"There is a class of colored people who make a business of keeping the troubles, the wrongs and the hardships of the Negro race before the public. Having learned that they are able to make a living out of their troubles, they have grown into a settled habit of advertising their wrongs – partly because they want sympathy and partly because it pays. Some of these people do not want the Negro to lose his grievances, because they do not want to lose their jobs.” Booker T. Washington
July 24, 2013
By: Linda Case Gibbons
Once upon a time in a kingdom not so far away, there was a family of some notoriety. They were a family of five, a mother who leaned to the left politically with three sons of her own and a stepson.
They were a very well-placed family, in the royal scheme of things, and did pretty well as far as money goes, although the stepson would claim later on that he had grown up subjected to prejudice in whatever the medieval equivalent of a ghetto is.But, truth be known, they were a family of privilege and so they were on the short list for stuff like imperial appointments, nice parties, things like that.
As far as looks go, well, her three biological boys weren’t "ugly” like Cinderella’s sisters, but they weren’t attractive either. I suppose they could best be described as "odd looking,” kind of skinny and intense. They had the look of "you never knew what they were thinking,” and their behavior, well, don’t ask.
One thing they all had in common was that each, Prince Weiner, Prince Spitzer, Prince Sanford and Prince Barack were "bad boys” from the get-go.
They all got into trouble, especially after they were grown men. Nothing much mattered to these men, not their mom, not their kingdoms -- Ye Olde Washington, Ye Olde South Carolina and Ye Olde Big Apple. Nothing.
Power was their thing and they would do anything for it, like proverbially throwing- their-own-grandmother-under-a-horse-and-carriage type of thing, but they mostly reserved that behavior for their own wives.
So they all decided to go into politics.
They worked hard to gain the prestigious kingdoms they attained, but more than anything they all wanted to be king.
One day it was announced that the present king was going back to the Kingdom of Texas and there would be a competition for a new ruler.
In long ago days, like during the days of Cinderella, the competition used to involve a glass shoe, but in these bygone days, it involved a suit from Barney’s.
One son, Prince Weiner lost his seat in the royal house of representatives due to his penchant for replicating his own likeness, so he didn’t qualify for king. He soon found other, greener pastures in the kingdom of Lord Bloomberg, but that’s another story.
The second son, Prince Spitzer didn’t qualify to be king either after he was drummed out of his job in Ye Olde New York.
Part of both their problems stemmed from the fact that their wives had funny first names, but I don’t think that was all of it. Mostly it was their own nicknames, "Danger” and "Client-Nine,” respectively that made the people and the king think twice about them as stand-up guys.
As for Prince Sanford, he lost his royal position and didn’t win the competition either. However he did make a comeback in Ye Olde South Carolina after walking the Appalachian Trail, then landing himself in the royal senate. Not too shabby after all he’d been through, what with his extensive tour of the distant country of Brazil and all.
Anyhow, when the dust cleared, after being absent from the royal senate most of his term of service, Prince Barack won the kingship, simply because he "fit the suit.”
The Royal Democratic Party loved this guy.
"He is our first black king,” they said. "He will bring this kingdom together.”
Verily there was great rejoicing in the kingdom as the people clutched their rags about them and smiled. "He will bring this kingdom together,” the people said, feeling hopeful. "We will prosper under his wise and kind tutelage.”
But in the months that followed, indeed the years that followed, their king gave them pause to think as they watched him exercise little more than his kingly prerogatives, consulting neither advisors nor legislators and ignoring the will of the people.
But still the people believed in him, well, some of them did.
In their new roles, the king and his wife treated themselves extremely well, leaving the castle to travel far and wide – and often. "What of our coffers?” the people asked, perplexed and concerned about this turn of events.
And they soon found that the good king favored long, long, long speeches, and liked travelling to far flung parts of the kingdom to deliver them. But when approached by the lords of court, inquiring about matters of great import, such as the "upset” in the faraway royal territory of Benghazi, or problems with the royal tax collectors in Ye Olde Washington, he was curiously silent.
And if he spoke, he only said the words, "I didn’t know,” or in the alternative, "I don’t know.”
He seemed compassionate, though, for when things went wrong he often was heard to say, "I will not tolerate this,” and "We will get to the bottom of this,” and "My heart goes out to…” But, sadly, he never did anything to solve any of the things about which he spoke. And the people wondered.
True, he did embrace people of countries far away. He very much was in favor of people in the kingdom of Egypt, those who banded together in support of their Muslim faith. As a Christian, but yet compassionate people, citizens in his kingdom struggled to understand their king’s support for these people, indeed his favoring them at every turn of the road, most times more than he favored them, but they found it confounding and did not know what to do about it.
And yet, the people still remained hopeful, or at least some of them did.
That is until one day they awakened, fed the chickens and counted the coppers they had managed to save for their taxes and found that they might be in big trouble.
They learned they could no longer consult the doctors they trusted because of a new law which the king had passed, a law the people could not read, or understand, or for that matter, lift because of its weight. It was a very big law. Even the king didn’t read it.
They worried, "But pray tell, what will I do, Sire, if revisited by the Black Plague?” They worried about pre-existing conditions, injury from a boil imprudently lanced, a foot trod upon by an errant cow or maybe just a malaise from living in the tough environment that existed in the kingdom where many had no work to occupy themselves. Times were tough.
Taverns and all manner of business were shutting their doors, with workers getting the sack due to other laws the king levied upon merchants, requiring them to pay for doctors to care for the people in their employ. Nobody could afford it. Times were tough.
The guilds were another story. These associations of merchants and craftsmen were protected by the king because they had much to offer him in terms of tribute, or to put it more simply, money.
But that was only the beginning of the troubles the people faced.
Within days when citizens ventured out to purchase coal for their stoves they found that coal had been banned by a new law.
When they went to cut wood for their stoves, they found some people and the king "loved” the environment so much that the people were prevented from cutting down trees. (Candles the people could still have, but who knows about the future.)
They had been a happy, prosperous people in the kingdom known as America, gradually working their way up the ladder of life, working hard and loving their country. But one day they awakened to find a darkness enveloping the kingdom.
"What could it be,” they asked.
Alas and also alack, they discovered that their manuscripts were being monitored even as soon as the scrivener’s quill pen hit the parchment, and that their business and personal letters were closely scrutinized.
And to their dismay they soon learned that they were being observed by the king, in their comings and goings and in other ways that they found to be intolerable and, truthfully, disappointing.
But the event that caused them much grief was when they heard that their king, although a learned scholar trained in the law, was speaking against a decision of one of the courts of the land. They were appalled.
"His response was unjust and unkind,” they said, especially because the king was the same race as that of the victim and was urging the people to reject the decision of the court.
"This victim is being treated unfairly,” said the king, "because of the color of his skin.” "Horrors,” the people gasped. They believed that their beloved king would unite them, not, Heaven forbid, divide them.
And they wondered at the source of their king’s anger and frankly, were a little scared.
"Sire, we fought a war to liberate our black brothers from slavery,” they cried (mixing up their time frames more than a little). We are a kind people, a responsible and loving nation,” but the king ignored their pleas and turned the matter over to Lord Sharpton to handle.
Sadly violent demonstrations soon followed, sweeping the kingdom. Brother turned against brother and the people watched as the very fabric of what they believed their country to be was torn to shreds.
And the people wept and wrung their hands in dismay.
"He could have been a contender,” they cried, borrowing a line from "On the Waterfront.” "He could have done such good things.”
And the people were right. He could have.
Hold the line, America.