High Noon At The White House

By Suzanne Fields
Washington Times February 3, 2003

Wass ein cowboy. Quel cowboy. Oy vay, a cowboy.

The word "cowboy" is not translatable. It holds its own, no matter the
language. It conjures up the American myth greater than lifesize on the
big screen under a big sky. It's not a myth that easily wraps around a
graduate of Yale with an M.A. in business from Harvard. The foreign
reporters naturally invoke the cowboy myth as the most convenient
handle of derision for George W. Bush. For them, the contemporary
cowboy is the American primitive-unsophisticated, untutored and
unrealistic.

But cowboy conjures up the positive, too. Think Gary Cooper in "High
Noon." Deserted by his friends, he doesn't rush to the showdown, but
accepts the fight thrust upon him. He moves methodically, using his
time
carefully, letting others know he wants their help, but he's willing to
go it alone if he h! as to because it's the right thing to do.

"High Noon" is about courage and cowardice. Most of his friends are
cowards. The sheriff's wife, played by the beautiful Grace Kelly, is a
Quaker and pleads with him to run from the fight. But he knows (and we
know) that what he's doing is for her, too. (Take note, la belle
France.) Eventually, standing strong in confronting the evil she cannot
escape, she uses the gun. She surprises herself. (Take note, la belle
France.)

The cowboy is the American hero because he's a man who acts out of
conviction, bred with a sense of place, loyal to those who put their
trust in him. The cowboy is a mixed breed, as we all are in America, a
blend of the Old World and New, a little (or a lot) of the English, the
Irish, the African, the Spanish, the Mexican, the German, the Italian
or only Great-Great Granny knows, and maybe she wasn't so sure. The
catalogs of movies about cowboys and the Old West ar! e stuffed with
different types. Heroism was confronting evil in the shape of a bad
man. Saddam wears a black hat.

Colin Powell in this scenario is the cowboy's sidekick, unafraid to
tell the boss to be careful but eager to saddle up and ride along to
wherever the trail takes them, even to the United Nations to find the
necessary friends with courage. Cowboy and sidekick must trust each
other, no matter how tough the town, how rough the saloon.

The cowboy myth is the American morality play that best illustrates the
true grit that is the measure of the man. Charles Portis created the
quintessential wizened cowboy, a man as tough as his name. Rooster
Cogburn was a rascal, but a rascal with the fundamental manly qualities
of honesty, decency and personal warmth. His European critics usually
can't help noticing those qualities about George W., even when they try
not to.

Ronald Reagan was a cowboy in European eyes, too. It's! the ruggedness
of
the Americans that intimidates the effete sophisticates of Europe,
invariably leading them to underestimate the instinctive natural
abilities of the American hero. An American diplomat who deals with
Europeans tells the New York Times that the president's rhetoric drives
them crazy in the same way Ronald Reagan's did: "It reminds them of
what they miss about Clinton. All the stereotypes we thought we had
banished for good after Sept. 11 - the cowboy imagery, in particular-
it's all back."

A cowboy shouldn't be confused with a good ol' boy, though they share
certain qualities. Bill Clinton was always eager to show off his
knowledge. The effetes can appreciate that. He didn't intimidate them
with allusions to the mythology of good fighting evil. The effetes
never expected a cowboy to follow Bill Clinton. George W. doesn't walk
their walk or talk their talk. They can't understand a man who's home
on the rang! e and clearing the brush on the ranch. A cowboy is never a
poseur. He calls the shots like he sees them. And sometimes a sheriff
or a marshal can get a little help from his friends. The leaders of
Italy, Britain, Spain, Poland, Hungary, Denmark, Portugal and the Czech
Republic- some of "Old Europe" as well as the new-have joined the posse
as the clock ticks toward high noon.

Ride 'em, cowboy.

Suzanne Fields is a columnist for The Washington Times.