Harry Carey Goodhue speaks from the grave, sneering at the people of Spoon River for never understanding him. He was a reformer who fought bankers, politicians, and businessmen over corruption and unfair taxes—and lost each fight, leaving his career in ruins. He links himself to Chase Henry, another local figure who supported prohibition out of spite. What the town never saw, Goodhue says, is that his final cause was not really about virtue. Prohibition was revenge. After his defeats, he pulled out a hidden last ideal, like Samson’s jawbone of an ass, and used it to strike back at the same powerful people who had beaten him. Spoon River ended up paying for his old grudges. The tone is bitter, mocking, and darkly comic, more a sneering confession than a moral defense. There is no remorse in his voice, only satisfaction at having made his enemies pay.
Harry Carey Goodhue — Summary
You never marveled, dullards of Spoon River, When Chase Henry voted against the saloons To revenge himself for being shut off. But none of you was keen enough To follow my steps, or trace me home As Chase’s spiritual brother. Do you remember when I fought The bank and the courthouse ring, For pocketing the interest on public funds? And when I fought our leading citizens For making the poor the pack-horses of the taxes? And when I fought the water works For stealing streets and raising rates? And when I fought the business men Who fought me in these fights? Then do you remember: That staggering up from the wreck of defeat, And the wreck of a ruined career, I slipped from my cloak my last ideal, Hidden from all eyes until then, Like the cherished jawbone of an ass, And smote the bank and the water works, And the business men with prohibition, And made Spoon River pay the cost Of the fights that I had lost.