IX
“Bunny, I’ve got it all worked out,” announced Matthew, several mornings later, as he breezed into the office.
“Got what worked out?”
“The political proposition.”
“Spill it.”
“Well, here it is: First, we get Givens on the radio; national hookup, you know, once a week for about two months.”
“What’ll he talk about? Are you going to write it for him?”
“Oh, he knows how to charm the yokels. He’ll appeal to the American people to call upon the Republican administration to close up the sanitariums of Dr. Crookman and deport everybody connected with Black-No-More.”
“You can’t deport citizens, silly,” Bunny remonstrated.
“That don’t stop you from advocating it. This is politics, Big Boy.”
“Well, what else is on the program?”
“Next: We start a campaign of denunciation against the Republicans in The Warning, connecting them with the Pope, Black-No-More and anything else we can think of.”
“But they were practically anti-Catholic in 1928, weren’t they?”
“Seven years ago, Bunny, seven years ago. How often must I tell you that the people never remember anything? Next we pull the old Write-to-your-Congressman-Write-to-your-Senator stuff. We carry the form letter in The Warning, the readers do the rest.”
“You can’t win a campaign on that stuff, alone,” said Bunny disdainfully. “Bring me something better than that, Brother.”
“Well, the other step is a surprise, old chap. I’m going to keep it under my hat until later on. But when I spring it, old timer, it’ll knock everybody for a row of toadstools.” Matthew smiled mysteriously and smoothed back his pale blond hair.
“When do we start this radio racket?” yawned Bunny.
“Wait’ll I talk it over with the Chief,” said Matthew, rising, “and see how he’s dated up.”
The following Thursday evening at 8:15 p.m. millions of people sat before their loud speakers, expectantly awaiting the heralded address to the nation by the Imperial Grand Wizard of the Knights of Nordica. The program started promptly:
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen of the radio audience. This is Station W H A T, Atlanta, GA, Mortimer K. Shanker announcing. This evening we are offering a program of tremendous interest to every American citizen. The countrywide hookup over the chain of the Moronia Broadcasting Company is enabling one hundred million citizens to hear one of the most significant messages ever delivered to the American public.
“Before introducing the distinguished speaker of the evening, however, I have a little treat in store for you. Mr. Jack Albert, the well-known Broadway singer and comedian, has kindly consented to render his favorite among the popular songs of the day, ‘Vanishing Mammy.’ Mr. Albert will be accompanied by that incomparable aggregation of musical talent, Sammy Snort’s Bogalusa Babies. … Come on, Al, say a word or two to the ladies and gentlemen of the radio audience before you begin.”
“Oh, hello folks. Awfully glad to see so many of you out there tonight. Well, that is to say, I suppose there are many of you out there. You know I like to flatter myself, besides I haven’t my glasses so I can’t see very well. However, that’s not the pint, as the bootleggers say. I’m terribly pleased to have the opportunity of starting off a program like this with one of the songs I have come to love best. You know, I think a whole lot of this song. I like it because it has feeling and sentiment. It means something. It carries you back to the good old days that are dead and gone forever. It was written by Johnny Gulp with music by the eminent Japanese-American composer, Forkrise Sake. And, as Mr. Shanker told you, I am being accompanied by Sammy Snort’s Bogalusa Babies through the courtesy of the Artillery Café, Chicago, Illinois. All right, Sammy, smack it!”
In two seconds the blare of the jazz orchestra smote the ears of the unseen audience with the weird medley and clash of sound that had passed for music since the days of the Panama-Pacific Exposition. Then the sound died to a whisper and the plaintive voice of America’s premier black-faced troubadour came over the air:
Vanishing Mammy, Mammy! Mammy! of Mine,
You’ve been away, dear, such an awfully long time.
You went away, Sweet Mammy! Mammy! one summer night
I can’t help thinkin’, Mammy, that you went white.
Of course I can’t blame you, Mammy! Mammy! dear
Because you had so many troubles, Mammy, to bear.
But the old homestead hasn’t been the same
Since I last heard you, Mammy, call my name.
And so I wait, loving Mammy, it seems in vain,
For you to come waddling back home again
Vanishing Mammy! Mammy! Mammy!
I’m waiting for you to come back home again.
“Now, radio audience, this is Mr. Mortimer Shanker speaking again. I know you all loved Mr. Albert’s soulful rendition of ‘Vanishing Mammy.’ We’re going to try to get him back again in the very near future.
“It now gives me great pleasure to introduce to you a man who hardly needs any introduction. A man who is known throughout the civilized world. A man of great scholarship, executive ability and organizing genius. A man who has, practically unassisted, brought five million Americans under the banner of one of the greatest societies in this country. It affords me great pleasure, ladies and gentlemen of the radio audience, to introduce Rev. Henry Givens, Imperial Grand Wizard of the Knights of Nordica, who will address you on the very timely topic of ‘The Menace of Negro Blood.’ ”
Rev. Givens, fortified with a slug of corn, advanced nervously to the microphone, fingering his prepared address. He cleared his throat and talked for upwards of an hour during which time he successfully avoided saying anything that was true, the result being that thousands of telegrams and long distance telephone calls of congratulation came in to the studio. In his long address he discussed the foundations of the Republic, anthropology, psychology, miscegenation, cooperation with Christ, getting right with God, curbing Bolshevism, the bane of birth control, the menace of the Modernists, science versus religion, and many other subjects of which he was totally
