The Virginia Way [antikvár]

A state of blissYou have heard, if you have been in the Commonwealth as much as a day, persons say, with a smile, a sigh, or a glint of pride in the eye, "Well, that is the Virginia way of doing things!"Is there truly a Virginia way?Numerous observers testify to it, including so perceptive a one as T. S. Eliot.To cross to Virginia, the poet said, was "almost as definite as to cross the English Channel."Of course, the Virginia way varies from generation to generation, even hour to hour; but certain constants persist, though at times one tradition may contest and supersede another.To begin, then, consider a story told around the Capitol about Governor Fitzhugh Lee, Robert E. Lee's nephew, who won the Governorship in 1885.The first elevator, pulled by ropes, was installed in the State House during Governor Lee's administration. When the contraption was reported ready for use, the Governor, a man of great girth and good humor, sent word to the local Commonwealth's Attorney to hurry over, he had a question on a weighty matter.The Commonwealth's Attorney, who weighed 350 pounds, came pantinginto the Chief Executive's office and asked what was the question."Did you have any trouble on that elevator?" inquired the Governor.Virginians, then, ordinarily are not averse to someone else trying a thing first.But on occasions, and great ones, they have so acted that the Nation relied on them.In 1776 when the struggle for independence was beginning, John Adams wrote Patrick Henry: "We all look up to Virginia for examples."And at times, of course, even when many Virginians are inclined to do nothing about a matter, a few restless souls among them are harassing the lethargic majority.Such an agitator was Captain John Smith trying to keep the Virginia experiment going.Writing to England for reenforcements, Captain Smith begged: "When you send againe I entreat you rather send but thirty carpenters, husbandmen, Gardiners, fishermen, blacksmiths . than a thousand such as we have."Evidence of Virginians' progressive instinct has surfaced in times more recent than the Revolution. In 1970 they approved a thoroughly revised State Constitution when voters elsewhere in the Nation were rejecting reforms. The new charter provided, among other advances, a mandate for schooling of high quality for every Virginia child.Among those engaging in the autumn campaign for the revisions was Lieutenant Governor J. Sargeant Reynolds, who had been stricken in August with a brain tumor. During the few months remaining in his life he compiled a legacy of courage. In his initial statement from the hospital, he expressed more concern for Virginia's fate than his own: "May we settle our petty differences of color and background and go on with the challenge of achieving the highest form of human dignity for people everywhere."Appearing at a noon-time rally in Capitol Square on October 22, seven weeks after his first hospital stay, Reynolds reminded the throng around the Bell Tower that "in the past the people of Virginia have acted boldly when the time has come to act boldly."The young Lieutenant Governor was correct. But Virginians are adept as well at doing a thing so that the effect will not be appreciably greater than had they done nothing at all.Consider how deftly the General Assembly handled the controversial issue of the sale of liquor.When prohibition was repealed across the Nation in 1933, Virginians, wary of possibilities of corruption, approved the sale of liquor by the