We are not in St. Helena by accident. It was intentional. In the 50’s, Jim Pop wanted to escape the “concrete jungle.” He yearned for the rural life. He never knew how tough it would be. He was a romantic. There was a lot of Rosseau in his character—noble savage and all that.

Thirty years later, at the same age, 39, I too high tailed it from the city. With three kids, I wanted them grow up in a small town—to attend public schools—the same ones I did. Instinctively, I guessed Jim Pop was on to something.

Small town, rural living has a certain allure. But it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Mayberry, USA, it ain’t. The tendency is to believe that where Andy Griffith sheriffed, life is easy—simple—uncomplicated. Until it’s not.

Throughout history societies of all kinds have equated cities with greed, avarice, pride and corruption. Bin Laden despised The Great Satan and her cities, for their decadent qualities. In his world, nothing symbolizes the evil of city life than the false towers which arrogant man constructs. That’s why the World Trade Center Towers were such an alluring target. Topple them, and one has symbolically destroyed the craven idol which corrupt, western man worships.

Myth, legend, and literature are replete with the chaste, noble country bumpkin entering the civilized world and straightening it out. From the Shepard David’s slaying of Goliath, to unsophisticated Arthur, pulling Excalibur out of the stone, to country boy Oedipus solv ing the riddle of the Sphinx and ridding Thebes of the plague, to the peasant girl Joan of Arc winning leading the charge for Charles VII, to our own, rail-splitting Honest, Abe Lincoln, freeing the slaves south of the Mason Dixon line, we have been conditioned to worship the pure in spirit which migrate to the urban centers to show us the light.

There is some truth to these myths. Rural, small town living tends to be less corrupt, more neighborly than life in the cities. My guess is that this is because in small towns, each one is held accountable for his actions. Ignore a neighbor with a flat tire on a lonely country road, and who will stop for you when the situation is reversed? Park your truck in the wrong driveway on Allyn Ave. and you’re toast. Grab an elevator on 86th St. and 3rd in New York, and who’s to know what apartment you are visiting?

Short change a shopper in Keller’s and the word wil l get out—fast. Small town “Tom toms” keep shop keepers honest and spouses more faithful—at least in theory.
On the other hand, gossip is often more erroneous than not. High school girls’ reputations can be ruined by malicious gossip, as can the honest work of a vineyard manager or local butcher. Reputation is everything.

Less so in the big cities. Credit anonymity.

That’s why Shakespeare had it right: “He who steals my purse steals trash…. But he that filches from me my good name/Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.”

It’ ironic, that Iago, the most infamous traitor in literature should utter these words.

This point was driven home this past weekend. “Scooter” Zumwalt, an honest man, was memorialized on Sunday at Charles Krug. The biggest turnout I’ve ever seen—and I’ve been to a service or two--was there. Friday night, a benefit was held for a courageous teen (kids never like to be named) and whereas we thought 60 or 70 friends of the family would show up, over 500 hundred stormed the Napa Valley Museum to help out.

Why? Because of the reputations of those families. Each family’s name was platinum. Each family had spent a lifetime giving back to the community and to their neighbors.

Small towns sometimes have a downside. Lynchings and mob violence often occur in rural enclaves. Malicious gossips and dividers can (temporarily) eclipse uniters.

Mostly, small towns bring out the best in people. Father Brinkel often talks about how in his African village, after a death, the entire village encircles the hut of the deceased. They don’t do much—they are just “there”—to show their love and support.

We witnessed that this weekend. We were in awe. We saw the best people come out to support the best families. We were just “there”—together. It was humbling. But it demonstrated Jim Pop wasn’t so dumb after all.