Magazine September 9, 2019, Issue

Washington, D.C.: My Boyhood Olympus

The Capitol building in Washington, D.C. (Kevin Lamarque/Reuters)
In the hurly-burly of politics, we usually don’t stop to note our simple, unadorned love of the things that make this country so marvelous. That’s what we’ve asked our contributors to our latest special issue, "What We Love about America," to do.

Frank Capra’s movie Mr. Smith Goes to Washington came out in 1939. I, too, arrived in 1939, a couple of weeks after Hitler went into Poland. I was born in Philadelphia, where my father was a reporter for the Inquirer, but we moved to Washington after Pearl Harbor, when I was three, so that my father could cover the White House and Congress for the paper. We lived in a tiny attached house far across the Anacostia River, on Benning Road SE, hard by the Maryland line.

Sometimes on Saturdays my father took me and my brother Hughie down to the Capitol, where

This article appears as “My Boyhood Olympus” in the September 9, 2019, print edition of National Review.

Lance MorrowMr. Morrow, an essayist, is the Henry Grunwald Senior Fellow at the Ethics and Public Policy Center.

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American men — with few exceptions — treat you like a human being, in a free, natural way, because they’ve done it from the nation’s youth.

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