08/19/2006 - Essay (Part 3)
This was tough too. I feel like I am sputtering out at the end, barely able to finish what I started. What I tried to do here was connect Fitzgerald’s fears with that of the lost generation. I could probably do a little more research on that now that I think about it and expand the last paragraph somewhat. This has gone on a lot further than I had anticipated and I probably have another four or five pages to go. Woe is me.
May Day: Carrol Key and Gus Rose
“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. Key and Rose’s past are not shrouded in mystery, unlike their counterpart Sterrett. Returning home from World War I on April 28th, 1919 (Tales of the Jazz Age, 74) aboard the America (New York Times) Key and Rose are far removed from the generation that will follow them.
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 (Bruccoli, 16). Fitzgerald’s name was “a choice that indicates something about his parents’ ambitions for their son” (Bruccoli, 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” (Bruccoli, 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’” (Bruccoli, 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).
Not to be outdone by Fitzgerald, Carrol Key had fears of his own. 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 paid related to workers 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 terrorism 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 change and communism.
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). Delmonico’s was quite different than 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 socialist partygoers, that Fitzgerald plants the seeds of a generation’s death.
Gordon Sterrett’s death comes as a result of his inability to fulfill his dreams 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 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 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” (Tale 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) Rose sees it as a call to arms. Like Sterrett before them, the exchange the two have excessive newest generation provides a platform for death.
“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).
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 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: Carrol Key and Gus Rose
“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. Key and Rose’s past are not shrouded in mystery, unlike their counterpart Sterrett. Returning home from World War I on April 28th, 1919 (Tales of the Jazz Age, 74) aboard the America (New York Times) Key and Rose are far removed from the generation that will follow them.
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 (Bruccoli, 16). Fitzgerald’s name was “a choice that indicates something about his parents’ ambitions for their son” (Bruccoli, 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” (Bruccoli, 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’” (Bruccoli, 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).
Not to be outdone by Fitzgerald, Carrol Key had fears of his own. 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 paid related to workers 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 terrorism 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 change and communism.
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). Delmonico’s was quite different than 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 socialist partygoers, that Fitzgerald plants the seeds of a generation’s death.
Gordon Sterrett’s death comes as a result of his inability to fulfill his dreams 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 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 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” (Tale 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) Rose sees it as a call to arms. Like Sterrett before them, the exchange the two have excessive newest generation provides a platform for death.
“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).
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 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.
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