Everybody drops the dime

Every time I go through a toll booth that requires I pay some odd amount – $2.25, $1.75, whatever the case may be – I fork over a crumpled wad of singles and await my change, which usually comes in the form of quarters. Obsessive compulsive disorder demands that I place these quarters face-up inside my car’s cupholder, which means, as I’m driving away from the booth, I usually spare a quick glance at the jangling coins in my hand to make sure everything is copacetic (OCD is a cruel dictator, bossy and unrelenting). 

 

There, in light-refracting profile, is the face of George Washington. Most of us don’t give the guy much thought. Between quarters and dollar bills, he’s so ubiquitous that he’s become invisible, more symbol than man, and many of his famous exploits have been told and re-told so many times that they’ve taken on the waxy veneer of mythology. Everyone’s seen the painting of him crossing the Delaware River, but there’s something surreal about the image; maybe it’s the heroic pose. During the actual crossing, he was probably hunkered down in the boat with a towel over his head, shielding his face from the rain, and muttering rants about the British being a bunch of tosspot tallywhackers, or whatever passed for insults in 1776. The way it’s portrayed, you’d think he was about launch into flight like Superman and torch the redcoats’ encampment with his eyeball lasers.

 

Which would have been awesome.

 

So sure, there’s some exaggeration there, as there is with most of our heroes. But beneath that, he was undeniably a remarkable fellow. He changed the world. That’s how you get your face on money.

 

Imagine you’ve got a fistful of change and random bills laid out on a table in front of you. Look at the faces you see. There’s Washington and Lincoln, of course; they’re like the Lennon and McCartney of American presidents. If you’re lucky enough to have a $100 bill, you’ll see the mulleted mug of one Benjamin Franklin, inventor, statesman, and kite-flyer extraordinaire, the only man in history to so closely resemble a melted lump of cheese. Those of you at the helm of massive international drug cartels may occasionally catch a glimpse of a rare $10,000 note, with the sour face of Salmon P. Chase staring back at you – he was the country’s 25th treasury secretary, and by all accounts had a rotten disposition, perhaps owing to the fact that he was named after a smelly fish. At the other end of the moneybags spectrum is the Susan B. Anthony silver dollar, one of the rare instances that Yankee scratch is graced with the visage of an honest-to-goodness woman. 

 

Of the rest of the faces you’ll see on money, most are past presidents. All have some form of greatness in common, which, if you’re minting moolah, is the only sensible way to go. You don’t want people’s pockets weighed down by profile shots of Pauly Shore or the cast of “Three’s Company.” 

 

But there’s a problem. The most recent historic personage to be immortalized on currency is John F. Kennedy, whose chipmunk cheek bubbles boldly from the half-dollar coin. The U.S. Treasury seems to have settled in with a comfortable lineup of true-blood patriots for its array of bills and coinage, but Kennedy breathed his last in 1963; if there were ever a change to the iconic figures represented on American money, a new person added to the lineup, it would almost have to be someone who’s made a name in public life within the past 50 years or so – an acknowledgment that national history didn’t end with Kennedy’s cherubic smile.

 

The question then becomes: Who?

 

There’s hardly anyone that a majority of Americans would agree upon, or be comfortable with. You might think of Lyndon Johnson, who helped to pass landmark civil rights legislation in the 1960s; but he’s often associated with U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War, which makes him too controversial to be realistically considered. Conservatives seem to have a near-embarassing man-crush on Ronald Reagan, but some of his economic principles are still a source of contention in partisan bickerings – plus, it seems unlikely that the visage of someone who starred in a Hollywood film with a monkey (“Bedtime for Bonzo,” 1951) would ever be used to buy Milk Duds at the local cineplex. Then there’s Obama, who broke significant racial barriers to reach the Oval Office, but then became an enormously polarizing figure, inspiring in some the kind of hatred usually reserved for bridge trolls and movie villains with curly mustaches. If it weren’t for their presidential pedigrees, these are men who might be earmarked for thumb-breaking by a thick-browed gangster named Knuckles.

 

You hear a lot about political divisiveness nowadays, and for good reason. Everyone’s hero is somebody else’s enemy. If greatness is determined by consensus, then there haven’t been any great figures in American public life since the days when journalists could smoke unfiltered Lucky Strikes at their desks.

 

If the Treasury were to overhaul its lineup with figures from the past half-century – figures most everyone could agree were cool and worthy – it would almost have to seek subjects outside the normal spheres of politics and public service. What a revealing mirror that would hold up to society. You’d probably see denominations featuring Bart Simpson, or Fonzie from “Happy Days.” Drinkers would tip waitresses with Super Mario and Spider-Man; high school graduates would get cards from their grandparents with the original lineup of KISS tucked in the fold and a message reading, “You’ve earned it!”

 

That’s about what it’s come to. Either that, or we take a cue from foreign countries and adorn our money with ducks and bears. To my knowledge, ducks have never ordered drone strikes.

 

All a passing, toll booth-inspired whimsy, of course. There have been no indications that the stern-faced gents on money will be welcoming new recruits in the near future – and that’s a good thing, given the lack of worthy candidates. It’s just disheartening that the country hasn’t yet produced another Washington or Lincoln, or even a Salmon P. Chase, for that matter. We’re overdue for a public figure of that caliber.

 

Unless of course we’re merely overlooking the obvious. I envision a bumper sticker reading, “Superman for President, 2016.” Kinda has a nice ring to it.