all these changes.

Faludi’s sociology finally trips over her journalism. She bases most of

her conclusions on a series of interviews using a methodology that eludes

me but seems to draw heavily from the rednecks who sit in a group called

the “dawg pound” at Cleveland Browns football games. Generalizing from

this -- and similar dubious specifics -- didn’t work very well for me.

A man sitting behind me and projecting curiosity rather than malice asked

Faludi rather plaintively, “Did you talk to any regular guys?”

I knew exactly what he meant and so, I suspect, did the rest of the men

in her audience. But I don’t think from her offhand response that Faludi

knew, and therein lies the problem of a sociological approach to what is

essentially a highly individual predicament.

I plan to bring all this up the next time I have my regular lunch with

three guys I flew with in World War II and now live nearby. After, of

course, we dispose of politics, arthritis and the failure of the Anaheim

Angels to make an off-season deal.

* JOSEPH N. BELL is a resident of Santa Ana Heights. His column appears

Thursdays.