Rats, Fatheads, and Romeos: Elections in the Gilded Age

As a young ladies maid who can’t yet vote, Jane Prescott doesn’t take a huge interest in national politics. (Local and domestic politics are a different story.) But writing a mystery set in the late Gilded Age, I wanted some sense of what was happening in Washington at the time. So I talked to Joseph Cummins, author of Anything For a Vote: Dirty Tricks, Cheap Shots, and October Surprises in U.S. Presidential Campaigns.

Me: A Death of No Importance takes place in 1910. So the most recent election was 1908 Taft vs. Bryan. Would it be right to say that this wasn't one of our more thrilling political battles?

Joseph Cummins: In 1904, on the very eve of his election win against Alton Parker—yes, one of the most boring presidential candidates in American history—Teddy Roosevelt made the cardinal error of his political life, saying that he would not run for another elected term as president. Roosevelt disliked his own veep, Charles W. Fairbanks, so he decided to throw his weight behind his friend, Secretary of War William Howard Taft. Taft was a very capable guy, having held numerous high-level positions, including governor of the Philippines, but he was also sort of a dufus. There was a joke that Taft’s name was an acronym for Takes Advice From Teddy—and Taft did visit Roosevelt throughout the campaign for advice. In the election of 1908, Taft weighed 330 pounds; since his running mate, “Sunny” Jim Sherman weighed 200, they may have been pound for pound the heaviest ticket in presidential history. But yes, the election was pretty boring. 1912 on the other hand…

 1908 was Bryan's third try. Couldn't the Democrats get anyone else?

Since Teddy was enormously popular, his man Taft was, too. The Dems threw the old warhorse Bryan out there for lack of anyone better to waste against a sure thing like Taft; however, though Taft won the electoral college by a wide margin, he only garnered 51.6 percent of the popular vote.

Who was a Republican? Who was a Democrat? And what about those Progressives?

In 1912, traditional conservative Republicans were led by Taft and they were much like the Republicans of, say, the 1950s, especially in the support of the economic game-changer of the time, which was the emergence of the corporations, what reformers called “trusts,” where economic power was concentrated in railway and oil barons and Wall Street financial interests in an unprecedented way. Americans weren’t used to it; Progressives saw it as a threat not only to economic balance in the country, but to the very heart of the democratic American way of life. They were certain (with some reason) that these trusts corrupted leaders in government. 1893-1897 had seen a terrible depression where 15,000 small businesses went under, four million people lost their jobs, bands of homeless people wandered the country, seeking work, and people marched on Washington in protest. (Socialism would reach its ascendency in 1912 with the independent candidacy of Eugene Debs.) 

In 1912 the Republicans had held the White House, with the exception of Grover Cleveland’s two non-consecutive terms, for an astonishing 44 years. This is the longest time a major American party has been in power; which means the Democrats were the ones out of power. When Teddy Roosevelt chose to buck the party system and run against Taft, his Progressive, or “Bull Moose” party (so-named because Roosevelt declared himself “fit as a Bull Moose”) drew a lot of dissatisfied Dems — a really interesting assortment of socialists, reformers, Christians who believed in social action, and advocacy groups, particularly of women. Their champions included the journalist Jane Addams and the writer William Allen White. They wanted to create a minimum wage and cap working hours, oversee financial markets, even enact a national health insurance. Sounds like the Democratic party of the New Deal and the 1960s, right?

But the actual Dems in 1912, were more conservative than these Progressives. They ran with the academic and rather dry Woodrow Wilson. The reason Wilson won was, of course, that Roosevelt’s move split the Republican party and handed Wilson the vote, which meant that Wilson actually won with only 41 percent of the popular vote.

We think politics is ugly now, but they talked a lot of smack in the Gilded Age. Nastiest political insult?

Yes, it was nasty. Roosevelt in particular. Although less crude, and of course different politically than Trump, TR was similar in his highly personal way of attacking his opponents. He called the admittedly dull Alton Parker “that neutral tinted individual.” And when he turned on Taft, he called him “a fathead with the brains of a guinea pig” and “a rat in a corner.”

When rumors came out that Wilson may have been having an affair, Roosevelt remarked: “You can’t cast a man as Romeo who looks and acts so much like an apothecary clerk.”

And he famously advised the portly Taft’s handlers never to let him be seen on a horse: “Dangerous for him and cruelty to the animal.”

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If you'd like read Anything for a Vote—and I strongly recommend you do because it's informative and hilarious—you can buy it here or here

 

A Visit to Downton Abbey

I get sad when mystery writers dislike their detectives. Arthur Conan Doyle famously resented Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie once called Hercule Poirot a “detestable, bombastic, tiresome, ego-centric little creep.”

But I get it. It takes a lot of work to conjure the encyclopedic knowledge of Holmes or the nimble dance of Poirot’s little gray cells. I didn’t give my detective, Jane Prescott, monster brains—although she’s very bright. But I did give her knowledge and skills that surpass mine. Jane Prescott is a ladies maid. She knows all about fashion, how to style hair, set a hat, the proper care of crepe de chine.

Her creator wears jeans and a Marimekko top every day of the week.

Jane’s attention to detail is part of her crime-solving repertoire. As such, those details have to be part of her story. Also, what’s a historical for if not to revel in the styles of an earlier time, especially one as resplendent as the Gilded Age?

So, I pore over books. I read the blogs of the clothing-obsessed. I talk to my friends who know such things. (“It’s not a blouse in 1910, it’s a waist.”) And when the Downton Abbey Exhibition comes to town, I make a beeline for it because IT’S RESEARCH!

It’s still November in New York, but oh, it’s Christmas at Downton. As you enter the exhibit, you’re greeted by an enormous tree, pine garlands, swathes of red, and twinkling lights. Everyone working at the exhibit seems giddy to be part of it and there are many jokes about making sure everything’s up to Mr. Carson’s standards or please walk quietly, we don’t want to disturb Lady Mary.

I am not concerned with Lady Mary, however. I’m interested in her maid. So I’m thrilled when the first items on display are Anna’s dresses. Now New York was not as formal as an English country estate. But it’s still helpful to get a sense of what a staff member who’s both servant and style confidante would wear. Here is Anna pre-promotion.

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And Anna post-promotion to ladies maid…

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Accompanied by thoughtful descriptions for the fashion imbeciles among us…

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Floral silk damask. Who knew?

Ah, hugely helpful. A peek at Anna's tool kit.

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Hello, Daisy and Mrs. Patmore.

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Here we have Mr. Carson's study. This thrills me for two reasons. Carson and Mrs. Hughes were my favorites on the show. And there is a servants' phone! I have such a phone in the novel. At times I've worried that I gave 1910 New York a few more phones than it really would have had. But America was ahead of England in phone use and if Carson has one, Jane can have one, too.

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Research done, even I want to see the pretty, pretty dresses.

Oooh…

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Ahhh…

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Hats…

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And finally, an outfit I like to imagine Jane wearing on a day off. Minus the pearls.

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Now, I couldn’t tell you what these dresses are made of or how they’re cut or who designed them. But Jane could. And that's why she's the detective and I'm just the writer. (FYI—Downton fans should not miss Jessica Fellowes's The Mitford Murders, on sale January 23.)

 

The Dead Do So Tell Tales

On my night table at the moment is Simon Schama's The Face of Britain, a much-read, much-loved copy of The Scold's Bridle, and a recent book on Kitty Genovese, who was murdered a few miles from my house. 

History. Mystery. Crime. I read a lot of books with dead people. What can I say? The departed—and the stories of how they made the trip—are fascinating. Especially when someone helped them along.

So this website is going to dedicated to that subject. Muhr-der. Throughout history. Both fictional and not. I'll be talking to many people who write about murder professionally. (Not so many who commit murder professionally, but we can always hope.) The narratives we construct around death—say, the Triangle Fire or Nicole Brown Simpson—reveal a lot. I'll talk about my books as well. But really, this site is a way to waste time thinking about one of my favorite obsessions.

Dead people. And how they got that way.