One of my few favorite educators was (still is) a high school U.S. History teacher (later principal) from half-a-century ago at the American School in London (ASL).
Back then, I maligned Dr. William J. Moloney in an underground newspaper that I managed to get printed on the school’s own mimeograph machine.
Bill shrugged it off, more concerned about a fellow student my co-conspirators and I had also maligned (shame on me, I despise bullies) who suffered emotional issues we knew nothing about.
These days, the rebellious get cancelled. Or at a minimum suspended or expelled.
But in the early 1970s, ASL was a party, full of creative energy and spirit. Bill respected that—and gave me a free pass. (When ASL students skipped class, it was not to leave campus but to listen to Crosby, Stills & Nash on a stereo inside the top floor smoking lounge. And some of the teachers were as rebellious as the students. Don Trudell comes to mind. And highly creative. Don Jesse comes to mind.
On the other hand, Bill Moloney was a strict authoritarian (thus establishing a healthy balance), insisting that his history students (me included) memorize the Presidents of the United States in the order they served (I actually did).
(As Bill liked to explain, the brain, like every other muscle in the human body, needs to be exercised.)
Teachers generally had to work hard to capture my attention. (With hindsight, I believe I suffered—no, enjoyed—ADHD.) But Bill’s gripping delivery and command of history was so effortless, it completely riveted my attention.
It was a sad day (for me) when Bill ascended to “Upper School Head” and his students (me included) got transferred to another class (overcrowded), in which I retreated once again to my thoughts and dreams.
Another couple of anecdotes about William Moloney:
As a student I staged school concerts and dances for my own profit. All I needed to do was sign up two teachers to chaperone, hire a band, charge admission and… voila! Rolling in enough dough to pay for my Middle East Airlines flight to Beirut and visit my high school sweetheart.
After several such events, Bill summoned me to his office for a “chat.”
You know, he pointed out, I was utilizing school property and staff to stuff my pockets with cash. I wasn’t in any trouble (not yet anyway), Bill just wanted me to think about it.
Next day I very cheekily left a five-pound note inside an envelope on his desk.
I later discovered Bill donated this cash gift to Yearbook Committee.
The Student Council got wind of my profiteering and requested that I attend their weekly Wednesday afternoon meeting, at which they wanted to appoint me Social Secretary (the first time such a position was not elected) as a means of diverting my profits to school causes. I made my case for taking a cut of the proceeds due to time and effort expended. This raised a ruckus, a nearly unanimous round of bellyaching. They were not compensated for their time (doing token governance), so why should I be allowed payment?
Who solely stood up for me?
Bill Moloney.
So here, 53 years later, I’m at Water Grill two blocks up from my favorite hotel, The Oxford (Denver’s oldest), with Bill, who eventually became Education Commissioner for Colorado.
And nothing has changed.
I’m still learning from The Educator.
And you can too.
Bill writes columns for an array of prominent publications. Just pop “William J. Moloney” into a search engine and commence your own education.
Today’s lesson:
Bill tells me Denver has become the fourth most dangerous city in the United States—and number three in carjackings and auto theft.
First let’s tackle the auto situado: It is not about acquiring a set of wheels; it’s about harvesting the vehicle’s catalytic converter. And no, these thieves don’t want it for their own car to protect against climate change; they want to dissect the rhodium from it. And that is because rhodium is the world’s most expensive metal (today’s rate, twice the price of gold, with a volatile fluctuation that has raised its value to as much as $29,800 an ounce).
Several residents at Bill’s high -rise condo complex in downtown Denver have been mugged. Recently, an elderly woman went out to walk the dog. “A mugger took her purse,” says Moloney. “And her dog.”
No one goes out after dark anymore. Bill does his socializing at lunch.
Why Denver and why now?
“American cities, generally, are run recklessly and corruptly,” explains Moloney.
And Denver, specifically?
“There are more illegal aliens per capita in Denver than in any other U.S. city.”
Why is that?
Because after illegally crossing the border, many make a beeline for Denver, whose local government is more receptive to them than, say, Houston or Dallas.
(That explains Amarillo as a cartel crossroads, from an earlier post.)
“Cities are in a death spiral,” says Moloney, “and government is in denial. They try to disguise the problem by creating facades, shifting tent encampments from one place to another, like they did recently in San Francisco when that city was paid a visit by Secretary-General Xi from China.”
Homelessness and crime are a natural consequence of an alien invasion.
So why has the Biden Administration illegally flown thousands of illegal immigrants into American cities?
Moloney points out that these were not immigrants who had already crossed illegally into the USA—they were flown from their own countries!
The only underlying objective for executing such a program, Moloney speculates, is population replacement. “The federal government has become invasion enablers,” he says. “There is no one controlling such a policy,” which remains unstated, “but they are enabling it.”
Our discussion shifts into Putin’s war in Ukraine and what Moloney calls “The fraudulence of US policy.” (Read more about this by searching for his columns.)
As for the upcoming presidential election: “You can steal a close election but you can’t steal a landslide.”
At age of 83, Moloney has hurdled several serious health challenges, and his lesson on this is succinct: “Always seek out the very best doctors and always get a second diagnosis. The two worst words in the English language are too late.”
But Bill doesn't allow lingering health issues to impact much on what he calls “the act of drinking,” which he balances with an ironclad rule of walking two miles every day, rain or shine, wherever he may be (shifting seasonally through a handful of prime places).
It was, of course, Bill Moloney who educated me on the exquisiteness of the Bourbon Manhattan—a staple in my own ritualistic cocktail quaffing.