The Plum Tree

In Short

This is a cynical, intellectually rigorous work of political fiction that chronicles the rise of Harvey Sayler, a master architect of party machines. By manipulating campaign funds, public sentiment, and corporate interests, Sayler secures the presidency for an unremarkable man named Burbank. The narrative serves as a stark examination of the "plum tree"—the patronage system that rewards the loyal and the influential. Its lasting power lies in its unflinching portrayal of political corruption, not as an anomaly, but as the standard engine of the American experiment at the turn of the 20th century.

The Story

The story follows Harvey Sayler, an ambitious young man who enters politics under the guidance of a local boss named Dominick. Sayler quickly learns that political influence is bought and sold, and that voters are merely props in a preordained drama. After a brief, disillusioning stint as a county prosecutor, Sayler devises a scheme to bypass traditional bosses by aligning himself directly with corporate interests, essentially "modernizing" political corruption to make it more efficient and less wasteful. He views this as a necessary service, convinced that he is merely organizing the inevitable chaos of human greed.

Sayler sets his sights on national power and finds his vessel in Burbank, a man of average intellect and average build who possesses an uncanny, magnetic ability to reflect the public's own desires back at them. Sayler recognizes that Burbank has the look of a president, and he spends years meticulously maneuvering through party conventions and legislative backrooms to secure his nomination. Along the way, Sayler ruthlessly discards old-guard politicians who stand in his way, proving to his corporate backers that he is the only man capable of delivering results.

The campaign is a grueling ordeal of "fat-frying"—the practice of squeezing money from corporations terrified of reform—and Sayler manages to steer Burbank to victory. However, once Burbank reaches the White House, he begins to believe in his own myth. He falls under the influence of other, less capable men and eventually pushes Sayler aside, viewing his former mentor as a political liability. Sayler, watching from the sidelines as the administration falters, finds himself disgusted by the ingratitude and the small-mindedness of the man he created.

Despite his exhaustion and his desire to leave the "sewer" of politics, Sayler is pulled back into the fray by his lieutenants, who fear their own loss of status. He sees his life as a continuous, repetitive cycle of jumping the same hurdles for the same ungrateful public. By the end, Sayler has reached the zenith of power but finds it utterly empty. He realizes that the machine is a monster he cannot control, and that the people, in their ignorance, will continue to cheer for the puppets while ignoring the hands that move them. He resigns, leaving the corrupt system he helped perfect to continue its inevitable, grinding course.

How It Unfolds

The initiation Sayler enters the political arena under the tutelage of the brutal boss Dominick. He quickly learns to suppress his own conscience, viewing it as a mere product of his career rather than a moral guide.

The rise to influence Sayler gains a reputation for organizational brilliance by reorganizing how corporate money flows into the party. He realizes that the public can be easily fooled as long as the machine presents them with a viable figurehead.

The discovery of the puppet Sayler finds Burbank, a man whose primary talent is the "presidential pose" and an instinctive magnetism that makes others feel important. He begins to engineer Burbank’s path to the highest office, treating the candidate as a project.

The consolidation of power Through a series of ruthless political maneuvers and the strategic use of campaign funds, Sayler eliminates his rivals and forces the party to accept Burbank. He discovers that he can effectively manage the government from the outside, provided he maintains control of the party machinery.

The breach Once Burbank attains the presidency, his vanity takes over and he distances himself from Sayler. He succumbs to the influence of flatterers, which leads to the collapse of his popularity and the eventual weakening of the party.

The final withdrawal Sayler is asked to intervene one last time to save the machine from total ruin, but he is fundamentally broken by the monotony of his own corruption. He chooses to step down, finally understanding that his life’s work has been a hollow performance.

The People

Harvey Sayler is the protagonist and the book’s cold-eyed narrator. He is a man of high intelligence who purposefully descends into the "mire" of politics, believing he is more honorable than the hypocrites who pretend to be saints. He is driven by a need for control rather than wealth.

Burbank is the mirror image of the public’s expectations. He is a man of "average" stature and intellect, possessing a "presidential pose" that he wears like a second skin. He is entirely dependent on Sayler for his success and eventually becomes a victim of his own vanity, confusing his controlled ascent with personal greatness.

Woodruff, or "Doc," is Sayler’s loyal lieutenant. He begins his career with a lack of moral scruples but, through the course of the story, develops a form of conscience. He is a "good second" who lacks the magnetism required to lead, serving as the necessary, invisible force in the machine.

Dominick is the old-school boss whose brutal, crude methods Sayler eventually replaces. He represents the older, less efficient era of political corruption, characterized by direct force and personal greed.

In Its Own Voice

Sayler reflects on the moral evolution of a man immersed in the machinery of influence.

"I was then ignorant of the great foundation truth of practical ethics, that a man's conscience is not the producer but the product of his career."

Sayler describes the true nature of his candidate, Burbank, noting his ability to make others feel significant.

"He turned this to his advantage by making them feel, not how he shone, but how they shone."

Sayler views his political work as a repetitive, degrading performance.

"I pictured myself again a circus horse, going round and round the ring, jumping the same old hurdles at the same old intervals."

What It's Really About

The central argument is that the American political system is a marketplace where policies are bought by the highest bidder and the public is a passive commodity. Sayler posits that "democracy" is a thin veneer covering a rigid, plutocratic structure. He explores the question of whether a "strong" man can maintain his integrity while operating within a system that demands moral compromise. The book ultimately suggests that the system is self-perpetuating, fueled by both the infinite "stupidity" of the voters and the unquenchable vanity of the politicians. It is a cold, clinical dissection of power, arguing that those who run the machine are neither heroes nor villains, but merely the logical inhabitants of a corrupt landscape.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the sharp, unsentimental political realism of writers like Robert Penn Warren will find much to admire here. This is not a book that offers comfort or redemption; it is a clinical, almost surgically precise account of how power is manufactured. Those interested in the history of American political machines will find the descriptions of "fat-frying" and convention maneuvering remarkably modern in their cynicism.

However, the reader must be prepared for the book's unrelenting bleakness. Sayler is an unapologetic narrator who views his own moral decay as a rational necessity, and his disdain for the "herd" of the public is palpable throughout. The prose is direct and devoid of flowery sentiment, matching the protagonist's own utilitarian approach to life. Some readers may find the dated, late-Victorian attitudes toward women—who are relegated to the role of "custodians of the ideals"—to be a jarring reminder of the period's limitations. If you can handle a protagonist who is an unrepentant operator, you will find this a hauntingly relevant look at the mechanics of influence. It lingers in the mind not as a story of heroes, but as a warning about the fragility of public trust in the face of calculated, institutional manipulation.