Action
heroes we need; villains, less so
By Logan
Jenkins
September
8, 2005
We're
in the hero business.
And
the villain business.
Without
selfless paragons Ð and their opposites, filthy scoundrels Ð the human drama
would be a lifeless affair to witness, let alone chronicle.
The
Gulf Coast blitzkrieg and the dank remains of the inferno illustrate this
inherent need to honor heroic action as well as finger those responsible for
abuses against humanity.
Life,
it often seems, is stranger than fiction, but both are plotted the same way.
Good
struggles against evil. Illusion and reality blur. Heroes and villains emerge.
Hard-won morals are drawn.
Think
of Sept. 11. The traumatized nation drew strength from newfound heroes Ð New
York firefighters, Mayor Rudy Giuliani, many others. After a slow start,
President George W. Bush rose to the occasion by declaring war against Islamic
terrorism through a bullhorn.
Four
years later, it's no good to bomb Katrina and her kin. But in the hurricane's
aftermath, the criticism of botched relief efforts has turned toxic. In many
minds, the villain of this piece is the government itself.
The
time couldn't have been riper for a take-charge CEO who, disgusted with the
official dithering, flies over the swamp of red tape and rescues 82 survivors,
shepherding them to San Diego where they're now soaking in the healing sun.
I
probably know as much, or as little, about David Perez as you do. He's a North
County guy Ð Carmel Valley. He's the CEO of an international energy company.
He's relatively young Ð 42 Ð and appears to have kept a low profile.
Now
if Steve Francis, a neighboring CEO who dropped about $2 million in an
unsuccessful bid to be San Diego's mayor, had done what Perez did, chances are
the crusade would have been seen as political, an opening gambit for a
congressional run.
But
coming out of nowhere Ð and with no apparent agenda Ð Perez's initiative hits
you the right way. A human response to a horrific event, not personal ambition,
appears to have fueled the humane crusade.
"I
could act quicker than FEMA," Perez told a reporter, referring to the
Federal Emergency Management Agency.
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Oh, the
irony Ð and the accuracy Ð of that remark.
In the
end, Perez shamed relief organizations into doing their jobs better. And he
didn't do it from behind a desk. He blew off a late-summer family vacation and
went to the Gulf Coast in jeans and flip-flops.
There's
a rich tradition of those with means using their wealth to achieve noble ends.
As you'll
remember from Luke, the good Samaritan reached across an ethnic divide to
clean, clothe and shelter a robbed traveler. The Samaritan promised to cover
any expenses at the inn where the Jewish victim recovered.
Oskar
Schindler, a gentile factory owner, put himself on the line to save 1,300 Jews
from concentration camps during World War II.
In
1978, Ross Perot cut to the chase and sent a plane to Iran to free his captive
employees. He worked out a deal while the Carter administration self-destructed
in its attempt to bring hostages home.
Money.
It has its advantages.
In
times like these, many are heroes at heart, if not in fact.
Tuesday,
my wife spent all morning filling the station wagon with bedding, towels and
anything else she could think of that hurricane survivors might need.
She
drove to Kearny High School, where she thought the 82 refugees were. She wanted
to touch them in some small way. Instead, she found a student who told her the
evacuees had all left for the Manchester Grand Hyatt. Oh, well.
Yesterday,
she concluded that the Salvation Army is the best place to drop off the stuff.
Over the phone, the Red Cross told her she'd best write a check Ð a gesture I
endorse Ð but she's leery of underwriting an executive's leather chair.
(Memories are long of past sins on the part of charities.)
Those
who donate or volunteer deserve to be honored as heroes. It's awfully good
work.
But
there's a special place in the pantheon for those action heroes like Perez who
carry their loaded wallets into the breach.