Paul Laurence Dunbar: "Mr. Cornelius Johnson, Office-Seeker" (was Re: The Language of Betrayal)

[Yoshie Furuhashi <furuhashi.1@xxxxxxx>]

> Nathan Newman wrote:
>
> > At a more sophisticated level, you have Yoshie attacking the NAACP and NOW
> > as the "Talented Tenth" as if working class blacks through a whole range of
> > organizations have not supported Gore.
>
> What organizations you have in mind?
>
> Most working class blacks don't vote.
>
> Doug

Does Nathan or Doug or anyone have a race-divided analysis of union
votes for Gore, Bush, Nader, etc.?  If such an analysis is available,
it will probably reveal that both Doug and Nathan are partially right
here: most working-class blacks don't vote (and many of them are not
allowed to vote), but the voting members of the black working class
do vote Democratic, and without their votes, we can't even speak of
"union votes" (for lots of white male unionists vote Republican).

That said, I will continue to refine my analysis of the Talented
Tenth, but meanwhile, those of you who have not read Paul Laurence
Dunber's "Mr. Cornelius Johnson, Office-Seeker" (first published in
_The Cosmopolitan_ in 1899) should immediately read it at
<http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/etcbin/browse-mixed-new?id=DunMist&tag=public&images/modeng&data=/texts/english/modeng/parsed>.
Here's a teaser, whose last lines should resonate for blacks who have
& continue to vote Democratic:

*****   ...Cornelius and Mr. Toliver hugged each other.

     "It came just in time," said the younger man; "the last of my
money was about gone, and I should have had to begin paying off that
mortgage with no prospect of ever doing it."

     The two had suffered together, and it was fitting that they
should be together to receive the news of the long-desired happiness,
so arm in arm they sauntered down to the Congressman's office about
five o'clock the next afternoon.  In honor of the occasion, Mr.
Johnson had spent his last dollar in redeeming the gray Prince Albert
and the shiny hat.  A smile flashed across Barker's face as he noted
the change.

     "Well, Cornelius," he said, "I'm glad to see you still
prosperous-looking, for there were some alleged irregularities in
your methods down in Alabama, and the Senate has refused to confirm
you.  I did all I could for you, but -- "

     The rest of the sentence was lost, as Mr. Toliver's arms
received his friend's fainting form.

     "Poor devil!" said the Congressman.  "I should have broken it
more gently."

     Somehow Mr. Toliver got him home and to bed, where for nine
weeks he lay wasting under a complete nervous give-down.  The little
wife and the children came up to nurse him, and the woman's ready
industry helped him to such creature comforts as his sickness
demanded.  Never once did she murmur; never once did her faith in him
waver.  And when he was well enough to be moved back, it was money
that she had earned, increased by what Mr. Toliver, in his generosity
of spirit, took from his own narrow means, that paid their
second-class fare back to the South.

     During the fever-fits of his illness, the wasted politician
first begged piteously that they would not send him home unplaced,
and then he would break out in the most extravagant and pompous
boasts about his position, his Congressman and his influence.  When
he came to himself, he was silent, morose and bitter. Only once did
he melt.  It was when he held Mr. Toliver's hand and bade him
good-bye.  Then the tears came into his eyes, and what he would have
said was lost among his broken words.

     As he stood upon the platform of the car as it moved out, and
gazed at the white dome and feathery spires of the city, growing into
gray indefiniteness, he ground his teeth, and raising his spent hand,
shook it at the receding view.  "Damn you! damn you!" he cried.
"Damn your deceit, your fair cruelties; damn you, you hard, white
liar!"   *****

Yoshie