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Humor in Politics? Sure!
J
ust a few more days now. Just
a few more days and it will be
over. For a while.
I’m referring to the incessant, nerveracking, political ROBO calls about the
upcoming November election. Perhaps
it’s a good time for me to remind
everyone that without politics and
politicians, we wouldn’t have some of
our best humorous stories. Thanks to my
Aunt Lettie, our family has a good one.
My
great-grandmother,
Cora
McAdory was president of the Alabama
Women’s
Christian
Temperance
Union. The WCTU was organized by
women who were concerned about the
“destructive power of alcohol and the
problems it was causing their families
and society.” They met in churches to
pray and then marched to saloons with
picket signs.
We don’t think our great-grandmother
ever marched; but she must have been
adamantly opposed to alcohol to have
been elected WCTU State President.
During her tenure Big Jim Folsom was
elected governor of the state for his irst
term. At 6’8”, size 15 1⁄2, shoe, size
18 collar and 270+ pounds, one can
understand the nickname. The widower
was also called “Kissing Jim” Folsom
but that’s another story. Sufice it to say,
Big Jim was something of a character.
He eventually served two terms as
governor and probably would have been
elected again if he hadn’t gone on live
television to debate his opponent while
under the inluence of alcohol and some
say, without shoes. I say, cut him some
slack. Maybe he could only ind size
14’s and his feet hurt. That said, if you’re
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E
N
J
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slurring your words, can’t remember your
children’s names and do an extended
imitation of a cuckoo clock on statewide
TV during a political debate, it can’t help
a politician. As we say, “Bless his heart.”
The WCTU was adamantly opposed
to Big Jim’s drinking and use of profanity,
so they implored their president, my
great-grandmother, to lead a group
to Montgomery and make sure the
Governor heard in no uncertain terms
exactly how they felt. In planning their
meeting, the women decided to also
talk to him about the many rumors of his
womanizing.
Mamahdee, as I called her, drove to
the state capitol with my Aunt Lettie and
several other ladies for the appointed
rendezvous. Apparently, they continued
to coach their top oficer the entire trip.
“Now, remember, Cora. Talk to him about
all three areas of concern: drinking,
cursing and womanizing.”
“I certainly intend to do just that..
Drinking, cursing and womanizing. He’ll
think twice about continuing those habits
after I’ve talked to him.”
“Do you know what you’re going to
say?”
“Absolutely. When we leave, he’ll
remember whom we represent and why
we came.”
Aunt Lettie even assured Mamahdee,
“We’ll be in the room, right behind you
if you need us, Cora, but it sounds as
though you have it wellplanned. We
probably won’t need to say a word.”
“Fine.”
My reliable source was Aunt Lettie,
of course, who told the story until the day
she died. An hour after leaving Auburn,
the determined ladies were escorted into
the Governor’s ofice in Montgomery. Big
Jim stood immediately when they came
in the room. Then he quickly came from
behind his desk and approached each
lady one at a time, shaking her hand,
looking down in her eyes and smiling.
“Thank you so much for coming today,”
he proclaimed, “I’ve been waiting for
your group because I knew you would
brighten up this place.” A couple of the
ladies almost smiled back but got stern
looks from the others. No one said a
word, waiting on their president to take
over.
Before Mamahdee could speak,
however, Big Jim offered them
lemonade. He had a glasses and a big
pitcher of it on a beautiful tray on his
desk. Later they said they felt it would
be poor manners to turn down the offer.
He already had a glass. (I think they
got lucky it was lemonade.) They told
him the tray was beautiful as were the
pitcher and glasses. They all agreed
later the lemonade was quite good and
the tray was absolutely gorgeous.
With the lemonade served, the
governor returned to his big chair
behind the desk. “What can I do for you
charming ladies today?” Mamahdee
sat up a little straighter and assumed
a serious look. As planned, none of
the other ladies said a word. Except for
the comments on the pitcher, glasses
and tray, one would have thought they
weren’t in the room.
Finally, in the most stern voice she
could muster, my great-grandmother
began. “Governor Folsom, I am Cora
McAdory, President of the Alabama
Women’s Christian Temperance Union,”
she announced irmly and with authority.
“What a ine organization,” Big Jim
quickly inserted. “May I thank you on
behalf of the state of Alabama for your
good work?” Silence from the group.
After a few awkward seconds of quiet,
Mamahdee forged ahead and launched
into her memorized opening statement.
“Well, um, yes. Thank you. Governor
Folsom, our members, as well as I, are
quite concerned about the rumors of
your drinking, womanizing and use of
bad language.” BAM! Governor Folsom
slammed his hand down on his desk,
startling the women and almost turning
over the lemonade. “Mrs. McAdory, I’d
like to know the name of the su!mpb@#h
who told you that d*@# lie!”
Before Madam President could
recover, the governor strode from
behind his desk over to where she was
seated, put one arm tenderly around
her shoulders and looked down into
Mamahdee’s eye as he said in a hush
tone, “Can’t you tell by looking at me
that I’m not the type of man who would
do such things?”
Madam President gazed upward
and smiled demurely. “Why, yes I can.”
And that is exactly what she reported at
the next state meeting of the Alabama
Women’s Christian Temperance Union.
And none of the others said a word.