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Reason. The gigantic machine that Huey Long had built careened from scandal to scandal, as solemn John H. Overton gave way to independent, Huey-worshipping James Noe, as Noe gave way to paunchy Dick Leche, and Leche resigned for Huey's brother Earl, Sam Jones's fortunes improved: he built a $30,000 house in Lake Charles (population now: 30,000), fathered a son and a daughter. Settling-up time had come for the Long machine. A photographer from the New Orleans' States got a picture of a State University truck being used to haul building supplies to the half-built house of the wife of a Long machine-man — and the States's fighting editor, 64-year-old Jim Crown, had libel-proof evidence of the graft that every body knew was going on. As his disclosures were followed by a Federal investigation, the record stood: more than 200 parish and Federal indictments had been returned, three men had committed suicide, five had pleaded guilty, five more had been tried and convicted. The big shots—a former Governor, the president of the University, a millionaire promoter, a district judge, a president of the State reform school for boys—were caught with the smaller fry, and still the end was nowhere in sight.
Last week plodding Sam Jones, having plodded through 400 speeches in 158 days, made few promises. Twelve years of the Long machine had left Louisiana in bad shape. Tax reformers pointed out that the bonded debt had jumped from $12,000,000 to $200,000,000, that Louisiana had the highest auto license tax in the U. S. (Sam Jones promise: a flat $3 tax), had 27 new taxes, including a general 1% sales tax that filled Louisiana pockets with brass and aluminum tokens, one of the highest gasoline taxes in the country. General was the clamor for a clean-up of the judicial system. Said Sam Jones: 1) dictatorial laws must be abolished; 2) courts must be placed above reproach; 3) Louisiana schools must be revitalized. "Louisiana has gone back into the hands of the people. . . . A new day has dawned on this State after a long night with foul things happening in the dark."
That long night had left a legacy of scandals, crime, debts, but some good things too: a network of badly needed, Long-built roads, the towering 33-story Capitol, free bridges where there had been toll bridges and ferries, free textbooks, the magnificent physical plant of the University. And one part of Huey Long's inheritance unemotional Governor-elect Sam Jones was never likely to invade: the folklore that Long inspired, the tales of his Kingfish cleverness and rascality gleefully repeated in country stores and country cabins, the vague, contradictory feeling that he somehow stood for the poor man ("Every man a king") that brought crowds out to hear him speak and put his picture in houses where there was nothing much else on the wall.