CSotD: Cartoon Classic: Sex, Politics and Mudslinging
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Daryl Cagle posts a brief item reflecting on this Frank Beard classic cartoon, in light of Arnold Schwartzenegger's current scandalous problems. With Schwarzenegger's political career already in the rearview mirror, I'm not sure the parallel holds, but the general tone of political commentary has certainly reverted to the partisan age in which Beard reigned.
During the Lewinksy scandal, I wrote a column on Cleveland's response to the issue, couched in a discussion of how I taught this particular cartoon as part of a presentation I used to do for high schools. The column ran February 1, 1998, in the Press-Republican of Plattsburgh NY (which retains the copyright), and, since it was good enough to get me invited to a Freedom Forum roundtable on the topic of White House coverage, I won't attempt to improve upon it:
1884's lesson: "Whatever you do, tell the truth."
USA Today, NBC and CBS have each, over the past week, agonized publicly over the dilemma of covering presidential sex scandals in front of children. The NBC reporter even said something about bringing up "X-rated topics" with a PG audience.
I guess it's been a while since she saw a PG movie, or talked about sex with an adolescent.
Through our Political Cartoon presentation, I've been discussing a presidential sex scandal with students for a couple of years now, though there are so many topics to be covered that we don't always get to Grover Cleveland's 1884 campaign.
When we do, the kids find it an interesting study in mudslinging.
We've already talked about the difference between cartoons that attack someone's policies and cartoons that attack them on a personal basis, and the Frank Beard cartoon is a good example of personal attack: Grover Cleveland throws an angry tantrum as a woman weeps and, in her arms, an infant leans towards Cleveland, crying "I want my pa!"
First of all, I tell them, the "infant" was 10 years old by the time Cleveland ran for president: Beard drew a baby to play upon sentiment.
However, there was a more fundamental reason the attack failed: Cleveland hadn't abandoned the child, and he refused to hide from the rumors.
Gov. Cleveland had barely been nominated when the Buffalo Evening Telegraph published a report in which it revealed that, in his days as a Buffalo attorney, Cleveland had impregnated a poor young widow, then had her committed to a mental institution to get out of marrying her, abandoning the unfortunate infant to an orphan asylum.
Campaign advisor Charles Goodyear wired Albany for instructions, and the governor sent a famous six-word reply: "Whatever you do, tell the truth."
Cleveland himself confided that truth to a selection of influential clergymen.
And the truth was this: A decade before, Cleveland had made the acquaintance of Maria Halpin, an attractive, intelligent widow who had come from Pennsylvania to work in a shirt factory and now was manager of the cloak department at a drygoods store.
Halpin kept company with several Buffalo attorneys, and I explain to the students that she was not a prostitute, but that she may have sometimes complained over dinner about the difficulty of meeting her rent that month or the distressing shabbiness of her only winter coat. It's entirely possible that she may have, from time to time, received some assistance from these generous friends.
Halpin became pregnant, and named Cleveland as the father.
Was he? They didn't have blood tests in those days, but it was possible.
She may have named Cleveland because the other attorneys were married, or because she knew he would behave honorably. In any case, he accepted the responsibility.
He paid Maria Halpin's bills while she was out of work having the baby. Then, when she fell into serious alcoholism after the baby was born, he paid for her treatment at a sanitarium run by the Sisters of Charity, and to have the baby kept at a local orphan asylum. Later, Cleveland footed the legal bills for termination of custody, and for the child to be adopted by a middle-class family. The child grew up to become a physician.
Meanwhile, Cleveland paid to set the woman up with her own business in Niagara Falls, so that she would no longer have to rely upon the kindness of strangers.
As the Rev. Kingsley Twining wrote in his report on the scandal, "After the preliminary offense … his conduct was singularly honorable, showing no attempt to evade responsibility and doing all that he could to meet the duties involved, of which marriage was certainly not one."
While all this was unraveling, Cleveland was offered the chance to purchase documents that would unleash a counter-scandal on his opponent, James Blaine. He paid the tipster and took the papers, saying, "Is this all of them?"
Assured that the bundle was complete, he shredded it, entirely unread, and fed the scraps into his office fireplace.
"The other side can have a monopoly of all the dirt in this campaign," he commented, as the incriminating documents were reduced to ashes.
So, are kids ready to hear a story like that?
Looking around, you might say the lesson is a bit overdue.
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