APPENDIX F1
The Wizard of Oz and an OZ of Gold
Did you know when L. Frank Baum put pen to paper to write The Wonderful World of Oz (published in 1900 and later immortalized in the film starring, among others, Judy Garland, Ray Bolger and Bert Lahr), he didn’t intend to write a magical children’s story? No. He meant it as sharp political satire and monetary allegory, involving the economic debates and political players of the 1890s.
Don’t scour the movie for hidden meaning. The 1939 film was indeed intended as lighthearted fare during dark times. Instead, go back to the original text, where no one in 1900 could miss the meaning behind Dorothy’s silver shoes. (Red looked better in Technicolor.) It should grab you instantly that “Oz” is an ounce of gold. Here is the story as Baum meant it.
In the 1890s and into the early part of the twentieth century, debate raged between those who supported the gold standard for our currency and those who would abandon it in favor of a bimetallic or even silver standard. After America returned to the gold standard in 1879, a period of ravaging deflation followed—prices and wages fell nationwide. A variety of policy mishaps, domestic and foreign, culminated in the Panic of 1893 and a subsequent global depression. This wasn’t one of our very biggest depressions, but it wasn’t insignificant, either. Though we now know there wasn’t a single culprit, and American economic woes were part of a larger global trend, in America, the gold standard got its share of the blame.
Fervent support to lift the restriction on minting silver gained sudden popularity. William Jennings Bryan and his booming voice played front and center in the “free silver” movement. Critics saw this as inherently grossly inflationary. Supporters felt some inflation was in order. In popular press, the struggle was frequently framed (and greatly simplified) as a struggle between the “people” (who would benefit from a silver standard and increased inflation) and Eastern banking interests with the politicians in their pockets (who would benefit from the status quo). Incidentally, the “Common Man” versus “Big Business” is a story that still plays today. Funny how some things never change.
Baum crafted his tale against this backdrop, showing his support for the silver movement and Populist disgust for Grover Cleveland, William McKinley and their gold-standard buddies. All the characters he created would have been familiar to his turn-of-the-century audience.
Dorothy, an impoverished yet dauntless farm girl from barren Kansas (where the Populist movement began), is our Everyman. She is plucky and represents the center of America—innocent, good of heart, young, energetic and hopeful. The City of Oz signifies America itself, particularly the East and specifically Manhattan—a land blinded by and wedded to gold and the gold standard. And, of course, the Yellow Brick Road! Yellow meaning gold!
The Witch of the East was pro-gold former Democratic president Grover Cleveland, an apt villain in the Populist view because he was elected president in 1892 (the second time—remember, he was also president from 1885 to 1889, and lost to Benjamin Harrison in 1888) and was in office when the Panic of 1893 unfurled. He was also a villain because he was a Democrat supporting the gold standard, abandoning the Populists, when, in the Populist view, a Democrat should oppose the Republicans who supported the gold standard. Just as Cleveland got politically wiped out, the twister (the silver movement) drops Dorothy’s house on top of the Witch of the East, leaving only the treasured silver shoes behind. Naturally, the Munchkins, living in mindless deference in an Eastern suburb of Oz, didn’t understand the power of the silver shoes. The Munchkins couldn’t even find Kansas on a map, provincial Easterners they were, so they sent Dorothy to see the Wizard.
She is joined first by the Scarecrow—the underestimated Western farmer who in reality is quite astute. He is kept in blissful ignorance about the silver debate because the folks from Oz think he is too simple to understand such a complex topic—that is, until Dorothy and her silver shoes liberate him. Next up is the Tin Woodsman. Cruel Eastern interests have mechanized the common workingman and stolen his craft and, therefore, his heart. Like so many in the 1890s, this once-hearty and hale laborer is unemployed (rusted and unable to lift his ax). Finally, the Cowardly Lion joins the movement. The Lion is none other than William Jennings Bryan himself, the Democratic presidential candidate in 1896 and 1900—losing both times to William McKinley.
Bryan indeed had a commanding roar, but he was ultimately a loser and didn’t have a lion’s capability or courage. As the economy improved in the later 1890s, his supporters splintered. Some felt he should focus on other pressing political concerns of the day. Others preferred he continue to be the standard-bearer of the silver fight, and anything less was caving to Eastern interests. He lost courage. He didn’t have a lion’s heart.
The Emerald Palace, where the Wizard resides, is, of course, the White House—filled with acquiescing bureaucrats. The Wizard seems friendly and wants to help, yet he sends the four friends into the very den of the Witch of the West, who is no friend to their cause. The Wizard himself is in reality Marcus Alonzo Hanna, whom many saw as the “man behind the curtain” of McKinley’s presidency. Hanna, from Ohio, was the ultimate backroom political boss of American history. He very much controlled Republican politics and, to a large extent, McKinley in the 1890s. The role of the Wizard having no real power but illusion is allegorical to politics being all about illusion.
The Wicked Witch of the West is President William McKinley, also from Ohio. How can someone from Ohio be the Wicked Witch of the West? Easy, if you’re writing from Baum’s point of view that everything was controlled by wicked New York City–based banking interests—then anything west of New York’s Hudson River is “West.” In those days, it was very common to refer to Minnesota and Wisconsin as part of the “Northwest.” This is why Northwest Airlines is still based in Minnesota—same evolution of the word. We still refer to Ohio today as the Midwest. By contrast in the vernacular, the “Mideast” doesn’t exist in America.
McKinley was staunchly pro-gold, pro-tariff and worse than Cleveland in the Populist view. (His annexation of Puerto Rico, Guam, the Philippines and Hawaii did little to endear him to his foes, who saw him as a greedy imperialist.) This Witch is anxious to get the silver shoes from Dorothy before she learns their true power, and tries to kill her (and the silver movement) off through a series of trials (the aforementioned annexations and Spanish-American War) meant to separate the four friends and the power they have as a united group. Glinda, the Good Witch of the South, waves her wand and resolves the foursome’s problems, just as support from the South bolstered the Populist movement before it ultimately died out, and Dorothy returned to Kansas without her silver shoes.
The story is filled with more political and monetary allegory. The flying monkeys, the enslaved Winkies (nowhere to be found in MGM’s version), the poppy field (golden), even the gifts the Wizard bestows on our heroes (a little liquid “courage” for the teetotaling lion—Bryan was a well-known Prohibitionist) didn’t escape Baum’s audience—they knew the meanings.
Don’t believe me? There is a wonderful 1990 paper by Hugh Rockoff, “The ‘Wizard of Oz’ as a Monetary Allegory,” which is available online or in your local library. Rockoff delves into more detail about the economic, monetary and political climate, along with the characters and narrative itself. Read that, and then reread Baum’s classic. It will be eye-opening for you. Sometimes even your favorite childhood stories aren’t what they seem to be.
1 Source: Hugh Rockoff, “The ‘Wizard of Oz’ as a Monetary Allegory,” Journal of Political Economy 98 (August 1990): 739–760.