The Trump Machine

From my desk it doesn't look like Donald Trump is modeling himself after a European fascist dictator, like Adolph Hitler of the 1930s. It appears more like Trump wants to run the USA from the perch of an old fashion machine boss, such as Tammany Hall's William M. "Boss" Tweed of New York City in the 1870s.

In short, longtime syndicated pundit William Safire defined "political machine" as, "...The election of officials and the passage of legislation through the power of an organization created for political action." Which might sound harmless enough, that is, until you take a good look at the history of boss-led urban machines in the USA during the era in which they ruled. 

Speaking of history, of course, it is replete with stories about dictators, monarchs, strongmen, emperors, etc., down through the ages, all over the world. Yet, "bossism," an ism that originated in America's big cities, was a gift to society from the Gilded Age, 1870-1900. 

In 1969, author and New York Times editorial writer William V. Shannon wrote: "The big city and the political boss grew up together in America. Bossism, with all its color and corruption and human drama, was a natural and perhaps necessary accompaniment to the rapid development of cities ... By 1890 virtually every sizable city had a political boss or was in the process of developing one. By 1950, sixty years later, almost every urban political machine was in an advanced state of obsolescence and its boss in trouble."

Growing up in Virginia I got a firsthand look at statewide machine politics. For over four decades of the 1900s the Byrd Machine ruled the Commonwealth of Virginia to a great extent by having officials loyal to Harry F. Byrd installed in virtually all of the positions of power in most of the Old Dominion's jurisdictions; especially in the rural areas. No doubt, having the well-known editorial page editors of Richmond's two daily newspapers on the Byrd's team's side for the looming issues of the day helped, too.

In the 1950s and '60s the Byrd Machine was the apparatus that put the Massive Resistance strategy in motion. It was designed to slow down, even derail, the Supreme Court-ordered integration of public schools.

Of the many other legendary American political machines of the twentieth century, two of the most colorful may have been the Pendergast Machine (based in Kansas City in the 1920s and '30s) and the Daley Machine (of Chicago in the 1950s and '60s). Chicago's longtime mayor, Richard J. Daley, was frequently referred to as the "last of the big city bosses." 

While the extent of the corruption and the degree of intensity of the hard-nosed intimidation tactics may have varied from one dominant political machine to the next, wherever bossism flourished bare-knuckled autocracy was pretty much its top-down style. Let's stipulate that in America's big cities in the zenith of the bossism era the differences between a political machine and a mobster organization could be subtle. 

The most remembered American political machine bosses routinely corrupted local governments with jobs, or bribes, or threats. By hook or by crook they installed obedient stooges in positions of power in the governments of cities, counties and in states. To assist the stooges there were enforcers. And, fixing elections is covered in chapter one of the How to Be a Political Machine Boss instruction manual.

Inevitably, political machines needed a charismatic, large personality in the boss role. Which commonly meant such organizations were governed by the whims of a personality much more than by the tenets of an ideology, or even some big picture objective. Among his skills the successful boss needed was the knack for grabbing whatever passions were in the air and converting them into tools. Ethnic clashes were handy that way. Stoking new fears and old grudges are still reliable as monkey wrenches.     

Anyway, Trump wants to be the boss of a national political machine -- the Trumpists. He seems to want to see the USA run like a big city or statewide political machine was run, back in the day. Thus, when Democrats call Trump a "fascist," it might feel good to say it. But the label doesn't stick so well. Plus, sometimes it sounds a little hysterical. So it is probably time for a new label. 

Fascism in Europe was largely a reaction to the collapse of monarchies and the chaotic aftermath of World War One; fascism rushed in and filled a vacuum. Bossism in the USA was largely a reaction to the nation's urbanization. To a great extent it was an opportunity spawned by the chaos resulting from unprecedented rapid growth that overwhelmed cities' systems.

While they are similar, fascism and bossism are not exactly the same thing and remember: Trump doesn't really know or care much about ideology. However, just like Johnny Rocco, the gangster, played by Edward G. Robinson, in "Key Largo" (1948), Trump always wants more and he will never get enough.

Still, like most machine bosses and mobster top dogs, Trump's power stems entirely from the loyalty he commands. Unravel that factor and without his stooges to prop him up, Trump will start melting like a wicked witch in a water balloon battle. 

The stunning 8-to-1 loss Trump just suffered at the hands of the Supreme Court was a balloon burst splash in his face. Now the most important job of the U.S. Justice Department and the House's January 6th Committee is to focus on dismantling the Trump Machine. 

Pronto! 

-- Words and art by F.T. Rea

-- 30 --