The Ballad of Dennis "Danger" Madalone

The summer before I started high school, so many adults were quick to remind me that these would be the years where "everything changes." Less than a week into my freshman year, this became brutally true when, less than 40 miles from the town in which I lived, the Twin Towers in New York City were destroyed in the September 11 terrorist attacks, a day which left thousands dead and plunged the 21st century into a brutal new era.

Over the next 25 years, I have reckoned with the transformation from sheltered, my-country-right-or-wrong teenager to "but what if there was a public reckoning against the ideologues and conservative traitors" adult as best I could. Certainly that's on my mind again lately, as I woke up on the day of my daughters' second birthday to find out that I guess we're just at war with Iran now—a decision made with no authorization from any branches of government, other than our sickening president, who convened behind a black curtain with his war advisors at Mar-a-Lago while looking like the villain from Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade who drinks from the wrong Holy Grail.

The immediate aftermath of 9/11, in which the "War on Terror" machine roared to life and dominated mass culture in hideous ways, is largely something I'm actively trying to block out with respect to the current moment. I don't want to think about "freedom fries" or Rock Against Bush any more than I have to. Besides, I had an even weirder scenario to contend with in my own backyard, when a middle-aged man whipped up a patriotism rally at my high school to promote his music.

Those first trickles of pro-Americanism at South Plainfield High School happened gradually. We expressed performative anger at alleged photos of brown people in the Middle East celebrating the attacks on our soil. We tried our best in history classes to understand the differences between the Taliban and Al-Qaeda. We purchased hastily-printed buttons with pictures of the Twin Towers against an American flag, reading aphorisms like "We Won't Forget Terrorism - We Will Remember Heroism." Then, one day, Dennis "Danger" Madalone came to the auditorium.

The things I know about Dennis "Danger" Madalone are frankly ridiculous. A graduate of SPHS in 1974, he moved out west to try his luck in Hollywood, and found steady work as a stuntman. I know this because when he came to our school, he had a reel of his stunts, a supercut mostly of him in a blonde wig and tights—ostensibly replacing William Katt as The Greatest American Hero—getting thrown out of various cars while Joey Scarbury's "Theme from The Greatest American Hero (Believe It or Not)" played over the footage for a little bit, followed by far more of Elton John's "Rocket Man (I Think It's Going to Be a Long, Long Time)." Weirdest of all, I don't remember the supercut segueing into any footage of Madalone as various redshirts or aliens on the then-recent spate of Star Trek series—a franchise he served with enough distinction to get his own behind-the-scenes trading card.

Suddenly, then came the CD singles. I never had one myself, but Madalone took that time in the auditorium to play and distribute copies of "America We Stand As One," the song he penned and recorded to lift the nation's spirits in these dark, confusing times. This is the kind of post-9/11 haze you remember, right? America: A Tribute to Heroes, The Concert for New York City, those sorts of things. Madalone wasn't part of any of those, but he did recruit two guys for his song whose names you might recall if you're a classic rock liner notes geek. Guitarist/producer Bob Kulick contributed to albums by KISS (where his brother Bruce was briefly a full-time member), Meat Loaf, Lou Reed, W.A.S.P. and that one heavily-memed song from SpongeBob Squarepants. The other producer/performer of every other instrument was Billy Sherwood, a former and current member of Yes.

These CDs could be found in any unused locker around the halls for the next few years. As for myself...I was a long, long, long way away from considering that, perhaps, America was a flawed nation gorged on jingoism, hubris and nostalgia. But there were two words ringing in my head even then: "too soon?" Sure, there's something to be said for public grief and mourning, but when the means and ends point even slightly toward the self, it's not a comfortable situation. I was happy to never think about it not long after that day.

But of course, that's not actually how it went, either. At some point early in college, I found myself in a common area watching an episode of Best Week Ever, the extraordinarily prescient VH1 show featuring comics riffing on video clips. Suddenly, there he was: Madalone had, years after the fact—with the Iraq War in full swing—filmed a video for "America We Stand As One." And the goofy rah-rah aesthetic and feathered hair was being lightly ribbed by the likes of Paul F. Tompkins, Christian Finnegan and WWE wrestler Chris Jericho! We all laughed, but only I knew the truth about where it came from.

I suppose it's a relief that none of us have to deal with an "America We Stand As One" situation in this present moment. (With our luck, it wouldn't even be fun enough to be made by humans, like that AI-generated song about Charlie Kirk.) But perhaps it's also a warning of how cringey patriotism mixed with media can be, so once again, I find myself saying, not as a proud promise, but a warning: never forget.