“Modern Age is pleased to offer some relief that nonetheless has a measure of relevance. We asked some twenty of our friends and contributors to weigh in on the best choice for president—but not the best choice on the ballot this November. Instead, we asked them to choose the best character from all of creative literature for the role.”
An interesting exercise. The answers they got were a nice range of amusing to head-scratching, but that is part of the fun. George Bailey from It’s A Wonderful Life was a pretty good choice. (Curiously, Jimmy Stewarts’s more obvious role, Mr. Smith, did not get picked by anyone. Go figure.) Both Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin were chosen. From the Great Books, we get Cordelia, Odysseus, and Ignatius Reilly. Cult Heroes Frodo Baggins, Leia Organa, Ron Swanson, and Vito Corleone all made the list. Clever choices all.
Joseph Bottum came the closest to getting the right answer when he took the opportunity to channel Bertie Wooster who selected Monty Bodkin. That is exactly the sort of bloke Bertie would choose. But, Bertie is, shall we say, perhaps not the most perceptive chap.
None of the 20 contributors got the right answer, however. Step back and think about it and you too will realize, there is truly only one choice for President. Jeeves.
Now it is obvious why Jeeves did not immediately spring to mind. He is, after all, a gentleman’s gentleman, the behind the scenes, never ostentatious, easily forgotten figure. For the same reason, we do not generally go to the servant class to find our leaders. Servants are followers, not leaders, right? Do not let appearances deceive you.
Suppose there was a problem needing to be solved. A big problem. A tricky problem. Bertie Wooster has problems all the time. From “Episode of the Dog McIntosh”:
[Wooster] “Snap into it, then, without delay. They say fish are good for the brain. Have a go at the sardines and come back and report.”
[Jeeves] “Very good, sir.”
It was about ten minutes later that he entered the presence once more. “I fancy, sir –”
“Yes, Jeeves?’
“I rather fancy, sir, that I have discovered a plan of action.”
“Or scheme.”
“Or scheme, sir. A plan of action or scheme which will meet the situation.”
Problem solved in ten minutes. This is not an isolated case, of course. Over and over, when Wooster runs to trouble, Jeeves calmly finds a way out of the sticky situation. That is what you want in a President, isn’t it? Pick a major international crisis and imagine Jeeves at the table where people are frantically looking for a solution. How long will it take him to find the solution that leaves everyone happy and thinking the solution was their own idea? Twenty minutes? Thirty? Sure, maybe some problems will take a day.
But, Jeeves is not merely an inactive advisor. He has an agenda. He never fails to implement it. From “The Spot of Art,” Bertie has just finished telling his Aunt Dahlia that he cannot join her on her yacht because he must stay in town to woo the girl he wants to marry, an artist who just completed a rather garish portrait of Bertie.
Aunt Dahlia laughed. Rather a nasty laugh. Scorn in its timbre, or so it seemed to me.
“I shouldn’t worry,” she said. “You don’t suppose for a moment that Jeeves will sanction the match?”
I was stung.
“Do you imply, Aunt Dahlia,” I said – and I can’t remember if I rapped the table with the handle of my fork or not, but I rather think I did – “that I allow Jeeves to boss me to the extent of stopping me marrying somebody I want to marry?”
“Well, he stopped you wearing a moustache, didn’t he? And purple socks. And soft-fronted shirts with dress-clothes.”
“That is a different matter altogether.”
“Well, I’m prepared to make a small bet with you, Bertie. Jeeves will stop this match.”
“What absolute rot!”
“And if he doesn’t like that portrait, he will get rid of it.”
“I never heard such dashed nonsense in my life.”
“And, finally, you wretched, pie-faced wambler, he will present you on board my yacht at the appointed hour. I don’t know how he will do it, but you will be there, all complete with yachting-cap and spare pair of socks.”
“Let us change the subject, Aunt Dahlia,” I said coldly.
Of course Aunt Dahlia is entirely correct. Now, if we are going to have a President with a plan who will never fail at implementing his plan, it is worth considering the man’s objective. What does Jeeves want? Civilized behavior. He abhors the vulgar and the uncultured actions of people for whom the triumphs of civilization mean nothing. It you are tired of social media spats and reality TV, then who is more likely to revive a spirit of decorum in the land?
How does Jeeves perform these amazing feats? Therein lies the ultimate reason you should vote for him. From “Jeeves and the Song of Songs,” Aunt Dahlia and Bertie have, once again, asked Jeeves to cut a Gordian Knot:
Aunt Dahlia blew in on the morrow, and I rang the bell for Jeeves. He appeared looking brainier than one could have believed possible – sheer intellect shining from every feature – and I could see at once that the engine had been turning over.
“Speak, Jeeves,” I said.
“Very good, sir.”
“You have brooded?”
“Yes, sir.”
“With what success?”
“I have a plan, sir, which I fancy may produce satisfactory results.”
“Let’s have it,” said Aunt Dahlia.
“In affairs of this description, madam, the first essential is to study the psychology of the individual.”
“The what of the individual?”
“The psychology, madam.”
“He means the psychology,” I said. “And by psychology, Jeeves, you imply –?”
“The natures and dispositions of the principals in the matter, sir.”
“You mean, what they’re like?”
“Precisely, sir.”
“Does he talk like this to you when you’re alone, Bertie?” asked Aunt Dahlia.
“Sometimes. Occasionally. And, on the other hand, sometimes not. Proceed, Jeeves.”
The psychology of the individual. Jeeves is not someone sitting on high ignoring the way we all think. He taps into the latent desires of the person and finds ways to speak to their inner soul. Want someone to sit down with Congressional leaders and hammer out important legislation? Jeeves is your guy.
What kind of person would you like for President? How about an always calm and collected intellectual who never sees the limelight but is perfectly happy to be the servant of the people? How about the person who is always the cool head in a crisis and finds a solution satisfactory to all the parties involved? How about a keen judge of character? How about the man who will nudge this land into a more civilized state, where people act in highly cultured ways?
It really isn’t a contest. Jeeves would be the best President ever.
What stops Jeeves from being President? (Well, aside from the inconvenient facts that he is British and fictional.) Jeeves would never run for President. People complain a lot about why we never see candidates with culture and intellect, and the exercise of imagining Jeeves as President reveals why we get the candidates we get. It isn’t being President that is the problem. It is what is involved in running for the office. Nobody like Jeeves would ever spend years on the campaign trail.
Nonetheless, you can join me in the Official Jeeves for President campaign. At a minimum, it might get more people reading Wodehouse, and that is a Goal Most Worthy.
Noah says
My vote is in; don’t be surprised if Jeeves wins Michigan’s electoral votes.
Ashok Kumar Bhatia says
What a juicy idea. Many of the world’s problem can get addressed in a jiffy. I am in favour, but am twiddling my thumbs to figure out if he would accept a nomination.
Is one permitted to re-blog this one? With due credits, of course.
Jim says
Of course you are most welcome to re-blog!
Gina says
He’s got my vote!………
However……now I’m beginning to wonder….
Jeeves always helps Bertie out of a fix……however, this usually comes at the cost of making Bertie out to be a bad guy, a loony, or the butt of a joke.
I’m starting to wonder how this policy would affect a country……