Huey Long

Bread and circuses. Like any great populist, Huey Long provided both.

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When Huey Long took office, the State of Louisiana had only 350 miles of paved roads, was among the poorest states in the nation, and even by the lax standards of the day, lagged far behind in education and in health care, and in virtually every other measure that marks a developed society. Within two years, Huey Long had launched an astounding array of social reform and infrastructure improvement projects. During his tenure, he paved the way for 3,000 miles of hardtop roads to be constructed, using a controversial gas tax to pay for it. One hundred and eleven new bridges were build across the state, he build a new airport in New Orleans, and a medical school at Louisiana State University. He called for the construction of new schools all over the state, insisting that enough of them be built so that every child in the state could walk to school, and the young governor, who had dropped out of school twice himself, decreed that every child should have to access to free textbooks and that any adult who chose to would have free access to night schools.

He built a looming state capital in Baton Rouge, a modern monument in brushed white stone to himself, his critics would charge.

And to pay for it all, he squeezed his old nemeses, big business, the railroads, and the oil companies.

And through it all, he cast himself as a kind of clown prince. Borrowing a phrase from the popular radio show "Amos-n-Andy," he dubbed himself the "Kingfish of the Lodge," and reveled in having himself filmed as he led the LSU band in songs he had composed himself during football games. According to one account published years after his death, when his beloved LSU lost a football game by a single point, Long introduced a measure in the legislature to outlaw extra point kicks after a touchdown.

The 1966 American Heritage article recounts one famous incident in which Long caused an international stir when he greeted a German diplomat while still wearing his green silk pajamas. Long was later urged to apologize and he did it with a showman's flair that was designed to thrill his lowborn followers, and really give the insulted diplomat no satisfaction.

"To correct the faux pas, Long borrowed pin-striped pants from a hotel manager, a boiled shirt from a waiter, a coat from a preacher and a collar so high I had to stand on a stool to spit over it,' went to call on the mortified German," the article reported. Long, with mock sincerity then "apologized" for his undiplomatic behavior, saying,  "You see, I come from Winnfield up in the hills of Winn Parish, in this state. I know little of diplomacy and much less of the international courtesies and exchanges that are indulged in by nations. In fact, I only happen to be governor of the state by accident, anyway. There was no royal heritage, but simply by chance I happened to receive more votes than the other men aspiring to the same office."

Long's supporters in the fields and on the back roads sopped up Long's sardonic shot at the stuffy German diplomatic like cornbread sops up sauce.

The Kingfish had slightly less success later when he greeted a visiting Army general clad only in his skivvies. In a piece written not long after the incident, the Baton Rouge state times commented that "if the General...is loath to believe that he had a narrow escape, and that the governor does not receive visitors in the nude, he is just not acquainted with our governor."

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