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Louisiana Neros Fiddle While Nation's Business Halts
FOR two milleniums, Nero has fiddled while Rome burned. But the great historian, Tacitus, tells us that Nero has been defamed. Instead of fiddling, while thousands of citizens were being burned out of house and home, the Emperor Nero threw open to the common people the imperial Campus Martius that the homeless might be protected and ordered food rushed to them that they might be fed. By his energetic conduct, Tacitus tells us that Nero proved himself not only the friend but the lover of his people.
That happened in Rome nineteen hundred years ago under the reign of an ambitious, revelling, pagan emperor.
But what would the historian, Tacitus, say today if he could take a look at the wild celebrations of High Hat Oscar Allen and his political and banking associates in the state of Louisiana. Like every good citizen, he would see this puppet of Huey P. Long, looked down upon as a figurehead in Louisiana's executive mansion, staging the most tragic onslaught upon the common people that has ever been perpetrated in the history of the state. And that tragedy was enacted under a mask of gaiety that turns the lurid light of Nero's reign into an incandescent glow that would make the brilliant Mazda blush for shame.
High Hat Oscar Allen, jokingly called "Governor" of a great democratic state in the greatest republic that has ever been conceived in the mind of man, raises the curtain upon the most scandalous official revelry and contemptuous hatred of the people's good.
Kingfish Huey P. Long, known at home as a body-guarded, vote-stealing, wage-cutting, bribe-taking, tax-grabbing politician, and throughout the nation as clown, buffoon, and sensational blatonist, joins hands with his high hat dummy governor to the utter amazement of starving and distressed Louisianians at home.
These men, and other Louisiana officials who participated in the mad melee of the selfish few against the suffering many, have shown their true colors. Already had they lost the confidence, and now they fail to even command the decent respect of the people of the state of Louisiana. They are simply little fish in the great sea of democracy. Were it only for their personal actions, they could be scorned and ignored. But, while the good that men do is often interred with their bones, the evil that they do lives after them.
The evil that Huey P. Long, through his High Hat Governor, and his banking associates, has done to the people of the state and the nation is so appalling that it must command not only the instant but the incessant attention of every lover of the people and the people's rights.
Think of High Hat Allen calling a three-day holiday of the banks of Louisiana on the first of March, and immediately boarding a train for Washington in quest of the glee of an inaugural ball.
Think of the satin, silk, and velvet dressed ladies of Louisiana's political life in a mad whirl of intoxicating dance music, bedecked in costly diamonds and showered with pricely orchids while those at home groaned beneath the load of an unexpected bank "holiday."
Think of the officialdom of the state of Louisiana bowed down before the throne of hilarity when Louisiana was leading the sad spectacle to a national crisis. Think of Attorney General Porterie far away from home when Louisiana was in a mesh of business and legal confusion. Think of State Treasurer Cave engaging in Washington celebrations when his duty was to look after the state funds at home with banking suspended and the people's money tied up. Think of Alice Lee Grosjean, supervisor of public accounts, far away from the state with banks closed and public accounts paralyzed. Think of the uniformed staff of "Governor" High Hat Allen waltzing to the strains of carefree music while children at home weeped in hunger or wailed in despair.
Think of the veterans of the World War depositing money from the United States on the first of March in Louisiana banks to be told on the second of March, after High Hat had issued his banking holiday, that they could draw a nickel against each dollar on the third of the month. And while the boys at home were eating doughnuts and coffee because their legitimate money had been tied up by the banks, Louisiana's political ladies, in imported gowns, were crying, "Dance me around again, Willie," to the uniformed staff of High Hat Oscar's brigade.
Think of the school teachers of Louisiana who went without pay because the banking fraternity shut down on city and state official checks while Louisiana's highest officials thrilled in the vain glory of a Washington dance.
Think of the clamping down of the scanty pittance that is being dispensed by the Welfare Association—hardly enough to feed an able bodied man, to say nothing of his wife and children. Think of that pittance being stopped by the bankers, under the proclamation of a dancing High Hat "Governor," while infants sucked their thumbs and older children cried themselves to sleep. New Orleans and Louisiana were hungry, but the dance went on.
With banking, business, manufacturing, shipping, and commerce in general halted, woe, want, tribulation, anguish, yes, nation-wide hell has followed in the wake of the mad doings of Louisiana bankers and Louisiana politicians. Shameful as it is, Louisiana must assume the blame for having led the motley parade to the national crisis.
Scan the sad spectacle—Union Indemnity failure and fraud—Hibernia Bank rescued by R. F. C. as it tottered to fall—a three-day banking holiday declared by the dancing governor—the opening of the New Orleans bank on the second day of the three-day holiday with a bait to the public to start new accounts that would be payable by check in full—the re-closing of the banks on the third day of the three-day holiday because of the President's proclamation—a national crisis demanding quick action by President Roosevelt and Congress to avert a complete collapse of the financial structure of the United States.
Remember, had there been no Huey P. Long, the Wrecker, there would have been no Louisiana wrecked Highway Commission; had there been no wrecked Highway Commission, there would have been no Union Indemnity failure and fraud; had there been no Union Indemnity failure and fraud, Representative Fish of New York could not have hurt the Hibernia Bank by accusing Rudolph Hecht of being a party to this collosal fraud; had there been no run on the Hibernia Bank, Uncle Sam could have diverted millions to the hungry and the footsore; had the R. F. C. not been called upon in desperation to save the Hibernia Bank, there would have been no nation-wide loss of confidence in New Orleans and Louisiana banks that caused withdrawals and prompted the three-day farcical state holiday; had there been no three-day holiday farce, Louisiana could have helped stem the tide against banking stabilization instead of leading the way for nation-wide bank closings that led to the national crisis.
Rudolph Hecht has been called the Bad Boy of Bankdom. Together with Huey P. Long, the Wrecker, through their dummy High Hat Oscar, they forced the nation to the brink of a mad maelstrom of banking collapse, script money, and limited withdrawals.
If Tacitus, the great historian, could live today, believing in justice as he did, he would wish Franklin D. Roosevelt unlimited power in straightening out the mad muddle. Then he would truthfully proclaim, "Kingfish with his dummy High Hat went dancing while their people suffered the agony of the damned."
And yet, the unkindest cut of all is the sad spectacle of a Louisiana Senator opposing the new deal as was done the early part of the week when Huey P. Long and two of his cohorts voted against the measure giving President Roosevelt full power to save the nation and stem the onrushing tide of distress and suffering. Louisianians should forever cherish in their hearts this vote of Huey P. Long. If he has any defenders they should hang their heads in shame.