08/21/2006 - Essay
This is the entire essay. I think I will try and clean up the last two sections at a later date. It also includes a bibliography. I've made some changes from the previous sections too. E Blogger doesn't ubderstand what cut and paste is and as a result most of the essay isn't indented like it should be. So it goes.
“The story, when examined closely, reveals in the young Fitzgerald a sophisticated and highly controlled writer. It is a moving expression of order struggling against approaching violence.”
Anthony J. Mazzella, The Critics
May Day: A History
When I think of May Day, I think of grade school, evoking memories of school fairs that signified the beginning of the end for the school year. The holiday of May Day means nothing to most Americans, or as in my case, a veritable non-sequtir from its original intentions. I am obsessive sometimes to the point of confrontation. That being said I love this story because, like me, it is obsessive.
May Day is most famous for falling on the same day as International Workers Day, a holiday that has close ties with the Communist party. Wanting to separate themselves from a holiday associated with the Communist party, the United States gave its workers the first Monday of September instead, baptizing the holiday Labor Day.
“It is not surprising that the state, business leaders, mainstream union officials, and the media would want to hide the true history of May Day. In its attempt to erase the history and significance of May Day, the United States government declared May 1st to be "Law Day", and gave the workers instead Labor Day, the first Monday of September - a holiday devoid of any historical significance” (Anarchy).
May Day’s United States origins can be traced back to 1886 on the first of May when over 800,000 workers went on strike throughout the United States in support of the eight-hour workday. The support for the eight-hour workday was especially prevalent in Chicago where “300,000 workers struck and marched through the city streets in a huge display of proletarian power” (May Day, New Haven). On May 3rd, two days after the march in Chicago, during a disagreement over compensation for work rendered outside of the McCormick Harvesting Machine Company fighting broke out between protesters and police when picket lines tried to prevent a scab workforce from entering the plant. Once the riot was under control, the Chicago police had killed four protestors and wounded several others. Workers and anarchists throughout Chicago decided to march in protest of “the bloodthirsty Chicago police” (May Day, New Haven). On May 4th the protest at Haymarket Square began peaceful enough. In fact, the protestor’s were so well behaved “that Mayor Carter Harrison, Sr. who had stopped by to watch, walked home early” (Wikipedia, Haymarket Riot). As the events of the day came to a close and police were dispersing the crowd a bomb was thrown at the police line, killing one and injuring several others. Thus, a substantial riot followed. The next day following the riot,
“under the direction of State's Attorney Julius Grinnel, police began a fierce roundup of radicals, agitators and labor leaders, seizing (sic) records and closing socialist and labor press offices. Eight men were finally brought to trial for conspiracy” (Chicago Public Library).
The riots of May Day 1886 weren’t an enigma. This culture of violence would return later when the first Red Scare came to a head in 1919. Soldiers were coming home to a drastically changed United States at the end of World War One. Inflation was rampant and the job market, too, was awful. Finding a job after the war was an arduous task. Factories were letting a substantial amount of workers go with the war ending and strikes were occurring across the country. Fear of communism was rampant. Soldiers were returning home to find out that they, too, could no longer drink. World War One had helped strengthen the argument for prohibition in regards to saving the grain used for making alcohol for food for soldiers. The first nationwide prohibition law to go into effect was the law banning the sale of liquor to soldiers (Drug Library). Seeing what happened in Russia, Americans feared that foreigners were going to try and topple their revered institutions (government, ideals, etc.). The end of World War One ushered in the first Red Scare.
“In the U.S., anarchist activities helped fuel fears and animosity toward all radicals and labor unionists - with many Americans failing to see a distinction between Marxists, anarchists and organized labor” (Political Unrest in 1919).
Americans weren’t completely unfounded in their distrust of communism. On April 28th 1919, almost thirty-three years after the Haymarket Square riots, Seattle Mayor Ole Hanson was sent a bomb throughnthe mail. It was defused. However, a servant of Georgia Senator Thomas Hardwick wasn’t as fortunate. She lost both hands. Later, on May 1st “thirty-four bombs were intercepted before reaching their intended targets which included, among others, Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, North Carolina Senator Lee S. Overman, Utah Senator William H. King, Postmaster General Albert Berlson, and John D. Rockefeller” (Intellectual Conservative).
On May 1, 1919 riots broke out across the United States. In particular, riots in Cleveland Ohio erupted when marchers protesting the jailer of Eugene Debs were stopped by a group of Victory Loan Workers insisting that the protesters lower their flags. When the protesters refused the request fighting commenced and quickly spread across the city (Wikipedia, May Day Riots of 1919). Cleveland wasn’t the only city plagued with hysteria, riots also exploded in Paris and New York City (New York Times).
May Day: Based on True Events
“This somewhat unpleasant tale, published as a novelette in the “Smart Set” in July, 1920, relates a series of events which took place in the spring of the previous year. Each of the three events made a great impression upon me. In life they were unrelated, except by the general hysteria of that spring which inaugurated the Age of Jazz, but in my story I have tried, unsuccessfully I fear, to weave them into a pattern---a pattern which would give the effect of those months in New York as they appeared to at least one member of what was then the younger generation” (Tales of the Jazz Age, VIII).
Fitzgerald, like Sterrett, succumbed to the pressures of New York City. Discharged from the army around the same time as Sterrett on February 21st, 1919 (Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald, 110), Fitzgerald went to New York City to find a job that would allow him to marry, his future wife Zelda Sayre as soon as possible (Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald, 110). Unfortunatley, it wouldn’t be as easy as Fitzgerald had hoped. Unable to secure a position at a newspaper Fitzgerald settled for a job at Baron Collier (Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald, 110), an advertising firm. He abhored his work. He spent most of his time writing for magazines and collecting their rejection slips. The money, too, was not as easily obtainable as he expected and as a result Zelda was becoming most impatient.
“She was not prepared for a long engagement and apparently assumed that it would be a matter of a month or two before Fitzgerald could provide for her” (Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald, 111).
In a desperate attempt to win his beloved back after receiving a photo of Zelda intended for another man, Fitzgerald made three monthly trips to Alabama trying, unsuccessfully, to convince her to wait. Eventually, out of frusteration, Zelda broke off the engagment sending Fitzgerald over the edge. For the next month he would find solace only at the bottom of a bottle, ending only when prohibition became law in early July 1920. Fitzgerald would eventually quit his job and return home to St. Paul to work on his first novel This Side of Paradise.
While the parallels between starving artist Fitzgerald and struggling artist Gordon Sterrett are obvious in nature, the connection isn’t as easy to decypher with the other events that occur in the pages of “May Day”. Sterrett’s story can be viewed as allegory, while the other two events are jumping off points, so to speak. They provide a comfertable environment, one that Fitzgerald is fimliar with, allowing him to examine the broader themes of the story. The second of the three events “that made a great impression” on Fitzgerald wasn’t as transparent in nature as the previous. It is obvious that Fitzgerald took some libirties recreating the story, however the result is a deeper, funnier story that is far more enjoyable than the abriged version it is based on. Mentioned almost in passing, Bruccoli describes one wild night in his definitive biography of Fitzgerald, Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald.
“In May he [Fitzgerald] went on an alcoholic party during which he and Yale undergraduate Porter Gillespie rolled empty champagne bottles along Fifth Avenue on Sunday Morning” (113).
These events, of course, would later become the basis for Peter and Dean’s intoxicated expedition during the second half of “May Day”.
Of the three events “that made a great impression” (Tales of the Jazz Age, VIII) on Fitzgerald, only one actually occurred during the actual celebration of May Day 1919. Fitzgerald uses it as inspiration for the riot that occurs at the office of the Trumpet (Tales From the Jazz Age, 108). Nestled in between stories about riots in Paris and Cleveland in the New York Times from May 2nd, 1919 is a short piece about a disturbance at a “socialist daily” (New York Times, May 2nd, 1919: 1). Coming because they heard there was a meeting of Bolshevist sympathizers, roughly 400 soldiers and sailors marched to the new offices of the communist newspaper the Call on Fourth Avenue in New York City. The soldiers, led by a Canadian, told the 700 men, women, and children to take down posters of a “Bolshevik nature” (New York Times, May 2nd, 1919: 3). A partygoer refused their demand and as a result the soldiers, armed with clubs and sticks, forced their way into the celebration and tore the posters from the wall. Driving them into the streets, the soldiers formed a semi-circle around the frightened celebrants and beat them with blunt objects.
This wasn’t the only story Fitzgerald lifted from the events at the Call, he also based the death of Key on a Call stockholder, who took a tumble from a window twenty five feet above ground.
“One of The Call stockholders, who was threatened by soldiers, ran to the rear of the building and jumped from a window twenty-five feet above the ground” (New York Times, May 2nd, 1919: 3).
Eventually the police did show up and fortunately they had little trouble in disarming what had become a full-scale riot. As a result of the events at the Call’s new offices on Fourth Avenue, police were dispatched to their old location on Pearl Street, however nothing would end up happening to warrant its protection (New York Times, May 2nd, 1919: 3).
May Day: Criticism
“May Day” is generally regarded as one of Fitzgerald’s better short stories. Unlike his light and often-funny flapper stories, “May Day” is an all too brief experimentation with naturalism. Fitzgerald suffered as a result. While the flapper stories, like “Head and Shoulders” were easily sold to Saturday Evening Post, “May Day” had a difficult time finding publication. Fitzgerald’s agent, Harold Ober, eventually sold the story for a paltry two hundred dollars to Smart Set (Mangum). The story was then later collected in Tales of the Jazz Age as a companion piece for his second novel The Beautiful and Damned in 1922.
“May Day” never appeared to have any special significance to Fitzgerald either, calling it an unsuccessful attempt at weaving together three unrelated stories to illustrate the hysteria of the inauguration of the Jazz Age (Tales of the Jazz Age, VIII). In a letter to Edmund Wilson he mentions it in passing, saying that he had “sold three or four cheap stories to American magazines” (The Crack Up, 254). As far as earlier criticism goes, “May Day” wasn’t exactly the focal point of Fitzgerald’s canon. Not surprisingly, most of the work done in this era focuses on his novels as opposed to his shorter fiction. In His Own Time provides two short critiques illustrating the early reception of “May Day”. When it was republished in Tales of the Jazz Age Woodward Boyd, in a review from the St. Paul Daily News, mentions “May Day” only in passing.
“Other stories in the volume include “May Day,” “Tarquin of Cheapside,” an imaginative and exciting description of the circumstances in which Shakespeare might have written the “Rape of Lucrece,” and “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”” (In His Own Time, 341)
Instead, Boyd focuses on the other stories contained in the volume; “The Jelly Bean” and “The Diamond as Big as the Ritz” (In His Own Time, 341). The second mention of “May Day” is from the Minneapolis Journal in an essay entitled “The Future of Fitzgerald”. The essayist commenting on the brief story prefaces in Tales From the Jazz Age says “May Day” is “a tragic story of the bitter sort” (In His Own Time, 414).
Modern criticism, in particular, has been considerably favorable towards “May Day” especially in regards to Fitzgerald’s unique workings of structure. John Khuel commented “structurally [“May Day” is] the most innovative piece Fitzgerald ever wrote. It eliminates the idea of a central character thus distributing the protaginal energy of many characters and what we end up with is a decentralized novella which becomes an effective way to render disjointed life” (F. Scott Fitzgerald: A Study of the Short Fiction) and as a result “May Day” is perhaps the most unique story Fitzgerald ever wrote.
However, there are detractors. Some find the structure of “May Day” more problematic than innovative. Henry Dan Piper claims the story is essentially “three episodes tied together by an unconvincing plot probably imposed at the last minute” (Piper, F. Scott Fitzgerald: A Study of the Short Fiction). However, Piper’s comments are quite interesting because he raises an extremely good point; “May Day” is complex and can be hard to follow at points. Fitzgerald has put so much information in his novella that most of it goes directly over our heads. Though, what Piper doesn’t appear to grasp is the unique narrative structure of the novella. By not focusing strictly on the “story” he, in turn, allows the use of time, description, and location to propel the novella forward. “May Day” cannot be looked at just in terms of “story”; one must immerse themselves completely in the narrative to fully appreciate the complexities of the story.
That said, “May Day”, in spite of its complexity in structure, has never garnered serious attention from the critics. Some try to connect “May Day” with other Fitzgerald short stories, examining a broader idea: Khuel in “One Trip Abroad” (New Essays on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Neglected Stories) hypothesizes that Sterrett is emotionally bankrupt like those in “One Trip Abroad” and Roulston, in his essay “The Swimmers”, tries to defend Fitzgerald’s story of the same name by arguing that the story has just as much material to be discussed as “May Day” (New Essays on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Neglected Stories). Others have a completely different interpretation of what “May Day” means. Ronald Berman champions his idea of “May Day” as a market place, twice in two separate pieces, a scant seven years apart. First in The Great Gatsby and Fitzgerald’s World of Ideas (1997) saying, “Edith knows her sexuality the dance floor is her market place.” Berman goes on to reiterate his idea in 2003, “ Throughout his stories Fitzgerald is able to illustrate what America is by applying different themes to his stories: “May Day” as a market place…” (Fitzgerald-Wilson-Hemingway: Language and Experience). Granted, Berman’s idea of a “market place” is indeed original, however one could very easily make an argument that a lot of Fitzgerald’s short stories are metaphors for a “market place”. For instance, take one of Fitzgerald’s earliest short stories the “Camel’s Back” and apply Berman’s idea of “market place”. Fitzgerald, more or less lampoons the whole idea of debutantes, and formal dances. The girl falls for a man dressed as a camel. The “market place” in “Camel’s Back” becomes a thinly vieled criticism of the social codes of the early twentieth century.
Of all these pieces, none try to truly examine “May Day”. The majority use “May Day” as support for a greater argument. It is obvious that the critics feel “May Day” is an important story that needs to be recognized, however its reception has been mostly lip service. But what is “May Day” really about?
Other essays suggest, as I did earlier, the connections between “May Day” and the birth of the Jazz Age. “Fitzgerald’s “May Day”: The Uses of Irresponsibility” from Midterm Fiction Studies suggests that “May Day” is “like a film run at high speed that becomes a frenzied film clip of the birth of the Jazz Age” (Roulston). Herbie Butterfield, too, notes that “May Day” is the birth of the Jazz Age while Babylon Revisited is its requiem (F. Scott Fitzgerald: The Promises of Life) and Aiping Zhang also takes note of the decentralized plot and theorizes that this novella’s subject is social history. Rather than give us a centralized plot of the trials and tribulations of Gordon Sterrett we have a snapshot of the birth of the Jazz Age, May 1919 (Enchanted Places: The Use of Setting in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Fiction). But what brings about the Jazz Age? If we know that “May Day” was the birth of the Jazz Age, how was it conceived?
May Day: Conception
“As far back as 1915 the unchaperoned young people of the smaller cities had discovered the mobile privacy of that automobile given to young Bill at sixteen to make him “self-reliant”. At first petting was a desperate adventure even under such favorable conditions, but presently confidences were exchanged and the old commandment broke down. As early as 1917 there were references to such sweet and casual dalliance in any number of the Yale Record or the Princeton Tiger” (The Crack Up, 14 - 15).
As Fitzgerald notes in The Crack Up, generational change was felt as early as 1915. The patriotism, confusion over inflation and job security, and excessive apprehension over communism that marked the earlier generation was becoming less of a concern for the newer, “wildest generation” (The Crack Up, 15) that “brusquely shouldered my [Fitzgerald] contemporaries out of the way and danced into the limelight” (The Crack Up, 15). “May Day” is Fitzgerald’s fictional manifestation of this change. The structure and narration is unlike anything else Fitzgerald ever wrote. By decentralizing the story, Fitzgerald allows the story complexities unseen in his other works. The story becomes an idea, a thought, a snapshot of the death of one generation and birth the birth of another. “Bernice Bobs Her Hair” is the conception of the flapper, “May Day” the conception of the Jazz Age. The three events that made a such a great impression upon” (Tales of the Jazz Age, VIII) Fitzgerald are studies in excess, each illustrating how excess can be the catalyst in both death and life. “May Day” is an uncommonly truthful and cinematic narration, depicting both the birth and death of generations knee deep in excess.
May Day: Gordon Sterrett
“Through this medley Dean and Gordon wandered; the former interested, made alert by the display of humanity at its frothiest and gaudiest; the latter reminded of how often he had been one of the crowd, tired, casually fed, overworked, and dissipated. To Dean the struggle was significant, young, cheerful; to Gordon it was dismal, meaningless, endless” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 71).
Bank Of America Plaza is an incredibly banal building. The block that once housed the exquisite Biltmore has turned itself into a forgetable, dull, grey eyesore. But, then again, it is a bank. The Biltmore, a famous New York City hotel that lied between 42nd Street and Vanderbilt Avenue was part of an upscale chain of hotels that tried to evoke the “Vanderbilt family’s Biltmore Estate” (Wikipedia, Biltmore Hotel) name. Designed by the architectural firm of Warren and Wetmore, the red granite New York Biltmore was founded by John McEntee Bowman (Wikipedia, New York Biltmore Hotel). The extravagant hotel, that begins “May Day”, is the first in a series of closely tied together locations that begin to illustrate the frothy, gaudy struggle (Tales of the Jazz Age, 71) of the newer generation.
As Fitzgerald begins to introduce characters in “May Day” he uses a particularly effective narrative device by referring to characters by describing a particular physical characteristic instead of simply calling them by name. For instance, when Fitzgerald first introduces Gordon Sterrett he writes,
“The inquirer was dressed in a well-cut, shabby suit. He was small, slender, and darkly handsome; his eyes were framed above with unusually long eyelashes and below with the blue semicircle of ill health, this latter effect heightened by an unnatural glow which colored his face like a low, incessant fever” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 62).
Fitzgerald is able to let the reader see through his character’s eyes. The narrator does not interfere with character’s thoughts, thus allowing the narration to be completely truthful. “May Day” does not proceed unless Fitzgerald’s characters allow it to. The technique that Fitzgerald has begun to use, first identifying a character by physical description then giving their name, will play a prominent role in the later chapters of the novella. In effect, this technique will become a camera for the reader to view the actions of “May Day” through the perspective of many different characters.
Fitzgerald’s “memorable men” were those that were roughly the same age as Fitzgerald when he composed them (New Essays on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Neglected Stories, Martine). Gordon Sterrett, perhaps the most tragic character of “May Day”, is characterized as being one of those men. The similarities do not end with age, both returned home from the war at roughly the same time: Fitzgerald on February 21st 1919 (Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald, 110), Sterrett, “got back from France in February” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 65). The two men were struggling artists working unfulfilling jobs: Fitzgerald worked the advertisement angle while trying to moonlight as a writer and Sterrett, unable to fund his dream as an artist, worked in exporting. Both, too, were unable to provide for the women they loved. Fitzgerald struggled to keep his engagement with Zelda Sayre. Ultimately losing her to patience, Fitzgerald returned home to St. Paul and focused whatever energy he had left into writing This Side of Paradise. On the other hand, Sterrett juggles two romantic relationships that are doomed to fail. A loose caricature of Fitzgerald, Sterrett embodies Fitzgerald’s frustrations surrounding the time he spent in New York City. When Fitzgerald introduces Gordon Sterrett, the dishevled war veteran against the backdrop of the upper echelon that inhabits the Biltmore, the stark difference between the two generations becomes obvious. He is Fitzgerald’s meditation on being unable to adapt to the excess of a new generation. A man obsessed with the recollection of a life long since dead. “Gordon collapsed unexpectedly upon the bed; lay there inert and spiritless. His mouth, which habitually dropped a little open when his face was in repose, became suddenly helpless and pathetic.
“What’s the matter?” asked Dean quickly.
“Oh, God!”
“What’s the matter?”
“Every God damn thing in the world,” he said miserably. “I’ve absolutely gone to pieces, Phil. I’m all in.”
“Huh?”
“I’m all in.” His voice was shaking” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 64-65).
Something is wrong with Gordon Sterrett. The stench of emptiness and desperation surrounds him. The man that had “received a scattering vote in the senior elections at college for being the best-dressed man in his class” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 63) is a shell of his former self. Throughout the novella he is absent. His body is present, however the mind is elsewhere.
The trauma of war can have paralyzing and lasting effects on its combatants. World War I introduced a disease that had previously can unrecognized by most of the medical community. Soldiers were reporting a myriad of stress related symptoms. “The most severe might include hysteria, disorientation, delusion, limb paralysis and loss of speech” (Making the Modern World). Other, more common symptoms associated with the ailment were “slowing of the reaction time, difficulty prioritising, difficulty initiating routine tasks, preoccupation with minor issues and familiar tasks, indecision and lack of concentration, loss of initiative with fatigue and exhaustion” (Wikipedia, Combat Stress Reaction). Usually these indicators came after the extreme stress suffered on the battlefield. Take for example, Henry Farr, a member of the British Expeditionary Force, that fought in the trenches of World War I. His position was under constant bombardment from shells eventually causing him to collapse in convulsions. Returning to the frontlines, Farr eventually broke down and said he could simply go on no longer (World Socialist Web Site). Labeled “Shell Shock”, it would eventually become recognized as Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. Despite the mystery that surrounds Sterrett’s service in World War I, something changed inside him while in France. Sterrett is the walking dead; preoccupied with his dream of becoming an artist, indecisiveness regarding his true feelings for Edith, and inability recognize his depression, instead focusing all his energy on money. Coupled with the excesses of the newer generation, Sterrett simply cannot go on.
Sterrett is severely depressed. From the very beginning of “May Day” Fitzgerald isn’t exactly subtle when it comes to Sterrett’s emotions. Gordon Sterrett’s “dream” is to become an illustrator for magazines. Feeling his glory days slipping from his grasp, Sterrett reaches out to Phillip Dean, a college friend for a loan to get back on his feet. Obviously envious of Dean’s lifestyle and money, Sterrett has convinced himself that by fulfilling his dream all his problems will magically disappear. But how will becoming an artist solve his problems? How will becoming an artist fix his situation with Jewel Hudson? From the context of Sterrett’s comments,
“She's got a letter all written to send to my family. Oh, she's got me, all right. I've got to have some money for her” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 67)
it is very possible that she is pregnant. Jobs don’t make children disappear. How will a job convince Edith Bradin to fall head over heels in love with him? Jobs don’t make decisions. How will a job cure his depression? That’s just it, a job won’t solve any of these problems. They run much deeper than Sterrett cares to admit. He is preoccupying himself with this impossible scenario. Sterrett’s obsession with returning to the fast, excessive life he was once accustomed has consumed him. Sterrett doesn’t realize that this impossible dream is causing him more harm than good. By allowing himself to believe it is possible to return to a more familiar existence he is quickly slipping further into depression. Eventually his unfulfilled dream of excess will lead him to suicide.
“With a little ready money I can take a few weeks off and get started” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 68).
As the newest generation rises to new levels of gluttony Sterrett seems desperate to catch up, ignoring any priority that he has. Sterrett’s first priority should be finding employment, not money. As a result his “dream” of being an illustrator becomes highly suspect. Throughout “May Day” he negates those wishes by saying things that contradict his conversation with Dean. For instance, when Jewel first confronts Sterrett about missing an earlier dinner date Sterrett never mentions his conversation with Dean. In fact, Jewel specifically says,
“I don't care about the money that bad. I didn't start bothering you about it at all until you began neglecting me” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 102).
The money is a non-issue. Sterrett used Jewel and his “dream” as arguments for a handout, never attending to spend money on either of them. The entire conversation, too, negates any statement Sterrett made about Jewel earlier. She is painted as a money hungry whore by Sterrett, however in all actuality she turns about to be an extremely loving person that is obviously worried about her partner. The money becomes more important than any relationship that he still has. This obsession has turned Sterrett into a liar.
“I know all about you!” she said fiercely. “Nice friend, you are, I'll say. He told me about you” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 115).
Jewel’s comments suggest that Sterrett told her some fairly unflattering things about Dean. Despite Dean listening to Sterrett and offering some helpful advice, he chooses to berate Dean for not giving him a larger handout. Just as he had done earlier with Dean when talking about Jewel, Sterrett chooses to ignore his relationships and instead focuses on money. In turn, he has made money his number one priority, anything else is simply inconsequential.
Is Gordon doomed? Does Fitzgerald give his memorable man any chance to rise up and survive? Sterrett’s one-track mind has in fact blinded him from seeing any chances he has at redemption. He has the opportunities to change, however instead of acting on those chances, he instead romanticizes the idea. Edith Bradin isn’t Sterrett’s best possibility of transformation, she is his greatest fantasy. His actions at Delmonico’s further prove that he has no intention of furthering his relationship beyond the dream of unrequited love. It is clear that Edith still holds Sterrett in high regard. She thinks about him throughout the Gamma Psi dance, “falling in love with her recollection of Gordon Sterrett” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 85), she more or less throws herself into the arms of her fantasy and once again her fantasy can only think of money. Sterrett ignores his first chance at redemption by ignoring Edith’s advances. Fitzgerald doesn’t doom his character for failure, his character dooms himself.
“Then he took a taxi to the room where he had been living on East Twenty-seventh Street, and, leaning across the table that held his drawing materials, fired a cartridge into his head just behind the temple” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 125).
Edith Bradin isn’t Sterrett’s only wasted opportunity at deliverance. The saddest part of Gordon’s ignorance is that liberation lied inches away throughout the entire novella. Description is an integral part of “May Day”. Fitzgerald describes everything in painstaking detail. One would expect that if these drawing materials had any distinguishing characteristics Fitzgerald would say so, however they are simply drawing materials. Earlier in the novel Sterrett tells Dean, “I haven’t had the money to buy decent drawing materials” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 68), however the decent drawing materials that Sterrett claims he doesn’t own have been sitting in his apartment, unused for the entire duration of the novella. Sterrett is a liar. Throughout the novel his priorities are misplaced, lying in the realm of fantasy. If he had really wanted to become an artist he could have. However his true dream, were his priorities really lied, were in the recollection of a life long passed not illustration.
May Day: Carrol Key and Gus Rose
Delmonico’s is one of the most historic restaurants in the United States. Opening its doors in 1827, many regard it as the first restaurant to open in the country. Qualifying such a statement is quite difficult and has been met with some skepticism, however “it is well-established that it was the first “fine dining” restaurant” (Wikipedia, Delmonico’s) in America. Delmonico’s was quite different from the inns that predated it. The first restaurant to have a separate wine menu, Delmonico’s allowed diners to chose from a menu as opposed to being served a pre-made meal (Wikipedia, Delmonico’s). Eventually closing its doors in 1923 due to prohibition, the name Delmonico’s remains to be synonymous with fine dining throughout the United States. It is here, amongst the college partygoers, that Fitzgerald plants the seeds of a generation’s death.
“About nine o'clock of the same night two human beings came out of a cheap restaurant in Sixth Avenue. They were ugly, ill-nourished, devoid of all except the very lowest form of intelligence, and without even that animal exuberance that in itself brings color into life; they were lately vermin-ridden, cold, and hungry in a dirty town of a strange land; they were poor, friendless; tossed as driftwood from their births, they would be tossed as driftwood to their deaths. They were dressed in the uniform of the United States Army, and on the shoulder of each was the insignia of a drafted division from New Jersey, landed three days before” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 74).
As Fitzgerald did earlier with Gordon Sterrett, he introduces Key and Rose by simple description. The narration remains truthful. However, unlike their counterpart, Key and Rose’s past are not shrouded in mystery. Returning home from World War I on April 28th, 1919 (Tales of the Jazz Age, 74) aboard the America (New York Times, April 28th, 1919: 4) Key and Rose are far removed from the generation that will follow them. A meditation on fear, these soldiers will ultimately be consumed by the fear that they will never be part of the generation that will take their place. The soldiers don’t share an obvert connection with Fitzgerald, any connection they may have is much more subtle than Sterrett. While the relationship that Fitzgerald holds with Sterrett is a very emotional one, the one shared with Carrol Key is phobic in nature. Born on September 24th, 1896 F. Scott Fitzgerald holds the distinction of being related to Francis Scott Key, the author of our national anthem, however the connection isn’t as close as one would expect. Francis Scott Key was a second cousin, three times removed to Fitzgerald. The two shared a great-great-great-great-grandfather (Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald, 16). Fitzgerald’s name was “a choice that indicates something about his parents’ ambitions for their son” (Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald, 16). “The taller of the two was named Carrol Key, a name hinting that in his veins, however thinly diluted by generations of degeneration, ran blood of some potentiality” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 74).
A man with no direction, Carrol Key is the manifestation of Fitzgerald’s fears. Carrol Key is Fitzgerald’s fear that he will never live up to the man he was named after. There always seemed to be this weight of insecurity that Fitzgerald carried when it came to his name. Whether it was trying to distance himself from his famous relative by contradicting his own history, “I’m not Irish on my father’s side – that’s where Francis Scott Key comes in” (Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald, 191) or, as ridiculous as it sounds, avoiding a statue of Francis Scott Key, when “driving Fitzgerald past the statue of Francis Scott Key at Eutaw Place, Fitzgerald jumped out of the car and hid in the bushes, calling: ‘Don’t let Frank see me drunk’” (Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald, 449). Carrol Key is Fitzgerald’s fear that he has disappointed his family,“George was married and had three children. He seemed fairly interested, but not impressed by the news that Carrol had been abroad in the army. This disappointed Carrol” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 80).
Carrol Key is Fitzgerald’s fear that his peers will never truly accept him and he will always remain an outsider,
“They followed him out the far door, through a deserted pantry and up a pair of dark winding stairs, emerging finally into a small room chiefly furnished by piles of pails and stacks of scrubbing brushes, and illuminated by a single dim electric light” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 81).
Carrol Key is Fitzgerald’s fear of an average life without purpose, a life where he will eventually die alone,
“A figure flashed by her out of nowhere, tottered, was edged sideways, and of a sudden disappeared helplessly out through the open window with a frightened, fragmentary cry that died staccato on the bosom of the clamor. By the faint light streaming from the building backing on the area Edith had a quick impression that it had been the tall soldier with the weak chin” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 110).
But did Carrol Key have any fears of his own? What led to Carrol Key’s tumble out of the second story window at the office of the New York Trumpet? As World War I ended, soldiers were returning home to a changed United States. Fitzgerald used war veterans Carrol Key and Gordon Sterrett to address the fears of a changing nation. Russia had recently embraced communism and it looked as if America would soon follow. There was a startling increase in attention being paid to issues related to worker’s rights. Riots broke out when companies refused union demands. Protests were held in support of worker’s rights and strikes were becoming commonplace. Eventually the battle for worker’s rights would be taken advantage of by extremists performing acts of intimidation in the name of communism and the line between activism and terrorism would soon blur. War veterans, in particular, were susceptible to this growing hatred against socialism. Imagine coming home to a country that appeared to be adopting the very thing you were fighting against. Gordon Sterrett voiced America’s fear of job security and inflation. Carrol Key voiced America’s fear of changing political opinions and communism. Gordon Sterrett’s death comes as a result of his inability to fulfill his fantasy of excess. His fear of poverty leads him to obsess over the apparent carelessness of how Howard Dean leads his life. Carrol Key dies in a similar fashion. His death is the culmination of a deep seeded fear of change. Manifesting themselves in the guise of extreme nationalism he attacks innocent civilians. But what leads this “lost generation” to act on their fears? What is the catalyst to its death?
Amongst dirty mops, sponges, buckets and pails in the storeroom of Delmonico’s, Carrol Key waits for his brother’s return, promising alcohol. Below them an extravagant party is being held. The stark difference between these sub-par conditions of Key and Rose and the party that rages below is quite telling. Like the Biltmore before, Fitzgerald uses location as a way to illustrate the differences between the two generations. It is here in the storeroom where fear turns into a battle cry. It is here that Peter Himmel provides the catalyst to act on those fears. The fears that these war veterans have are only compounded by the interactions they have with the newer generation.
“We got in a sort of fight for a while,” said Key after a pause, “but it was too far away.”
“A fight? --tha's stuff!” said Peter, seating himself unsteadily. “Fight 'em all! I was in the army.”
"This was with a Bolshevik fella.”
"Tha's stuff!" exclaimed Peter, enthusiastic. "That's what I say! Kill the Bolshevik! Exterminate 'em!"
"We're Americuns," said Rose, implying a sturdy, defiant patriotism. "Sure," said Peter. "Greatest race in the world! We're all Americuns! Have another." They had another" (Tales of the Jazz Age, 97).
These men are drunk. All three have been drinking for hours. Their sundry discussion of Bolsheviks and America is interesting. It is if these men are having two completely different conversations. Himmel, a junior in college, doesn’t realize what exactly he is saying. His views on the conflict that Key and Rose have returned from are quite humorous. He finds the war funny and continues the conversation as if he just wants to hear himself talk. Obviously he was never in the army and the things he says seem to only aggravate Key and Rose further. For him this conversation is a simple drunken rant from a soapbox. On the other hand, Key and Rose take this conversation literally. Noting that Rose replies with “a sturdy, defiant patriotism” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 97), Fitzgerald implies that these men are taking far more from this tête-à-tête than Himmel. While Himmel takes great enjoyment in Rose’s story about a fight with a “Bolshevik fella” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 97) saying, “kill the Bolshevik” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 97) Key and Rose see it as a call to arms. Like Sterrett before them, the exchange the two have excessive, newest generation provides a platform for death. Carrol Key’s death comes as a result of his inability to cope with his phobia. The chance that the country, they risked their lives for, is changing causes the soldiers to react to Peter Himmel’s encouraging words of confrontation.
“The next five minutes passed in a dream. Edith was conscious that the clamor burst suddenly upon the three of them like a cloud of rain, that there was a thunder of many feet on the stairs, that Henry had seized her arm and drawn her back toward the rear of the office” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 108).
Like the truthful narration Fitzgerald began “May Day” with, he continues to use the narration as a camera when describing Carrol Key’s death. Fitzgerald further compounds the dreamlike state of the riot by slowing down the narration and only showing the physical characteristics of the rioters as seen by Edith. In effect, it is as if Fitzgerald is using slow motion similar to what is done in movies. This technique works extremely well especially on first time readers because the description of Rose and Key, “one of them was short and dark, the other was tall and weak of chin” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 109) is vague yet there is this feeling of deja-vu; just like that of a dream. In one of the strongest and most haunting passages of “May Day” Fitzgerald is able to describe the death of Key without using his name: he “disappeared helplessly out through the open window with a frightened, fragmentary cry that died staccato on the bosom of the clamor” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 110). The cries that Edith heard, as Key fell from the offices of the New York Trumpet were not his own but the cries of an entire generation consumed by fear, a generation that felt so trapped by its own excesses that it threw itself out of a second-story window.
May Day: Phillip Dean and Peter Himmel
“Childs’, Fifty-ninth Street,” at eight o’clock of any morning differs from its sisters by less than the width of their marble tables or the degree of polish on the frying-pans” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 111).
Childs’ Restaurant was a chain of eateries that littered New York cityscape throughout the early twentieth century. Getting its start in Lower Manhattan, Childs’ was well known for their famous buttermilk pancakes and was one of the first restaurants to incorporate a cafeteria like serving structure (New York Times, Cardwell). Part of the lure of Childs’ was the familiarity of the restaurants. Every dining room was covered in white tiles, white walls, and white marble countertops. Every employee, too, wore white. The uniform appearance of the restaurants gave the impression that not matter how unfamiliar the surroundings, one could always go to Childs’ and feel at home. In 1927 Childs’ did something completely unheard of for a successful restaurant chain; they stopped serving meat. Co-founder Williams Childs was concerned over the health of the food his restaurants were serving and subsequently changed any dish containing meat. All meals were now served as vegetarian dishes and the Childs’ became Childs’ Unique Dairy Lunch (Kurshan). Eventually Childs’ went back to serving meat and the Riese Brothers bought out the chain in the 1961 (Kurshan).
Perhaps because of Fitzgerald’s feelings at the time of the story’s conception, Peter Himmel and Phillip Dean have the least in common with Fitzgerald and as a result the story becomes quite voyeuristic when detailing the duo’s adventure through Manhattan. Based on one long night with a college friend, Fitzgerald designates these two characters as the portrait of excess. Unlike the others that make up “May Day” these two are short on characterization and long on action. Like the generation they represent, Himmel and Dean are concerned not with the fears and fantasy that have consumed the previous generation but with the possibilities of a young, careless generation.
Their drunken antics are almost cliché. Funny and over the top, Himmel and Dean are the poster children for the Jazz Age. They are like infants. They have no concept of taking responsibilities for their actions, it as if they are completely innocent, unaware of the cruel world they call home. The Jazz Age was a time of rebirth for the nation. After the melancholy of World War I, America tried to distance itself from the fears that had marred the previous generation by pursuing the pleasures of life. Some describe the age as one of “decadence and hedonism” (Wikipedia, Jazz Age), one birthing “new social and sexual attitudes, and the growth of individualism” (Wikipedia, Jazz Age). It was a generation completely ignorant of those that surrounded them, a “me” generation.Fitzgerald is able to illustrates the birth of this generation through the actions of his most hedonistic characters, Peter Himmel and Phillip Dean. The two appear to entirely unaware of their surroundings. Childs’ Restaurant becomes their playground as they throw hash into the air and seem to play a game of keep away with the waiters (Tales of the Jazz Age, 115-116). The world is theirs for the taking.
“Fifty-third Street was a bus with a dark, bobbed-hair beauty atop; Fifty-second was a street cleaner who dodged, escaped, and sent up a yell of, “Look where you’re aimin’!” in a pained and grieved voice. At Fiftieth Street a group of men on a very white sidewalk in front of a very white building turned to stare after them, and shouted: “Some party Boys” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 118).
Fitzgerald, like he has done earlier, has used the narration as a camera to describe Himmel and Dean’s journey of excess. Instead of slowing the camera down, like he did for the riot at the New York Trumpet, Fitzgerald has sped the narration up. In turn, we too feel as if we, too, are ripping through the New York City streets during the early morning rush in a taxicab. In fact, the entire adventure of Mr. In and Mr. Out feels like a fuzzy memory after a night on the town. The novella comes full circle when Himmel and Dean take the guise of the alter egos. As Fitzgerald did with the previous generation’s death, he outlines the birth of a new generation. When the duo take the two signs, they are in affect shedding any association with Gordon Sterrett and Carrol Key. It is this disguise they are able to finally allow themselves to truly explore decadence.
“We want liquor; we want breakfast. Neither without the other. One and indivisible” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 120).
What a way to end a night a night of excess, the idea of breakfast and liquor is absurd. It is the icing on the cake. After a night of drinking to excess, they decide to start the morning with more alcohol. If that doesn’t spell excess than nothing does. These men have really embraced what it means to a member of the Jazz Age. Returning to the Biltmore, the two witness the arrest of Gus for the assault of Edith Bradin’s brother and blissfully unaware ask the elevator man to take them to heaven (Tales of the Jazz Age, 124).
May Day: In Closing
“May Day” shows that Fitzgerald was destined to become a great author. D.G. Kehl in his essay “Thalia does the Charleston: Humor in the fiction of F. Scott Fitzgerald” collected in F. Scott Fitzgerald in the 21st Century, argues that Fitzgerald’s ability to incorporate so many farcical elements in a work that is so depressing without feeling forced or inappropriate is another one of Fitzgerald’s strengths as an author. Consider Sterrett, who is unable to receive a handout and eventually commits suicide, juxtaposed against Himmel and Dean stealing the “In” and “Out” signs. His ability to juxtapose the bleak and sublime lead him to be successful at the same type of dark humor in The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald in the 21st Century, Kehl). It is his ability to juggle the narration, themes, locations, and time that are amazing. Not only is he able to make a potential disaster of a confusing story comprehendible he does it in such a way that is entirely original.
Despite what he may think about the truthfulness about these three stories, “ but in my story I have tried, unsuccessfully I fear, to weave them into a pattern” (Tales of the Jazz Age, VIII) Fitzgerald’s almost obsessive eye for detail adds to the believability of his novella. “May Day” is a tight and carefully layered story. It has so much to be uncovered and found out that it is almost as if the reader is a detective, finding the clues that will help them solve a case. The extensive amount of detail in “May Day” makes Fitzgerald’s meditation on generation one of his strongest stories structurally, as well as, one of the best stories he ever wrote.
Realism is exactly what it sounds like; artists trying to describe their subject matter as close to life as possible. “May Day” puts Fitzgerald’s brief affair with realism in a league of its own. The story has this ultra-realistic vibe to it. I can go where his characters have gone, know where the characters are but what I see is radically different from Fitzgerald’s writing. He could describe a piece of paper in a way that would make you cringe every time someone threw a piece away. Fitzgerald just adds layer upon layer until that piece of paper becomes something out of an art museum. “May Day” is this hybrid of a story; half fairy tale, half realist fiction.
Bibliography
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Berman, Ronald. Fitzgerald-Wilson-Hemingway: Language and Experience. University of Alabama Press. Tuscaloosa, Alabama. 2003.
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Bruccoli, Matthew J. and Bryer, Jackson. F. Scott Fitzgerald In His Own Times: A Miscellany. Kent University Press. 1971.
Bruccoli, Matthew. Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald. Carroll & Graf Publishers Inc: New York, New York. 1993.
Butterfield, Herbie. “Made for-or Against-the Trade : The Radicalism of Fitzgerald's Saturday Evening Post Love Stories”. Scott Fitzgerald: The Promises of Life. Ed. Robert Lee. Vision/New York. St Martin’s Press. 1989.
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Fitzgerald, F. Scott. Fitzgerald: The Crack Up. Ed. Edmund Wilson. New Directions Publishing Corporation. 1964.
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Stern. The University of Alabama Press. 2003.
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Publishers.1991:74.
Khuel, John. “One Trip Abroad”. New Essays on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Neglected
Stories. Ed. Jackson Bryer. University of Missouri Press. 1996: 185
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Martine, James J. “John Jackson’s Arcady: The Lamentable F. Scott Fitzgerald”. New Essays on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Neglected Stories. Ed. Jackson Bryer. University of Missouri Press: 1996.
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“The story, when examined closely, reveals in the young Fitzgerald a sophisticated and highly controlled writer. It is a moving expression of order struggling against approaching violence.”
Anthony J. Mazzella, The Critics
May Day: A History
When I think of May Day, I think of grade school, evoking memories of school fairs that signified the beginning of the end for the school year. The holiday of May Day means nothing to most Americans, or as in my case, a veritable non-sequtir from its original intentions. I am obsessive sometimes to the point of confrontation. That being said I love this story because, like me, it is obsessive.
May Day is most famous for falling on the same day as International Workers Day, a holiday that has close ties with the Communist party. Wanting to separate themselves from a holiday associated with the Communist party, the United States gave its workers the first Monday of September instead, baptizing the holiday Labor Day.
“It is not surprising that the state, business leaders, mainstream union officials, and the media would want to hide the true history of May Day. In its attempt to erase the history and significance of May Day, the United States government declared May 1st to be "Law Day", and gave the workers instead Labor Day, the first Monday of September - a holiday devoid of any historical significance” (Anarchy).
May Day’s United States origins can be traced back to 1886 on the first of May when over 800,000 workers went on strike throughout the United States in support of the eight-hour workday. The support for the eight-hour workday was especially prevalent in Chicago where “300,000 workers struck and marched through the city streets in a huge display of proletarian power” (May Day, New Haven). On May 3rd, two days after the march in Chicago, during a disagreement over compensation for work rendered outside of the McCormick Harvesting Machine Company fighting broke out between protesters and police when picket lines tried to prevent a scab workforce from entering the plant. Once the riot was under control, the Chicago police had killed four protestors and wounded several others. Workers and anarchists throughout Chicago decided to march in protest of “the bloodthirsty Chicago police” (May Day, New Haven). On May 4th the protest at Haymarket Square began peaceful enough. In fact, the protestor’s were so well behaved “that Mayor Carter Harrison, Sr. who had stopped by to watch, walked home early” (Wikipedia, Haymarket Riot). As the events of the day came to a close and police were dispersing the crowd a bomb was thrown at the police line, killing one and injuring several others. Thus, a substantial riot followed. The next day following the riot,
“under the direction of State's Attorney Julius Grinnel, police began a fierce roundup of radicals, agitators and labor leaders, seizing (sic) records and closing socialist and labor press offices. Eight men were finally brought to trial for conspiracy” (Chicago Public Library).
The riots of May Day 1886 weren’t an enigma. This culture of violence would return later when the first Red Scare came to a head in 1919. Soldiers were coming home to a drastically changed United States at the end of World War One. Inflation was rampant and the job market, too, was awful. Finding a job after the war was an arduous task. Factories were letting a substantial amount of workers go with the war ending and strikes were occurring across the country. Fear of communism was rampant. Soldiers were returning home to find out that they, too, could no longer drink. World War One had helped strengthen the argument for prohibition in regards to saving the grain used for making alcohol for food for soldiers. The first nationwide prohibition law to go into effect was the law banning the sale of liquor to soldiers (Drug Library). Seeing what happened in Russia, Americans feared that foreigners were going to try and topple their revered institutions (government, ideals, etc.). The end of World War One ushered in the first Red Scare.
“In the U.S., anarchist activities helped fuel fears and animosity toward all radicals and labor unionists - with many Americans failing to see a distinction between Marxists, anarchists and organized labor” (Political Unrest in 1919).
Americans weren’t completely unfounded in their distrust of communism. On April 28th 1919, almost thirty-three years after the Haymarket Square riots, Seattle Mayor Ole Hanson was sent a bomb throughnthe mail. It was defused. However, a servant of Georgia Senator Thomas Hardwick wasn’t as fortunate. She lost both hands. Later, on May 1st “thirty-four bombs were intercepted before reaching their intended targets which included, among others, Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, North Carolina Senator Lee S. Overman, Utah Senator William H. King, Postmaster General Albert Berlson, and John D. Rockefeller” (Intellectual Conservative).
On May 1, 1919 riots broke out across the United States. In particular, riots in Cleveland Ohio erupted when marchers protesting the jailer of Eugene Debs were stopped by a group of Victory Loan Workers insisting that the protesters lower their flags. When the protesters refused the request fighting commenced and quickly spread across the city (Wikipedia, May Day Riots of 1919). Cleveland wasn’t the only city plagued with hysteria, riots also exploded in Paris and New York City (New York Times).
May Day: Based on True Events
“This somewhat unpleasant tale, published as a novelette in the “Smart Set” in July, 1920, relates a series of events which took place in the spring of the previous year. Each of the three events made a great impression upon me. In life they were unrelated, except by the general hysteria of that spring which inaugurated the Age of Jazz, but in my story I have tried, unsuccessfully I fear, to weave them into a pattern---a pattern which would give the effect of those months in New York as they appeared to at least one member of what was then the younger generation” (Tales of the Jazz Age, VIII).
Fitzgerald, like Sterrett, succumbed to the pressures of New York City. Discharged from the army around the same time as Sterrett on February 21st, 1919 (Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald, 110), Fitzgerald went to New York City to find a job that would allow him to marry, his future wife Zelda Sayre as soon as possible (Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald, 110). Unfortunatley, it wouldn’t be as easy as Fitzgerald had hoped. Unable to secure a position at a newspaper Fitzgerald settled for a job at Baron Collier (Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald, 110), an advertising firm. He abhored his work. He spent most of his time writing for magazines and collecting their rejection slips. The money, too, was not as easily obtainable as he expected and as a result Zelda was becoming most impatient.
“She was not prepared for a long engagement and apparently assumed that it would be a matter of a month or two before Fitzgerald could provide for her” (Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald, 111).
In a desperate attempt to win his beloved back after receiving a photo of Zelda intended for another man, Fitzgerald made three monthly trips to Alabama trying, unsuccessfully, to convince her to wait. Eventually, out of frusteration, Zelda broke off the engagment sending Fitzgerald over the edge. For the next month he would find solace only at the bottom of a bottle, ending only when prohibition became law in early July 1920. Fitzgerald would eventually quit his job and return home to St. Paul to work on his first novel This Side of Paradise.
While the parallels between starving artist Fitzgerald and struggling artist Gordon Sterrett are obvious in nature, the connection isn’t as easy to decypher with the other events that occur in the pages of “May Day”. Sterrett’s story can be viewed as allegory, while the other two events are jumping off points, so to speak. They provide a comfertable environment, one that Fitzgerald is fimliar with, allowing him to examine the broader themes of the story. The second of the three events “that made a great impression” on Fitzgerald wasn’t as transparent in nature as the previous. It is obvious that Fitzgerald took some libirties recreating the story, however the result is a deeper, funnier story that is far more enjoyable than the abriged version it is based on. Mentioned almost in passing, Bruccoli describes one wild night in his definitive biography of Fitzgerald, Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald.
“In May he [Fitzgerald] went on an alcoholic party during which he and Yale undergraduate Porter Gillespie rolled empty champagne bottles along Fifth Avenue on Sunday Morning” (113).
These events, of course, would later become the basis for Peter and Dean’s intoxicated expedition during the second half of “May Day”.
Of the three events “that made a great impression” (Tales of the Jazz Age, VIII) on Fitzgerald, only one actually occurred during the actual celebration of May Day 1919. Fitzgerald uses it as inspiration for the riot that occurs at the office of the Trumpet (Tales From the Jazz Age, 108). Nestled in between stories about riots in Paris and Cleveland in the New York Times from May 2nd, 1919 is a short piece about a disturbance at a “socialist daily” (New York Times, May 2nd, 1919: 1). Coming because they heard there was a meeting of Bolshevist sympathizers, roughly 400 soldiers and sailors marched to the new offices of the communist newspaper the Call on Fourth Avenue in New York City. The soldiers, led by a Canadian, told the 700 men, women, and children to take down posters of a “Bolshevik nature” (New York Times, May 2nd, 1919: 3). A partygoer refused their demand and as a result the soldiers, armed with clubs and sticks, forced their way into the celebration and tore the posters from the wall. Driving them into the streets, the soldiers formed a semi-circle around the frightened celebrants and beat them with blunt objects.
This wasn’t the only story Fitzgerald lifted from the events at the Call, he also based the death of Key on a Call stockholder, who took a tumble from a window twenty five feet above ground.
“One of The Call stockholders, who was threatened by soldiers, ran to the rear of the building and jumped from a window twenty-five feet above the ground” (New York Times, May 2nd, 1919: 3).
Eventually the police did show up and fortunately they had little trouble in disarming what had become a full-scale riot. As a result of the events at the Call’s new offices on Fourth Avenue, police were dispatched to their old location on Pearl Street, however nothing would end up happening to warrant its protection (New York Times, May 2nd, 1919: 3).
May Day: Criticism
“May Day” is generally regarded as one of Fitzgerald’s better short stories. Unlike his light and often-funny flapper stories, “May Day” is an all too brief experimentation with naturalism. Fitzgerald suffered as a result. While the flapper stories, like “Head and Shoulders” were easily sold to Saturday Evening Post, “May Day” had a difficult time finding publication. Fitzgerald’s agent, Harold Ober, eventually sold the story for a paltry two hundred dollars to Smart Set (Mangum). The story was then later collected in Tales of the Jazz Age as a companion piece for his second novel The Beautiful and Damned in 1922.
“May Day” never appeared to have any special significance to Fitzgerald either, calling it an unsuccessful attempt at weaving together three unrelated stories to illustrate the hysteria of the inauguration of the Jazz Age (Tales of the Jazz Age, VIII). In a letter to Edmund Wilson he mentions it in passing, saying that he had “sold three or four cheap stories to American magazines” (The Crack Up, 254). As far as earlier criticism goes, “May Day” wasn’t exactly the focal point of Fitzgerald’s canon. Not surprisingly, most of the work done in this era focuses on his novels as opposed to his shorter fiction. In His Own Time provides two short critiques illustrating the early reception of “May Day”. When it was republished in Tales of the Jazz Age Woodward Boyd, in a review from the St. Paul Daily News, mentions “May Day” only in passing.
“Other stories in the volume include “May Day,” “Tarquin of Cheapside,” an imaginative and exciting description of the circumstances in which Shakespeare might have written the “Rape of Lucrece,” and “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”” (In His Own Time, 341)
Instead, Boyd focuses on the other stories contained in the volume; “The Jelly Bean” and “The Diamond as Big as the Ritz” (In His Own Time, 341). The second mention of “May Day” is from the Minneapolis Journal in an essay entitled “The Future of Fitzgerald”. The essayist commenting on the brief story prefaces in Tales From the Jazz Age says “May Day” is “a tragic story of the bitter sort” (In His Own Time, 414).
Modern criticism, in particular, has been considerably favorable towards “May Day” especially in regards to Fitzgerald’s unique workings of structure. John Khuel commented “structurally [“May Day” is] the most innovative piece Fitzgerald ever wrote. It eliminates the idea of a central character thus distributing the protaginal energy of many characters and what we end up with is a decentralized novella which becomes an effective way to render disjointed life” (F. Scott Fitzgerald: A Study of the Short Fiction) and as a result “May Day” is perhaps the most unique story Fitzgerald ever wrote.
However, there are detractors. Some find the structure of “May Day” more problematic than innovative. Henry Dan Piper claims the story is essentially “three episodes tied together by an unconvincing plot probably imposed at the last minute” (Piper, F. Scott Fitzgerald: A Study of the Short Fiction). However, Piper’s comments are quite interesting because he raises an extremely good point; “May Day” is complex and can be hard to follow at points. Fitzgerald has put so much information in his novella that most of it goes directly over our heads. Though, what Piper doesn’t appear to grasp is the unique narrative structure of the novella. By not focusing strictly on the “story” he, in turn, allows the use of time, description, and location to propel the novella forward. “May Day” cannot be looked at just in terms of “story”; one must immerse themselves completely in the narrative to fully appreciate the complexities of the story.
That said, “May Day”, in spite of its complexity in structure, has never garnered serious attention from the critics. Some try to connect “May Day” with other Fitzgerald short stories, examining a broader idea: Khuel in “One Trip Abroad” (New Essays on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Neglected Stories) hypothesizes that Sterrett is emotionally bankrupt like those in “One Trip Abroad” and Roulston, in his essay “The Swimmers”, tries to defend Fitzgerald’s story of the same name by arguing that the story has just as much material to be discussed as “May Day” (New Essays on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Neglected Stories). Others have a completely different interpretation of what “May Day” means. Ronald Berman champions his idea of “May Day” as a market place, twice in two separate pieces, a scant seven years apart. First in The Great Gatsby and Fitzgerald’s World of Ideas (1997) saying, “Edith knows her sexuality the dance floor is her market place.” Berman goes on to reiterate his idea in 2003, “ Throughout his stories Fitzgerald is able to illustrate what America is by applying different themes to his stories: “May Day” as a market place…” (Fitzgerald-Wilson-Hemingway: Language and Experience). Granted, Berman’s idea of a “market place” is indeed original, however one could very easily make an argument that a lot of Fitzgerald’s short stories are metaphors for a “market place”. For instance, take one of Fitzgerald’s earliest short stories the “Camel’s Back” and apply Berman’s idea of “market place”. Fitzgerald, more or less lampoons the whole idea of debutantes, and formal dances. The girl falls for a man dressed as a camel. The “market place” in “Camel’s Back” becomes a thinly vieled criticism of the social codes of the early twentieth century.
Of all these pieces, none try to truly examine “May Day”. The majority use “May Day” as support for a greater argument. It is obvious that the critics feel “May Day” is an important story that needs to be recognized, however its reception has been mostly lip service. But what is “May Day” really about?
Other essays suggest, as I did earlier, the connections between “May Day” and the birth of the Jazz Age. “Fitzgerald’s “May Day”: The Uses of Irresponsibility” from Midterm Fiction Studies suggests that “May Day” is “like a film run at high speed that becomes a frenzied film clip of the birth of the Jazz Age” (Roulston). Herbie Butterfield, too, notes that “May Day” is the birth of the Jazz Age while Babylon Revisited is its requiem (F. Scott Fitzgerald: The Promises of Life) and Aiping Zhang also takes note of the decentralized plot and theorizes that this novella’s subject is social history. Rather than give us a centralized plot of the trials and tribulations of Gordon Sterrett we have a snapshot of the birth of the Jazz Age, May 1919 (Enchanted Places: The Use of Setting in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Fiction). But what brings about the Jazz Age? If we know that “May Day” was the birth of the Jazz Age, how was it conceived?
May Day: Conception
“As far back as 1915 the unchaperoned young people of the smaller cities had discovered the mobile privacy of that automobile given to young Bill at sixteen to make him “self-reliant”. At first petting was a desperate adventure even under such favorable conditions, but presently confidences were exchanged and the old commandment broke down. As early as 1917 there were references to such sweet and casual dalliance in any number of the Yale Record or the Princeton Tiger” (The Crack Up, 14 - 15).
As Fitzgerald notes in The Crack Up, generational change was felt as early as 1915. The patriotism, confusion over inflation and job security, and excessive apprehension over communism that marked the earlier generation was becoming less of a concern for the newer, “wildest generation” (The Crack Up, 15) that “brusquely shouldered my [Fitzgerald] contemporaries out of the way and danced into the limelight” (The Crack Up, 15). “May Day” is Fitzgerald’s fictional manifestation of this change. The structure and narration is unlike anything else Fitzgerald ever wrote. By decentralizing the story, Fitzgerald allows the story complexities unseen in his other works. The story becomes an idea, a thought, a snapshot of the death of one generation and birth the birth of another. “Bernice Bobs Her Hair” is the conception of the flapper, “May Day” the conception of the Jazz Age. The three events that made a such a great impression upon” (Tales of the Jazz Age, VIII) Fitzgerald are studies in excess, each illustrating how excess can be the catalyst in both death and life. “May Day” is an uncommonly truthful and cinematic narration, depicting both the birth and death of generations knee deep in excess.
May Day: Gordon Sterrett
“Through this medley Dean and Gordon wandered; the former interested, made alert by the display of humanity at its frothiest and gaudiest; the latter reminded of how often he had been one of the crowd, tired, casually fed, overworked, and dissipated. To Dean the struggle was significant, young, cheerful; to Gordon it was dismal, meaningless, endless” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 71).
Bank Of America Plaza is an incredibly banal building. The block that once housed the exquisite Biltmore has turned itself into a forgetable, dull, grey eyesore. But, then again, it is a bank. The Biltmore, a famous New York City hotel that lied between 42nd Street and Vanderbilt Avenue was part of an upscale chain of hotels that tried to evoke the “Vanderbilt family’s Biltmore Estate” (Wikipedia, Biltmore Hotel) name. Designed by the architectural firm of Warren and Wetmore, the red granite New York Biltmore was founded by John McEntee Bowman (Wikipedia, New York Biltmore Hotel). The extravagant hotel, that begins “May Day”, is the first in a series of closely tied together locations that begin to illustrate the frothy, gaudy struggle (Tales of the Jazz Age, 71) of the newer generation.
As Fitzgerald begins to introduce characters in “May Day” he uses a particularly effective narrative device by referring to characters by describing a particular physical characteristic instead of simply calling them by name. For instance, when Fitzgerald first introduces Gordon Sterrett he writes,
“The inquirer was dressed in a well-cut, shabby suit. He was small, slender, and darkly handsome; his eyes were framed above with unusually long eyelashes and below with the blue semicircle of ill health, this latter effect heightened by an unnatural glow which colored his face like a low, incessant fever” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 62).
Fitzgerald is able to let the reader see through his character’s eyes. The narrator does not interfere with character’s thoughts, thus allowing the narration to be completely truthful. “May Day” does not proceed unless Fitzgerald’s characters allow it to. The technique that Fitzgerald has begun to use, first identifying a character by physical description then giving their name, will play a prominent role in the later chapters of the novella. In effect, this technique will become a camera for the reader to view the actions of “May Day” through the perspective of many different characters.
Fitzgerald’s “memorable men” were those that were roughly the same age as Fitzgerald when he composed them (New Essays on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Neglected Stories, Martine). Gordon Sterrett, perhaps the most tragic character of “May Day”, is characterized as being one of those men. The similarities do not end with age, both returned home from the war at roughly the same time: Fitzgerald on February 21st 1919 (Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald, 110), Sterrett, “got back from France in February” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 65). The two men were struggling artists working unfulfilling jobs: Fitzgerald worked the advertisement angle while trying to moonlight as a writer and Sterrett, unable to fund his dream as an artist, worked in exporting. Both, too, were unable to provide for the women they loved. Fitzgerald struggled to keep his engagement with Zelda Sayre. Ultimately losing her to patience, Fitzgerald returned home to St. Paul and focused whatever energy he had left into writing This Side of Paradise. On the other hand, Sterrett juggles two romantic relationships that are doomed to fail. A loose caricature of Fitzgerald, Sterrett embodies Fitzgerald’s frustrations surrounding the time he spent in New York City. When Fitzgerald introduces Gordon Sterrett, the dishevled war veteran against the backdrop of the upper echelon that inhabits the Biltmore, the stark difference between the two generations becomes obvious. He is Fitzgerald’s meditation on being unable to adapt to the excess of a new generation. A man obsessed with the recollection of a life long since dead. “Gordon collapsed unexpectedly upon the bed; lay there inert and spiritless. His mouth, which habitually dropped a little open when his face was in repose, became suddenly helpless and pathetic.
“What’s the matter?” asked Dean quickly.
“Oh, God!”
“What’s the matter?”
“Every God damn thing in the world,” he said miserably. “I’ve absolutely gone to pieces, Phil. I’m all in.”
“Huh?”
“I’m all in.” His voice was shaking” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 64-65).
Something is wrong with Gordon Sterrett. The stench of emptiness and desperation surrounds him. The man that had “received a scattering vote in the senior elections at college for being the best-dressed man in his class” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 63) is a shell of his former self. Throughout the novella he is absent. His body is present, however the mind is elsewhere.
The trauma of war can have paralyzing and lasting effects on its combatants. World War I introduced a disease that had previously can unrecognized by most of the medical community. Soldiers were reporting a myriad of stress related symptoms. “The most severe might include hysteria, disorientation, delusion, limb paralysis and loss of speech” (Making the Modern World). Other, more common symptoms associated with the ailment were “slowing of the reaction time, difficulty prioritising, difficulty initiating routine tasks, preoccupation with minor issues and familiar tasks, indecision and lack of concentration, loss of initiative with fatigue and exhaustion” (Wikipedia, Combat Stress Reaction). Usually these indicators came after the extreme stress suffered on the battlefield. Take for example, Henry Farr, a member of the British Expeditionary Force, that fought in the trenches of World War I. His position was under constant bombardment from shells eventually causing him to collapse in convulsions. Returning to the frontlines, Farr eventually broke down and said he could simply go on no longer (World Socialist Web Site). Labeled “Shell Shock”, it would eventually become recognized as Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. Despite the mystery that surrounds Sterrett’s service in World War I, something changed inside him while in France. Sterrett is the walking dead; preoccupied with his dream of becoming an artist, indecisiveness regarding his true feelings for Edith, and inability recognize his depression, instead focusing all his energy on money. Coupled with the excesses of the newer generation, Sterrett simply cannot go on.
Sterrett is severely depressed. From the very beginning of “May Day” Fitzgerald isn’t exactly subtle when it comes to Sterrett’s emotions. Gordon Sterrett’s “dream” is to become an illustrator for magazines. Feeling his glory days slipping from his grasp, Sterrett reaches out to Phillip Dean, a college friend for a loan to get back on his feet. Obviously envious of Dean’s lifestyle and money, Sterrett has convinced himself that by fulfilling his dream all his problems will magically disappear. But how will becoming an artist solve his problems? How will becoming an artist fix his situation with Jewel Hudson? From the context of Sterrett’s comments,
“She's got a letter all written to send to my family. Oh, she's got me, all right. I've got to have some money for her” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 67)
it is very possible that she is pregnant. Jobs don’t make children disappear. How will a job convince Edith Bradin to fall head over heels in love with him? Jobs don’t make decisions. How will a job cure his depression? That’s just it, a job won’t solve any of these problems. They run much deeper than Sterrett cares to admit. He is preoccupying himself with this impossible scenario. Sterrett’s obsession with returning to the fast, excessive life he was once accustomed has consumed him. Sterrett doesn’t realize that this impossible dream is causing him more harm than good. By allowing himself to believe it is possible to return to a more familiar existence he is quickly slipping further into depression. Eventually his unfulfilled dream of excess will lead him to suicide.
“With a little ready money I can take a few weeks off and get started” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 68).
As the newest generation rises to new levels of gluttony Sterrett seems desperate to catch up, ignoring any priority that he has. Sterrett’s first priority should be finding employment, not money. As a result his “dream” of being an illustrator becomes highly suspect. Throughout “May Day” he negates those wishes by saying things that contradict his conversation with Dean. For instance, when Jewel first confronts Sterrett about missing an earlier dinner date Sterrett never mentions his conversation with Dean. In fact, Jewel specifically says,
“I don't care about the money that bad. I didn't start bothering you about it at all until you began neglecting me” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 102).
The money is a non-issue. Sterrett used Jewel and his “dream” as arguments for a handout, never attending to spend money on either of them. The entire conversation, too, negates any statement Sterrett made about Jewel earlier. She is painted as a money hungry whore by Sterrett, however in all actuality she turns about to be an extremely loving person that is obviously worried about her partner. The money becomes more important than any relationship that he still has. This obsession has turned Sterrett into a liar.
“I know all about you!” she said fiercely. “Nice friend, you are, I'll say. He told me about you” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 115).
Jewel’s comments suggest that Sterrett told her some fairly unflattering things about Dean. Despite Dean listening to Sterrett and offering some helpful advice, he chooses to berate Dean for not giving him a larger handout. Just as he had done earlier with Dean when talking about Jewel, Sterrett chooses to ignore his relationships and instead focuses on money. In turn, he has made money his number one priority, anything else is simply inconsequential.
Is Gordon doomed? Does Fitzgerald give his memorable man any chance to rise up and survive? Sterrett’s one-track mind has in fact blinded him from seeing any chances he has at redemption. He has the opportunities to change, however instead of acting on those chances, he instead romanticizes the idea. Edith Bradin isn’t Sterrett’s best possibility of transformation, she is his greatest fantasy. His actions at Delmonico’s further prove that he has no intention of furthering his relationship beyond the dream of unrequited love. It is clear that Edith still holds Sterrett in high regard. She thinks about him throughout the Gamma Psi dance, “falling in love with her recollection of Gordon Sterrett” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 85), she more or less throws herself into the arms of her fantasy and once again her fantasy can only think of money. Sterrett ignores his first chance at redemption by ignoring Edith’s advances. Fitzgerald doesn’t doom his character for failure, his character dooms himself.
“Then he took a taxi to the room where he had been living on East Twenty-seventh Street, and, leaning across the table that held his drawing materials, fired a cartridge into his head just behind the temple” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 125).
Edith Bradin isn’t Sterrett’s only wasted opportunity at deliverance. The saddest part of Gordon’s ignorance is that liberation lied inches away throughout the entire novella. Description is an integral part of “May Day”. Fitzgerald describes everything in painstaking detail. One would expect that if these drawing materials had any distinguishing characteristics Fitzgerald would say so, however they are simply drawing materials. Earlier in the novel Sterrett tells Dean, “I haven’t had the money to buy decent drawing materials” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 68), however the decent drawing materials that Sterrett claims he doesn’t own have been sitting in his apartment, unused for the entire duration of the novella. Sterrett is a liar. Throughout the novel his priorities are misplaced, lying in the realm of fantasy. If he had really wanted to become an artist he could have. However his true dream, were his priorities really lied, were in the recollection of a life long passed not illustration.
May Day: Carrol Key and Gus Rose
Delmonico’s is one of the most historic restaurants in the United States. Opening its doors in 1827, many regard it as the first restaurant to open in the country. Qualifying such a statement is quite difficult and has been met with some skepticism, however “it is well-established that it was the first “fine dining” restaurant” (Wikipedia, Delmonico’s) in America. Delmonico’s was quite different from the inns that predated it. The first restaurant to have a separate wine menu, Delmonico’s allowed diners to chose from a menu as opposed to being served a pre-made meal (Wikipedia, Delmonico’s). Eventually closing its doors in 1923 due to prohibition, the name Delmonico’s remains to be synonymous with fine dining throughout the United States. It is here, amongst the college partygoers, that Fitzgerald plants the seeds of a generation’s death.
“About nine o'clock of the same night two human beings came out of a cheap restaurant in Sixth Avenue. They were ugly, ill-nourished, devoid of all except the very lowest form of intelligence, and without even that animal exuberance that in itself brings color into life; they were lately vermin-ridden, cold, and hungry in a dirty town of a strange land; they were poor, friendless; tossed as driftwood from their births, they would be tossed as driftwood to their deaths. They were dressed in the uniform of the United States Army, and on the shoulder of each was the insignia of a drafted division from New Jersey, landed three days before” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 74).
As Fitzgerald did earlier with Gordon Sterrett, he introduces Key and Rose by simple description. The narration remains truthful. However, unlike their counterpart, Key and Rose’s past are not shrouded in mystery. Returning home from World War I on April 28th, 1919 (Tales of the Jazz Age, 74) aboard the America (New York Times, April 28th, 1919: 4) Key and Rose are far removed from the generation that will follow them. A meditation on fear, these soldiers will ultimately be consumed by the fear that they will never be part of the generation that will take their place. The soldiers don’t share an obvert connection with Fitzgerald, any connection they may have is much more subtle than Sterrett. While the relationship that Fitzgerald holds with Sterrett is a very emotional one, the one shared with Carrol Key is phobic in nature. Born on September 24th, 1896 F. Scott Fitzgerald holds the distinction of being related to Francis Scott Key, the author of our national anthem, however the connection isn’t as close as one would expect. Francis Scott Key was a second cousin, three times removed to Fitzgerald. The two shared a great-great-great-great-grandfather (Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald, 16). Fitzgerald’s name was “a choice that indicates something about his parents’ ambitions for their son” (Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald, 16). “The taller of the two was named Carrol Key, a name hinting that in his veins, however thinly diluted by generations of degeneration, ran blood of some potentiality” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 74).
A man with no direction, Carrol Key is the manifestation of Fitzgerald’s fears. Carrol Key is Fitzgerald’s fear that he will never live up to the man he was named after. There always seemed to be this weight of insecurity that Fitzgerald carried when it came to his name. Whether it was trying to distance himself from his famous relative by contradicting his own history, “I’m not Irish on my father’s side – that’s where Francis Scott Key comes in” (Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald, 191) or, as ridiculous as it sounds, avoiding a statue of Francis Scott Key, when “driving Fitzgerald past the statue of Francis Scott Key at Eutaw Place, Fitzgerald jumped out of the car and hid in the bushes, calling: ‘Don’t let Frank see me drunk’” (Some Sort of Epic Grandeur: The Life of F. Scott Fitzgerald, 449). Carrol Key is Fitzgerald’s fear that he has disappointed his family,“George was married and had three children. He seemed fairly interested, but not impressed by the news that Carrol had been abroad in the army. This disappointed Carrol” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 80).
Carrol Key is Fitzgerald’s fear that his peers will never truly accept him and he will always remain an outsider,
“They followed him out the far door, through a deserted pantry and up a pair of dark winding stairs, emerging finally into a small room chiefly furnished by piles of pails and stacks of scrubbing brushes, and illuminated by a single dim electric light” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 81).
Carrol Key is Fitzgerald’s fear of an average life without purpose, a life where he will eventually die alone,
“A figure flashed by her out of nowhere, tottered, was edged sideways, and of a sudden disappeared helplessly out through the open window with a frightened, fragmentary cry that died staccato on the bosom of the clamor. By the faint light streaming from the building backing on the area Edith had a quick impression that it had been the tall soldier with the weak chin” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 110).
But did Carrol Key have any fears of his own? What led to Carrol Key’s tumble out of the second story window at the office of the New York Trumpet? As World War I ended, soldiers were returning home to a changed United States. Fitzgerald used war veterans Carrol Key and Gordon Sterrett to address the fears of a changing nation. Russia had recently embraced communism and it looked as if America would soon follow. There was a startling increase in attention being paid to issues related to worker’s rights. Riots broke out when companies refused union demands. Protests were held in support of worker’s rights and strikes were becoming commonplace. Eventually the battle for worker’s rights would be taken advantage of by extremists performing acts of intimidation in the name of communism and the line between activism and terrorism would soon blur. War veterans, in particular, were susceptible to this growing hatred against socialism. Imagine coming home to a country that appeared to be adopting the very thing you were fighting against. Gordon Sterrett voiced America’s fear of job security and inflation. Carrol Key voiced America’s fear of changing political opinions and communism. Gordon Sterrett’s death comes as a result of his inability to fulfill his fantasy of excess. His fear of poverty leads him to obsess over the apparent carelessness of how Howard Dean leads his life. Carrol Key dies in a similar fashion. His death is the culmination of a deep seeded fear of change. Manifesting themselves in the guise of extreme nationalism he attacks innocent civilians. But what leads this “lost generation” to act on their fears? What is the catalyst to its death?
Amongst dirty mops, sponges, buckets and pails in the storeroom of Delmonico’s, Carrol Key waits for his brother’s return, promising alcohol. Below them an extravagant party is being held. The stark difference between these sub-par conditions of Key and Rose and the party that rages below is quite telling. Like the Biltmore before, Fitzgerald uses location as a way to illustrate the differences between the two generations. It is here in the storeroom where fear turns into a battle cry. It is here that Peter Himmel provides the catalyst to act on those fears. The fears that these war veterans have are only compounded by the interactions they have with the newer generation.
“We got in a sort of fight for a while,” said Key after a pause, “but it was too far away.”
“A fight? --tha's stuff!” said Peter, seating himself unsteadily. “Fight 'em all! I was in the army.”
"This was with a Bolshevik fella.”
"Tha's stuff!" exclaimed Peter, enthusiastic. "That's what I say! Kill the Bolshevik! Exterminate 'em!"
"We're Americuns," said Rose, implying a sturdy, defiant patriotism. "Sure," said Peter. "Greatest race in the world! We're all Americuns! Have another." They had another" (Tales of the Jazz Age, 97).
These men are drunk. All three have been drinking for hours. Their sundry discussion of Bolsheviks and America is interesting. It is if these men are having two completely different conversations. Himmel, a junior in college, doesn’t realize what exactly he is saying. His views on the conflict that Key and Rose have returned from are quite humorous. He finds the war funny and continues the conversation as if he just wants to hear himself talk. Obviously he was never in the army and the things he says seem to only aggravate Key and Rose further. For him this conversation is a simple drunken rant from a soapbox. On the other hand, Key and Rose take this conversation literally. Noting that Rose replies with “a sturdy, defiant patriotism” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 97), Fitzgerald implies that these men are taking far more from this tête-à-tête than Himmel. While Himmel takes great enjoyment in Rose’s story about a fight with a “Bolshevik fella” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 97) saying, “kill the Bolshevik” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 97) Key and Rose see it as a call to arms. Like Sterrett before them, the exchange the two have excessive, newest generation provides a platform for death. Carrol Key’s death comes as a result of his inability to cope with his phobia. The chance that the country, they risked their lives for, is changing causes the soldiers to react to Peter Himmel’s encouraging words of confrontation.
“The next five minutes passed in a dream. Edith was conscious that the clamor burst suddenly upon the three of them like a cloud of rain, that there was a thunder of many feet on the stairs, that Henry had seized her arm and drawn her back toward the rear of the office” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 108).
Like the truthful narration Fitzgerald began “May Day” with, he continues to use the narration as a camera when describing Carrol Key’s death. Fitzgerald further compounds the dreamlike state of the riot by slowing down the narration and only showing the physical characteristics of the rioters as seen by Edith. In effect, it is as if Fitzgerald is using slow motion similar to what is done in movies. This technique works extremely well especially on first time readers because the description of Rose and Key, “one of them was short and dark, the other was tall and weak of chin” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 109) is vague yet there is this feeling of deja-vu; just like that of a dream. In one of the strongest and most haunting passages of “May Day” Fitzgerald is able to describe the death of Key without using his name: he “disappeared helplessly out through the open window with a frightened, fragmentary cry that died staccato on the bosom of the clamor” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 110). The cries that Edith heard, as Key fell from the offices of the New York Trumpet were not his own but the cries of an entire generation consumed by fear, a generation that felt so trapped by its own excesses that it threw itself out of a second-story window.
May Day: Phillip Dean and Peter Himmel
“Childs’, Fifty-ninth Street,” at eight o’clock of any morning differs from its sisters by less than the width of their marble tables or the degree of polish on the frying-pans” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 111).
Childs’ Restaurant was a chain of eateries that littered New York cityscape throughout the early twentieth century. Getting its start in Lower Manhattan, Childs’ was well known for their famous buttermilk pancakes and was one of the first restaurants to incorporate a cafeteria like serving structure (New York Times, Cardwell). Part of the lure of Childs’ was the familiarity of the restaurants. Every dining room was covered in white tiles, white walls, and white marble countertops. Every employee, too, wore white. The uniform appearance of the restaurants gave the impression that not matter how unfamiliar the surroundings, one could always go to Childs’ and feel at home. In 1927 Childs’ did something completely unheard of for a successful restaurant chain; they stopped serving meat. Co-founder Williams Childs was concerned over the health of the food his restaurants were serving and subsequently changed any dish containing meat. All meals were now served as vegetarian dishes and the Childs’ became Childs’ Unique Dairy Lunch (Kurshan). Eventually Childs’ went back to serving meat and the Riese Brothers bought out the chain in the 1961 (Kurshan).
Perhaps because of Fitzgerald’s feelings at the time of the story’s conception, Peter Himmel and Phillip Dean have the least in common with Fitzgerald and as a result the story becomes quite voyeuristic when detailing the duo’s adventure through Manhattan. Based on one long night with a college friend, Fitzgerald designates these two characters as the portrait of excess. Unlike the others that make up “May Day” these two are short on characterization and long on action. Like the generation they represent, Himmel and Dean are concerned not with the fears and fantasy that have consumed the previous generation but with the possibilities of a young, careless generation.
Their drunken antics are almost cliché. Funny and over the top, Himmel and Dean are the poster children for the Jazz Age. They are like infants. They have no concept of taking responsibilities for their actions, it as if they are completely innocent, unaware of the cruel world they call home. The Jazz Age was a time of rebirth for the nation. After the melancholy of World War I, America tried to distance itself from the fears that had marred the previous generation by pursuing the pleasures of life. Some describe the age as one of “decadence and hedonism” (Wikipedia, Jazz Age), one birthing “new social and sexual attitudes, and the growth of individualism” (Wikipedia, Jazz Age). It was a generation completely ignorant of those that surrounded them, a “me” generation.Fitzgerald is able to illustrates the birth of this generation through the actions of his most hedonistic characters, Peter Himmel and Phillip Dean. The two appear to entirely unaware of their surroundings. Childs’ Restaurant becomes their playground as they throw hash into the air and seem to play a game of keep away with the waiters (Tales of the Jazz Age, 115-116). The world is theirs for the taking.
“Fifty-third Street was a bus with a dark, bobbed-hair beauty atop; Fifty-second was a street cleaner who dodged, escaped, and sent up a yell of, “Look where you’re aimin’!” in a pained and grieved voice. At Fiftieth Street a group of men on a very white sidewalk in front of a very white building turned to stare after them, and shouted: “Some party Boys” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 118).
Fitzgerald, like he has done earlier, has used the narration as a camera to describe Himmel and Dean’s journey of excess. Instead of slowing the camera down, like he did for the riot at the New York Trumpet, Fitzgerald has sped the narration up. In turn, we too feel as if we, too, are ripping through the New York City streets during the early morning rush in a taxicab. In fact, the entire adventure of Mr. In and Mr. Out feels like a fuzzy memory after a night on the town. The novella comes full circle when Himmel and Dean take the guise of the alter egos. As Fitzgerald did with the previous generation’s death, he outlines the birth of a new generation. When the duo take the two signs, they are in affect shedding any association with Gordon Sterrett and Carrol Key. It is this disguise they are able to finally allow themselves to truly explore decadence.
“We want liquor; we want breakfast. Neither without the other. One and indivisible” (Tales of the Jazz Age, 120).
What a way to end a night a night of excess, the idea of breakfast and liquor is absurd. It is the icing on the cake. After a night of drinking to excess, they decide to start the morning with more alcohol. If that doesn’t spell excess than nothing does. These men have really embraced what it means to a member of the Jazz Age. Returning to the Biltmore, the two witness the arrest of Gus for the assault of Edith Bradin’s brother and blissfully unaware ask the elevator man to take them to heaven (Tales of the Jazz Age, 124).
May Day: In Closing
“May Day” shows that Fitzgerald was destined to become a great author. D.G. Kehl in his essay “Thalia does the Charleston: Humor in the fiction of F. Scott Fitzgerald” collected in F. Scott Fitzgerald in the 21st Century, argues that Fitzgerald’s ability to incorporate so many farcical elements in a work that is so depressing without feeling forced or inappropriate is another one of Fitzgerald’s strengths as an author. Consider Sterrett, who is unable to receive a handout and eventually commits suicide, juxtaposed against Himmel and Dean stealing the “In” and “Out” signs. His ability to juxtapose the bleak and sublime lead him to be successful at the same type of dark humor in The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald in the 21st Century, Kehl). It is his ability to juggle the narration, themes, locations, and time that are amazing. Not only is he able to make a potential disaster of a confusing story comprehendible he does it in such a way that is entirely original.
Despite what he may think about the truthfulness about these three stories, “ but in my story I have tried, unsuccessfully I fear, to weave them into a pattern” (Tales of the Jazz Age, VIII) Fitzgerald’s almost obsessive eye for detail adds to the believability of his novella. “May Day” is a tight and carefully layered story. It has so much to be uncovered and found out that it is almost as if the reader is a detective, finding the clues that will help them solve a case. The extensive amount of detail in “May Day” makes Fitzgerald’s meditation on generation one of his strongest stories structurally, as well as, one of the best stories he ever wrote.
Realism is exactly what it sounds like; artists trying to describe their subject matter as close to life as possible. “May Day” puts Fitzgerald’s brief affair with realism in a league of its own. The story has this ultra-realistic vibe to it. I can go where his characters have gone, know where the characters are but what I see is radically different from Fitzgerald’s writing. He could describe a piece of paper in a way that would make you cringe every time someone threw a piece away. Fitzgerald just adds layer upon layer until that piece of paper becomes something out of an art museum. “May Day” is this hybrid of a story; half fairy tale, half realist fiction.
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