‘Gone With the Wind’ and ‘Little Black Sambo’ offer lessons for today’s America. 

Our country’s preoccupation with social over-sensitivity and political correctness has wiped out some of our best traditions. No longer living in an age of naive bliss, Americans—and a Western world that largely follows America’s lead—must condemn the many classics of literature and entertainment that have been deemed so insensitive to others.

What that means is that we must erase from our memories the so-called “grave” errors of our parents and forefathers, and much of what were then considered the norms of our world.

That means no more reruns of the 85-year-old classic, “Gone with the Wind,” and Rhett Butler’s dramatic final words, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn!”

That epic movie fell from a pedestal of grace into a forced obscurity, all because it depicted the sad realities of slavery without even a hint of shame, characterizing Prissy, daughter of the family’s favorite house slaves, as a nervous ninny who falls apart when her mistress goes into labor. (“But Miss Scarlet, Miss Scarlet, I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout birthin’ no babies.”)

Similarly, “Song of the South,” the widely acclaimed and dearly loved Disney first—which combined live actors with animated characters—fell into its own permanent limbo. We could continue to sing its Academy Award-winning song “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah,” but the greatness of Uncle Remus—an aging Black storyteller whose darling tales invariably taught a moral lesson—had to be discarded because they were no longer seen as “politically correct.”

Though “Song of the South” had been a staple classic for much of the world, Disney itself “blacklisted” it, understanding that it could no longer be aired on America’s screens. Not so unlike the people who created them, movies could have their own “fatal flaws” and anything that depicted the plantation life of slaves as acceptable, or even happy, could no longer be tolerated.

The racial depictions of the antebellum era were certainly a stark reminder of society’s insensitivity to the plight of a people—kidnapped from their homelands and sold into the horror of the highly “Christian” slaveholders of the South.

It is sad that being more aware of inequity and injustice has wiped out some of our greatest art—the books, movies, plays, musicals and sitcoms that reflected the unfortunate mindsets of misogyny, racism and homophobia.

The raw irreverence of Archie Bunker can no longer be loved by the millions of Americans who lived for the next episode. It was an accurate depiction of America’s social attitudes at a time when “woke” referred only to the morning alarm clock. The redneck attitudes of the past have been rapidly crumbling, although even now, there is still plenty of insensitivity to our domestic social problems.

Back in the early 50s, my mother read me the classics of the period. My all-time favorite was “Little Black Sambo,” the 1899 classic by Helen Bannerman that had captured the hearts of children for half a century. Despite its popularity, it was destined for extinction, all because its star character was a Black little boy.

Actually, it wasn’t even about an African American. Its hero was a South India (Tamil) boy who goes for a walk through the jungle. Accosted by four hungry tigers, he is forced to give up his beautiful new clothes, shoes and umbrella—one piece at a time—in order to save himself from becoming their dinner.

With their new attire, the Tigers parade around, each of them believing that he is the best dressed. Well, “pride becometh the fall,” and the angry tigers argue over whom is the most dandy, finally chasing each other around a tree in heated competition.

The conflict is fortuitous for Little Black Sambo. The tigers run so fast around that tree, that they are reduced to a puddle of “ghee” (clarified butter). Sambo is able to retrieve his precious clothes and returns to the family home. His proud parents go to the scene of the tigers’ last stand, scoop up the butter, and use it for a yummy breakfast of pancakes.

So loved by the children of the world, it was decided that the book made fun of people with black skins. It disappeared overnight from its exalted status in children’s literature. I have missed my mother’s voice and the story that became my childhood favorite.

We must remember that, though “woke” is a real value in the development of modern humanity, it is also important to not, as they say, “throw out the baby with the bath water.” And like the “passion play-type” of moral lessons in the Uncle Remus, “Song of the South” classic, the wisdom of the Little Black Sambo story can be a reminder to us, even today.

I have remained impressed by its message—how conflict, pride and in-fighting can change the fortune of little boys, families, countries and our world.

With the unqualified early appointments of the coming Trump administration, I think the writing is on the wall. The huge egos of its appointees are bound to clash with the boss, and that means we’re going to have the same kind of instability we saw in the first Trump presidency.

My guess is that we’ll be eating our pancakes with whatever remains.

The author is a retired businessman, novelist, columnist and former Vietnam-era Army assistant public information officer. He resides in Riverton with his wife, Carol, and their adorable and ferocious dog “Poppy.”