Under the Red Hook: How Joseph McCarthy Saved Neverland

           It was a tranquil night in the city of Appleton, Wisconsin. The streets were practically deserted minus a few cars littered about some residential neighborhoods. The downtown was completely vacant, as every shop and restaurant was closed for holiday festivities. The only discernible activity was the twinkling of lights that shown from numerous homes that lined the city blocks. But with the exception of the wind rustling and the occasional clamor of children playing, the town was completely silent, almost as if all its inhabitants were trapped in a deep slumber.

Such a serene state was common amongst most American municipalities on Christmas Eve, 1954. But what made Appleton unique was that among the snow ridden streets and sidewalks of this quaint metropolis, stood a large dwelling on the outskirts of town. It was an old, beautiful, two-story cobblestone home with a small, one-car garage and white concrete driveway. The house was slightly elevated atop a small hill, which caused the driveway to be tilted at a 45 degree angle. The tiny street the house was nestled on contained several other magnificent homes; but what made this residence particularly distinctive was its occupant. For inside, sitting in a red leather arm chair and wearing a light-brown cotton bath robe with dark-gray slippers, was none other than Wisconsin’s defamed senator, Joseph Raymond McCarthy.

            The Senator sat with his feet crossed and resting upon his brown, withered, chestnut desk. He was staring into the fireplace, which was the only source of illumination in his cold, dark house. In his right hand he cradled a glass of scotch. Joe would softy twirl the drink in his hands and listen to the crackle of the two large ice cubes against his glass, and then take a sip. His expression was bleak. It had only been a few weeks prior that the United States Senate, fed-up with McCarthy’s brazen behavior, had voted to censor him— a measure which the federal legislature rarely inflicted upon one of its own. This was even more remarkable considering that just several years earlier, McCarthy had been at the forefront of congressional leadership, as he had lead the crusade against America’s greatest perceived threat, Communism.

            Yet, regardless of the true extent of the dangers posed by this subversive ideological persuasion, Joe’s campaign had clearly gone too far. His operation to weed out genuine threats to the nation’s national security soon morphed into an instrument he recklessly wielded to delegitimize and ostracize his political opponents. His attempts to gain the admiration of the masses as Cold Warrior evaporated, as an ever growing number of politicians, government employees, and average citizens turned against him as his methods, which were viewed as inconsistent with American values. Joe’s war to undermine the Communist threat had, to quote Clausewitz, passed the “culminating point of victory.” Not only had he failed to slowdown the Communist movement, but Joe had damaged his own cause. Moreover, his efforts to shun others had the ironic effect of turning him into a political and social pariah. 

            Joe’s large, maple wood, antique clocked chimed. It was eleven o’clock. Joe lifted the glass and took a sip of his drink. He felt the warm and bitter tingle of scotch touch his lips. Joe thought about his dreams and aspirations—to become a public servant, a hero, a president. Yet he knew that such ambitions were now impossible. If only he could have a do-over, a fresh start, another chance to prove his worth as a champion of democracy and a symbol of a virtue! Alas, Joe knew that his moment had passed, as he was now tainted with the stench of malignity.

Depressed, Joe sulked in his arm chair as he slowly removed the beverage from his lips. 

Suddenly, he heard a loud noise. Joe dropped his drink and immediately stood up. It sounded like something had crashed through one of the second story windows. He hastily moved up the stairs and stopped on the landing. He could hear groaning. It was coming from the master bedroom! Joe flung open the door and turned on the lights.  Lying there on the ground was a young boy, no older than 14. He was dressed in a rugged green tunic, green tights, and a grimy pair of brown shoes. He had long, dirty-blonde hair which was dusty and unkempt.  The boy raised his head and slowly stood up with the help of a nearby chair, stumbling a bit and struggling to maintain his balance.

“Holy....Shhh...shhh..Shit....,” stuttered the boy, “wherr...where....where am I?”

The boy swung his head back on and forth several times.

“Havvv...have...you seen my shadow? I....I know that fucker is here somewhere. It’s just...”

The boy let out a loud burp and leaned over the chair. Joe moved closer to the boy and smelled the distinct odor of alcohol.

“Young man,” Joe said, “are you drunk?”

Still grasping the chair, the boy clumsily jolted himself upright.

“I don’t know,” stammered the boy, “are you....are you from your mother’s vagina?”

Joe stared at him in astonishment; for once in his life, he was speechless.

“OH FACE!,” screamed the boy as he pointed at Joe. “You jus...you did just get...get burned, Dick!”

The boy leaned over the chair again and fell onto the floor. He sat there for a moment and then cried.

“Where is my shadow!?” sobbed the boy. “Why did he leave me again!?”

Suddenly, a woman’s voice yelled, “He’s right behind you, you moron!”

Joe scanned the room.

“Who said that!?” he yelled. “Show yourself!”

“I did,” replied the voice.

To Joe’s bewilderment, a miniature woman, no bigger than his index finger, appeared right in front of his noise. She had long blonde hair and was dressed in a torn up, brown and green tunic. Most astonishing of all however, was that she had wings and was flying!”

Joe gazed at her as he contemplated whether or not he’d gone mad.

“What....I mean, who are you?” He asked.

“I’m Tinkerbell, of course!”

Joe leaned in closer until his nose was just inches from her.

“Tinkerbell? You mean...as in the fairy Tinkerbell from the Peter Pan novel?”

“One in the same,” she replied.

Joe took a step back and peered down at the boy.

“Then that means,” he said, “that, that boy...that boy is Peter Pan?!”

“Well,” muttered Tinkerbell, “you are a clever one.”

Joe looked back at Tinkerbell.

“How is this possible?” he asked. “Peter Pan is a children’s story; a work of fiction!”

“A story, yes.” she replied. “But a fictional story, no. You see, J. M. Barrie based his stories on our adventures. He met Wendy at a party back in 1902, and after a few cocktails she told him all about Peter and their exploits in Neverland.”

Joe could not believe it. Standing right in front of him were Peter Pan and Tinkerbell, two of his childhood heroes! He remembered when he was a kid, no older than 7. His mother would tuck him into bed and read to him the adventures of Peter Pan. When she would turn off and lights and depart, he would lay in bed, imagining himself flying off to Neverland with Peter and Tink. He would play with the Lost Boys, swim with the Mermaids, dance with the Indians, and save the day by fighting the evil pirates. It was a fantasy for which Joe wished he could never escape; to live in Neverland; to obtain eternal youth; to be seen as a hero!

Peter lifted his head. His eyes were red and his expression lucent.

“Wendy....” he slurred, “Oh man, that chick was banging.”

He slowly lifted himself up, though he had difficulty maintaining an upright posture

“Tink, let’s go to London and pay her a visit!”

He took a few wobbly steps towards the window.

“That bitch is about to be ‘Panned’!” He exclaimed, as he fell forward against the wall and collapsed to the floor.

 “Wendy’s in her 90’s, you dumbass!” Tinkerbell fired back.

“So...” he muttered. “It’s like swinging on...on a rusty swing; it might not work as well, but it still does the trick.”

Peter tried unsuccessfully to pry himself up.

“Come on! Let’s go Tink! I feel the need...the need to spray some of my fairy all over some old hag’s face!”

Tinkerbell shook her head. “Jesus, Peter! Can you just please get a hold of yourself! It’s your constant pursuit of these floozies that largely got us into this mess in the first place, remember!?”

“Wait...you mean Peter brought other young ladies to Neverland besides Wendy?” Joe inquired.

Tinkerbell turned to Joe.

“Are you serious?” She said. “You honestly don’t believe Wendy was the only one, do you? Peter has been bringing women to Neverland for centuries. Wendy might be the most famous because of Barrie’s scribbles, but there were numerous others, including some famous ones like Queen Elizabeth I.”

Peter looked up. “Oh yeah! I remember her,” he exclaimed. “She wasn’t a virgin queen when I got done with her! I gave her a Spanish Armanda she couldn’t stop.”

Joe and Tinkerbell stared at him.

“Ge..get it?” Peter slurred. “Because....like...Spanish Armada was...was like ships and ships have...have seaman.”

Tinkerbell glanced back at Joe.

“And don’t even get me started on the fling he had with a young Susan B. Anthony.”

“Hell ya!” shouted Peter. “I gave her the right to vote, with my ddddd...”

Peter leaned over and vomited.  Tinkerbell and Joe glared at him with disgust.

            “You can imagine why she became such a women’s rights activist after dealing with him.” Tinkerbell remarked. 

Joe’s mind was racing. He still was having trouble comprehending the situation.

“But I don’t understand, “Joe said. “If you’re Tinkerbell and that hot mess over there is Peter Pan, what are you doing out in Wisconsin in the middle of the night? Furthermore, why is it that this young man, a renowned hero for children of all ages, is in such an inebriated state?”

“Well,” replied Tinkerbell, “to answer you’re first question; Peter flew to Wisconsin because he heard it was a great place to, as he put it, ‘get shitfaced.’ As to why he is drunk, that’s a little more complicated. You see, Peter was recently defeated by that infamous scoundrel Captain Hook.”

“Captain Hook!” Joe exclaimed. “You mean to tell me that he conquered Neverland!?”

“Tis’ true,” she replied.

Joe’s mind began racing as he imagined the unspeakable horrors that were at the moment befalling the once great Neverland.

“How is that possible!?” Joe asked. “Peter can fly! Once more, he has you and the Lost Boys! Surely there is no way that Hook and his band of despicable pirates could have gained the upper hand! For I don’t care what his age or his current state of mind, Hook could never defeat the Pan in a duel!”

“Oh,” replied Tinkerbell. “I should have been more specific. Hook and Peter have not actually fought each other in years.”

Joe raised his eyebrows. “Huh?”

“Ya, the whole ‘Peter fights Captain Hook and saves the day’ thing ended a long time ago. You see, for centuries it was the same story. Peter would find some random skank he fancied, fly her to Neverland, maybe even have her accompanied by her siblings. Then Hook would find out, order his men to kidnap her, yada, yada, yada. Peter would then get word of it, confront Hook, at which point they would engage in a climatic duel. Peter would rescue her, bring her back to the Lost Boys’ hideout, and then proceed to do unspeakable things to her.”

She paused and glanced over at Peter who was now prone, face down, in his own puke.

She turned back to Joe.

“Anyways, eventually there was general agreement among both the Lost Boys and the Pirates that the entire situation had become rather trite. The Lost Boys were tired of constantly spending precious manpower and resources in order to rescue Peter’s flavor of the month; and the Pirates had grown weary of the task of repeatedly kidnapping teenage girls, a job that many of them had come to find burdensome and somewhat creepy. So, the Lost Boys and Pirates got together and decided to have a joint intervention for both Hook and Peter, in which both sides expressed their displeasure with the current state of affairs. Eventually, the Captain and Pan conceded, and thus agreed to end this hackneyed game.”

“But if that’s true,” Joe uttered, “than how could Hook end up defeating Peter?”

Tinkerbell flew over to Peter and entered a small satchel that he had tied around his waist. She came out carrying what appeared to be a newspaper. Joe grabbed the crumpled parchment and unfolded it. 

On the front of the paper was a picture of man, late 40s/early 50s, clad in a fine, 18th century, red jacket with applets and gold buttons. He wore a black tricorne hat which sat atop his long, black, curly hair that reached down to his shoulders. He had a dark mustache which was pointy on both ends. Where his right hand should have been was a large, finely polished, golden hook, which was thrusted triumphantly above his head, as if he was Napoleon traversing the Alps. He was standing upon the bow of a wooden ship with one foot resting upon what appeared to be a small barrel of rum. He emitted a most devilish grin, as if he had just conquered a great empire.

Above the picture read the headline, “HE CAN FLY!?: HOOK SOARS PAST PAN IN HIS ELECTORAL DEBUT TO BECOME NEVERLAND’S GRAND CHANCELLOR!”

Joe looked up at Tinkerbell.

“Wait...” he said, “you mean to tell me that hook beat Peter in an...election?”

“That’s exactly what happened,” Tinkerbell responded. “You see, after the whole intervention thing, it was decided that Neverland required some form of governance. So all the groups: Pirates, Lost Boys, Fairies, Mermaids, Indians, etc., came together and drafted a constitution. It set up a system by which Neverland would be governed by a single-house legislature and an executive called the Grand Chancellor, who would serve for a term of 5 years.”

She paused and glimpsed over at Peter. He was now resting in his own bile while quietly mumbling some incomprehensible phrases.

“In the first election, Peter was elected Grand Chancellor almost unanimously. The same with the second and the third. However, by the fourth election, things began to change. For starters, a new contender entered the race. Although he had been largely silent during the first three elections, Captain Hook started to become increasingly more vocal about his opposition to Peter. Finally, at the urging of many of the Pirates, Hook officially entered the race.

Almost everyone, including me, thought Peter would crush Hook. I mean, from the very start, Hook’s campaign appeared to be ludicrous. He began by attacking Peter, publically referring to him as ‘the little orphan bitch-boy.’ He ridiculed his appearance, specifically his tights, which he described as the ‘gay man’s yoga pants.’ He even went so far as to imply that Peter was actually a ‘secret transvestite lesbian’ based on the fact that it’s traditional in your world for women to portray him in theater productions. He even derided me! He referred to me a ‘pixie whore’ during a live televised interview!”

“I don’t understand,” said Joe, “how could a man like that ever be elected to public office?” 

Tinkerbell let out a sigh. “I would like to believe that we were defeated because of the stupidity of the electorate. But if I’m being honest, I think our loss was largely self-inflicted. As you can imagine, Peter was initially very popular with the masses. The problem was he became more and more out of touch with the mainstream. Although there were many who continued to worship him, there was considerable discontent among a significant portion of the population, particularly the Pirates, who felt like they were being ignored. Moreover, Peter’s general arrogance and ‘I know more than you because I’m the Pan,’ rubbed many in Neverland the wrong way. It didn’t help matters that Peter slept with half the Mermaids, who are a major voting bloc and understandably were less than thrilled with him.”

Tinkerbell flew towards Joe and landed on the newspaper. She glanced down at the picture of Hook.

“In the end, I think a major contingent voted for Hook, not so much because of him, but because they wanted to send a message. They were disillusioned and unsatisfied with the establishment, which they saw as corrupt, ineffective, and no longer representative of their interests. Yet now we are stuck with this awful man in power. Neverland is never going to be the same after this, I just know it.”

Joe stared at Tinkerbell. She looked dejected, head down, shoulders sunken. Joe felt sorry for her and for Peter. He remembered reading about them as a child. Always upbeat, always jubilant, Peter and Tinkerbell were the epitome of innocence and cheerfulness. Yet here they were before him, miserable and disheartened. It was a sad sight indeed.

But Joe, being crafty as he was, quickly formulated an idea. What if he was able to get Peter back into power? Not only would he have saved one of his boyhood icons, but he would become a hero to Neverland and civilized people the world over. No longer would he be viewed as demagogic maniac. He would become what he had longed for his entire life: a leader, a savior, a beacon of hope and infallibility who would be immortalized like Lincoln, Washington, and Franklin. This was his opportunity for redemption, and this time, he would succeed.

“Tink.” Joe said.

She glanced up at him.

“I think I can be of assistance. I actually have a great deal of experience in these matters. You see, in this world I’m a politician, and a very successful one at that. As a master of statecraft, I believe that I can help you and Peter rectify this situation. If you want, I would be more than willing to come to Neverland with you and lend my services, free of charge.”

Tinkerbell’s eyes widened. Her expression of grief quickly turned to one of excitement.

“Really!? You mean it!?”

“Of course,” Joe replied. “You’re Peter Pan and Tinkerbell! My childhood idols! I could never pass up the chance to help you guys!”

With that, Joe helped Peter to his feet and held him steady.

“Okay, Tink,” Joe commanded, “Take us to Neverland!”

Tinkerbell sprinkled Joe and Peter with fairy dust.

“Just think of a happy thought, Joe. Any happy and wonderful thought.”

Joe closed his eyes and imagined himself standing on a balcony overlooking an adoring crowd that was chanting his name and applauding his magnificence. He felt himself slowly rise from the ground.

“There we go, Joe!” She said. “Now off to Neverland!”

The three of them flew off into the night. It was mid-afternoon when they arrived in Neverland. Joe had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life. As they soared high above the landscape, Joe could make out an island, green and lush, with large majestic rolling hills overlooking illustrious woodland. From the largest hill sprang an enormous waterfall which led down into a lagoon. From the lagoon several small waterways streamed into the sea. The ocean was spectacular and unlike any Joe had ever encountered. It was a clear, light-blue and sparkled like crystal in the sunlight. It was marvelous and uncontaminated, save for a small ship anchored on the backend of the island beside a rock that was shaped like a human skull. As they flew closer to the island, Joe noticed a massive rainbow above the hills that stretched from both ends of the island.  Neverland was everything Joe had imagined as a child, a grand and spectacular paradise free from the hardships and wants of the real world—a utopia, save for the poisonous presence of one man, Captain Hook.

They made their way towards a small segment of forest on the east side of the island on a hill overlooking a small bay. As they got closer, Joe could make out what appeared to be larger structures built within the foundations of the trees.

“This must be where the Lost Boys resided!” He thought with excitement. 

When the Senator was little, he had always been fascinated by the Lost Boys, a group of renegade youths free from the constraints and rules of their elders. He had often imagined coming here, living with this band of runaways, liberated from the inevitable privations that accompanied aging. But now here he was at the Lost Boys’ hideout, a paradigm of perpetual adolescence.

“Here we are!” exclaimed Tinkerbell. “Home sweet home!”

They landed quite gently, which surprised the aging senator. Peter, who for the most part had sobered up during the flight, walked slowly towards one of the dwellings.

“Ugh” He moaned as he clenched his forehead. “My noggin feels like Smee has been plopping his fat ass on it for the past hour.”

“That’s what you get!” Tinkerbell retorted. “Maybe next time you won’t drink like a sailor on leave in Southeast Asia.”

They entered the domicile. It was dank and murky, the only illumination coming from the sunlight which glared through several small windows. It was filthy and littered with a random assortment of items, just what one would expect from the dwelling of unsupervised youths. The place had a thick stench like that of two-week old, dirty laundry. On the far side of the room sat a large, square, oak table. The three made their way over to it. It was cluttered with assortment of books, remnants of various eras of literary and philosophical writings, such as Plato’s The Apology of Socrates, Voltaire’s Treatise on Tolerance, John Stuart Mill’s On Liberty, and Esther Forbes’ A Mirror for Witches.

Joe shoved the books asides and laid down a great piece of parchment. Peter and Tinkerbell stood opposite him on the table. He took out a pen from his pocket and began writing. Tinkerbell and Peter observed him and stood over the table, possessed by his work. After about 10 minutes, Joe turned the paper around so it was facing them right-side up.

“This is my plan.” Joe said as he pointed to his scribbles. “You see, if you want to take down a man like Hook, going after him alone will not suffice. The problem here is that he has a strong base, one which is already distrusting of the mainstream, aka you guys, which will stand by him no matter what distasteful information will be released about him. It is obvious that his past behavior did little to temper his rise.”

For just a moment Joe was able to see the metaphor of Hook’s demise to his own. But unwilling to assess his own life, Joe quickly returned to the issue at hand. He quickly relocated his pen towards the bottom of the page where a large circle was drawn.

“Thus, in order to bring down Hook, you must go after his supporters.”

“What do you mean?” asked Tinkerbell.

“Let me explain,” Joe pontificated, much like he did in the U.S. Senate when he possessed ultimate power. “The main reason Hook was able to seize power is because people voted him into office. Hence, in order to stop Hook, those people must be targeted. They need to be weeded out, diminished, delegitimized, and turned into pariahs. We don’t even need governmental authority to do it. All we need to do is overtly shame Hook supporters to such an extent that the general public turns on them and blames them for all their problems, most especially the rise of that incompetent villain, Captain Hook. This will require assaults on all fronts. We must go after any and all people, groups, organizations, or companies that either fully or partially supported Hook’s candidacy or acquiesced to it.  Once we have successfully ostracized these people, then we can take back the reins of governance; and once we’re back in power, we will utilize the resources of the State to deal with these rapscallions once and for all. And the best part is there will be no opposition to this, as their friends, their families, their coworkers, no one will come to their aid, as they will now be outcasts. Then, with Hook and those who supported him out of the picture, pleasantness will return to Neverland.”

Joe paused. A flicker of déjà vu emanated from his eyes. But he quickly dismissed it as he put his pen back in his pocket and stood up straight.

“This is how we take down Captain Hook. Not from the top down, but from the bottom up.”

Silence fell over the room as all three of them stood there staring at each other. A few moments went by; and then Peter spoke.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Joe? I mean, and I don’t want to sound disrespectful, but this whole plan feels a little...dark.”

“Of course it feels dark, Peter,” Joe responded. “This is politics. This is how the real world works. In order to make the world a better place, sometimes you have to use less than desirable tactics. But we don’t do it because we want to. We do it because we have to. We can’t allow a scoundrel like this to stay in power, can we? Moreover, how will we ever expect to bring joyfulness back to Neverland if we allow those who willingly put him into power to remain relevant?”

Joe walked around the table. He put his left hand on Peter’s shoulder in a fatherly manner.

“Peter, if you truly want to make Neverland great again, we have to take back power by all means available to us. In addition, we cannot allow these other people to go unpunished. You have enemies, Peter, many of whom you don’t even know. It’s our job to crush them in order to insure that no one ever  again threatens the safety and prosperity of Neverland .”

Tinkerbell flew over to Joe. “But isn’t this just the use of terror to impose our will and ideas upon others? These sound like the tactics of an authoritarian state, not a liberal democracy.”

Joe removed his hand from Peter’s shoulder and glanced at her.

“Not necessarily” he retorted. “This is more than just simple politics, Tinkerbell. We are overthrowing a regime. What we are starting is a revolution— a great crusade to take back Neverland and make it wonderful again. It’s just as the French revolutionary Maximilien Robespierre once said;

 ‘If the attribute of popular government in peace is virtue, the attribute of popular government in revolution is at one and the same time virtue and terror, virtue without which terror is fatal, terror without which virtue is impotent. The terror is nothing but justice, prompt, severe, inflexible; it is thus an emanation of virtue.’

            In other words, you’re correct. We are employing the use of terror. Yet, it is okay because our use of terror is necessary and for a just purpose. This is resistance; resistance to tyranny, megalomania and authoritarianism, and unfortunately, terror and intimidation are our only options.”

Peter and Tinkerbell looked at each other for a while. It was not the answer either of them was hoping for, but it seemed to be the only way. They could not let Hook win. Peter turned back to Joe.

With a solemn visage, Peter said, “Okay, Joe. We trust you. If you say it’s for the best, we will take you at your word. I just hope this ends quickly.”

“Don’t worry, Peter.” Joe replied. “I know it’s difficult, but believe me, when this is all over, you will feel much better, for you will know that what you ultimately did was right.”

The Senator, Peter, and Tinkerbell spent the rest of that day and night plotting their initial moves. Joe told the dual that Peter needed to call a special meeting of the Lost Boys.

 “The goal of this meeting,” the Senator explained, “is to gather and prepare the troops for war. What you must convey to the Lost Boys is that not only you, but they, were cheated at the last election. You must instill within them the idea that Hook is a threat to the stability and well-being of Neverland. Thus, anyone who publically or private supports him, or voted for him, is not merely a person of differing opinions, but an enemy of the State, a traitor who deserves to be reprimanded. Once you have successfully riled your audience, you must order them to go forth and use any and all means necessary to spread the message that all peace-loving citizens should immediately and without hesitation expose and cut all ties with any individual or organization that supported or is believed to have supported Captain Hook’s candidacy. You must also articulate to them that such tactics may involve the utilization of exaggeration and misinformation. Although unfortunate, the ends justify the means, as ostracizing and diminishing Hook’s supporters is the only way to save their beloved homeland. Convince them that they are on the right side of history, and hence, any action, no matter how appalling it may seem, is ultimately righteous, as it is for the greater good.”

Peter then left to call upon the Lost Boys, telling them to assemble the following morning. At daybreak they appeared outside at a small wooden amphitheater located in the center of the dwellings. The gathering was the essential first step in Joe’s plan.

Peter did not disappoint. He gave one of the most eloquent and impassionate speeches of his life. His soliloquies could have caused extreme envy among some of history’s greatest orators. It did the trick. The Lost Boys had never witnessed anything like it before and were fixated on their leader’s every word. By the end of the dialogue, the Lost Boys were infused with both pride for their leader and rage at being outdone by Hook’s cadre of deplorables. An inferno seared within each and every one of them. They were ready for battle, to strike back at the opponents of peace, love, and democracy. Neverland would be saved!

The Lost Boys began immediately. They broke off into groups, each assigned to a different region of the island. They then went off and began to spread their message, which quickly resonated with Hook’s most vocal opponents. Within a matter a days, mass demonstrations began throughout Neverland, protesting Hook and demanding his resignation. Accompanying these protests was a new mentality, the likes of which had never been seen in Neverland. It was a belief that those who backed Hook were antagonists, enemies of the love and harmony which was once so prevalent in Neverland.

Soon friendships were destroyed and families torn apart, as those who were known to have backed Hook became detested and treated with increasing distain. They were publically branded “Hookers” a title which soon became a death warrant, as these Hookers lost jobs, were banished from certain establishments, and were generally isolated. It was not long before the Lost Boys and other warriors of justice labeled any positive talk about Hook or his policy as an “imagination offense,” a theoretical crime against the amity and tranquility of Neverland. Even words that were associated with the Captain were considered imagination offenses, like “pirate,” “rum,” “saber,” “parrot,” and “yo-ho-ho.”

As a result, Peter’s followers released a vocabulary entitled “Novel Speak,” which was a list of words and phrases that were deemed proper and not pro-Hook.  But it was not just individuals who were targeted. Businesses and other organizations that either backed Hook or had persons within them that did, were boycotted. The most prominent of which was a timepiece manufacturing company called “Croc’s Clocks.”

“When the Pan/Hook feud ceased,” Tinkerbell told Joe, “the Crocodile decided to start his own clock company. Since then, it has become remarkably successful. His accomplishments as a businessman led Hook to appoint him as chairman of his economic advisory council.”

“That settles it, then.” Replied Joe. “Any member of Hook’s administration is an enemy of the people of Neverland. The Crocodile and his enterprise must be destroyed!”

 Under the direction of the former Senator, Peter called on his supporters to no longer purchase merchandise from “Croc’s Clocks.” The company, along with anyone who worked for or managed it, was blacklisted and labeled as Hook sympathizers. Peter publically demanded that the Crocodile immediately step down as chairman of Hook’s economic council.  

The Crocodile tried to defend his actions, telling the Neverland times, “My position on Captain’s Hook economic advisory board has nothing to do with whether or not I like him. I accepted the position because I care about Neverland and want to make it prosperous. It’s why I, the beast that once took Hook’s hand, put aside my differences and decided to work for him. I did it for Neverland, not for Hook.”

However, the Crocodile’s excuses fell on deaf ears. His business suffered tremendous losses, and he was soon forced to resign from the council.  Other associations suffered similar fates. When it was discovered that the Indian’s Assistant to the Deputy Chief of Education voted for Hook, all commerce and dealings with the tribe, social, financial, etc.,  were cut off. This continued until the Indians finally conceded and banished  their deputy culprit.

It had been only a few months since Joe had arrived; yet everything was moving quickly and precisely as planned. Hook supporters were now terrified to admit their allegiance. Being branded a Hooker was worse than being a murder. It came to a point where even an allegation of Hook support, whether factual or not, was practically a death sentence. Many started to take advantage of the situation and levied accusations against rivals and those whom they once quarreled with, as Hookers.

An atmosphere of fear and bitterness now engulfed the once wondrous Eden, transforming it into a Hobbesian state. Neighbor was pitted against neighbor; friend against friend. The physical and emotional toll was catastrophic. But Joe gave it no never mind, as he knew that such suffering was necessary for the greater good.

Despite the purge’s success, Tinkerbell had become weary. She observed the ugliest behaviors that were engulfing the once-tranquil Neverland, with unease. She concluded that in the interest of Neverland’s well-being, this witch hunt needed to end.

During a strategy session with, Peter and Joe, Tinkerbell expressed her misgivings. The three were sitting around the oak table were they had first planned to take down Hook.

“Joe,” said Tinkerbell. “I really appreciate everything that you’ve done for Peter and me. You’ve put in a lot of hard work for us, and I thank you for that. But...”

Tinkerbell took deep breath, “...I think it’s time we put an end to this.”

Joe peered at her for a while, then responded, “What do you mean ‘put an end to this’? Things are going just as we intended. Hook’s base is running scared. We are on the cusp to taking back power. Why would we stop now when we are so close to victory?”

“Joe,” replied Tinkerbell, “look what we’re doing. We’re ripping up friendships, breaking families apart. We’re destroying lives!”

Joe fired back, “Did I not warn both of you about what would happen? I told you that if you want to stop Hook and make Neverland a pleasant place again, this is what must be done. We all knew there would be casualties. But they brought it upon themselves when they started supporting that wrenched villain! They choose the wrong side, and now they’re getting what they deserve!”

“What they deserve?” Tinkerbell repeated. “Isn’t allowing people to have differing opinions fundamental to a free society? We always talk about the fact that Hook is this hateful monster, a demagogue who used bullying and other repugnant behavior to gain power while we, the ones that stood against him, embraced the ideals of love and tolerance. But all we are doing by demeaning and ostracizing his supporters is creating an atmosphere of extreme divisiveness and resentment. This type of alienation is the reason why Hook came about in the first place, and now we’re just further proliferating it.”

She paused and flew close to the Senator so she was about three inches from his nose.

“It’s called doublethink, Joe. We’re taking two, contradictory things and trying to mash them together. We tell ourselves that we are on the side of love and acceptance and are thus fighting against hate and intolerance. Yet our treatment of our adversaries is fundamentally rooted in hate and intolerance. Can’t you see that, Joe? All we are doing right now is becoming what we claim we stand against, if not worse!”

Joe leaned forward so his nose was almost touching her.

“If I didn’t know any better, Tinkerbell, I would say that you’ve become a Hooker.”

“Are you kidding?!  Me!?” she screamed. “A Hooker I’ve been fighting this man with Peter for centuries! For goodness sake, the guy called me a pixie whore! All I’m saying is that we are now going against the values which are vital to a free people!”

Joe leaned back and crossed his arms.

“So what would you, being the astute political minded strategist you are, suggest we do?”

“Accept the fact that Hook’s rise to power was mostly our own doing. That it was our hubris, our inability to effectively govern, and our failure to address the legitimate concerns of a significant segment of the populace, that led to Hook’s success. And instead of engaging in these awful purges, try to address these issues so next time around we can prevent him, or another person like him, from getting elected again.”

The Senator let out a loud chuckle.

“Oh, Tinkerbell. You are truly naïve. You continue to allow yourself to be stuck in this little fantasy world. But let me tell you something from someone who lived his entire life outside of Neverland. Politics is not about playing nice! Politics is war without bloodshed and war is politics with bloodshed! They are one in the same! This is not about reconciliation. This is about bringing Hook and his cadre of ingrates down by any means necessary so we can insure the safety, security, and pleasurableness of Neverland!”

“I’m sorry,” said Tinkerbell. “I can’t deal with this right now. I need some air.”

With that, Tinkerbell flew out of one of the windows and disappeared. Joe glanced over at Peter who had been completely silent throughout the entire conversion. He was staring blankly towards the other side of the room, completely expressionless.

The Senator thought for a moment. He remembered how he had been made into a villain in the eyes of the American public, became a pariah in Congress, all because he tried to serve his country. He was not going to let it happen again. No one, especially no stupid little fairy, was going to undermine him. This was his moment, his destiny, his redemption. And  this time he would not be denied.

“Joe,” said Peter, still staring into the void, “I think Tink might be right. Maybe we have gone about this the wrong way.”

“Nonsense!” Joe retorted. “Peter, I know how close you and Tink are and that this might be hard to hear, but I don’t think she is with us anymore. I think she has sided with Hook.”

Peter looked at Joe.

“That’s impossible! Tink would never...”

“Never what?” Joe interrupted. “Never betray you? We are on the verge of victory, and yet she wants to ease up? No, Peter, I’m afraid Tink is one of them now.”

Peter sulked. He looked as if a loved one had just died.

“I know it’s hard, Peter.” Joe said, attempting to console him. “When I was in Congress, I had many people whom I thought were my close friends, turn against me. But you have to move on. You have to accept the fact that Tink has betrayed you. She now stands in your way, challenges your authority, and thus must be dealt with, albeit even harshly.”

Joe walked around the table and put his hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“Remember, you are ‘The Man,’ you are the ‘The Pan Man’! You are the most beloved person in Neverland. If anyone knows how to lead this land to greatness, it’s you. And anyone who questions you is wrong.”

Joe leaned in close to Peter’s ear and whispered, “Peter, we have our boots on their throats. This is our time, our moment in history  to crush our enemies once and for all. We can’t ease up. We can’t show mercy. We are no longer playing by Neverland rules. This is how things are done in the real world, and no one understands the real world better than I, Senator Joseph McCarthy.”

The next day Peter called a special assembly of his followers. He revealed that Tink, his best friend and loyal companion, was actually a Hook agent. The crowd emitted a huge gasp.

“It’s true.” He said. “I wish it wasn’t. But Tink is with Hook now. She is no longer one of us, and any further contact with her must cease immediately!”

Several more months went by and Peter and his followers only grew stronger. They were now using physical intimidation, demolishing the homes and business of alleged Hook supporters. Many citizens of Neverland, both Hooker and non-Hooker, were terrified. They lived in constant fear that someone would allege they had ties to Hook and that they and their families would suffer the consequences, not matter what the truth was.

The protests which began as a political movement had now morphed into a greater revolution of culture. Any symbols, books, art, or artifacts which were deemed to be pro-Hook, were destroyed. These included relics of Neverland’s past, even some that were centuries old and of incalculable historical value. It was unfortunate, but necessary, since only through the forceful remodeling of Neverland’s culture could it be made a pleasant place again.

Finally, with Hook and his cohorts being completely isolated, McCarthy and Peter struck. Peter ordered his admirers to attack the capital and slaughter anyone who stood in their way. And so they did, while the rest of populace, shrouded in fear, acquiescenced. The uprising was swift and fierce. Those that remained in the capital, including the dastardly Captain Hook, met with such a violent end that it would have even sent shivers up Stalin’s spine. But in the end, the revolutionaries’ actions were virtuous, for despite the terror and the carnage, Peter Pan had been catapulted back into power. True, irreparable damage was inflicted upon Neverland’s once great republic; but a slide into despotism was a small price to pay.

Peter sat in the dimly lit office of the Grand Chancellor. He was worn out and gloomy. His eyes were bloodshot and weary, as if he hadn’t slept in days. He was completely still, sitting there with his slightly mouth open, staring into the dark emptiness. He thought back to when he first sat in this chair. It was during the start of his first term. He had felt such joy, such hope. Now he just felt hallow. The youthful spirit for which Peter Pan was so celebrated had now evaporated. Outwardly he might still be a boy, but his innocence was forever lost.

Joe barged through the office door. Peter did not move, but continued staring into the abyss. Joe approached the desk and placed a piece of paper on it.

“What’s this?” Asked Peter without turning to Joe.

“Executive Order 9066. It orders the removal of all persons previously deemed Hook supporters to relocation facilities where they will be, shall we say, ‘reeducated and rehabilitated’.’”

Joe handed Peter a pen. He took it and signed the order without redirecting his gaze.  Joe took the paper and smiled.

“Congratulations, Peter. We did it! We won! We saved Neverland and made it wonderful again!”

Joe headed towards the door. Right before exiting, he turned around.

“I know, Peter. Why don’t you go out on the balcony and give one of your famous crows. Or, even better, how about you take a flight around the capitol building!”

“I can’t.” replied Peter.

“Why not?” Joe asked.

“I can’t fly anymore.”

Peter glanced up at Joe.

“I can’t think of anymore happy thoughts.”

And that is how Joseph McCarthy saved Neverland.

The End

© Copyright 2017 by R. M. S. Thornton