Journal
of the Illinois State Historical Society, Autumn 2000
Novelist
Marguerite Young devoted the last three decades of her life to
composing a sprawling, epic biography of Eugene Debs and the social
and intellectual context that produced him. Upon her death in 1995,
her friend Charles Ruas undertook the task of pulling together her
copious notes, research and writings and forming them into a coherent
whole that tries to make sense both of one of the towering figures of
American radicalism and the movement he led. Though one must admit
Ruas’s task was unenviable and admire his willingness to undertake
it, the end result does little to justify the amount of work
expended. Young’s book ultimately emerges as an overblown,
self-indulgent mess.
Most
historians write with the verve of one composing assembly
instructions for a piece of furniture, so usually when I comment that
the author writes like a novelist it is meant as a compliment. But
not in this case. Young uses novelistic techniques ill-suited to the
subject. She relies on long-winded sentences that quickly grow
aggravating and displays a fondness for puns and word-play that
becomes cloying. The style may be Faulknerian, but to paraphrase
Lloyd Bentsen, she’s no William Faulkner.
Moreover,
she approaches subjects indirectly, digressing frequently on
peripheral topics and only slowly coming to the point. For instance,
a discussion of Debs will lead to a comparison to Abraham Lincoln,
which then segues into a twenty-page description of the widowhood of
Mary Todd Lincoln, which will end by mentioning that the Lincoln’s
son, Robert Todd Lincoln, served as attorney for the Pullman Company
in its case against Debs, thus bringing the reader back to the topic
at hand. Similar tangents cover such subjects as Heinrich Heine,
Allan Pinkerton, John Wilkes Booth and Benjamin Harrison. Many of
these asides are interesting, but what they have to do with “the
life and times” of Debs remains unclear. The adage “Don’t speak
ill of the dead” has apparently been reinterpreted here as “Don’t
edit the dead.”
The
longest digression, covering most of the first 150 pages, focuses on
German radical Wilhelm Weitling and his exploration of various
utopian experiments, both in Europe and the United States. Young
labels America the “millennial continent” and discusses at great
length the attempts by different groups to build heaven on earth. In
particular, she spends an inordinate amount of time detailing the
experiences of the Mormons, never making clear what connection they
have to American socialism.
The
major problem is that Young completely ignores most of the salient
facets of late-nineteenth and early-twentieth century life that are
much more central in establishing Debs’s context. No mention is
made of populism, the Industrial Workers of the World, the Knights of
Labor (two passing references) or Edward Bellamy and his numerous
imitators (very strange for a book whose unifying theme is the
“millennial continent”). In short, in presenting a large
descriptive tapestry of nineteenth-century Americans (the book does
not cover the period after 1900, thus leaving out the absolutely
crucial final quarter-century of Debs’s life), Young explains
nothing.
Perhaps
most fundamentally, Young fails to place Debs in a regional context
that helps explain his radicalism. An Indiana native, Young describes
her fascination with Debs as a result of his status as a fellow
Hoosier. But her book fails to explain Debs as a specifically
midwestern radical. As yet, then, there is no synthesis of midwestern
radicalism on the level of James Green’s study of socialists in
Oklahoma and Texas1,
which traces the complex relationship between populism, labor
unionism, socialism, religion and small-town and rural values into an
indigenous movement culture.
Several
specific studies provide a starting point for such a synthesis,
emphasizing a vision of midwestern radicalism that, in a
non-doctrinaire fashion, blended European and American ideologies
with traditional American culture. Nick Salvatore’s vastly superior
biography, Eugene V. Debs: Citizen and Socialist,2
shows how Debs drew on such influences as republicanism,
evangelical Protestantism and small-town midwestern values to fashion
an authentically American socialism that resonated with his
audiences. Elliot Shore’s outstanding study of J.A. Wayland,
publisher of the major socialist newspaper, The Appeal to Reason,
portrays radical grass-roots journalism as mixing in equal measures
such political ideologies as republicanism, populism and Marxism with
good, old-fashioned small-town boosterism.3
In his study of the era’s major socialist publisher, the
Chicago-based Charles H. Kerr Company, Allen Ruff portrays Kerr’s
efforts to present a wide-ranging, eclectic radicalism that could be
conveyed to working people in terms they would understand.4
Such
works portray the processes by which socialism, as it was translated
into a mass movement throughout the Middle West in the early
twentieth century, drew on a variety of influences to create an often
contradictory, indigenously American radicalism. Though such
midwestern radicals frequently felt themselves at odds with the more
doctrinaire socialists on the East coast, their ideology struck a
responsive chord with large numbers of farmers, workers, small-town
residents and self-educated organic intellectuals throughout the
Midwest. And it was because Debs was a product of this culture that
he spoke for so many Americans. He contradicted himself; he contained
multitudes.
1James
Green, Grass-roots Socialism: Radical Movements in the Southwest,
1895-1943 (Baton Rouge:
Louisiana State University Press, 1978).
2Nick
Salvatore, Eugene V. Debs: Citizen and Socialist
(Urbana: University or Illinois Press, 1982).
3Elliot
Shore, Talkin’ Socialism: J.A. Wayland and the Role of the
Press in American Radicalism, 1890-1912 (Lawrence:
University Press of Kansas), 1988.
4Allen
Ruff, “We Called Each Other Comrade”: Charles H. Kerr &
Company, Radical Publishers
(Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1997).
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