Abel Raises Cain
by Alan Abel
Chapter 3 — "Let's Clothe All Naked Animals"
The idea for a clothe-the-animal movement came to me over three decades ago when I was driving through Texas. As I rounded a bend in the road and braked to a sudden stop, some cattle casually crossed the highway oblivious to traffic. The only warning was an ambiguous sign, "Loose Livestock."
My car headed a long stream and another line was building up facing me. One of the cows languidly crossing the road joined her boyfriend, a rather large and ferocious-looking bull, on the other side. There they quietly embraced and began carrying on a most torrid love affair.
An elderly woman driver alone in the lead car facing me was obviously mortified by this unrestrained public display of affection. She put her head down on the steering wheel and covered both ears with her hands. Two men in the car behind her laughed animatedly, first at her and then at the animals. A middle-aged couple behind me looked the other way, as rigid as pointers, pretending not to notice.
At last it was all over. The two culprits in congress had separated, the rest of the animals crossed and the road was once again clear for passage. The embarrassed lady's car leaped forward with a roar of engine and a screeching of tires. As she sped by me, her taut facial expression revealed the strain she had been under during those few moments. But why had she covered her ears? As each automobile passed by, I caught glimpses of passengers reacting with hilarity, disgust or indifference. The kaleidoscopic effect was quite amusing to me.
As I drove on, I was unable to forget the incongruity of the scene just witnessed — both nature's interruption of modern man's mechanical order and a composite view of our confused sexual attitudes. The animals, after all, are nature's creatures and will do what comes naturally. To an animal, the world is his bedroom. He has no sense of sin.
But more perplexing was the human reaction, because it projected such a tangle of conflicts between our society's principles and its actions. I began to think of a satirical story attacking censorship, poking fun at people's foibles and fears, with a basic premise that would involve the civilizing of animals.
In three hours I completed a first draft decrying our nation's most prurient problem: naked and lewd animals. Written as a contemporary report, the substance of this original draft remained the same throughout the life of S.I.N.A..
The Society for Indecency to Naked Animals
(S.I.N.A.)
By Alan Abel
Last week in St. Louis I met G. Clifford Prout Jr., leader of an unusual organization called the Society for Indecency to Naked Animals, or S.I.N.A. for short. It is Mr. Prout's belief that all domestic animals should wear clothing for the sake of decency. He points out that we human beings, who are biologically animals, share our food, our love and our homes with our pets. Then we should also share our decency with them.
The S.I.N.A. philosophy for clothing all animals was initially prescribed by Mr. Prout Sr., who passed away last year leaving a will estimated at $400,000 to his son. There was a provision in that will that the inheritance was to be spent solely for promoting decency and morality through S.I.N.A.. Otherwise all the money would go to the Missouri State Department of Highways for the widening of roads and improvement of toll booths.
Since his father's passing, Cilfford Jr. has been diligently spending vast sums of this money for his dedicated cause, traveling all over the world, lecturing, and forming new S.I.N.A. chapters.
According to Prout, children habitually dress their dogs and cats because of a socially learned stimulus to look decent. Little Johnny sees his parents clothed. He looks at himself and he is clothed, but Rover the dog is stark naked! Unable to ignore the sight of Rover's immodesty, the child puts doll clothes on him. But how do his parents react? They rip off the clothes, calling Johnny a sissy. He cries and trouble begins as a double standard is permanently fixed in his little but impressionable mind.
Mr. Prout added that when children are denied the healthy habit of dressing their pets, they rebel against their parents, school and community, in that order.
"Try and explain to a three-year-old girl why her cat must remain in the nude," he said. "You can't. She becomes frustrated over the prevailing hypocrisy and joins a gang engaged in street fighting, muggings and robberies. School dropout, unwed mothers and other forms of antisocial behavior called juvenile delinquency are these youngsters' expressions of their contempt for the adult world they will inherit. So, the sooner we clothe these naked animals the better our chances are that we'll bring up young people to become decent citizens.˛
There are now over 25,000 honorary members of S.I.N.A. who have taken the pledge to clothe all animals, including those of neighbors and any strays prowling backyards. These determined moralists carry emergency animal clothing in their cars, can spot a naked animal at fifty feet, and then clothe him in twelve seconds flat! (Mr. Prout himself holds the present world record for catching and dressing a dog in nine and-a-half seconds).
Those people who wish to organize S.I.N.A. chapters in their own communities must take an oral and written emotional stability test to determine their general mental fitness, attitude and leadership potential. Mr. Prout said he devised the test himself and it helps weed out the crackpots, thrill seekers and other undesirables who would attempt to infiltrate S.I.N.A., possibly undermining the cause.
"Decency Today Means Morality Tomorrow" is the motto composed by Mr. Prout that is prominently displayed in every member's home, framed on walls, carved above fireplaces, embroidered on pillow cases, or chiseled into front sidewalks.
Mr. Prout drove me back to my motel and urged me to write the truth about S.I.N.A.; that he wasn't spending his father's fortune unwisely, contrary to some vicious and slanderous articles written about him. I listened as he spoke with a quiet air of confidence and determination usually reserved for men of importance. I was impressed. This bespectacled man in his early thirties with the tweed jacket and baggy pants suggested the appearance of a visiting professor in the humanities.
As we shook hands goodbye, Mr. Prout's parting words were memorable: "Don't ever forget; a nude horse is a rude horse."
The story you have just read is a fairy tale, pure fantasy, none of it is true. I repeat myself mainly for the benefit of those who are skimming through the pages out of context, terribly upset over S.I.N.A.'s misguided philosophy.
Although the Society for Indecency to Naked Animals was just a figment of my imagination, millions of people believed in the existence of such an organization. And why not? I had impressive stationery, an elegant mailing address on New York's Fifth Avenue, an inviting telephone number, MOrality 1-1963, and a dedicated motto, "Decency Today Means Morality Tomorrow." That, however, was just about the extent of the "organization" known as S.I.N.A..
A hoax, yes, but I did not initially create it as such. What I perpetrated was a living social satire, an allegory cloaked with the absurd purpose of putting panties on pets, half slips on cows and Bermuda shorts on horses. Thus, while S.I.N.A. succeeded in becoming an often discussed subject around the house and in the office, its true intention failed because hardly anyone, to my knowledge, recognized it as satire. Almost everyone thought that S.I.N.A. was seriously concerned with the horrendous task of covering up animals.
Jonathan Swift's brilliant satire, "A Modest Proposal," caused public outrage in the 18th Century. They didn't get it when he slyly advocated eating babies to ease hunger pains during Britain's food shortage. A discerning peek under S.I.N.A.'s allegorical cloak would have readily exposed our great double standard of living, not only sexual but also political, social and economic; in fact, all phases of man's life about which he says one thing and does another.
Newspapers, magazines, radio and television commentators soberly analyzed my crusade as "just another oddball group," earning for S.I.N.A. a public image of insane extremism.
The fact that hardly anyone ever saw an animal clothed for decency did not alter the belief that I was serious; nor did it occur to many that S.I.N.A. could be a sham. People laughed, certainly, but they were also infuriated over my straight-faced announcement that "all animals should wear clothing for the sake of decency, namely horses, cows, dogs, cats and other domestic animals that stand higher than 4 inches or are longer than 6 inches."
The early sixties were ideal for nutty causes and President Kennedy had openly welcomed protest groups to picket the White House. I accepted this offer with my wife and the doorman to our New York apartment, Bill Moran. He was supportive of our activities, had never been to Washington and eagerly accepted a free train ride with us on his day off.
We arrived at our nation's capitol carrying placards and pamphlets explaining our campaign. One sign read: "Please, Mrs. Kennedy, clothe Caroline's horse Macaroni for the sake of decency!" It was high noon as we three, dressed purposely in shabby clothing, paraded back and forth in front of the magnificent White House. A Secret Service agent took photographs and requested a handful of leaflets before disappearing. A few years later, when I shared an airplane seat to Cleveland with Jackie Kennedy's half-brother, Jim Auchencloss, he explode with laughter.
"I remember that day," he said excitedly. I was an intern. Uncle Jack watched you guys through binoculars, laughing hysterically. My sister sat there, arms folded, and was incensed. It made the President's day because he was so stressed out over the Cuban missile crisis."
As we continued our picketing and passed out literature for an hour, only one reporter asked me for an interview. Bob Goralsky with CBS News could hardly contain his professional decorum in front of the camera.
"Sir, are you some kind of nut?" he asked.
"No," I replied adamantly. "Nor am I perverted. Naked animals are everywhere and must be clothed to protect our children from the sight of indecent nudity. You tell a clothed dog to get off the couch and he will. Naked cows grazing are actually hanging their heads in shame because they are forced to be nudists in a clothed society. How can you deny that? Remember, decency today means morality tomorrow!"
Goralsky visibly broke up while stuttering his closing remarks and hurried away with the camera crew, shaking his head in disbelief.
After two hours and no sign of other reporters, only a lot of staring tourists, we quit. Doorman Bill walked to the train station and Jeanne and I checked into the nearby Hay Adams Hotel for a night of relaxation. As we approached the desk, the Washington News was delivered to a rack and there we were! The three of us on the front page with a photo and lead story. Obviously, reporters had been playing tourists.
So it was a successful climax to our caper even though subsequent issues of Washington and Baltimore newspapers published a raft of letters attacking me. Their antagonism reflected peoplešs disgust over the clothing of animals.
Outraged citizens from all walks of life rejected this philosophy with vitriolic condemnations of my morality, sanity and, in quite a few instances, my virility. A psychiatrist friend told me that each attack against S.I.N.A. was "a projection of guilt feelings representing someone's frustration over his own inadequacies," not mine.
And there were those people who began taking second looks at their pets and wondering if the animals weren't just a little indecent. Some people even clothed them, sending me snapshots as proof. Others formed S.I.N.A. chapters, including one in Columbus, Ohio that appeared in a Fourth of July parade with a float of clothed animals. Their picture was on page one of the Columbus Dispatch because they had won first prize!
The title of S.I.N.A., Society for Indecency to Naked Animals, was the first of a hundred contradictions I used to point out our hypocrisy of saying one thing and doing another. I embellished my Big Lie with countless exaggerations and non sequiturs to emphasize the satire.
I felt that the zealous public defenders of our nation's morality were so busy censoring bikini-clad women, outspoken books and films and classic statues, they had overlooked the most prurient shocker: naked and lewd animals. So why not censor them, too?
Then there are the extremists — the humorless, misguided, pathetic, self-proclaimed champions of democracy, who are marching, protesting, picketing and solving earth-shaking problems with a flip of the leaflet. S.I.N.A. actors spoofed them by wearing decrepit clothes, staging ridiculous stunts in public and handing out ludicrous propaganda.
Promoting a nutty cause like S.I.N.A. was not without its personal sacrifices. Relatives were horrified, friends embarrassed and business connections suddenly disconnected. Obviously, I had gone cuckoo. I explained to my Aunt Evelyn it was only a joke. She smiled sweetly, patted me on the shoulder and said: "Of course, Alan. But we saw Walter Cronkite talk about your animal crusade on the CBS Evening News. We're praying for you."
Since nobody had recognized the S.I.N.A. farce, let alone its intrinsic meanings, I added crazier stunts to aid the public's perception of the parody. This didn't help a bit. For example, a few musician friends marched in a New York Labor Day parade up Fifth Avenue with their instruments and several clothed dogs as "The S.I.N.A. Marching Band." We has a cello strapped around on fellow's neck, an antique tuba, a clarinet, two bugles and a snare drum...all playing "The Stars and Stripes Forever" in different keys. It was horrible sounding music, but because we were carrying the American flag and looking serious, everyone along the way applauded.
So why did I spend five years pulling the public's collective leg? I sometimes wonder the same thing myself. Perhaps naively, I never cease to be amazed at how seriously people take themselves, unable to see the funny images we all reflect.
I always avoided clothing any live animals because (a) they don't care for clothes; (b) they bite, scratch and kick; and (c) I didn't want to obscure S.I.N.A.'s real motive: exposing the absurdities of human beings. Putting pants on a pony to please the press became my greatest fear... and the pony's!
I realize now that some people who were taken in will never forgive me. (Yes, Aunt Evelyn changed her will and I wasn't in it). Others will never see anything funny about the spoof. Far too many will never be able to dismiss S.I.N.A. as a hoax because the indelible print of newspaper stories and the sound of determined voices on radio and television linger. I had, in effect, cried "wolf" too often.
From a social satire to a game to see how long it could last, S.I.N.A. seems to have achieved an enigmatic state of immortality.
- More on the S.I.N.A. hoax
