“Tar and Feathers is noteworthy in that it protests vigorously against prejudice of every variety and exposes the narrowness and the danger of organizations making for racial antagonism. The author writes with sincerity and conviction and is worth heeding if only for the vehemence with which he attacks the forces of snobbery and prejudice.”—New York Evening Post.
“While the armistice bells are ringing and a war-ridden people all over the world are shaking themselves loose from the habits of four long years, the novel opens in a crowded ward of the American hospital, Rue de Saint Jacques, Paris. Robert Hamilton, a rich and cultured American from Georgia; McCall from Chicago, in civilian life a reporter on the Times (incidentally of the Catholic faith); Dr. Levin, the great American surgeon, and Williams, a negro graduate of Harvard, are here introduced. Of course, there is also Meadows, the nurse—Dorothy Meadows, who played around with the social service crowd at Madison, and graduated there some time “before the war.” Back in Georgia is Margaret, a typical “home girl” in Corinth. These are the leading characters out of whose reactions Mr. Rubin has evolved a presentable story upon which to drape his theories.
“The scene shifts back to Corinth, where young Hamilton, is at once entangled in the affairs of the Ku Klux Klan, tho he doesn’t know in the least what it’s all about. Sent on a mission of propaganda to Chicago, Hamilton renews his friendship with McCall and Levin. The story of the part they play is a sermon to be hugged to the hearts of all 100 per cent Americans. Then, of course, there is Dorothy ... while back in Corinth is Margaret ... staying at home.
“Mr. Rubin makes adroit use of the Chicago race riots of 1919 and otherwise molds his men and his times into a tale which moves with rapidity and vigor.”—Margaret Evans in the Chicago Evening Post.
For ourselves, we have read nothing on the perennial subject of intolerance so much to the point and so well calculated to allay prejudice and make for good citizenship as “Tar and Feathers.”
THE PUBLISHERS.
Tar and Feathers
I
Monday, November 11, 1918, in Paris. A world suddenly gone mad. Shouting and dancing in the streets. Blaring of bands in the public squares. Booming of cannon along the Seine. Ringing of bells. Swirling masses of human beings along the boulevards and bridges and upon the steps of public buildings. Color. Autumn trees aflame with gold. Men and women blown about like autumn leaves. A sea of people, tossing sprays of color—red caps of officers, sky-blue uniforms, yellow hair of dancing women, ribbons, waving flags and banners. Spots of black—women in mourning, laughing and crying at once, singing through tears. Shouts of vive la France! Singing of the Marseillaise. Incoherent laughter and singing and cries, forming a rhythmic pattern like the pulsing of sea waves.
Peace at last. The world made safe for democracy—for France, for England, for Italy, for Belgium, for America—for the smallest nations of the earth—for white men, for yellow men, for black men.