Frank Sullivan’s “Is There a Republican Party?”

From The New Yorker's archive: a parody of the famous "Is There a Santa Claus?" letter, which imagines a world where, like Santa Claus, Republicans might not exist.  ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌   View in browser | Update your preferences     Fiction "Is There a Republican Party?" "Virginius, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age." By Frank Sullivan The humorist Frank Sullivan was a master of sly, whimsical sketches that punctured the armor of the smug and sanctimonious. A member of the Algonquin Round Table, he served as a lieutenant in the U.S. Army before turning his attention to reporting. His eventual shift toward humor was almost incidental, inspired by a remark by the editor of the New York World after an unfortunate reporting assignment: "You're too emotional for the news columns, Sullivan!" Between 1925 and 1974, Sullivan contributed hundreds of pieces to The New Yorker. Sullivan is best known for his Cliché Expert series, and for originating the annual "Greetings, Friends!" holiday verse, during the magazine's second decade. He also published nine books, including "The Night the Old Nostalgia Burned Down" and "Frank Sullivan at His Best." In December, 1935, Sullivan published a parody of the famous "Is There a Santa Claus?" letter, which was first published in the New York Sun, in 1897. In the original letter, an eight-year-old named Virginia inquires about the existence of Santa Claus, the source of some skepticism among her friends. Sullivan's version, "Is There a Republican Party?," picks up where the Sun letter left off, updating the classic correspondence for the political climate of the mid-thirties, when the country was deeply divided in a way that resonates today. The Republican Party was in disarray after Franklin D. Roosevelt instituted portions of his New Deal, thereby helping the country emerge from the Great Depression. Sullivan, as was his wont, found humor in the predicament of the Grand Old Party. In his piece, he responds to a fictional letter from "Virginius," an eighty-two-year-old Union League Club member who professes that his friends claim there's no longer a Republican Party. He asks if The New Yorker can reassure him, and Sullivan steps up to the plate: "You have seen the leaves drop from the trees in the fall, have you not, Virginius? But you do not believe that because the leaves are gone, there will never be any more leaves, do you, Virginius? You know, do you not, that in the spring there will be leaves again, and lovelier leaves than ever. And so we know that just because we cannot see any Republicans around at present, that does not mean that there will not be Republicans again, and, perhaps, lovelier Republicans than ever." Sullivan's impish sendup illuminates the crevices within our social and political compacts, and his light touch captures the absurdities of cyclical pronouncements about the demise of fractured political parties. (Not that those parties don't deserve their reckoning: referring to his era's Republicans, Sullivan sardonically asks, "Would you care to live in a world in which the Constitution was not daily being saved to tatters by the rugged individualists?") Perhaps the current crisis within the G.O.P. will subside and the Party will be reborn, like leaves that reappear after a deep winter. And, perhaps, as Sullivan puts it, this new version will consist of even more splendid Republicans than before. That's an outcome that every American who prizes a healthy, vibrant democracy should embrace. In the meantime, we can encourage those from ages eight to eighty-two (and beyond) to keep the faith—in both holiday miracles and healthy commonwealths. Happy Holidays. —Erin Overbey, archive editor More from the Archive     Shouts & Murmurs The Cliché Expert Testifies on the Campaign From 1952: "They have not kept nor do they intend to keep . . . They have undermined the foundations . . . And I say to you, my fellow-Americans . . ." By Frank Sullivan     Shouts & Murmurs Mouse Au Vin From 2009: I've chosen him for his serious and restrained demeanor—among the other rodents, he keeps to himself. By Noah Baumbach This e-mail was sent to you by The New Yorker. To insure delivery, we recommend adding newyorker@newsletters.newyorker.com to your contacts, while noting that it is a no-reply address. 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