One day, while walking with a friend past a bookstore, Huey Long remarked that he first read The Count of Monte Cristo as a boy and proceeded to re-read it every single year. Those who have taken on Dumas’ behemoth of an epic know that this is no small feat. What, then, was so remarkable to Long about this book that caused him to go back year after year?
The story follows a pure-hearted man, Edmond Dantes, who unjustly suffers in prison for 14 years, frees himself, and then spends 10 years planning his revenge, which he swiftly carries out in less than a year. The patience and meticulous planning that Dantes employs is what ultimately secures him such perfect and satisfying vengeance by the 1,300th page.
When people think of Huey P. Long, “patient” is rarely the first adjective that comes to mind, owing to his tendency for theatrics and overwhelming energy. Here was a man known for whipping up crowds by running around stages and waving his arms wildly, who stalked the LSU football team’s sidelines to call plays and argue with referees, and was once even punched in the face for urinating between a man’s legs when he felt the man was taking too long at the stall. Long moved at a velocity almost inhuman: in just a single week during Hattie Caraway’s Senate campaign, Long traveled 2100 miles, gave 37 speeches, spoke to 200,000 people, and secured the first ever election of a female US Senator.
But beneath that charismatic whirlwind was an exceedingly strategic politician with dedicated, long-term goals. At 19 years old, Long told his wife his exact plan: run for and be elected to a minor state office, then win the governorship, become a United States senator, and finally be elected president of the United States. Less than 20 years later, he had succeeded in obtaining 3 out of the 4 objectives, and his momentum was only stopped by a bullet to the stomach.
In the novel, after Edmond Dantes escapes from prison, he staunchly assumes the role of ‘harbinger of justice’: wreaking havoc on those who have sinned but also bringing fortune to those good people less fortunate. Just as such, Long was sincerely committed to his cause of championing the ‘little man’ and eradicating the massive economic inequality in the US. As a young lawyer, he famously swore an oath never to accept a case against a poor man, instead building his early reputation by suing lumber barons and corporate giants on behalf of injured workers.
In his political career, his biggest enemy was Standard Oil. In the 1920s, Standard Oil’s power in Louisiana was so absolute and corrupt that it routinely ghostwrote state legislation and bribed public officials to ensure its massive Baton Rouge refinery paid virtually zero taxes. This made Huey Long’s public crusade against them an incredibly dangerous political gamble, particularly when he pushed for an unprecedented five-cent-per-barrel occupational license tax on all refined oil. Standard Oil immediately retaliated by mobilizing its legislative allies, who weaponized the tax dispute to orchestrate a 1929 impeachment trial that charged Long with everything from corruption to incitement of murder, nearly destroying his career.
By a hair’s breadth, Long escaped impeachment, and would never forget this injustice. Like Edmond Dantès emerging from Château d’If, instead of lashing out blindly, Long spent the next several years systematically consolidating power. He strengthened his legislative organization, expanded his public support through roads, schools, bridges, hospitals, and free textbooks, weakened rival political machines, and made himself increasingly difficult to challenge.
This careful plotting paid off, and in December of 1934, Long effortlessly passed through a sweeping manufacturer’s tax on oil refining. Decimated by years of Long’s systematic political purges and starved of their traditional legislative leverage, the corporate giant was helpless as Long’s rubber-stamp legislature codified the tax into law. It was quite a poetic coup de grâce: the oil titan’s profits were permanently captured to fund the very schools, hospitals, and highways that cemented Long’s legacy.
To Huey Long, The Count of Monte Cristo was a playbook on how to walk the fine line between righteousness and vengeance. Dantes collaborated with criminals and orchestrated murders, but he also restored fortunes, punished corruption, and ultimately ended his journey beloved and revered. Long, too, viewed himself as an instrument of providence, convinced that extraordinary ends required extraordinary means. He was denounced as a dictator and a demagogue, and yet when he died, more than 200,000 mourners lined the streets of Baton Rouge to pay their respects. It is thereby through the lens of The Count of Monte Cristo that we can gain a clearer understanding of the complex figure of Huey P. Long.
By: Josephine Sinwell
