The Choice of Joy: Day 26, A Republican Tea

I offer this family moment from our history.  Its recollection reminds of the differences within a sameness and brings me joy.  My grandfather was a Democrat.  Today, we of his descendants are the same.  But there are vast distinctions for our motivations to membership.  My grandfather on one end and my children and I at the other, represent the wide spectrum of that political party and its changing tides in the South.  Still, the spirit of his statement holds: “I must say that I have done many things in my life of which I am not proud, but there is one thing that no one can say of me, and that is that I have ever, ever attended a Republican tea.” 

As Republican Party membership grows in the South, my grandfather’s words echo back to me. 

1952

Copyright 2010, Susan Ory Powers

By the end of World War II, Dwight Eisenhower was Supreme Allied Commander of the Allied Expeditionary Force and General of the United States Army.  Until his retirement from active service, Eisenhower held no political affiliation.  However, upon his entry to civilian life, both the Democratic and Republican parties courted him to join them. He eventually became a Republican.

Eisenhower was the living symbol of American victory.  Popular sentiment grew for his candidacy for president as “I Like Ike,” affixed to buttons and other paraphernalia, appeared across the country.

The 1952 presidential election pitted the now iconic Dwight D. Eisenhower and his running mate Richard Nixon against Adlai Stevenson, Democrat. 

A superior orator, Stevenson was nonetheless criticized for his intellectual and aristocratic airs.  Stevenson  was just the type of candidate who James Marvin Henagan, my grandfather, would find most appealing. 

But more importantly, Stevenson was the Democratic nominee.  Republicans were an anathema to Granddaddy.  Republicans were the party of the Yankees and Carpetbaggers who took from the family the plantation in Mississippi in the aftermath of the Civil War.  Republicans made the South impotent, stealing family lands and installing former slaves in powerful state positions. 

Granddaddy had grown up during Reconstruction and witnessed first hand former Southern aristocrats reduced to poverty, his family among them.

Eisenhower may be an American representation of victory and heroism, but he was still a Republican, and surely no decent southerner would vote for a Yankee Republican.

Contrarily, the rest of the family, Mother, Daddy, Uncle Ed and Aunt Jessie Marie followed the political tide of enthusiasm for Ike.  Mamma Henagan just kept her mouth shut.  Within the walls of the Henagan house, so did everyone else.  But “I Like Ike” buttons were often under the lapels of the suit jackets of both my father and Uncle Ed.  They would often raise their lapel flaps, like some secret signal when presidential candidates were discussed, at least outside of the Henagan domicile. 

At dinner when we all sat around the table in the Henagan dining room, if I even mentioned Ike Eisenhower or anything about the campaign, I got a quick kick from Mother as she interrupted me and babbled something far less controversial like the price of automobile tires or the season’s crop of corn or how nice the new preacher’s wife was. 

The subtlety was not lost on Granddaddy, but he just frowned, an earnest, serious frown.

But it was Aunt Jessie Marie that committed the greatest blunder.  She attended a Republican tea for Eisenhower.  Mother knew better.  Voting for Eisenhower in the privacy of the voting booth was one thing, but getting all dressed up and actually attending a semi-public event for a Republican would be crossing the line.  Yet Aunt Jessie Marie gave into temptation. 

Her defection was understandable.  She had just bought a brand new autumn dress with a hat to match. As the routine of the town went, without attending the Republican tea she would only get to show off her new dress and hat to the Methodists at Sunday morning church. Unless there was a wedding or funeral, the Baptists would have never had the pleasure of viewing her outfit. But no weddings had been scheduled for that fall, and the town mortality rate was holding.

Besides, she had been offered the honor of pouring punch at the event, something of a social compliment in her estimation.

When the tea was over, Aunt Jessie Marie decided she would just breeze by to tell Mamma Henagan the details of the tea party.  Granddaddy was supposed to be at his law office.

Problem was, Granddaddy had decided to take the afternoon off from the law office to go home and check on Jake’s progress with planting rose bushes in the back yard. 

He knew about the tea, and he was pouting about it.  How could the nice Southern ladies of his Southern town hold such an occasion for a Yankee Republican candidate, of the party of Reconstuction?  The whole notion was beyond his capacity of understanding.  The rose garden would be a distraction from his mulling about that blasted tea for that blasted Republican Party.

Granddaddy had come inside from conferring with Jake about the roses.  He poured a cup of coffee in the kitchen, and was heading down the hall toward the living room just as Aunt Jessie Marie was entering the front door.

And there his daughter was, on a Wednesday afternoon all dressed up in her Sunday best, all dressed up on the very afternoon of that Republican tea.

Aunt Jessie Marie stopped cold.  He looked at her with a look that could have halted Nazis.  Her eyes got big. His lower lip stuck out. She forced a tight smile.  His coffee cup rattled against the saucer.

“Jessie Marie,” he finally said, “where have you been?”

Aunt Jessie Marie tucked in her chin and looked at the floor.  “I will not lie to you, Daddy, I have been to a tea party for Eisenhower.”  She could not, would not use the word “Republican.”  Maybe that would make the difference.  She was wrong.

Graddaddy raised his head as high as Jessie Marie’s was low as he spoke his words. “Well, daughter, I must say, I must say that I have done many things in my life of which I am not proud, but there is one thing that no one can say of me, and that is that I have ever, ever attended a Republican tea.”

He turned and walked into the living room and sat.  Aunt Jessie Marie by experience knew better than to offer anything further.  She turned and stepped out of the house.

It was Thanksgiving before Granddaddy managed to look at his daughter with other than disappointing eyes. He complimented her on her sweet potato casserole.  Everyone at the table heaved a quiet sigh.  Aunt Jessie Marie had been forgiven. 

Ike Eisenhower won the election.  Granddaddy endured the victory with the same stoicism that his ancestors had endured the Yankee occupation of their land.