Today’s post is my recent treatment of a character fast becoming a personal favorite: Father Charles Coughlin. While mostly remembered for his virulent anti-Judaism and embrace of fascism as an antidote to communism, Coughlin was a complex character with genuine concerns for working people and America. His legacy has been mixed, for he failed to achieve much of anything in the way of public policy, but wound up making possible modern institutions like the Moral Majority and right-wing radio.
This is a long blog post (over 3000 words) but hardly enough space to scratch the surface of Father Coughlin. I look forward to continuing my research and writing on this subject.Abstract
In the late 1920s and throughout the following decade, a Detroit priest named Father Charles Coughlin captured the attention of millions of working class Midwesterners through the infant medium of radio. His radical message of social justice during the early part of the Great Depression resonated with those who suffered from financial forces beyond their control and sought a simple, external explanation. However, the reasons for Coughlin’s success — his fiery, increasingly hyperbolic rhetoric and continuous campaign against those in power — limited his effectiveness in achieving his policy objectives. This paper examines a collection of sermons delivered by Father Coughlin in the early 1930s, the transcript of a later radio interview on Christian democracy and communism, and relevant newspaper and magazine articles. The secondary source material presented varies widely from political science analysis to an analysis of how Church organization enabled the career of Coughlin long after he had become an embarrassment, to a comparison of the fortunes of Coughlin’s political allies who all rose and fell in unison. Although Father Coughlin — like other populists before him — was unable to effect tangible policy change, his large regional audience insured the attention of many throughout the years.The Irony of Celebrity: Father Charles Coughlin and the Choice Between Celebrity and Accomplishment
In the late 1920s, embracing the fledgling medium of broadcast radio, a young Irish-Canadian priest name Charles Coughlin began attracting a working-class audience in the upper Midwest. His sonorous voice and platform of social justice enthralled his listeners, who saw in him a true champion. With the advent of the Great Depression, Father Coughlin turned his attention to Wall Street and the White House, becoming a vociferous critic of the Hoover administration and their lackadaisical response to the crisis. By 1932, his popularity and colorful attacks drew the attention of Franklin Roosevelt’s campaign, which hoped the Father would deliver his audience to the polls. Thus began Father Coughlin’s political career: recognized as a populist, he was the working man’s advocate and pledged fealty to no other. His dissatisfaction with the pace of progress in the halls of power led him to endorse a third party during the campaign of 1936, and his media empire eventually provided radio programming and the newsletter Social Justice to homes from Maine to Kansas. However, the reasons for Coughlin’s success — his fiery, increasingly hyperbolic rhetoric and continuous campaign against those in power — limited his effectiveness in achieving his policy objectives. Eventually, a gadfly to those in power and an embarrassment to the Catholic Church, Father Coughlin’s microphone was silenced by his superiors in 1941. Understanding the conditions that gave rise to the priest’s popularity and protected him despite his vitriolic rhetoric provide lessons directly applicable in today’s environment of political talk radio.While several monographs exist which address Father Coughlin directly or include him as an example of a populist leader, a number of journal articles provide a more narrow focus on different aspects of his life and career. These can be organized along topical lines: Coughlin’s relationship to the Catholic Church,[1] his policies and politics, and his legacy.[2] Each aspect of the priest’s behavior can be linked to others, and a more robust picture of Coughlin’s evolution painted.
The availability of secondary source material is a consequence of the dearth of primary source material; each historian must find creative ways to discover a Coughlin narrative. This necessitates a similar approach when supporting the thesis of this paper. The most expedient method for tracing the arc of Coughlin’s career is to examine these individual facets and attempt to knit them together. There are drawbacks to this method. First, it is difficult to gauge whether any of the scholars would contest my thesis, since their own work did not extend across a similar scope. Second, Coughlin was a complex and enigmatic character; sometimes his views were shaped by beliefs and conditions outside the immediately visible landscape. By focusing on singular aspects of his life, it is easy to miss underlying factors. Finally, everyone who approaches the topic of Father Coughlin faces the same lack of primary source material, which makes a longitudinal study of the man difficult. Warren is probably the most successful at this, because of his different context and access to some newly discovered source material within the Archdiocese of Detroit. Nevertheless, any comprehensive treatment of Father Coughlin will necessarily leave questions unanswered.
Father Coughlin represents a challenging subject matter regarding primary source material due to the ephemeral nature of his medium and the controversy surrounding his career. He did not leave any personal papers, and very few papers were found upon the death of his Ordinary, Bishop Michael Gallagher.[3] This analysis utilizes three primary sources written by Father Coughlin himself: a compilation of radio sermons from 1931 and 1932; a collection of essays on the gold standard and monetary policy published in 1933; and the transcript of a radio interview in 1937 concerning a Christian theory of government. The radio sermons were self-published, and the source is a first edition. The three pamphlets on monetary policy were originally published separately in 1933, and later reprinted as a collection in 1974, which is the source utilized here. Father Coughlin’s “The Christian Theory of Government” was a transcript of a radio interview published in the journal The Irish Monthly. While limited in scope, these sources allow Father Coughlin’s public advocacy to be tracked, for they unquestionably espouse his views on matters of morality, equity and policy. Contemporary news and magazine articles from The Chicago Tribune and The Nation will demonstrate the actual response garnered from the sometimes hyperbolic rhetoric in his public statements. While articles of this type are atypical for such an analysis, they are vital to demonstrate the reaction of society to Coughlin’s policies and his attacks against powerful public figures throughout the 1930s. Contrasting limited writings that were published with contemporaneous public response will demonstrate Father Coughlin’s increasingly radical policy positions and rhetoric, and the shifting spheres of influence he commanded as the decade progressed.
Other primary sources do exist for Father Coughlin, but their availability is limited. As previously mentioned, personal papers were not left behind. Historians have managed to gain access to private collections of documents that provide an indirect look at Coughlin, as demonstrated by Shenton’s examination of FDR’s personal letters, or Sr. Athans’ examination of Father Fahey’s archive. In each case, half of the conversation was saved. Another desirable source is the newsletter Social Justice, published by Father Coughlin’s National Union for Social Justice. Although he functioned as more of an executive editor, he apparently used the newsletter to promote his message, and therefore it could provide insight into his policy positions. At the time of this writing a collection of the newsletters has not been found. Given these challenges, an examination of sources from actors on the periphery seems to be the most promising strategy for investigating Father Coughlin’s complex character and remarkable success.
Father Coughlin’s theme of social justice throughout his sermons and actions was extremely popular with his radio audience. Though he was a priest in a small, undeveloped parish using a new medium, Coughlin’s audience rose to hundreds of thousands from Kansas City, Missouri to Bangor, Maine within a few years.[4] And despite the economic hard times that his audience faced, the resonance of his message could be measured by the large contributions he received, sometimes totaling $20,000 per day in small bills.[5] His empathy reached out toward the working man, and his assertions were grounded in the authority of Christ and the Catholic Church. In a sermon entitled, “Worthy of His Hire” he recognized the enormity of his audience’s troubles, assured them, and asserted the appropriate solution in one statement, “…in the face of this tyrant of suffering the religion of Jesus Christ is no subservient religion.”[6] To those in the audience, the burden of their economic woes could be shared through this new mass media, and their lives given value through acceptance of Christ. In return, Father Coughlin asserted that one role of Christianity was to deliver economic justice by insuring that the government provided full employment, fair wages and the protection of private property. Later in the same sermon, he equated the right to work with the right to own property, and concluded “…the right to private ownership depends in one sense upon the right to work.”[7] This message was not being heard from the Hoover administration, which had maintained that government had little responsibility for creating jobs or protecting workers from the abuses of capital. For those who were dispossessed of their work and property, being told, “the stability of the capitalist is associated with the contentment of the laborer”[8] elevated the importance of the working man and provided value in an economy that had discounted them. They simply wanted to return to their labors, and Father Coughlin demonstrated that he and the Church understood that and believed it was Christianity’s responsibility to advocate for them. Through his skillful oratory and use of radio, Father Coughlin’s message of social justice attracted a huge, loyal working-class audience that spanned the most populous areas of the United States.
Throughout the first years of the decade, the Radio Priest often focused his sermons on the topic of monetary policy failures and reforms. The priest claimed as his authority the teachings of Pope Pius XI, who asserted “[t]he earthly goods so abundantly produced in this age of industrialism are far from rightly distributed and equitably shared among the various classes of men.”[9] In order to redistribute wealth while honoring the debts incurred, Coughlin advocated the revaluation of United States currency. He noted that, of the thirty-seven countries who had fought in the Great War, thirty-six had devalued their currency by 1932, providing their markets with increased capital flows and the ability to pay debts in honest terms.[10] But while his prognosis of employment, financial stability, wage inflation and increasing purchasing power sounded very attractive coming from the pulpit, Father Coughlin realized that his prescription was viewed as radical. Of the Hoover administration, Coughlin proclaimed that “…the practical workings of our gold standard have been stupidly and almost criminally destroyed…”[11] while denouncing:
“…they who boast of retaining the gold ounce in its identical relation to currency and to credit money have boasted, if we translate their statement into plainer words, that they have kept our factories idle, have permitted our banks to be looted, and have built up an artificial depression while the people of America and of the world are being offered up in sacrifice before the Mammon of our unworkable gold standard.”[12]For the inter-denominational audience, their problems were clearly portrayed as rooted in a conscious immorality of those in power. The solutions were simple and well within the purview of legislators in Washington, and this had tremendous appeal to the average man, if not to those on Wall Street.
Father Coughlin did not confine his attacks to the political administration in Washington, but regularly demonized Wall Street bankers and “international financiers.” These attacks were consistent with his message of social justice, but not always with his personal behavior, which left him vulnerable to attack by those in power. In general terms, Coughlin weaved a conspiracy narrative, evident in the sermon entitled “The God of Gold”:
“…[f]ollowing Rothschild’s example the international banking system has so completely extended its compound loans throughout the entire world that today millions of borrowers find it impossible even to pay their interest let alone their principal, because in many cases the compound interest has surpassed the original loan… If today homes and farmlands are succumbing before the theory of international lending at compound interest, tomorrow states and kingdoms shall follow.”[13]But despite the utility of focusing his audience on external bogeymen, his attacks were also directed at specific figures. During a sermon on March 27, 1933, Father Coughlin accused E.D. Stair — the publisher of the Detroit Free Press and a member of the governing board of the Detroit Bankers Company — of using inside information to transfer funds out of the First National Bank prior to the banking holiday. The attack prompted Stair to send a telegram directly to President Roosevelt, challenging him to request an investigation by the Department of Justice, in order to vindicate Stair and discredit Coughlin.[14] The allegations were never substantiated, and the consequences were mixed: the priest’s audience remained as large and loyal as ever, and Bishop Gallagher brushed off the criticism and the culpability of the Church.[15] However, incidents like this increased caution within the Roosevelt administration, and the upcoming months were characterized by a cooling of the romance between the priest and the White House. Father Coughlin was becoming a radioactive politico, attractive to those wanting power but somewhat of an embarrassment to those already holding it. This pattern of creating alliances, alienating his cohorts, and dissolving the relationship would be echoed throughout the 1930s as his rhetoric became even more extreme.
Before the election of 1932, Father Coughlin’s audience was noticed by the Roosevelt campaign, and a “marriage of convenience” commenced. Roosevelt was interested in bridging a gap in the Democratic Party between fundamentalist Protestants and Irish Catholics that had widened in the mid-1920s, and Father Coughlin represented a way of achieving that.[16] The priest had attacked the policies of the Hoover administration from the left on a regular basis, and his radio audience transcended ethnic demography. Hall Roosevelt — Franklin’s brother-in-law and Detroit Controller — wrote to FDR in the spring of 1931 and suggested that Coughlin would support the Democratic ticket.[17] By gaining access to the Roosevelt campaign, Father Coughlin would finally have an avenue for realizing some of his policy prescriptions like mortgage reform and currency devaluation. While their political viewpoints did not necessarily align, it was a step forward for the priest who was admittedly captured by FDR’s charm and magnetism.[18] Though the terms of their arrangement were disputed, and statements made by involved parties conflicted with each other, Coughlin’s sermons contained endorsements for FDR, and a number of sources report that he gained access to the Oval Office.
Once on the team, the Radio Priest employed his skills with abandon, not only serving his ally but also creating a public relations headache. On November 27, 1933, he spoke to a crowd of 7,000 in New York, railing against the critics of Roosevelt and accusing Alfred E. Smith (the former Republican governor of New York) of pursuing monetarist policies while accepting loans from J.P. Morgan.[19] This brought rapid rebukes from Monsignors Thomas Carroll and John Belford of the Archdiocese of New York, but like many previous and future criticisms from Church officials, they were forced to issue a public apology.[20] Given the limited benefit such rhetoric could have had for the Roosevelt administration, but the enormous boost it gave the Radio Priest’s populist credentials and audience enthusiasm, it is difficult to argue that these attacks were coordinated with the White House. Indeed, there is some speculation that after the election Roosevelt began exhibiting much less enthusiasm for the alliance, but realized that making a public break would be politically damaging.[21]
Eventually, Father Coughlin realized that Roosevelt was hardly “better” than Hoover, and once again began attacking the White House from the left. He was particularly critical of the New Deal for not going far enough, and in his typical fashion also began leveling personal attacks against the President. By 1936, during the approach of the election, Coughlin made his most hyperbolic attack to date, referring to Roosevelt as “anti-God.”[22] This pattern of responding to resistance to his ideas with increasingly bitter attacks continued throughout the rest of the decade. With each cycle, Coughlin’s allies became more radical, his audience more unified in their view, and the chances of influencing those in power — “the establishment” — waned.
Now a bitter opponent of Roosevelt and the New Deal, Father Coughlin mobilized his National Union of Social Justice into a third political party. With Huey Long dead, the Radio Priest was the leading populist voice in America, and he tapped North Dakota Representative William Lemke to run for President on the Union Party ticket. Lemke had been a co-author of the Frazier-Lemke Farm Mortgage Act of 1935, and held similar views on inflation policy as Coughlin.[23] Unfortunately for Lemke — who had a long and respectable career in Great Plains politics — the Union Party’s appeal was limited from the very start. In addition to Coughlin’s reputation for fiery rhetoric, Huey Long’s former associate Reverend Gerald K. Smith joined the ticket, and was also know for extreme statements. Lemke was eventually forced to publicly distance himself from Smith after the populist “called for one million young men to bring about ballot reform by forcible measures.”[24] The situation deteriorated from there. At an August 16 rally in Cleveland, Coughlin called President Roosevelt a communist, which drove his audience wild with glee but wasn’t the type of statement that disseminated well through the population at-large.[25] On the campaign trail, Coughlin proved adept in the celebrity limelight, while Lemke clung to his folksy, egghead persona that served him well in the plains but didn’t resonate with other Americans. In November, the Union Party barely made a dent in the polling, and William Lemke was lucky that he had filed for re-election to his seat in Congress. The American electorate had repudiated the radical policies of the populist left, and those involved with the Union Party found their future power diminished as well.[26] Father Coughlin now turned his attention to great threats against society: communists and Jews.
With the crushing defeat of the Union Party in 1936 and the death of Bishop Michael Gallagher in January 1937, Father Coughlin formulated new tactics to parry his withered national influence and lack of protection from the Church hierarchy. While he did not moderate his rhetoric, a radio interview given later in the year demonstrated his concern and appealed to his listeners for support. The broadcast was entitled “The Christian Theory of Government”, and it included Father Cassian, a Franciscan friar who advocated the social justice policies of Communism.[27] The interview began as a refutation of the assertion that Communism is more effective at delivering social justice than Christianity, with Father Cassian noting:
“…the Communists have historical facts on their side to substantiate their position. If they assert that the Christian religion is a deception practised on the poor by the rich or on the ruled by the rulers, they point with a great deal of accuracy to the last 1,000 years of Russian misery.”[28]Cassian concluded that “[s]ince 1917 religion has been outlawed, Communism has been established, the czars, dukes and princes have been liquidated. The wealth of the nation is owned in common, with the result that the people enjoy a modicum of happiness.”[29] It is during his rebuttal that Father Coughlin revealed the purpose of the interview, and the point that he wished to make for his listeners. After blaming the failure of Christianity in Russia on its control by the state, he made this statement: “More than any Communist, I stand for free speech, free press and free pulpit!”[30] Upon first reading, this transition appears abrupt and even arbitrary. However, it creates a new frame for Coughlin. By equating free speech rights with a free pulpit, he warned his audience that any attempts to muzzle him would be tantamount to totalitarianism. By evoking the image of the Prophet Isaias, who was “sawed in twain because he opposed the public practices of a tyrant,”[31] Coughlin identified his next threat, and attempted to inoculate himself. Despite his overt statement that the tyrant was Communism, a more reasonable interpretation would point to the Church, as the removal of his Ordinary Gallagher nearly assured his supervision by a less supportive bishop. Father Coughlin’s change of fortune provoked a tactical response designed to protect his flank and appeal to the loyalty of his audience.
By the late 1930s, Father Coughlin remained a popular celebrity, but his political influence had completely evaporated. If anything, association with him bore significant political costs. The break with Roosevelt caused many of Coughlin’s audience to consider him “vindictive”[32], and the Union Party debacle had illustrated to most Americans how far outside the mainstream he truly was. Thus continued a distillation process of his audience and in response, the Radio Priest’s rhetoric continued to heat up. Right before the election of 1936, Gerold Frank of The Nation asked the following prescient question of West Virginia Senator Rush Drew Holt: “…did he think, perhaps, the the National Union for Social Justice might ever turn into a fascist tool?”[33] The answer was clear by 1938, when a foreign correspondent published an article in The Chicago Tribune citing Nazi officials who claimed that Father Coughlin’s free speech rights were being oppressed by the American media.[34] He had already declared that “Germany… was the ‘innocent victim’ of a ‘sacred war declared against her 9 years ago by the Jews.’”[35] No longer able to cooperate with establishment politicians, Father Coughlin focused on conspiracy and paranoia. Although the protection of the Radio Priest by the Church had always been a priority despite his embarrassing statements, the initiation of the war provided the motivation needed to sanction him[36] Eventually, Attorney General Francis Biddle managed to have the second-class mailing rights revoked for Social Justice, and on May 1, 1942, Archbishop Edward Mooney threatened to defrock the priest if he did not cease his broadcast activities.[37] Coughlin remained in the pulpit but his reach beyond the Shrine of the Little Flower disappeared.
The career trajectory of Father Charles Coughlin through the 1920s and 1930s was characterized by a passionate radicalism and embrace of new technology to achieve a different type of world. Beginning with nothing more than a neglected parish in suburban Detroit, he was able to collect an audience of millions and gain the attention of national and international world leaders. As a polemicist, the Radio Priest enfranchised the poor and working class who had been ignored by those in power, was used by those who wanted power, and was rejected by the powerful. In response, he sought more and more radical positions. While these increased the loyalty of his audience, they nevertheless isolated him from the worldview held by most Americans. Although calls for monetary and mortgage reform were attractive populist positions, the extensions to these — paranoia of Jewish financial conspiracies and flirtations with fascism — curtailed his effectiveness in implementing a public policy legacy. The keys to Father Coughlin’s success were the same that led to his downfall.
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