By Patrick F. Cannon

I may have mentioned one or more of my books in this space from time to time, but I thought I would indulge in a little shameless self-promotion today. I’ve listed just my most recent ones, which are all about Chicago architecture or architects. None of them would have been possible without the photographs of my partner James Caulfield, one of America’s greatest architectural photographers.

            Because he spent the first 20 years of his career in the Chicago area, Frank Lloyd Wright is a persistent presence in our books. Our most recent is Robie House: A Frank Lloyd Wright Masterpiece. It was published by the Frank Lloyd Wright Trust and is being distributed by the University of Minnesota Press. ($34.95, 130 pages) Located in Chicago’s Hyde Park neighborhood, Robie is one of the eight Wright buildings named World Heritage Sites by UNESCO. It is open for tours (www.flwright.org). Here are four more of our books:

            Louis Sullivan: An American Architect. Published by the Glessner House Museum; distributed by the University of Minnesota Press. ($49.95, 288 pages). Sullivan was one of the greatest of all American architects, and it can fairly be said that Frank Lloyd Wright, his employee from 1888-1893, learned to be an architect while working with Adler & Sullivan. Sullivan is widely regarded as the father of the American skyscraper.  

Frank Lloys Wright’s Unity Temple: A Good Time Place Reborn. Published by the Unity Temple Restoration Foundation; distributed by the University of Wisconsin Press. ($34.95, 120 pages). This is the other Wright World Heritage Site in the Chcaago area. Dedicated in 1908, it was the first modernist religious building in the world. It is also open for tours (www.flwright.org).

            At Home in Chicago: A History of Domestic Architecture. Published by City Files Press, Chicago. ($65.00, 364 pages). From the oldest surviving houses to some of the very newest, this is a visual survey of how people have housed themselves in Chicagoland.

            The Space Within: Inside Great Chicago Buildings. Published by Pomegranate Communications. ($65.00, 320 pages). For the first time in many cases, this book takes you inside many of the Chicago area’s landmark buildings.

            Except for the Robie book, which received a Bronze Medal, all were Gold Medal Winners at the Independent Publisher Book Awards. They also have in common that they were funded by the Richard H. Driehaus Foundation, which does so much to support the arts in the Chicago area. You may be familiar with the Driehaus Museum in Chicago, which contains a rich collection of furniture and decorative arts.

            Jim Caulfield and I have now started work on a new book, Chicago by Wright, which will document all the existing Frank Lloyd Wright-designed buildings in the Chicago area. There are nearly 100, making it the largest concentration of the architect’s buildings in the world. It  is being published by the Frank Lloyd Wright Conservancy and, once again, is made possible by a grant from the Richard H. Driehaus Foundation. It should be out in the spring of 2028.

            All our books are available from the usual online booksellers. But even if they don’t  stock them, your favorite local bricks and mortar bookstore should be able to get copies to you in a few days. If you have one, I urge you to support it. But of course, you can probably get a copy of  one or more of them from your local library. If they don’t have a copy, hey can usually get one through their local interlibrary loan system. If it’s listed in their catalog, they can get it for you.

Copyright 2026, Patrick F. Cannon

By Patrick F. Cannon

When I wrote about shoes last week, I left a gap for the two years, from 1961 to  1963, when I served in the U.S. Army. Although I have mixed feelings about my service, I can tell you that I didn’t have to worry about which shoes to wear. If you were wearing duty fatigues, it was boots; if a Class A uniform or summer khakis, it was low-top dress shoes. And no problem about color – both were black.

            You wore a tie only with the “Army green” Class A unform. It had replaced the (I guess) Army brown jacket and pinkish trousers worn into the late 1950s. The boots and shoes were then brown, and I can recall old sergeants – many who had served in World War II or Korea – pining for the old “brown shoe” Army. I see the modern “warrior” Army is changing back to brown, hoping the change will bring back those happy days when there was plenty of testosterone to go around, no women served in combat roles, and no women or blacks had stars on their shoulders or sleeves.

            Back to the footwear. You were issued a pair of  high-top combat boots and plain-toed dress shoes. An old soldier told us it would be wise to buy a second pair of boots to be worn or displayed only during inspections. That pair would always be highly polished, or “spit shined” as the custom demanded. For those of you new to the term, you applied polish to the boot, then spit on it and buffed away to make a mirror-like shine. Whether or not it had any effect on the enemy has not to my knowledge been studied.

            Speaking of shine, you were also issued a web belt with a brass buckle. The brass was covered with a lacquer coating. A damp cloth was all it took to keep it shiny. Such ease of maintenance was anathema to the Army. You were directed to remove the lacquer coating, so that a proper shine could only be achieved with a can of Brasso. In those days, it came in a metal can and stood next to your Kiwi shoe polish in your wall locker. It’s still widely used as a metal polish.

            You never ever wore your Army dress shoes with your civvies (as civilian duds were called). They were a dead giveaway to the local girls that you were not only a soldier from somewhere else, but a dork into the bargain. So, you soon learned to buy a pair of casual shoes to pair with your non-military outfits. Here’s an interesting story that proves the point.

            The post were I was stationed in the ancient French port city of La Rochelle included a small detachment of the Army’s Counter Intelligence Corps. At that time, France was in a more than normal period of upheaval. De Gaulle has returned to power, and France had a strong Communist Party, which largely danced to Russia’s tune. In my job, I handled a good deal of classified material, as did my two best buddies, Teddy, and Terry (I kid you not).

            We spent as much time as we could at the local cafes and restaurants, hoping to charm the local girls with our minimal French. One evening, we were drinking some beer at an outdoor café on the waterfront. At a nearby table sat a fellow with a jaunty beret on his head, and a dashing scarf around his neck. A Frenchman? Could have been, except for the spit-shined Army dress shoes. Was he keeping an eye on us to make sure we weren’t selling secrets to the Commies? Highly likely. But he should have been transferred to the “Unintelligence” corps for wearing those dead giveaway shoes!     

Copyright 2026, Patrick F. Cannon

By Patrick F. Cannon

Last week I wrote about the demise of the fedora. Of course, they’re not the only victim of a more modern and casual approach to men’s fashion. I remember being appalled when I first saw what looked like white tennis shoes on the feet of a man wearing a suit a tie. Now, of course, one is used to seeing all sorts of shoes paired with even formal dress.

            Looking back, I don’t have a clear memory of the kind of shoes  I wore until I started going to school. Sometime before classes started, you were taken to  the local shoe store to get “school” shoes. These would be made of sturdy leather, usually a size too large to allow for the inevitable growth during the year. By the time school was out, they were fit only for the garbage. I should mention that the trip to the shoe store had an added appeal. You put your feet in a kind of X-ray machine. You could see the bones in your feet! They eventually decided bombarding feet with deadly rays wasn’t a great idea.

            Summer vacation meant “tennies.” They weren’t like a classic tennis shoe, but more like today’s “high top” basketball shoes. Ours were usually black. I’m not sure, but I think Converse and Keds were the usual brands. By the  end of the summer, they were both worn out and had developed that classic never-to-be forgotten wet tennis shoe odor.

            It’s only when you reach high school age that you begin to care about shoe fashion. During my four years, I can recall owning a pair of blue suede shoes but later I decided that white buck and saddle shoes were more my style!  The “Ivy League” look had come in, even in the grimy Pittsburgh area (McKeesport in my case). I checked, and you can still buy all the above. I should warn you, however, that you must apply an occasional coat of shoe whitener when the white gets scuffed or grimy. Good old Kiwi of shoe polish fame still makes the stuff.

            Speaking of Kiwi, there’s many a man today who’s never used shoe polish. Nor availed himself of a professional shoe shine. Back when I worked in Chicago’s Loop, most barber shops had a shoeshine stand. When I was young, I worked for the New York Central Railroad at La Salle Street Station. Many men would get off a train and stop for a shine. Even though I was making little money then, I often had a shine. As I recall, it cost 25 cents (you tipped another 25).

            For most of my working life I wore what are now called “dress” shoes. They were either black or various shades of brown. While there were and are variations, the toes were either plain, capped, or wing tipped. Although some socks had subtle patterns, most were black, dark blue or deep brown. They were calf length, so that no skin would show when you crossed your legs. Now, to my horror (or maybe just bemusement) men have taken to wearing bright colored socks, or no socks at all!, with dress shoes.  

            When I retired 25 years ago, I owned four pairs of dress shoes – black cap toe; ox blood wing tips; brown slip in tassel wing tips; and standard loafers. All except the last were made by Allen Edmunds, a premium brand made in Wisconsin. Even in those long-ago days, most Allen Edmund shoes cost at least $300 a pair. The best dress shoes I ever owned were a pair of shell cordovan plain toe brogues. This leather comes from a small area of a horse’s rump and takes a shine like no other leather. Allen Edmunds offers a pair at $850, but you can pay much more.

            (By the way, if your Allen Edmunds shoes get tired, you can send them to the factory and for $150 they’ll replace heels, soles, etc., and send them back looking like new.)

            Anyway, I eventually had to give all those shoes away. Strangely enough, I outgrew them.  As you age, you shrink in height – I went from 6’2” to 6’1’ – but that inch is added to your feet, so I now wear a size 13 instead of size 12. If I keep shrinking, I may yet need clown shoes.

Copyright 2026, Patrick F. Cannon

By Patrick F. Cannon

Over the winter, I happened to be in Chicago’s Loop, and found myself walking past the Federal center, which includes an office building, the courthouse, and a post office, all designed by the famous German-born architect, Mies van der Rohe. The complex includes a plaza, notable for a striking red stabile by artist Alexander Calder. But it was something else that caught my eye.

            Two older men were walking across the plaza, clearly headed for the courthouse. Both were wearing dark blue full-length overcoats, with ties clearly visible. On their heads? Felt fedoras. When I first started working at a real corporate job in 1963, almost every man working downtown was dressed similarly. Now, they’re in the minority. I assumed these distinguished gentlemen were either Federal judges or lawyers practicing before them. The courts, it seems, are one of the last bastions of proper dress (although “proper” may now be considered an elitist word).

            When I got that first corporate job, I was fresh out of the Army. I owned one suit, which clearly would need a friend or two. For some years, I bought my suits either at Baskins (owned by Hart, Shaffner & Marx) or Marshall Field’s. When I retired in 2001, I owned eight suits and two sports coats. Now, I have one blue-made-to-measure suit, suitable for weddings and funerals; and two sports coats, a navy-blue blazer, which I occasionally wear and a patterned one which I wish I hadn’t bought.

            I lived for many years in Oak Park. When I moved back in 1974, there were at least five men’s stores – Baskins, Lytton’s, Marshall Fields, Bogarts, and Spaulding’s. Now? None. You must go across the street to River Forest, which has a Men’s Warehouse. The fashion in hats comes and goes, but you’re more likely to see baseball-like caps on men’s heads than fedoras, including the bright red version worn by the leader of the free world.   

            In addition to buying those suits in 1963, I thought I’d better get a hat too. Baskins had a hat section on the first floor of its downtown store, so I bravely ventured in. I didn’t see myself in the typical grey or brown fedora, so I chose something a bit younger and sportier (I thought). I remember it had a bright red band  and a jaunty feather. I wore it a few times, but every time I looked in the mirror it looked goofier, so I stopped wearing it.

As it happened, John F. Kennedy was president then and was often seen sans hat, which caused consternation in the hat industry. Concerned that he might lose the hat vote, he was thereafter occasionally seen sporting a fedora. But it was too late. You would be hard pressed to remember seeing subsequent presidents – even stodgy Richard Nixon – wearing anything but a golf hat.

There was a hat protocol. Gentlemen took their hats off in elevators and never wore them in a restaurant or other public place. Older churches still have hat clips in pews so they could be safely stored. On the other hand, Roman Catholic and other denominations required women to have a head covering. No longer. I suspect that’s one of the reasons the folks who belong to the breakaway Society of St. Pius X broke away from the  Roman church after Vatican II.

Fedoras make a comeback from time to time. Do hipsters still wear those tiny versions as they haunt the streets of hippier neighborhood like Chicago’s Wicker Park (or have they been gentrified out?)? And we can always count on black men and women to rise to the occasion, particularly on Sundays. The rest of us will just have to get used to seeing both men and women wearing baseball caps even in the finest restaurants. The ongoing vulgarization of American taste demands it.

Copyright 2026, Patrick F. Cannon  

(This piece was first published 10 years ago. In a year when the Vulgarian in Chief turned the White House lawn unto his version of the Roman Coliseum, complete with bloody gladiators, we need to search for relief wherever we can.)

By Patrick F. Cannon

My contention that Fred Astaire was one of greatest singers of popular song of his era – hell, of any era – is often met with incomprehension or bemusement. Surely, people think, you mean one of the great dancers? That’s, of course, if they have any real idea of who he was in the first place. Like so many artists of even the day before yesterday, he has faded into the mists of entertainment history.

            A case in point: I give tours at Frank Lloyd Wright’s Home & Studio in Oak Park, and mention that the actress Anne Baxter was Wright’s granddaughter. Most of the 15 or so people on the tour don’t have a clue who she was, since her heyday was in the 40s, 50s and 60s. The exceptions would be people older than 70 and cinema nuts. While Fred Astaire had a much higher status and fame than her, he is just as dead for most young people.

            Yet, he deserves their attention. In an age of increasing and unceasing vulgarity, he might offer an oasis of grace and elegance. Even his walk was worth watching. In one of his best musicals – and one of the best of all movie musicals – The Band Wagon, he has arrived in New York on the 20^th Century Limited. He is a Hollywood star whose career is in decline, and he has taken a role in a new Broadway musical. On the train, he meets Ava Gardener, playing herself. They chat a bit, but when they get off the train at Grand Central Station, reporters and photographers mob her, while poor Fred is ignored.

            Alone, he begins walking to the terminal, while singing “I’ll go my way, by myself…”  I urge you to go Google these opening lyrics, which should lead you to an outtake from the movie. Notice how Fred’s walk is gracefully attuned to the music, how this simple act becomes imbued with meaning and emotion. Notice also how beautifully the song is sung, how each word is presented clearly for your consideration.

                Two of the greatest composers of American song of the 20^th Century – really of all time – Irving Berlin and George Gershwin both were quoted as saying that they preferred Fred above all others to sing their songs. Why? Because they could count on him to sing the song as written, to annunciate the words clearly, and to be in tune and on pitch. I should also mention that the late great Tony Bennett many years ago mentioned Fred as one of his inspirations.

            I have a CD of some of his greatest songs. I keep it in my car and play it often. Like Bach’s Goldberg Variations, I never tire of listening to it. If you don’t know Fred as a great singer, I’m sure you would be able to find albums on Amazon or any of a number of music sites that would convince you. While we all should keep up with contemporary music (selectively!), we should also find time to honor the great art of the past.

             Finally, if you get a chance to watch any of his movies, you’ll discover that he could dance a little, too.

Copyright 2016, 2026, Patrick F. Cannon

By Patrick F. Cannon

When I was a mere lad of four or five, my dear sister Kathleen often took my brother and me  to the movies. At that time, Braddock, PA – where I  was born – had three theatres. As I recall, the Capital got the big features after their downtown Pittsburgh run. We typically went to the Paramount, which showed mostly westerns, serials (which we called “chapters”), and occasionally a horror film or two. One day, the bill featured The Mummy and The Wolf Man.

            Boris Karloff, that versatile British actor who also starred as Frankenstein, was the Mummy and Lon Cheney Jr was the poor soul who morphed into a hairy creature every time there was full moon. I remember vividly, after more than 80 years mind you, being unable to sleep that night, thinking every sound  was either the mummy or Dracula (or both) creeping up on me. Thanks, Sis!

            When I was ten, I saw the best of all the horror movies, Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein. During this classic film, the boys run into not only Frankenstein, but our old pals ‘Dracula, of course played by Bela Lugosi; and the Wolf Man, still the hairy-faced Lon Cheney, Jr. Funny stuff, as I recall.

            The horror movie has never gone out of fashion, and often with the same suspects. Director Guillermo del Toro just last year released his own take on Frankenstein, based as all are the others on Mary Shelley’s 1818 novel. My favorite is Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein, starring Gene Wilder as Doc Frankenstein (pronounced Frank En Steen!), and Peter Boyle as a song and dance monster.

            Interest in creatures like these comes in waves. The novelist Anne Rice put vampires front and center in 1976 with the publication of Interview With a Vampire, which featured the blood sucking escapades of a French noble named Lestat de Lioncourt. In case you aren’t up on these things, vampires are creatures who never die, so long as they get a regular fill up of human blood, which they usually get from a comely blonde, who  then becomes a new vampire. And so on. The moral? Beware of people with longer than normal canine teeth. Proving his versatility, Lescat was played by Tom Cruise in the movie version.

            Mummies are a sub species of the walking dead. The idea here is that they rise from the dead to  wreak vengeance on the raiders who have desecrated and robbed their tombs. Brendan Fraser appeared in a series of movies based on the idea; and our stalwart actor Tom Cruise showed up in 2107 in a  remake of 1932s The Mummy. Not sure whether he played the mummy or his intended victim (or maybe both?)

            A Zombie is a reanimated corpse from the Voodoo tradition of Haiti (I think). But it is the “walking dead” of the good old USA that should cause the most concern. I’ve lost count of the number of movies and TV series that have set thousands of the gaunt and pasty risen dead loose on communities throughout the country. They are of particular concern to me as I live in the Village of Forest Park, which because of the number of cemeteries within its borders, is said to have far more dead than living residents. If some day they all rise from their graves, we’re in big trouble, particularly if their leaders look like Tom Cruise.

Copyright 2026, Patrick F. Cannon   

By Patrick F. Cannon

As I write this, President Trump has announced a cease fire in our war with Iran. Whether it finally leads to a lasting settlement is unclear, but it made me think about how many wars or military “actions” our country  has been involved in just in my lifetime.

            Born in 1938, I was three when World War II began for us with Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor. Aside from the Civil War, it was our most consequential war, and the last waged after a formal Declaration of War by the Congress. It was the 11^th and last time Congress has done so, despite the Constitution giving them that exclusive power. Giving up that power to the executive is perhaps its most glaring dereliction of duty.

            I was about to enter the 7^th grade when the Korian War started in June of 1950. Although it had all the hallmarks of a war, it was characterized as a “police action” waged under the auspices of the United Nations, which continues to labor away on its goal of ending wars. It has been just as successful in this noble goal as was the League of Nations.

            When I was in the Army from 1961-63, I dodged the bullet. Both the Berlin Wall and Cuban Missile crises happened on my watch but thankfully come to nothing. In early 1963, I was offered the opportunity to extend my tour of duty by one year and work on civilian status at the US Embassy in Saigon. Our commitment to South Viet Nam was in its early stage, but I felt no urge to travel to distant lands, so declined. The next year brought the Tonkin Gulf Resolution and the beginning of the Viet Nam nightmare, which was not to end until March 1973.

            Before I go on to more major conflicts, let me pause to remember the military actions that might be considered less than all out wars. In October 1983 we sent troops to little Grenada to rescue American medical students from the clutches of the Cubans. In early 1990, we invaded Panama, snatched its leader Manuel Noriega, indicted and convicted him of drug and other charges. Just this year, we sent troops to Venezuela to arrest Nicolas Maduro on similar charges. He awaits trial in New York, but  his regime remains in power, since they seem willing to grant American energy companies’ greater access to their vast oil reserves. One could be forgiven for thinking that was the point all along. The people of Venezuela had perhaps hoped for more but should be used to disappointment.

            Iraq has been the target of more consequential wars. After they invaded and occupied neighbor Kuwait in 1990,  then President George H.W. Bush put together a coalition that early in 1991 recaptured Kuwait and soundly defeated the Iraqi army in Operation Desert Storm. The president was criticized by some for not occupying Iraq and removing Sudam Hussein from power.

His son, George W. Bush, decided to do just that in 2003, when operation Iraqi Freedom removed Husein from power, but failed to find the weapons of mass destruction whose existence were the reason for the war in the first place. It was the end of 2011 before the last troops left. Can I suggest the years between were something of a mess? And that Iraq remains so?

There was widespread public support for the invasion of Afghanistan in the aftermath of 9/11. While we didn’t find Osama bin Laden then, we did remove the Taliban from power. By the time we left chaotically in 2021, the Taliban was lurking in the wings and soon returned to power. By the way, Osama bin Laden was finally found not in Afghanistan but in Pakistan, where he was found and killed in May 2011.

Now Iran. But let’s have a look at our record so far. World War II, victory. Korea, stalemate. Viet Nam, loss. Grenada, success sort of. First Iraq, success. Second Iraq, ambiguous. Afghanistan, failure. Invasion of the Body Snatchers (Noriega, Maduro), success. Iran? Who the  hell knows. We were told weeks ago that we won. So why do we just have another truce? When you win, you get a peace treaty, not a truce to negotiate possible peace.

Through all this, the American military has done its best. The politicians? Not so much.

Copyright 2026, Patrick F. Cannon

By Patrick F. Cannon

After many delays, the Obama Presidential Center in Chicago will open on June 19^th. The date was chosen because it coincides with “Juneteenth,” which commemorates the day in 1865 when slaves in Texas were informed of their freedom, the last to hear the news.

The center is in Chicago’s Jackson Park. This was a controversial choice, since parkland was considered sacrosanct by many Chicagoans, including me. The resulting lawsuits delayed the site acquisition, but the courts – dominated by Obama’s Democratic Party – decided it could use park land. The cost? $850 million, raised from donors and grants.

To be fair, the new center provides more than the usual presidential library and museum. It includes a  Chicago public library, community meeting facilities, extensive walks, and gardens and even an indoor regulation basketball court. Aside from the museum itself, access is free. But it isn’t a typical presidential library. Obama chose to send his papers to  the National Archives in Washington, where they will be available in digital form. The National Archives directly operates all the other presidential libraries, but not  this one.

I imagine attendance will be high, at least for the first year. The most popular (in 2024) was Ronald Reagan’s with 258,000 visitors. Next came John F. Kennedy with 147,000. The least visited, with 25,000 visitors, was, predictably, Herbert Hoover’s. Both the Nixon and Clinton libraries were among the lowest, with about 50,000 each. One wonders why. Anyway,  total attendance for all 13 was just over 1,000,000.

The design of the Obama center has received mixed reviews. As you can see, most structures are unobtrusive, with the exception of  the tower, which has received the most criticism.  It reminds me of those great stone monoliths one sees in Utah’s Monument Valley. This great rock is covered with Obama quotes, which many people have found difficult to read. But there it shall stand, occupying 20 acres of a park designed by  the great Frederick Law Olmstead; a park where I played and rambled as a child. Most memorably, it’s former football field was the location of my greatest athletic triumph – playing parish football for St. Phillip Neri, I once intercepted a pass and ran it back 80 yards for a touchdown!

I don’t mean to single former President Abama out. Frankly, I wish none of them existed. They are increasingly ego trips, efforts by the former presidents to write their history in the best possible light. Only the judgment of history should decide which presidents should be memorialized. That 1 million visits to all the existing museums pales in comparison to the 8 million who visit the Lincoln Memorial every year; or in another sphere, the 5.7 million who annually enter the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.  

In both cases, the occupants earned their way into our esteem. Can we say the same for all those presidents?

Copyright 2026, Patrick F. Cannon

By Patrick F. Cannon

That’s my picture up there. To be honest, it was how I looked about 15 years ago. Taken in front of architect Louis Sullivan’s Krause Music Store on Chicago’s North Lincoln Avenue by my partner Jim Caulfield, it was cleaned up a bit (or maybe a lot) to remove blemishes and scars. If someone asks me for a photo for an article or presentation I’m doing, it’s what I send. Why not put your best mug forward? Anyway, I couldn’t find my high school graduation picture.

            Historically, rulers and politicians have enjoyed seeing their faces as they wander about their domains. Roman emperors couldn’t wait to put their profiles on coins and their entireties in marble and bronze. In latter days, Henry VIII kept both Holbein’s (elder and younger) busy painting his portrait, making sure they emphasized his fancy duds and commanding presence. His daughter Elizabeth I made sure her portraits eliminated her pock-marked face and snaggly black teeth. 

            The visage of the late Elizabeth II appeared on coins, currency and stamps in the UK and its dwindling empire, but they are now being retired in favor of  her long-suffering son, Charles III.  In fairness though, it must be said that communist leaders like Stalin and Chairman Moa never tired of seeing their big heads plastered over every blank spot in their largish countries. Like the first Queen Elizabth, Stalin had a seriously pockmarked face, which disappeared in his photos. Mao, who killed tens (or is it hundreds?) of millions of his own people, looked like a kindly grandfather.

            Our own republic doesn’t permit images of living people to appear on currency, or stamps for that matter. If you check your wallet or purse (if you’re in the money) you’ll mostly find images of Washington ($1), Lincoln (5$), Hamilton ($10), Jackson ($20), Grant (50$), and Franklin ($100) on your paper money. Larger denominations are no longer issued.  This could change, however, as the Secretary of the Treasury Scott Bessent has suggested a new $250 bill be issued with President Trump’s image on it.  Bessent no doubt produced this idea on his own, with no prompting from his boss.

            The president himself proposed a gold commemorative coin for the country’s 250^th Anniversary that will feature his manly figure on it. Although never done before for a sitting president, it was approved by his Commission on Fine Arts (?). Apparently, it’s OK because it won’t be legal tender. This should be some recompense for having his name removed from the Kennedy Center.

            Even though the $250 Trump bill is  unlikely to be approved, you can order any number of phony bills with his face on them. If you’re so inclined, you can order some with your own face! A fellow I knew many years ago used to pass out $3 bills with his silly grin. I guess that’s where the old saying – “there’s nothing phonier than a three-dollar bill” – came from. Except of course one with President Trump’s face on it.

Copyright 2026, Patrick F. Cannon       

By Patrick F. Cannon

If current trends continue and our luck holds, it looks like the interest on the national debt will reach and slightly exceed $1 Trillion for the first time in our 250 years of fiscal ups and downs. In case you’re wondering, interest payments are now 15 percent of the Federal budget. Here are the amounts per year starting in 2020 (in billions):              

2020                315

                        2021                352

                        2022                476

                        2023                659

                        2024                852

                        2025                970

                        2026                1.04 Trillion (est.)      

It seems to hardly matter which political party controls Congress or the White House – the number keep going up in a non-partisan high-speed elevator.

            I confess I had some hopes for fiscal restraint when champion father and avenging angel Elon Musk  — and his teeny bopper army – descended on Washington to drive out the money spenders. Alas, it turned out he was robbing Peter (and the rest of the Apostles) to pay Paul. Although it goes up minute by minute, the current national debt is $39.07 trillion, or $113,792 per person, including newborns. This year, the projected deficit will be $2 Trillion. Onward and upward!

            Aside from 1998-2001, when we miraculously had budget surpluses, deficits have been a way of life for most citizens alive today. At the same time, income tax rates rarely have been lower. The mid-1980s had GDP growth rates averaging about four percent a year with a top rate of about 50 percent.  Today’s top rate of 37 percent applies only to the amount of table income that exceeds approximately $640,000 for a single payer. That same prosperous person only pays 10 percent for the first $12,400; 12 percent for income from $12,400 up to $50,000; 22 percent for the amount from that $50,000 up to $105,000 – well, you get the idea.

            Not everyone earns enough to pay any Federal income taxes, but everyone pays the payroll tax of 7.65 percent —  which includes Medicare – on incomes up to $184,500. And our local and state governments grab their share. The average American pays nearly 30 percent of his or her income in taxes (the top ten percent of earners bear 90 percent of the total tax burden). Nevertheless, if governments were businesses most would have to declare bankruptcy.  (Let’s pause to give a shout out to these states, which are tops in fiscal stability: Utah, Delaware, New York, Iowa, and Georgia.)

            The easy answer to the fiscal mess it to either spend less, tax more, or a bit of both. Neither seems attractive to our current set of politicians.  Maybe one of my faithful readers has an idea that will get us out of this mess. If so, please do share it with us and your congressman and senators . It could win you Nobel Prize for economics and the undying love of your fellow Americans. Or be ignored until the bubble bursts, as it inevitably and eventually does.

Copyright 2026, Patrick F. Cannon