 |
Editor's Note: Here is the extraordinary story
behind the extraordinary story of 'TheWonderfulWizard of
Oz'. Most of us have seen the movie version of this
allegorical tale, but few of us are aware of what the various
characters, places and things represented in the mind of Frank
Baum, the tale's author. Professor Quentin Taylor of Rogers State
University invitingly titles the piece presented below 'Money
and Politics in the Land of Oz'. Though 'The Wonderful
Wizard of Oz' was written over 100 years ago, the themes
will be recongizable to those with an interest in golden matters. While many today consider gold an instrument of financial and personal freedom, in Baum's tale, it is painted as a villain -- the tool of oppression. So, as you are about to see, we have come full circle, and gold
has travelled a yellow brick road of its own. Happy reading. - Michael Kosares |
Abstract: L. Frank Baum claimed to have written The Wonderful Wizard of Oz "solely to pleasure the
children" of his day, but scholars have found enough parallels
between Dorothy's yellow-brick odyssey and the politics of 1890s
Populism to suggest otherwise. Did Baum intend to pen a subtle
political satire on monetary reform or merely an entertaining
fantasy?
"The story of 'The Wonderful Wizard of Oz' was
written solely to pleasure children of today" (Dighe 2002,
42). So wrote L. Frank Baum in the introduction to his
popular children's story published in 1900. As fertile as his
imagination was, Baum could hardly have conceived that his "modernized
fairly tale" would attain immortality when it was adapted
to the silver screen forty years later. Though not a smash hit
at the time of its release, The Wizard of Oz soon captured
the hearts of the movie-going public, and it has retained its
grip ever since. With its stirring effects, colorful characters,
and memorable music (not to mention Judy Garland's dazzling performance),
the film has delighted young and old alike for three generations.
Yet, as everyone knows, The Wizard of Oz is more than just
another celluloid classic; it has become a permanent part of American
popular culture.
Oz as Allegory
Is Oz, however, merely a children's story, as its author
claimed? For a quarter of a century after its film debut, no one
seemed to think otherwise. This view would change completely when
an obscure high school teacher published an essay in American
Quarterly claiming that Baum's charming tale concealed a clever
allegory on the Populist movement, the agrarian revolt that swept
across the Midwest in the 1890s. In an ingenuous act of imaginative
scholarship, Henry M. Littlefield linked the characters and the
story line of the Oz tale to the political landscape of the Mauve
Decade. The discovery was little less than astonishing: Baum's
children's story was in fact a full-blown "parable on populism,"
a "vibrant and ironic portrait" of America on the eve
of the new century (Littlefield 1964, 50).
In supporting this thesis, Littlefield drew on Baum's experience
as a journalist before he wrote Oz. As editor of a small
newspaper in Aberdeen, South Dakota, Baum had written on politics and current events
in the late 1880s and early 1890s, a period that coincided with
the formation of the Populist Party. Littlefield also indicated
that Baum was sympathetic to the Populist movement, supported
William Jennings Bryan in the election of 1896, and, though not
an activist, consistently voted for Democratic candidates. (In
1896, the Populists joined the Democrats in backing Bryan's bid
for the presidency.) Finally, Littlefield noted Baum's penchant
for political satire as evidenced by his second Oz tale,
which lampoons feminism and the suffragette movement.
In coupling Baum's political and literary proclivities, Littlefield
built on the work of Martin Gardner and Russel B. Nye, who were
among the first to take a serious interest in "The Royal
Historian of Oz." According to Nye, Baum all but admitted
that his writings contained a veiled subtext, confessing his desire
to pen stories that would "bear the stamp of our times and
depict the progressive fairies of the day" (Gardiner and
Nye 1957, 1). For Littlefield, Baum's revelation appeared decisive.
Yet even without it, the numerous parallels and analogies between
the Oz story and contemporary politics were "far too
consistent to be coincidental" (1964, 58). And although the
parable remains in a "minor key" and is not allowed
to interfere with the fantasy, "the author's allegorical
intent seems clear"-that is, to produce "a gentle and
friendly Midwestern critique of the Populist rationale" (50,
58, 57).
The reaction to Littlefield was, predictably, mixed. Scholars
and teachers, who saw the allegorical reading (as Littlefield
himself had) as a useful "teaching mechanism," tended
to be enthusiastic. Many among the Oz faithful, however,
were not impressed, including Baum's great-grandson, who curtly
dismissed the parable thesis as "insane" (Moyer 1998,
46). Although neither side produced much evidence, Littlefield's
interpretation gained widespread currency in academic circles,
and by the 1980s it had assumed the proportions of an "urban
legend," as history textbooks and scholarly works on Populism
paid homage to the Oz allegory.
The contention that Oz is a cleverly crafted political
parable reached its apogee in the erudite pages of the Journal
of Political Economy. In an article entitled "The 'Wizard
of Oz' as a Monetary Allegory" (1990), Hugh Rockoff examined
the analogies between Baum's use of imagery and the monetary politics
of the Populist era. In the book version of Oz, Dorothy
treads the Yellow Brick Road in silver shoes, not in ruby slippers.
Silver shoes on a golden road? A key plank in the Populist platform
was a demand for "free silver" -- that is, the "free
and unlimited coinage of silver and gold" at a fixed ratio
of sixteen to one.
Populists and other free-silver proponents advocated unlimited coinage of the white metal in order to inflate the money supply, thus making it easer for cash-strapped farmers and small businessmen to borrow money and pay off debts. At the Democratic National Convention in 1896, the assembled delegates
nominated William Jennings Bryan, an avid supporter of free silver,
for president. The Bryan nomination created a split in the Democratic
Party, as gold-standard delegates bolted the convention. When
the Populists convened two weeks later, they decided to endorse
Bryan, putting all their reformist eggs in the free-silver basket.
When Bryan was roundly defeated by the "sound money"
Republican William McKinley, the Populist Party, which had considerable
strength in the Midwest and South, fell into rapid decline. By
1900, when Bryan was again defeated by McKinley, Populism already
had one foot in the political grave.
According to Rockoff, the monetary politics of the 1896 campaign,
which divided the electorate into "silverites" and "goldbugs,"
supplied the central backdrop for Baum's allegorical adaptation.
Incorporating the analogies developed by Littlefield and others,
and adding a few of his own, Rockoff provided a detailed and sustained
analysis of the political and economic issues symbolically refracted
in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
With Rockoff, the allegorical interpretation reached a peak of
sophistication, yet its subsequent decline was no less precipitous
than that of the Populist Party itself. In 1991, Michael Hearn,
a leading Baum scholar, published a letter in the New York
Times that demolished Gardner and Nye's claim (based on interviews
with Baum's son and biographer) that Baum was a Democrat and a
Bryan supporter. Indeed, the record shows that Baum was neither.
His editorials for the Aberdeen Saturday Pioneer expressed
support for Republican candidates and criticized the nascent Populist
movement. Later, during the 1896 campaign, Baum published a poem
championing McKinley and his economic policies: "Our merchants
won't be trembling / At the silverites' dissembling / When McKinley
gets the chair!" Further evidence, from Baum's later books
and activities, indicates that he was, if not a regular Republican,
then certainly no Democrat or Populist.
On the basis of these revelations, Hearn found "no evidence
that Baum's story is in any way a Populist allegory," and
he concluded that the Littlefield reading "has no basis in
fact" (1992). In response, Littlefield conceded that "there
is no basis in fact to consider Baum a supporter of turn-of-the-century
Populist ideology," adding that whatever Baum's intentions
were in writing Oz, he kept them to himself (1992). The Oz purists could only rejoice.
The postmortem on the symbolic reading of Baum soon followed.
In "The Rise and Fall of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz as a 'Parable on Populism,'" David Parker recounted the curious
interpretive history of the first Oz book. Although bowing
to the evidence, Parker attempted to salvage the allegorical interpretation
as "a useful pedagogical device . . . [for] illustrating
a number of Gilded Age issues" (1994, 58), but he suggested
that other interpretations might be "just as compelling"
(59). Given its rich imagery and suggestive plot, Baum's story,
Parker concluded, can be "anything we want it to be-including,
if we wish, a parable on Populism" (59).
This judgment would seem to be the final word on what is certainly
one of the most fascinating literary puzzles of the twentieth
century. On the surface, this verdict is confirmed by Ranjit S.
Dighe in a recent edition of Baum's immortal tale. In The Historian's
Wizard of Oz: Reading L. Frank Baum's Classic as a Political and
Monetary Allegory, Dighe concludes that the story "is
almost certainly not a conscious Populist allegory," but,
like Parker, he believes "the book works" as one (2002,
8).
Really the Last Word?
This "solution" to the riddle may have been intended
to pull the curtain on a wellworn debate, but it only begs the
question: If Oz "works" so well as an allegory,
why discount the likelihood that it was meant as an allegory?
Ironically, Dighe provides ample circumstantial evidence that
it was. First, Baum was, if not politically active, then undoubtedly
well informed. As a journalist and editor, he was familiar with
the political events and controversies of the day, and he commented
liberally on a number of them. Second, all agree that Baum injected
political satire into some of his later works, including the 1902
stage production of Oz, which parodied the Populists, among
others. A final and perhaps more telling sign is found in Baum's
enigmatic personality. Friends and family members have attested
to his penchant for jesting and playful dissimulation. "Everything
he said had to be taken with at least a half-pound of salt,"
recalled one acquaintance (qtd. in Dighe 2002, 8). Similarly,
a nephew noted Baum's habit of "tell[ing] wild tales, with
a perfectly straight face, and earnestly, as though he really
believed them himself" (qtd. in Dighe 2002, 8). There is
also an anecdote that Baum spoke on behalf of a Republican candidate
on one day, then gave the same speech in favor of a Democrat on
another day (Hearn 1992).
Taken together, these facts suggest that if anyone was likely
to create a political satire out of an innocent children's story,
it was L. Frank Baum (Koupal 2001). But Baum was a sophisticated
satirist, who most likely understood that the most effective satire
is guileless and keeps the reader guessing as to the author's
true intent (Koupal 1989). This sophistication explains the disclaimer
in the introduction to Oz: the claim that the book was
"written solely to pleasure children of today." Dighe
suggests that this "odd disclaimer" may have been a
"hint" that Baum intended to conceal a message in the
text (2002, 42). Indeed, to do so was fully consistent with Baum's
personality and later writings. Why else claim that a children's
book's was "written solely" for children unless the
author wished to imply just the opposite? In light of the obvious
parallels and correspondences in Oz, the disclaimer stands
revealed for what it truly is: the preliminary staging of an elaborate
jest. That most readers did not "get it" only added
to its success, for Baum, a connoisseur of the preposterous, nourished
the pleasures of the private joke (see William Leach's introduction
to Baum [1900] 1991).
With these considerations in mind, the alleged "triumph"
of the revisionist view is not merely a qualified and tentative
victory, but no victory at all. First, Littlefield and his supporters
never claimed to have proved that Baum wrote a deliberate, conscious
parable. True, Littlefield did propose to "demonstrate"
the presence of "a symbolic allegory" in Oz,
but he conceded that his specific findings were "theoretical"
(50, 58). Second, he can hardly be blamed for the erroneous details
regarding Baum's political proclivities. More important, Baum's
politics, which were highly eclectic, have little bearing on the
question of whether or not Oz contains a symbolic allegory.
Littlefield's critics often present Baum's quasi-Republican and
anti-Populist credentials as "proof" that he could not
have intended to write a Populist parable. The assumption rests
on the claim that he interpreted Oz in a pro-Populist
vein, yet Littlefield read Baum's allegory as a "critique
of the Populist rationale," not as a defense. Finally, Littlefield
recognized that the principal value of the allegorical interpretation
was pedagogical; the author's intent was only a secondary consideration.
The revisionists clearly have overstated their case, and observers
such as Parker and Dighe have conceded too much. Even Michael
Gessel, the skeptical editor of the Baum newsletter, admits that
"The Wizard can be viewed as a political tale"
(1992). Gessel's admission underscores the difficulty of simply
dismissing the allegorical interpretation or ascribing it to Baum's
"subconscious." Despite Dighe's own skepticism, his
recent edition, which lists virtually every alleged political-cum-monetary
analogy in Oz, only adds further weight to the contention
that Littlefield was essentially right. Although some of the parallels
are more tenuous than others, many are so obvious and palpable
as to defy coincidence. Their cumulative effect-not only in number,
but in coherence-warrants a strong presumption that Baum's fairy
tale contains a conscious political subtext. In conjunction with
what is known about Baum and his oeuvre, it is reasonable to conclude
that The Wonderful Wizard of Oz was in large part intended
along the lines Littlefield laid down forty years ago. The "riddle"
of Oz is not such a riddle after all; it is "solved"
in much the manner one identifies a duck, on the basis of its
attributes.
The question of Baum's intention in writing Oz, though
of interest to the literary sleuth, is clearly secondary to the
allegory itself. Now that the numerous elements of Baum's parable
have been gathered and set down, it may appear that little remains
to be said. Perhaps nothing original or groundbreaking remains
undiscovered, yet because Dighe presents these elements as annotations
to Baum's text, we still lack an integrated, expository account
that incorporates all the relevant metaphors and analogies. Acknowledging
in advance my debt to Littlefield, Rockoff, and Dighe, I attempt
to give such an account here. For purposes of coherence and clarity,
I take the allegorical reading for granted and generally avoid
qualifying language. A number of analogies are admittedly subject
to more than one interpretation, and I make no claim that Baum
himself intended each one. Rather, I have adopted (and occasionally
embellished) those that fit the Populist parable best.
Dorothy (and Toto) of Kansas
Dorothy, the protagonist of the story, represents an individualized
ideal of the American people. She is each of us at our best-kind
but self-respecting, guileless but levelheaded, wholesome but
plucky. She is akin to Everyman, or, in modern parlance, "the
girl next door." Dorothy lives in Kansas, where virtually
everything-the treeless prairie, the sun-beaten grass, the paint-stripped
house -- even Aunt Em and Uncle Henry -- is a dull, drab, lifeless
gray. This grim depiction reflects the forlorn condition of Kansas
in the late 1880s and early 1890s, when a combination of scorching
droughts, severe winters, and an invasion of grasshoppers reduced
the prairie to an uninhabitable wasteland. The result for farmers
and all who depended on agriculture for their livelihood was devastating.
Many ascribed their misfortune to the natural elements, called
it quits, and moved on. Others blamed the hard times on bankers,
the railroads, and various middlemen who seemed to profit at the
farmers' expense. Angry victims of the Kansas calamity also took
aim at the politicians, who often appeared indifferent to their
plight. Around these economic and political grievances, the Populist
movement coalesced.
In the late 1880s and early 1890s, Populism spread rapidly throughout the Midwest and
into the South, but Kansas was always the site of its most popular
and radical elements. In 1890, Populist candidates began winning
seats in state legislatures and Congress, and two years later
Populists in Kansas gained control of the lower house of the state
assembly, elected a Populist governor, and sent a Populist to
the U.S. Senate. The twister that carries Dorothy to Oz symbolizes the Populist cyclone that swept across Kansas in the
early 1890s. Baum was not the first to use the metaphor. Mary
E. Lease, a fire-breathing Populist orator, was often referred
to as the "Kansas Cyclone," and the free-silver movement
was often likened to a political whirlwind that had taken the
nation by storm. Although Dorothy does not stand for Lease, Baum
did give her (in the stage version) the last name "Gale"-a
further pun on the cyclone metaphor.
The name of Dorothy's canine companion, Toto, is also a pun, a
play on teetotaler. Prohibitionists were among the Populists'
most faithful allies, and the Populist hope William Jennings Bryan
was himself a "dry." As Dorothy embarks on the
Yellow
Brick Road, Toto trots "soberly" behind her, just as
the Prohibitionists soberly followed the Populists.
The Baum Witch Project
When Dorothy's twister-tossed house comes to rest in Oz, it lands
squarely on the wicked Witch of the East, killing her instantly.
The startled girl emerges from the abode to find herself in a
strange land of remarkable beauty, whose inhabitants, the diminutive
Munchkins, rejoice at the death of the Witch. The Witch represents
eastern financial-industrial interests and their gold-standard
political allies, the main targets of Populist venom. Midwestern
farmers often blamed their woes on the nefarious practices of
Wall Street bankers and the captains of industry, whom they believed
were engaged in a conspiracy to "enslave" the "little
people," just as the Witch of the East had enslaved the Munchkins.
Populists viewed establishment politicians, including presidents,
as helpless pawns or willing accomplices. Had not President Cleveland
bowed to eastern bankers by repealing the Silver Purchase Act
in 1893, thus further restricting much-needed credit? Had not
McKinley (prompted by the wealthy industrialist Mark Hanna) made
the gold standard the centerpiece of his campaign against Bryan
and free silver?
It is apt, then, that Dorothy acquires the Witch of the East's
silver shoes at the behest of the good Witch of the North, who
stands for the electorate of the upper Midwest, where Populism
gained considerable support. (Later in the story, good witches
are identified with the color white; silver is known as "the
white metal.") Still, for all her goodness, the Witch of
the North, like the voters of the upper Midwest, is no match for
the malign forces of the East, her tender "kiss" on
Dorothy's forehead (electoral support) notwithstanding. The death
of the wicked Witch, however, is cause for rejoicing-the "little
people" (owing to the destruction of eastern power) are now
free. All along, the Munchkins were vaguely aware that their bondage
was somehow linked to the silver shoes, but the shoes' precise
power was never known. Similarly, although Wall Street and the
eastern establishment understood silver's power, common farmers
knew little of monetary matters, and bimetalism failed to resonate
with eastern workers, who voted against Bryan in droves.
After Dorothy and her companions reach Emerald City, the Wizard
sends them to kill the wicked Witch of the West. This Witch is
also a cruel enslaver, and she appears to represent a composite
of the malign forces of nature that plagued farmers in the Midwest
and the power brokers of that region. The former menace is mirrored
in the Witch's dominion, which recalls the parched plains of western
Kansas, and by the ferocious wolves, ravenous crows, and venomous
bees that she sends to destroy Dorothy and her friends. Each predator
is summoned by blowing on a silver whistle, another example of
a malicious use of the white metal. When the Witch's minions are
themselves destroyed, she calls on the Winged Monkeys through
the magic of a golden cap. The cap had already been used twice,
once to enslave the Winkies and again to drive the Wizard out
of the West, patent injustices committed through the power of
gold. Yet in summoning the Monkeys, the Witch exhausts the cap's
charm, and the flying simians (who had been forced to assist in
her evil deeds) are liberated. The power of gold proves finite
and illusory, and it requires the coexistence of silver (bimetalism)
to sustain its power. No wonder the wicked Witch is so keen to
possess Dorothy's silver shoes.
The malign manipulation of gold and silver by the wicked Witch
represents the other half of the western menace: the self-interested
juggling of metal currency by the western nabobs. McKinley of
Ohio, for example, supported the Sherman Silver Purchase Act of
1890, voted for its repeal in 1893, and made the gold standard
the cornerstone of his 1896 presidential bid. Mark Hanna, also
of Ohio, served as McKinley's campaign manager and close advisor,
and he was widely viewed as the Richelieu behind the throne. (Vilified
by the Populists, Hanna had William Allen White's scathing attack
on the Populists-"What's the Matter with Kansas?"-circulated
throughout the country during the campaign.) Not surprisingly,
the Wizard requires the death of the wicked Witch of the West
before he will grant Dorothy's "party" its wishes. The
Witch's demise by water ends her evil reign, liberates her slaves,
and restores the silver shoe she had stolen from Dorothy. In one
fell swoop, the parched lands are watered, the farmers are freed,
and silver is returned to its rightful owner, the people.
The fourth witch, Glinda of the South, is a good witch who, unlike
her northern counterpart, understands the power of Dorothy's silver
shoes. In 1896, Bryan's Democratic-Populist ticket carried the
South, and some of the strongest silverites in Congress were from
the South, whereas northern support for Bryan and free silver
was more moderate. In Oz, the denizens of the South, the
Quadlings, are described as an odd race who never travel to Emerald
City and dislike strangers traveling across their land. Not since
the 1860s had a southerner served as president, and immigrants
and northerners were generally unwelcome in the South. Moreover,
the road to the land of the Quadlings is perilous and rife with
dangers. For those who were "different" (including resident
blacks), the South could be a dangerous place indeed.
The Three Amigos
In
the hope that the Wizard will help her return to Kansas, Dorothy
embarks on the Yellow Brick Road to Emerald City. After traveling
several miles, she encounters the Scarecrow, who does not "know
anything" because he has "no brains at all." The brainless Scarecrow represents the midwestern farmers,
whose years of hardship and subjection to ridicule had created
a sense of inferiority and self-doubt. Populist leaders such as
William Peffer and "Sockless" Jerry Simpson were often
portrayed as deluded simpletons who failed to understand the true
causes of their economic plight. The Populists' "stupidity"
was also attested to by their apocalyptic rhetoric, conspiracy
theories, and radical agenda, which included nationalization of
the railroads, a graduated income tax, and the unlimited coinage
of silver. Critics scoffed at their overblown rants, mocked their
paranoid style, and dismissed their simplistic nostrums as the
distempered ravings of "socialist hayseeds."
The picture of the Scarecrow is not so one-sided. His conduct
on the journey through Oz is marked by common sense, resilience,
and rectitude. He is not so dumb after all. As we learn near the
end of the story, the Scarecrow-cum-farmer had brains all along-perhaps
brains enough to grasp the true causes of his misery and the basics
of monetary policy.
On the trek through the forest, where the road is in disrepair,
the Scarecrow stumbles and falls on the "hard [yellow] bricks,"
a reference to the Populist claim that the gold standard had a
damaging impact on farmers and the people at large. Still, the
Scarecrow is "never hurt" by his falls, which suggests
that the yellow metal was not the real culprit of the farmer's
woes.
Proceeding down the road, the duo encounter the Tin Woodman. Once
healthy and productive, the Woodman was cursed by the wicked Witch
of the East, lost his dexterity, and accidentally hacked off his
limbs. Each lost appendage was replaced with tin until the Woodman
was made entirely of metal. In essence, the Witch of the East
(big business) reduced the Woodman to a machine, a dehumanized
worker who no longer feels, who has no heart. As such, the Tin
Man represents the nation's workers, in particular the industrial
workers with whom the Populists hoped to make common cause. His
rusted condition parallels the prostrated condition of labor during
the depression of 1890s; like many workers of that period, the
Tin Man is unemployed. Yet, with a few drops of oil, he is able
to resume his customary labors-a remedy akin to the "pump-priming"
measures that Populists advocated.
Having liberated the Tin Man, the trio proceeds through the forest,
only to be accosted by a roaring lion. He is none other than William Jennings Bryan,
the Nebraska representative in Congress and later the Democratic
presidential candidate in 1896 and 1900. Bryan (which rhymes with
"lion," a near homonym of "lying") was known
for his "roaring" rhetoric and was occasionally portrayed
in the press as a lion, as was the Populist Party itself. Bryan
adopted the free-silver mantra and won the Populists' support
in his first race against McKinley. Like the Lion of Oz, Bryan
was the last to "join" the party. His defeat in the
general election was largely owing to his failure to win the support
of eastern workers, just as the Lion's claws "could make
no impression" on the Tin Man.
Although Bryan's supporters considered him courageous, his critics
thought him "cowardly" for opposing war with Spain in
1898 and the subsequent annexation of the Philippines. Yet, for
anti-imperialists, who counted many Populists among their ranks,
Bryan's unpopular stand was courageous indeed. Less courageous,
however, were his final decision to vote for annexation (albeit
as a tactical move) and his failure to fight vigorously for free
silver in the election of 1900, both of which disappointed Populists.
Still, the Lion, without knowing that he possesses courage, really
does. Near the end of the story, he slays a spiderlike monster
that is terrorizing the animals of the forest. The predatory beast
symbolizes the great trusts and corporations that were thought
to dominate economic life at the turn of the century. Cast as
the chief villains in the Populist drama, the trusts were often
portrayed as "monsters" of one kind or another. "Sockless"
Jerry Simpson called the railroads a "giant spider that controlled
our commerce and transportation" (qtd. in Clanton 1991, 51),
and the author of Coin's Financial School, the leading
free-silver tract of the 1890s, represented the Rothschild money
trust as an octopus. Baum himself used the monopoly-as-octopus
metaphor in a number of later works, including a specific reference
to the Standard Oil Company. Breaking up the trusts and nationalizing
the railroads were key components of the Populist agenda, and
Bryan favored trust busting if not outright nationalization. Accordingly,
the Lion attacks and kills the great beast by knocking off its
head. Freed from the eight-legged monster, the grateful forest
dwellers vow fealty to the conquering Lion. Would not the Populists
have done likewise if Bryan had defeated McKinley and, presumably,
slain the trusts?
Of Mice and Monkeys
Another scrape with a menacing beast recapitulates the metaphor.
When a "great yellow Wildcat" lights upon the Queen
of the Field Mice, the Tin Man decapitates the feral feline with
a single swing of his ax. For delivering the Queen from her "enemy,"
the mice pledge obedience to the Tin Man. Their first act of service
is to rescue the Lion from the "deadly poppy fields,"
where the powerful scent of the flowers has felled the king of
beasts.
The diminutive rodents represent the common people, and the "yellow"
cat is yet another reference to the malign power of gold. By killing
the Wildcat, the Tin Man symbolically slays a chief "enemy"
of the people. The timely support of the mice parallels the importance
of the common folk in Bryan's bid for the presidency.
The Winged Monkeys, the unwilling minions of the Witch of the
West, add a further dimension to the Oz allegory. These
creatures represent the Plains Indians. As the Monkeys' leader
relates, "we were a free people, living happily in the great
forest flying from tree to tree, eating nuts and fruit, and doing
just as we pleased without calling anybody master." The Monkey
King admits to having engaged in a degree of "mischief,"
but nothing to justify the harsh treatment the Monkeys received
when "Oz came out of the clouds to rule over this land."
The Monkeys were initially sequestered, a reference to the government's
reservation policy. Later, they are forced to do the bidding of
the Western Witch, who commands them with the golden cap. Yet
the Monkeys are not inherently bad; they have become so only through
an unnatural and evil force. This scenario parallels the view
of reformers who blamed the Indians' condition on the whites'
inhumane practices. Under Dorothy's benevolent influence, the
Monkeys are kind and helpful-that is to say, "assimulated."
Chinatown and the Yellow Winkies
On the journey to find Glinda, the good Witch of the South, Dorothy
and company pass through Dainty China Country, which they enter
by climbing over a high white wall. China and its Great Wall are
the obvious references. But what does China have to do with Gilded
Age politics? First, China was in the process of being divided
by the great powers (including the United States) into "spheres
of influence" for the purpose of commercial exploitation.
In 1899 and 1900, Secretary of State John Hay issued the famous
"Open Door" notes in an effort to prevent rival nations
from gaining "unfair" economic advantages in China.
Second, the Celestial Kingdom was the only major nation still
on the silver standard. It is apt, then, that Dainty China Country's
wall and floor are white, the color of silver bullion. Third,
the Lion's careless destruction of the china church echoes the
territorial "breakup" of China by foreign intruders
and the active proselytizing by Christian missionaries. Finally,
the china Princess, who rejects Dorothy's invitation to visit
Kansas, resembles the dowager empress, who strongly opposed the
foreign presence in China. The last two parallels recall the antiimperialism
that Bryan and others championed.
Another anti-imperialist theme appears in the form of the Winkies,
called "yellow" because they reside in the Land of the
West. The Winkies, who are forced to work for the Witch of the
West, represent the "yellow man" of Asia, especially
the Chinese immigrants and the native Filipinos. For decades,
the Chinese had immigrated to the Far West to labor in various
capacities. Given their "exotic" appearance, clannish
habits, and willingness to work for low wages, they were often
the targets of abuse, discrimination, and even murder. Under pressure
from the authorities in California, Congress passed the Exclusion
Act (1882), which banned Chinese immigration for twenty years.
The Winkies also resemble the Filipinos, who, after their country's
annexation by the United States, found themselves (once more)
subjected to a Western power. Demands for independence were denied
on the grounds that the Filipino people were "unfit"
for self-government. The assumption that the United States knew
what was best for the natives was satirized in Baum's original
script of the stage version of Oz, where the Scarecrow
remarks, "It isn't the people who live in a country who know
the most about it. . . . Look at the Filipinos. Everybody knows
more about their country than they do" (qtd. in Dighe 2002,
93).
Oz, Emerald City, and the Wacky Wizard
The Land of Oz, with its varied landscape and diverse inhabitants,
is a microcosm of America, and Emerald City, its center and seat
of government, represents Washington, D.C. In an effort to be
made whole, Dorothy and her band travel to the capital to see
the Wizard, who presumably has the power to grant them their wishes.
The journey to Emerald City corresponds to the Populist effort
to acquire power in Washington, and the travelers recall the "industrial
armies" who marched on the capital during the depression
of 1893-97. The most famous of these, "Coxey's Army,"
was led by a successful businessman who urged the government to
fund public-works programs (most notably a "good roads bill")
to alleviate unemployment. Coxey, who hoped to meet with President
Cleveland, was arrested for trespassing, and his proposals were
ignored. Dorothy and company also face hazards on the road to
Emerald City and are turned away by the Wizard, who shows little
sympathy for their plight.
The Wizard, who "can take on any form he wishes," represents
the protean politicians of the era, especially the presidents
of the Gilded Age. Given the even division of Democrats and Republicans,
and the razor-thin majorities of most presidential elections,
candidates rarely took clear stands on the issues. As a result,
voters often had difficulty in determining what the candidates
stood for. The Wizard fits this description, for "who the
real Oz is," Dorothy is informed, "no living person
can tell." Indeed, when the foursome enter the throne room,
the Wizard appears to each in a different form. Like many politicians,
he is unwillingly to help them without a quid pro quo: "I
never grant favors without some return."
Politicians are also
infamous for failing to keep promises, and the great Oz is no
different. When Dorothy's party returns after killing the Witch
of the West, the Wizard keeps them waiting, then puts them off.
By accident, the all-powerful Wizard is exposed and his true identify
revealed. Far from a mighty magician, "Oz, the Terrible"
is merely a "humbug," a wizened old man whose "power"
is achieved through elaborate acts of deception. The Wizard
is simply a manipulative politician who appears to the people
in one form, but works behind the scenes to achieve his true ends.
Such figures are terrified at being exposed; the Wizard cautions
Dorothy to lower her voice lest he be discovered and "ruined."
As it turns out, the Wizard hails from Omaha, where he became
a talented ventriloquist and later a circus balloonist. Bryan
was from Nebraska, was famous for his "hot-air" oratory,
and in the minds of his critics was something like a circus ringmaster.
Nebraska was also a bastion of Populism, and Omaha the site of
the 1892 Populist National Convention, where the party adopted
the "Omaha platform," the movement's leading manifesto.
Following the party's convention of the previous year, Judge,
a popular magazine, parodied the Populists on its cover, which
depicted a hotair balloon made of patches that bear the names
of the groups and parties that had rallied to the Populist standard:
Knights of Labor, Prohibition Party, Socialists, Farmers Alliance,
and so forth. In the balloon's basket are caricatures of Populist
leaders, preaching the "Platform of Lunacy."
Identification of the Wizard with Bryan would seem to raise an
obvious problem. Is he represented by the Lion and the
Wizard? Bryan was never president, but he was a masterful politician
and an aspirant to the White House. In conjunction with references
to Omaha, ventriloquism, and the balloon, the link between Bryan
and the Wizard is a reasonable inference. Just as some of Baum's
metaphors serve as a composite, the Lion and the Wizard represent
different aspects of Bryan.
The Colors of Money
The Land of Oz is colorful, to say the least, and The Wonderful
Wizard of Oz is replete with references to gold, silver, and
green. A number of these references have been noted already, but
the story makes several others. The references to gold and silver
echo the prominence of monetary politics in the 1890s, especially
the bimetallic crusade led by Bryan and the Populists. Moreover,
gold and silver are often portrayed as working in combination.
The Witch of the West conjures her minions with a silver whistle
and a golden cap, and the Tin Man receives a new ax made of gold
and silver, as well as a new oil can that contains both metals.
Of course, there is Dorothy on her sojourn through Oz, "her
silver shoes tinkling merrily on the hard, yellow, roadbed."
The word oz itself is the abbreviation for an ounce of
gold or silver. There are additional references to gold and silver,
but the ones given here amply illustrate Baum's use of the monetary
metaphor.
Green, often in combination with gold, is also a recurrent image.
Then as now, green was the color of paper money. The Greenback
Party, a precursor of the Populists, advocated the expansion of
the money supply via the increased circulation of "greenbacks."
Jacob Coxey was a greenbacker, as was James B. Weaver, the Populist
presidential nominee in 1892. Most of the green imagery in Oz
is general in nature and does not appear to indicate specific
parallels. Toto wears a green collar that fades to white (silver),
and later he receives a gold collar, as does the Lion. In Emerald
City, everyone is required to wear green glasses with golden bands,
so that nearly everything appears in a resplendent green. The
Lion's liquid "courage" is poured from a green bottle
into a gold-green dish, and the Wizard's balloon is patched with
green silk of various shades. As the spectacles create an illusion,
the liquid courage is only a placebo, and the balloon is a mere
patchwork, so the demand for paper money is exposed as a panacea
for the farmers' woes.
At the end of the story, the Scarecrow supplants the Wizard as
the ruler of Emerald City, the Tin Woodman is made master of the
West, and the Lion is placed over the animals of the forest. Dorothy
transports herself back to Kansas by clicking her silver shoes
together three times. All this is achieved with the help of Glinda,
the good Witch of the South. The message? Populism is triumphant,
the goal of gaining political power is achieved. Or is it? Neither
the Scarecrow nor the Tin Man nor the Lion truly lacked what each
believed he was missing; the great Wizard's powers proved illusory;
and Dorothy had the power to transform her condition all along.
These features of the story point to a more ambivalent result.
Indeed, Populism's outright failure is suggested when Dorothy's
silver shoes fall off in the desert and are "lost forever."
After Bryan's defeat in 1896, the free-silver movement went into
rapid decline. McKinley's reelection and the statutory adoption
of the gold standard in 1900 spelled political oblivion for the
Populists.
Conclusion
Critics of the allegorical reading of The Wonderful Wizard
of Oz have made much of the discovery that L. Frank Baum was
not a Democrat or a Bryan supporter. In itself, however, this
discovery proves nothing. At most, it suggests that Oz is not a pro-Populist parable, something quite different
from the claim that there is "no evidence that Baum's story
is in any way a Populist allegory," as Hearn (1992) argued.
The originator of the allegorical interpretation characterized Oz as a "critique" of Populism, not a defense.
The assertion that there is "no evidence" of an allegorical
subtext is simply myopic in the extreme. As the foregoing reconstruction
shows, the evidence from the text is overwhelming, and, in light
of Baum's political background, trickster personality, and subsequent
work, it is all but conclusive: The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is a deliberate work of political symbolism.
Again, this conclusion does not require that each correspondence
I have cited was intended allegorically or represents Baum's precise
intention. Nor does it imply that each symbolic reference has
a specific correlate; often the metaphors and analogies are merely
suggestive. Conversely, the presence of "inconsistencies"
and the absence of an obvious moral in no way diminish the reality
of the symbolism.
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is clearly neither a pro-Populist
parable nor an anti-Populist parable. Strictly speaking,
it is not a parable at all if parable is defined as a story with
a didactic purpose. Baum aimed not to teach but to entertain,
not to lecture but to amuse. Therefore, the Oz tale is
best viewed as a symbolic and satirical representation of the
Populist movement and the politics of the age, as well as a children's
story. Quite simply, Oz operates on two levels, one literal
and puerile, the other symbolic and political. Its capacity to
fascinate on both levels testifies to its remarkable author's
wit and ingenuity.
Baum, L. Frank. [1900] 1991. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
Edited by William Leach. Belmont, Calif.: Wadsworth.
Clanton, Gene. 1991. Populism: The Humane Preference in America.
Boston: Twayne.
Dighe, Ranjit, ed. 2002. The Historian's Wizard of Oz:
Reading L. Frank Baum's Classic as a Political and Monetary Allegory.
Westport, Conn.: Praeger.
Gardner, Martin, and Russel B. Nye. 1957. The Wizard of Oz
and Who He Was. East Lansing: Michigan State University Press.
Gessel, Michael. 1992. Tale of a Parable. Baum Bugle (spring):
19-23.
Hearn, Michael Patrick. 1992. "Oz" Author Never Championed
Populism. New York Times, January 10.
Koupal, Nancy Tystad. 1989. The Wonderful Wizard of the West:
L. Frank Baum in South Dakota, 1888-91. Great Plains Quarterly 9: 203-15.
---. 2001. Add a Pinch of Biography and Mix Well: Seasoning the
Allegory Theory with History. South Dakota History 31:
153-62.
Littlefield, Henry M. 1964. The Wizard of Oz: Parable of Populism. American Quarterly 16: 47-58.
---. 1992. "Oz" Author Kept Intentions to Himself. New
York Times, February 7.
Moyer, David. 1998. Oz in the News. Baum Bugle (winter):
46.
Parker, David B. 1994. The Rise and Fall of the Wonderful Wizard
of Oz as a "Parable on Populism." Journal of the
Georgia Association of Historians 15: 49-63.
Rockoff, Hugh. 1990. The "Wizard of Oz" as a Monetary
Allegory. Journal of Political Economy 98: 739-60.
Quentin P. Taylor is an assistant professor of history
and political science at Rogers State University, Claremore, Oklahoma.
Source:
http://www.independent.org/publications/tir/article.asp?issueID=40&articleID=504
Reprinted with permission.
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