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Started By
Message
re: Remember Sheldon Whitehouse, the guy who said Trump was a racist?
Posted on 6/21/21 at 12:25 pm to L.A.
Posted on 6/21/21 at 12:25 pm to L.A.
quote:
“It’s a long tradition in Rhode Island”
But the statues in major cities weren't long traditions?
The Rebel mascot wasn't a long time tradition at Ole Miss?
The Washington Redskins are how old?
0
Posted on 6/21/21 at 12:26 pm to PsychTiger
quote:
Does the club exclude non-blacks, or is it all white because it's in Rhode Island?
This story from Daily Wire gives a little background. It's not just by chance that the club is all white. His wife is one of the largest shareholders in the club, but no progress has been made in accepting non-white members.
Daily Wire
quote:
On Friday, GoLocal caught up with Whitehouse again, this time asking, “Back in 2017, you had expressed concerns about the membership of the all-white Bailey’s Beach Club. You said that you hoped it would become more diverse. Now, your family’s been members; your wife is one of the largest shareholders. Has there been any traction in that? Are there any minority members of the club now?”
“I think the people who are running the place are still working on that, and I’m sorry it hasn’t happened yet,” Whitehouse replied.
This post was edited on 6/21/21 at 12:29 pm
Posted on 6/21/21 at 12:26 pm to L.A.
Time for the woke mob to string up another cracker
Posted on 6/21/21 at 12:26 pm to L.A.
No neither of the black guys who live in RI can join?
Posted on 6/21/21 at 12:32 pm to GeauxTigerTM
So the south is much, much, MUCH more diverse than the north?
You'd figure with how RACIST the south is, that wouldn't be the case.
You'd figure with how RACIST the south is, that wouldn't be the case.
Posted on 6/21/21 at 12:32 pm to L.A.
It's like the democrats are still the racist party of old and they have been working tirelessly to make everyone believe the opposite is true.
Posted on 6/21/21 at 12:42 pm to L.A.
Racism is not prevalent in this country but where it genuinely exists, the vast majority of the time it's found on the political Left.
Posted on 6/21/21 at 12:46 pm to L.A.
quote:
“I think the people who are running the place are still working on that, and I’m sorry it hasn’t happened yet,” Whitehouse replied.
Sheldon knows the jig is up.
Posted on 6/21/21 at 1:01 pm to L.A.
Sheldon is a huge climate liar.
He also rails on republicans for dark money in politics and how corporations avoid paying tax.
He also rails on republicans for dark money in politics and how corporations avoid paying tax.
This post was edited on 6/21/21 at 1:40 pm
Posted on 6/21/21 at 1:13 pm to L.A.
So . Trump who fought for Blacks and Jews to get into private clubs is racist, but this guy who is in an all white club is not? Just want to make sure I understand.
Posted on 6/21/21 at 1:30 pm to jlovel7
quote:
To get a little feel of Rhode Islands state politics and how people vote
Their senate is 33-5 Dems
Their house is 66-9 Dems
They rank 34th in the US for state unemployment rates. Obviously, a mere coincidence.
ETA: They'e also the 8th highest state for per capita welfare recipients. LINK
LINK
This post was edited on 6/21/21 at 4:16 pm
Posted on 6/21/21 at 2:03 pm to EastBankTiger
SUMMER PLACES
SUMMER PLACES; At Bailey's Beach, The Ruling Class Keeps Its Guard Up
By Guy Trebay
July 20, 2003
THE names drift through the air like fragments from a Social Register Genesis, not excluding the begats. Everyone is somehow connected to someone, Cushings to Ameses to Cuttings, and Slocums to Drexels to Wetmores and Browns. At a certain level of a certain segment of society, the one Gore Vidal calls America's ruling class, any conversation is destined at some point to become a narrative of tribal history. This is rarely more clear than on the buffet line for dinner here at Bailey's Beach on a summer Sunday night.
Bailey's Beach is the democratic-seeming name given to a rumpled but exclusive club located at the apex of the social order in this city of 27,000, long considered the queen of American resorts. The official name of the place is the Spouting Rock Beach Association, named for a geological formation, and membership in it tends to define summer life here in ways that are sometimes difficult to comprehend, even for insiders.
''People kill to belong to the beach,'' said Beth Pyle, whose twin sister, she added, has never quite made it into the club. ''It has really driven some people crazy when they don't get in.''
The beach itself is a crescent of coarse gray sand off Ocean Drive at the terminus of the famous Cliff Walk, the shoreside path skirting the opulent chateaus erected by men known in their day as tinplate or railroad or tobacco magnates. Of the Vanderbilts and Astors, whose marble and limestone palaces along Bellevue Avenue remain the city's largest tourist attraction, there is not locally ''one living, breathing member left,'' said Eileen Slocum, a Republican Party stalwart and Newport's octogenarian doyenne. But this is not to suggest that their class is defunct. As tourists queue up along Bellevue Avenue every day awaiting admission to Gilded Age palaces turned museums, like the Breakers or the Elms, they are not likely to have much inkling that, behind the nearby hedges, there remains intact a world of emerald-barnacled dinosaurs attended by uniformed retainers and underwritten by ironclad fiduciary trusts. There are people still living in Newport who have not only never held jobs, but ''literally never met people outside their class who didn't work for them,'' said Ennals Berl, whose family owns Seaweed, a 19th-century ''cottage'' overlooking Bailey's Beach.
SUMMER PLACES; At Bailey's Beach, The Ruling Class Keeps Its Guard Up
By Guy Trebay
July 20, 2003
THE names drift through the air like fragments from a Social Register Genesis, not excluding the begats. Everyone is somehow connected to someone, Cushings to Ameses to Cuttings, and Slocums to Drexels to Wetmores and Browns. At a certain level of a certain segment of society, the one Gore Vidal calls America's ruling class, any conversation is destined at some point to become a narrative of tribal history. This is rarely more clear than on the buffet line for dinner here at Bailey's Beach on a summer Sunday night.
Bailey's Beach is the democratic-seeming name given to a rumpled but exclusive club located at the apex of the social order in this city of 27,000, long considered the queen of American resorts. The official name of the place is the Spouting Rock Beach Association, named for a geological formation, and membership in it tends to define summer life here in ways that are sometimes difficult to comprehend, even for insiders.
''People kill to belong to the beach,'' said Beth Pyle, whose twin sister, she added, has never quite made it into the club. ''It has really driven some people crazy when they don't get in.''
The beach itself is a crescent of coarse gray sand off Ocean Drive at the terminus of the famous Cliff Walk, the shoreside path skirting the opulent chateaus erected by men known in their day as tinplate or railroad or tobacco magnates. Of the Vanderbilts and Astors, whose marble and limestone palaces along Bellevue Avenue remain the city's largest tourist attraction, there is not locally ''one living, breathing member left,'' said Eileen Slocum, a Republican Party stalwart and Newport's octogenarian doyenne. But this is not to suggest that their class is defunct. As tourists queue up along Bellevue Avenue every day awaiting admission to Gilded Age palaces turned museums, like the Breakers or the Elms, they are not likely to have much inkling that, behind the nearby hedges, there remains intact a world of emerald-barnacled dinosaurs attended by uniformed retainers and underwritten by ironclad fiduciary trusts. There are people still living in Newport who have not only never held jobs, but ''literally never met people outside their class who didn't work for them,'' said Ennals Berl, whose family owns Seaweed, a 19th-century ''cottage'' overlooking Bailey's Beach.
Posted on 6/21/21 at 2:03 pm to blackinthesaddle
Neither have the folkways of the superrich drifted into oblivion. Jellied madrilène is still served for lunch by white-coated servants in grand houses that smell faintly of mildew and starched linen. Follies are still conceived on a grand scale. Last Sunday, a private picnic was held for several hundred friends of Margaret Dorrance Hamilton, a Campbell's Soup heiress from Philadelphia's Main Line, on the farm she maintains for the preservation of rare domestic livestock like San Clemente goats and Narragansett turkeys, the sort the Pilgrims ate on the first Thanksgiving.
There were tents and a band and open bars and shuttle trolleys and motorized hayrides to conduct guests around the immaculate grounds, whose stone outbuildings were constructed to recall an Alpine village. There was also, at the entrance to the farm, a disinfectant foot bath with a sign above it whose message struck some observers as less biologically than metaphorically apt: ''For biodiversity reasons please step into foot bath before proceeding.''
Diversity, of course, has made scant inroads on the Newport of Bailey's Beach, whose membership profile might be defined less by who people are than what they are not. ''Jewish, yes,'' Audrey Oswald, a lifelong member replied, when asked about the club's demographic composition. ''Blacks, not really,'' Ms. Oswald added, although that is not altogether the case. Mrs. Slocum, by all accounts the reigning dowager of the resort, has grown grandchildren who sometimes visit the beach and who are biracial, the offspring of her daughter Beryl's marriage to Adam Clayton Powell III.
It is a curious fact about Bailey's Beach that its homeliness is a large part of its appeal. The beach is famously among the least lovely on the coast of the Ocean State. ''It is by all odds,'' the late social chronicler Cleveland Amory once wrote, ''the worst.'' Its buildings too are less than imposing. A gray brick central pavilion, designed after a 1938 hurricane destroyed the original, and redesigned after a 1991 hurricane drove surf up to the dining room door, is trimmed in lemon yellow and flanked by the two simple bathhouses. Each has cabanas with two small dressing rooms, a shower, a toilet and a sea-facing porch, and is decorated in the owners' own taste.
The 80 cabanas cost $50,000 or more to buy outright, providing one ever becomes available, an occurrence that tends to depend on owners decamping or dying. For those without a cabana, there are 201 changing rooms, called bathhouses, adjacent to the saltwater pool. These are passed down through generations of families with names like Auchincloss and duPont, people who seem to derive pleasure from observing an ostentatiously bare-bones simplicity.
To its 468 members and 113 subscribers, Bailey's Beach is as much a psychic as a geographic destination, the sand there lovelier than the sugar-fine shores of Fire Island, the squat buildings more sacred than any shingled confection in the Hamptons, the sense of enclosure all-embracing.
''Long stretches of beach are pretty for a moment, but at the end of the day they're boring,'' said Diana Sherman Oswald, whose Wetmore ancestors built the Italianate villa Chateau-sur-Mer in 1852. For Ms. Oswald, as for others, the appeal of Bailey's Beach lies in ''the fact that, no matter what happens in what I'll call the outside world, at Bailey's you are in a good place, a little bit of a bubble.'' Bailey's Beach is a place where, as Ms. Oswald said, ''every face is familiar and some of the staff has been there forever, and when I see them I can give them a big hug and a kiss.''
Seated at an outdoor table at the club last Sunday evening, Ms. Oswald tucked into a plate of rare roast beef with gratinéed potatoes and observed the progress into the club.
''There's Howard,'' said a woman seated at her table, as the club president, Howard Cushing, a strapping man of about 72, whose looks long ago earned him the local sobriquet Handsome Howard, sauntered through the door. Mr. Cushing was accompanied by his wife and his teen-age son, his brother Freddy, and assorted relations, as well as Frederick Cushings's wife, Caterine Milinaire. ''She's the daughter of the Duchess of Bedford,'' this woman remarked to a guest. ''Of course you already knew that.''
For decades, the Cushing family has owned a prime point of land adjoining Bailey's Beach and on it a compound known as the Ledges. A couple of years back, the Cushings sold several acres to some prosperous newcomers, who built on it an immense shingled house of their own. It explains something about Newport in general that, although the new structure imposes itself physically on both the club's and the Cushings' landscape, it is treated like an unsightly mirage.
''Newport has really changed very little over the years,'' said the 87-year-old Mrs. Slocum, whose family can boast of having been settled in Rhode Island for 12 generations and who has belonged to Bailey's Beach long enough to have absorbed shocks like Doris Duke's appearance after swimming in an unlined bathing suit; Mrs. George Henry Warren's attendance at a party dressed in a costume made of seaweed, shells and orange rinds; and the arrival one day of Julie Pell, the daughter of Senator Claiborne Pell, with her life partner, a woman. This particular pairing raises few eyebrows nowadays.
''There was a time in Newport,'' Mrs. Slocum said last week over a lunch of chicken à la king and asparagus at her 1880 mansion on Bellevue Avenue, when standards at Bailey's drifted and grew lax. ''People were bringing in rougher types who behaved badly and used unacceptable language, people like Ted Turner.''
Mr. Turner was a frequent visitor to Newport during the 1970's, when he was campaigning the yacht Courageous for the America's Cup. ''Standards have tightened up again in the clubs,'' Mrs. Slocum added with an air of reassurance. ''It seems to me that we would never accept anyone like that now on the beach.''
There were tents and a band and open bars and shuttle trolleys and motorized hayrides to conduct guests around the immaculate grounds, whose stone outbuildings were constructed to recall an Alpine village. There was also, at the entrance to the farm, a disinfectant foot bath with a sign above it whose message struck some observers as less biologically than metaphorically apt: ''For biodiversity reasons please step into foot bath before proceeding.''
Diversity, of course, has made scant inroads on the Newport of Bailey's Beach, whose membership profile might be defined less by who people are than what they are not. ''Jewish, yes,'' Audrey Oswald, a lifelong member replied, when asked about the club's demographic composition. ''Blacks, not really,'' Ms. Oswald added, although that is not altogether the case. Mrs. Slocum, by all accounts the reigning dowager of the resort, has grown grandchildren who sometimes visit the beach and who are biracial, the offspring of her daughter Beryl's marriage to Adam Clayton Powell III.
It is a curious fact about Bailey's Beach that its homeliness is a large part of its appeal. The beach is famously among the least lovely on the coast of the Ocean State. ''It is by all odds,'' the late social chronicler Cleveland Amory once wrote, ''the worst.'' Its buildings too are less than imposing. A gray brick central pavilion, designed after a 1938 hurricane destroyed the original, and redesigned after a 1991 hurricane drove surf up to the dining room door, is trimmed in lemon yellow and flanked by the two simple bathhouses. Each has cabanas with two small dressing rooms, a shower, a toilet and a sea-facing porch, and is decorated in the owners' own taste.
The 80 cabanas cost $50,000 or more to buy outright, providing one ever becomes available, an occurrence that tends to depend on owners decamping or dying. For those without a cabana, there are 201 changing rooms, called bathhouses, adjacent to the saltwater pool. These are passed down through generations of families with names like Auchincloss and duPont, people who seem to derive pleasure from observing an ostentatiously bare-bones simplicity.
To its 468 members and 113 subscribers, Bailey's Beach is as much a psychic as a geographic destination, the sand there lovelier than the sugar-fine shores of Fire Island, the squat buildings more sacred than any shingled confection in the Hamptons, the sense of enclosure all-embracing.
''Long stretches of beach are pretty for a moment, but at the end of the day they're boring,'' said Diana Sherman Oswald, whose Wetmore ancestors built the Italianate villa Chateau-sur-Mer in 1852. For Ms. Oswald, as for others, the appeal of Bailey's Beach lies in ''the fact that, no matter what happens in what I'll call the outside world, at Bailey's you are in a good place, a little bit of a bubble.'' Bailey's Beach is a place where, as Ms. Oswald said, ''every face is familiar and some of the staff has been there forever, and when I see them I can give them a big hug and a kiss.''
Seated at an outdoor table at the club last Sunday evening, Ms. Oswald tucked into a plate of rare roast beef with gratinéed potatoes and observed the progress into the club.
''There's Howard,'' said a woman seated at her table, as the club president, Howard Cushing, a strapping man of about 72, whose looks long ago earned him the local sobriquet Handsome Howard, sauntered through the door. Mr. Cushing was accompanied by his wife and his teen-age son, his brother Freddy, and assorted relations, as well as Frederick Cushings's wife, Caterine Milinaire. ''She's the daughter of the Duchess of Bedford,'' this woman remarked to a guest. ''Of course you already knew that.''
For decades, the Cushing family has owned a prime point of land adjoining Bailey's Beach and on it a compound known as the Ledges. A couple of years back, the Cushings sold several acres to some prosperous newcomers, who built on it an immense shingled house of their own. It explains something about Newport in general that, although the new structure imposes itself physically on both the club's and the Cushings' landscape, it is treated like an unsightly mirage.
''Newport has really changed very little over the years,'' said the 87-year-old Mrs. Slocum, whose family can boast of having been settled in Rhode Island for 12 generations and who has belonged to Bailey's Beach long enough to have absorbed shocks like Doris Duke's appearance after swimming in an unlined bathing suit; Mrs. George Henry Warren's attendance at a party dressed in a costume made of seaweed, shells and orange rinds; and the arrival one day of Julie Pell, the daughter of Senator Claiborne Pell, with her life partner, a woman. This particular pairing raises few eyebrows nowadays.
''There was a time in Newport,'' Mrs. Slocum said last week over a lunch of chicken à la king and asparagus at her 1880 mansion on Bellevue Avenue, when standards at Bailey's drifted and grew lax. ''People were bringing in rougher types who behaved badly and used unacceptable language, people like Ted Turner.''
Mr. Turner was a frequent visitor to Newport during the 1970's, when he was campaigning the yacht Courageous for the America's Cup. ''Standards have tightened up again in the clubs,'' Mrs. Slocum added with an air of reassurance. ''It seems to me that we would never accept anyone like that now on the beach.''
Posted on 6/21/21 at 2:28 pm to David_DJS
quote:
Racism is not prevalent in this country but where it genuinely exists, the vast majority of the time it's found on the political Left.
I don’t think this is a case of racism. It’s a case of blatant hypocrisy, and how “rules” are for thee, and not me.
This post was edited on 6/21/21 at 2:31 pm
Posted on 6/21/21 at 4:13 pm to HonoraryCoonass
Posted on 6/21/21 at 4:21 pm to PorkSammich
The state of RI is without a doubt the most racist in America. Before covid I traveled there bimonthly.
There are times when I don't see a black person there at all during week long stays.
Plenty of Puerto Ricans and Portuguese...no blacks.
Sheldon comes from old money and is a class A douchebag.
There are times when I don't see a black person there at all during week long stays.
Plenty of Puerto Ricans and Portuguese...no blacks.
Sheldon comes from old money and is a class A douchebag.
Posted on 6/21/21 at 4:22 pm to PorkSammich
The state of RI is without a doubt the most racist in America. Before covid I traveled there bimonthly.
There are times when I don't see a black person there at all during week long stays.
Plenty of Puerto Ricans and Portuguese...no blacks.
Sheldon comes from old money and is a class A douchebag.
There are times when I don't see a black person there at all during week long stays.
Plenty of Puerto Ricans and Portuguese...no blacks.
Sheldon comes from old money and is a class A douchebag.
Posted on 6/21/21 at 4:45 pm to L.A.
What do you expect from a senator from a state officially known as “ State of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations” until November 2020 when they dropped the Providence Plantations?
Posted on 6/21/21 at 4:53 pm to L.A.
How ghey does one have to be firstly to belong to a beach club?
All cracker beach club defines his pedo-gheyness prolly has a pizza parlor and kiddie pool in it…
All cracker beach club defines his pedo-gheyness prolly has a pizza parlor and kiddie pool in it…
Posted on 6/21/21 at 4:59 pm to L.A.
I'm sure there are blacks in the kitchen. Another old tradition.
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