Hello there! Today I’m going to share you about my analysis of a short story entitled A Party Down at the Square.
A Party Down at the Square by Ralph Ellison is story of a boy who witnessed a lynching for the first time. The boy, who is also the narrator of the story, lives in his uncle’s house in the Southern United States. As the story started, a bunch of men came to boy’s uncles’ house in a hurry and tell them there is going to be a party down at the square. His uncle calls the boy to come to the party at the square, while in fact the party that those men mean is a lynching of an African-American guy.
The reason why I picked this short story is because the story is really interesting as it talks about one of the significant issue in American history; slavery and/or the discrimination rate of African-American is still so high in America. Another thing that makes it interesting is that this short story was written by Ralph Ellison, which is an African-American author, and he talks about the discrimination of the African-American, however he uses the point of view of a little white guy to describe the story.
I’m going to talk about the intrinsic elements of this short story such as the plot of the story, the characters, the setting that the story took place in or at, which point of view that the story uses, and also its theme.
To describe the plot of this story, it is better to divide it into the plot structure.
It all started at the house of the narrator’s uncle, where the narrator and his uncle live in the Southern United States. Then the story moves from their house into the town’s square where there is supposedly a party, according to some guys who came to their house, while in fact it is a lynching of an African-American guy.
When they arrive at the square the time is almost at midnight, and there are many people standing round the African-American guy looking mad, and even some of them brought their guns. Another man comes forward and snatched the African-American guy’s shirt, so that he is standing shirtless and keeping his hand around himself to help him from shivering in the middle of the crowd.
The conflict of the story an external conflict, as it is between the African-American guy and the society at that time. In the story, there is no explanation of what the African-American guy did wrong, however the society is does not care about it, the just want to punish the man based on the their own judgment of an African-American people at that time. It is shown in this story that this lynching took place in front of the courthouse where the is a statue of the general is standing tall, and even one of the person who is yelling at the African-American guy is someone so popular among the city, that people are about to name him as sheriff next year, Jed Wilson.
As the story goes on, the narrator goes to the back of the crowd as he is curious about how many people came here, so he decided to count how many cars parked at the square. As he was counting, he heard the African-American guy’s voice through the crown, so he pushed back to the front. As he arrived at the front, he sees the African-American guy bleeding from his nose and ears, and he can see the blood running all the way to his body, making it covered in red.
People starting to put more log on wood circle that circling the platform where they put the African-American guy tied to, and pour some gasoline on it, then burn the log. The fire is getting big as it starts to move closer to the African-American guy. He started to fell the burn since the fire is starting to reach his toes, and he tried to move around to avoid the burn, but of course it was a worthless effort.
Suddenly, the crowd was shock by a cyclone-like sound and the wind started howling, everyone look up to the sky and then get scared, all except the African-American guy as he does not seem to hear the noise or even look up, an then finally it is clear that the sound and the wind was coming from an airplane as it has a red and green lights on its wing. The airplane got up for a while, then come closer to the building as it was going to land as the pilot must have been mistaken the fire as the spot to land the airplane.
Finally the plane’s landing gear touches the top of the tree branches at the square, and hit some of the power lines and knocked some of the wires, and as the wire swinging and dangling sometime they touch together makes sparks come out. As the plane gone, people are trying to get back to the square to continue watching the torture that the African-American guy experiencing. While rushing to go back to the square, people are pushing each other in order to go back as fast as they can when unfortunately a women was pushed to the dangling wires and it killed her right away, and it is clear that the smell of a burning flesh can be smelled from her as the narrator explain, and another spark comes on and shock her, turning that woman’s body almost as black as the African-American guy.
The sound of the airplane heard somewhere up in the sky, and throwing the smell of the burned woman’s body to the crowd, as they are walking back to the African-American guy.
At the platform, the African-American guy is standing in the flame and at that point, the flame is already reaching the guy’s pants. People start to make a circle around the platform but not too close, just in case there is a wind gusts the flame bigger. One of the men shouts to him “Well, nigger, it ain’t so cold now.” (Ellison 4)
The African-American guy look at the one who shouted with his eyes looking like it about to pop out his head, making the narrator think that he has had enough, and does not want to see it anymore. The African-American guy tries to say something but no one can hear what he is trying to say.
“What you say there, nigger?” hollered Jed Wilson. The African-American guy responded with “Will somebody please cut my throat like a Christian?” begging to stop the torture and just put an end to his life. Then Jed Wilson answer by hollering these words “Sorry, but ain’t no Christians around tonight. Ain’t no Jew-boys neither. We’re just one hundred percent Americans.”(Ellison 5) Jed’s answer put the African-American guy in silent and the crowd started laughing in agree with Jed, the one they are planning to pick as the new sheriff next year.
What Jed does next is picking up a can full of gasoline and throwing it to the flame. Some of the gasoline reaches the African-American guy and making his chest burning faster and making a blue flame out of it. The guy starting to burns up like a burning house and making a thick smoke. The African-American guy is not moving anymore, and the crowd thinks that he had died, but then he start moving around and kicking around as the rope that tied him has already broken by the fire, making the platform that is also on fire to broke and making its burning log to fall apart almost hitting the narrator.
The smell of his burning skin is now all around the square, and the narrator said that he will not forget this situation, when he eat barbeque, he will always remember this African-American guy as the final sighting is the burning African-American guy’s back and his ribs is clearly visible to the naked eyes. Jed and some other guy pushed him back to the fire, but not for long the African-American guy rolling out again to escape the fire, but this time people put a tree limb to held his body, and he stays there until he body turn into ashes.
The narrator goes out of the crowd and keeps walking and then sees the sheriff and his deputies guarding the wire that still making blue sparks. His heart is pounding, and then he bend over to hurl and letting all that he put in his stomach earlier that night goes to waste, he feels weak and sick. He pulls himself together, and then keeps walking back to his uncle’s place.
The next day, his uncle makes fun of him by calling him “the gutless wonder from Cincinnati.” He does not mind. He got up and looks at the window, and what he sees is like there has been a cyclone as the rain pours down and the dead sparrow and tree limbs are all over the yard, and the storm lasted for few days. After that, the people of the city had to kill another African-American as his uncle said “they always have to kill niggers in pairs to keep the other niggers in place”
The next week when he meets Jed, Jed laughs and shows him some white finger bones still held together with a little pieces of the African-American’s skin.
The narrator finish the story by telling the reader that at some other day at the store, there is a white cropper guy who said that it will not do any good to do that to an African-American guy because it will not make things better. Someone responded that he had better to keep his mouth shut, and he did. But from the look at his face, he will not stay shut for long. The store owner said that man was just hungry, but the narrator agrees with the man that it does not seem to help things, because he heard that the airplane line is investigating who set the fire the other night that almost wrecked their plane. It was some night; it was some party too. The narrator’s first party and also his last party he attended to.
There are only four characters in this story that is essential to the plot of this short story; the African-American guy, the unnamed narrator, the uncle, and Jed Wilson. And the main character of this story is the African-American guy, and the other is the subordinate character
- Main Character
The main character of this short story is the African-American guy, who is tied down and burned down at the square. This character is also the protagonist character. The character is physically strong, as he can last that kind of torture for a long time and still putting his effort until his last breath. His mental state is a strong one too, since he said in the story to just kill him already and put and end to this. “Will somebody please cut my throat like a Christian?” (Ellison 4)
Like many African-American lived in that time, he is a polite person as can be seen that he uses a polite sentence and speaks the word calmly and did not shout, considering he is in a life-threatening situation. The reason why this character is considered as the main character is because all things happen at that night, all the conflict, all the party, can be linked to this character existence.
- Subordinate Characters
- Jed Wilson
Jed is the person who is really exited about burning the African-American guy, he brings the guy in his truck, shouting really hard to mock him, throwing gasoline to the guy, and even putting him back to the fire when the African-American guy crawl out of the fire.
Even though there is no clear explanation why the African-American guy tied and is going to be burned alive, it almost can be inferred that Jed is the one leading the townsmen to burn that guy and disregarding all fact jut because the guy is an African-American, and like the other southern America people, he does not want to acknowledge any African-American as a part of America, as can be seen in page five of the story “Sorry, but ain’t no Christians around tonight. Ain’t no Jew-boys neither. We’re just one hundred percent Americans.” (Ellison 5). This character is the antagonist of the story
- The narrator
This character is a dynamic character as he changes throughout the story. At first as he went to the square with his uncle and he found out that party is the execution of an African-American guy, he does not know to react to the situation as he is just a kid but not feeling this is a bad thing to do either. As the story goes on and he observes the situation, he wants to turn away but he makes himself watch.
He gets upset and troubled by the so-called party of this town so that he vomits after the burning. “I was sick, and tired, and weak, and cold” (Ellison 6). At the end of the story, he gets the view that he is not the one who despises the situation of treating an African-American guy that way, and he agrees with the man at the store.
- The uncle
This character depicts most of the people in the Southern America, as he finds nothing wrong with the way people treating the African-American guy. He even told the kid that eventually he will get used to the situation. “He said you get used to it in time.” (Ellison 6)
- Physical Settings
Most of the story took place in the platform at the square, but there are some other places that important things happen in this story
This is the place where the lynching of the African-American guy takes place, and also it is located in front of the courthouse. At around midnight, in the wide open space of the city so that many people can come and enjoy it, as they refer it as a party.
- The square area where airplane almost fell
This place is giving the view of the woman got electrocuted, which is a Caucasian woman, and the townspeople gives different reaction to her than to the African-American guy even though they experience almost the same thing.
- The store
This is the place that a Caucasian cropper man talks about his thought that is does not give any good to do bad things to the African-American because it will not change a thing, and at this point the narrator agrees to his thought.
- Social Settings
This story located in small town in the southern America, perhaps at Alabama or someplace near it, in the early twentieth century, which makes it hard for them to live, because the people of southern America mostly hate the idea to recognize them as an equal in society, so that they belong to the lower social and economic group of the society in this period of time.
- Southern people
The southern American people in the early twentieth century are the least people who like the idea of living alongside African-American in the society because the feel superior and think of themselves as the only American citizen, which is why it is depicted that they treated African-American badly in this story.
- Metaphorical Settings
The metaphorical setting in this story is the idea of justice can not be done at this time of era as the execution held in front of the courthouse, and the statue of the general looks as if it is smiling to the situation when the flame is shining its face can be inferred as the people at the upper hand can not help the situation of justice at that time.
- Point of View
This short story is using the first person point of view, as throughout the story, it uses the narrator point of view like in this part of the story “I turned around, and the crowd was headed back to the nigger. I could see him standing there in the middle of the flames. The wind was making the flames brighter every minute. The crowd was running. I ran too. I ran back across the grass with the crowd.” (Ellison 4) and as it continue until the end of the story using the pronoun “I”, then it makes the story uses first person point of view.
The theme of this short story is the discrimination towards the African-American. The reason of choosing a short story with this theme is because up until these days, there are sometime still happening, a discrimination toward African-American people, even if there is not as extreme as it is in the past, but some kind of prejudice and racism is still present. That is why it is important and also interesting to learn this situation.
This short story has a great story to be analyzed in it, using a unique way of telling the story from an African-American author using a Caucasian boy point of view, and also depicting a very intense phenomenon an African-American experienced in the past. After reading and analyzing this short story, it makes the writer wants to make a deeper study on this area, and also hope this essay will help making a better and easier understanding of this short story
A Party Down at the Square
By Ralph Ellison
I don’t know what started it. A bunch of men came by my Uncle Eds place and said there was going to be a party down at the Square, and my uncle hollered for me to come on and I ran with them through the dark and rain and there we were at the Square. When we got there everybody was mad and quiet and standing around looking at the nigger. Some of the men had guns, and one man kept goosing the nigger in his pants with the barrel of a shotgun, saying he ought to pull the trigger, but he never did. It was right in front of the courthouse, and the old clock in the tower was striking twelve. The rain was falling cold and freezing as it fell. Everybody was cold, and the nigger kept wrapping his arms around himself trying to stop the shivers.
Then one of the boys pushed through the circle and snatched off the nigger’s shirt, and there he stood, with his black skin all shivering in the light from the fire, and looking at us with a scaired look on his face and putting his hands in his pants pockets Folks started yelling to hurry up and kill the nigger. Somebody yelled: “Take your hands out of your pockets, nigger, we gonna have plenty heat in a minnit.” But the nigger didn’t hear him and kept his hands where they were.
I tell you the rain was cold. I had to stick my hands in my pockets they got so cold. The fire was pretty small, and they put some logs around the platform they had the nigger on and then threw on some gasoline, and you could see the lames light up the whole Square. It was late and the streetlights had been off for a long time. It was so bright that the bronze statue of the general standing there in the Square was like something alive. The shadows playing on his moldy green face made him seem to be smiling down at the nigger.
They threw on more gas, and it made the Square bright like it gets when the lights are turned on or when the sun is setting red. All the wagons and cars were standing around the curbs. Not like Saturday though – the niggers weren’t there. Not a single nigger was there except this Bacote nigger and they dragged him there tied to the back of Jed Wilson’s truck. On Saturday there’s as many niggers as white folks.
Everybody was yelling crazy ‘cause they were about to set fire to the nigger, and I got to the rear of the circle and looked around the Square to try to count the cars. The shadows of the folks was flickering on the trees in the middle of the Square. I saw some birds that the noise had woke up flying through the trees. I guess maybe they thought it was morning. The ice had started the cobblestones in the street to shine where the rain was falling and freezing. I counted forty cars before I lost count. I knew folks must have been there from Phenix City by all the cars mixed in with the wagons.
God, it was a hell of a night. It was some night all right. When the noise died down I heard the nigger’s voice from where I stood int eh back, so I pushed my way up front. The nigger was bleeding from his nose and ears, and I could see him all red where the dark blood was running down his black skin. He kept lifting first one foot and then the other, like a chicken on a hot stove. I looked down to the platform they had him on, and they had pushed a ring of fire up close to his feet. It must have been hot to him with the flames almost touching his big black toes. Somebody yelled for the nigger to say his prayers, but the nigger wasn’t saying anything now. He just kinda moaned with his eyes shut and kept moving up and down on his feet, first one foot and then the other.
I watched the flames burning the logs up closer and closer to the nigger’s feet. They were burning good now, and the rain had stopped and the wind was rising, making the flames flare higher. I looked, and there must have been thirty-five women in the crowd, and I could hear their voices clear and shrill mixed in with those of the men. Then it happened. I heard the noise about the same time everyone else did. It was like the roar of a cyclone blowing up from the gulf, and everyone was looking up into the air to see what it was. Some of the faces looked surprised and scaired, all but the nigger. He didn’t even hear the noise He didn’t even look up. Then the roar came closer, right above our heads and the wind was blowing higher and higher and the sound seemed to be going in circles.
Then I saw her. Through the clouds and fog I could see a red and green light on her wings. I could see them just for a second: then she rose up into the low clouds. I looked out for the beacon over the tops of the buildings in the direction of the airfield that’s forty miles away, and it wasn’t circling around. You usually could see it sweeping around the sky at night, but it wasn’t there. Then, there she was again, like a big bird lost in the fog. I looked for the red and green lights, and they weren’t there anymore. She was flying even closer to the tops of the buildings than before. The wind was blowing harder, and leaves started flying about, making funny shadows on the ground, and tree limbs were cracking and falling.
It was a storm all right. The pilot must have thought he was over the landing field. Maybe he thought the fire in the Square was put there for him to land by. Gosh, but it scaired the folks. I was scaired too. They started yelling: “He’s going to land. He’s going to land.” And: “He’s going to fall.” A few started for their cars and wagons. I could hear the wagons creaking and chains jangling and cars spitting and missing as they started the engines up. Off to my right, a horse started pitching and striking his hooves against a car.
I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to run, and I wanted to stay and see what was going to happen. The plane was close as hell. The pilot must have been trying to see where he was at, and her motors were drowning out all the sounds. I could even feel the vibration, and my hair felt like it was standing up under my hat. I happened to look over at the statue of the general standing with one leg before the other and leaning back on a sword, and I was fixing to run over and climb between his legs and sit there and watch when the roar stopped some, and I looked up and she was gliding just over the top of the trees in the middle of the Square.
Her motors stopped altogether and I could hear the sound of branches cracking and snapping off below her landing gear. I could see her plain now, all silver and shining in the light of the fire with TWA in black letters under her wings. She was sailing smoothly out of the Square when she hit the high power lines that follow the Birmingham highway through the town. It made a loud crash. I t sounded like the wind blowing the door of a tin barn shut. She only hit with her landing gear, but I could see the sparks flying, and the wires knocked loose from the poles were spitting blue sparks and whipping around like a bunch of snakes and leaving circles of blue sparks in the darkness.
The plane had knocked five or six wires loose, and they were dangling and swinging, and every time they touched they threw off more sparks. The wind was making them swing, and when I got over there, there was a crackling and spitting screen of blue haze across the highway. I lost my hat running over, but I didn’t stop to look for it. I was among the first and I could hear the others pounding behind me across the grass of the Square. They were yelling to beat all hell, and they came up fast, pushing and shoving, and someone got pushed against a swinging wire. It made a sound like when a blacksmith drops a red hot horseshoe into a barrel of water, and the steam comes up. I could smell th flesh burning. The first time I’d ever smelled it. I got up close and it was a woman. It must have killed her right off. She was lying in a puddle stiff as a board, with pieces of glass insulators that the plane had knocked off the poles lying all around her. Her white dress was torn, and I saw one of her tits hanging out in the water and her thighs. Some woman screamed and fainted and almost fell on a wire, but a man caught her. The sheriff and his men were yelling and driving folks back with guns shining in their hands, and everything was lit up blue by the sparks. The shock had turned the woman almost as black as the nigger. I was trying to see if she wasn’t blue too, or if it was just the sparks, and the sheriff drove me away. As I backed off trying to see, I heard the motors of the plane start up again somewhere off to the right in the clouds.
The clouds were moving fast in the wind and the wind was blowing the smell of something burning over to me. I turned around, and the crowd was headed back to the nigger. I could see him standing there in the middle of the flames. The wind was making the flames brighter every minute. The crowd was running. I ran too. I ran back across the grass with the crowd. It wasn’t so large now that so many had gone when the plane came. I tripped and fell over the limb of a tree lying in the grass and bit my lip. It ain’t well yet I bit it so bad. I could taste the blood in my mouth as I ran over. I guess that’s what made me sick. When I got there, the fire had caught the nigger’s pants, and the folks were standing around watching, but not too close on account of the wind blowing the flames. Somebody hollered, “Well, nigger, it ain’t so cold now.” And the nigger looked up with his great white eyes looking like they was ‘bout to pop out of his head, and I had enough. I didn’t want to see anymore. I wanted to run somewhere and puke, but I stayed. I stayed right there in the front of the crowd and looked.
The nigger tried to say something I couldn’t hear for the roar of the wind in the fire, and I strained my ears. Jed Wilson hollered, “What you say there, nigger?” And it came back through the flames in his nigger voice: “Will somebody please cut my throat like a Christian?” And Jed hollered back, “Sorry, but ain’t no Christians around tonight. Ain’t no Jew-boys neither. We’re just one hundred percent Americans.”
Then the nigger was silent. Folks started laughing at Jed. Jed’s right popular with the folks, and next year, my uncle says, they plan to run him for sheriff. The heat was too much for me, and the smoke was making my eyes to smart. I was trying to back away when Jed reached down and brought up a can of gasoline and threw it in the fire on the nigger. I could see the flames catching the gas in a puff as it went in in a silver sheet and some of it reached the nigger, making spurts of blue fire all over his chest.
Well, that nigger was tough. I have to give it to that nigger; he was really tough. He had started to burn like a house afire and was making the smoke smell like burning hides. The fire was up around his head, and the smoke was so thick and black we couldn’t see him. And him not moving – we thought he was dead. Then he started out. The fire had burned the ropes they had tied him with, and he started jumping and kicking about like he was blind, and you could smell his skin burning. He kicked so hard that the platform, which was burning too, fell in, and he rolled out of the fire at my feet. I jumped back so he wouldn’t get on me. I’ll never forget it. Every time I eat barbeque I’ll remember that never forget it. Every time I eat barbeque I’ll remember that nigger. His back was just like a barbecued hog. I could see the prints of his ribs where they start around from his backbone and curve down and around. It was a sight to see, that nigger’s back. He was right at my feet, and somebody behind pushed me and almost made me step on him, and he was still burning.
I didn’t step on him though, and Jed and somebody else pushed him back into the burning planks and logs and poured on more gas. I wanted to leave, but the folks were yelling and I couldn’t move except to look around and see the statue. A branch the wind had broken was resting on his hat. I tried to push out and get away because my guts were gone, and all I got was spit and hot breath in my face from the woman and two men standing directly behind me. So I had to turn back around. The nigger rolled out of the fire again. He wouldn’t stay put. It was on the other side this time. I couldn’t see him very well through the flames and smoke. They got some tree limbs and held him there this time and he stayed there till he was ashes. I guess he stayed there. I know he burned to ashes because I saw Jed a week later, and he laughed and showed me some white finger bones still held together with little pieces of the nigger’s skin. Anyway, I left when somebody moved around to see the nigger. I pushed my way through the crowd, and a woman in the rear scratched my face as she yelled and fought to get up close.
I ran across the Square to the other side, where the sheriff and his deputies were guarding the wires that were still spitting and making a blue fog. My heart was pounding like I had been running a long ways, and I bent over and let my insides go. Everything came up and spilled in a big gush over the ground. I was sick, and tired, and weak, and cold. The wind was still high, and large drops of rain were beginning to fall. I headed down the street to my uncle’s place past a store where the wind had broken a window, and glass lay over the sidewalk. I kicked it as I went by. I remember somebody’s fool rooster crowing like it was morning in all that wind.
The next day I was too weak to go out, and my uncle kidded me and called me “the gutless wonder from Cincinnati.” I didn’t mind. He said you get used to it in time. He couldn’t go out hisself. There was too much wind and rain. I got up and looked out of the window, and the rain was pouring down and dead sparrows and limbs of trees were scattered all over the yard. There had been a cyclone all right. It swept a path right through the county, and we were lucky we didn’t get the full force of it.
It blew for three days steady, and put the town in a hell of a shape. The wind blew sparks and set fire to the white-and-green-rimmed house on Jackson Avenue that had the big concrete lions in the yard and burned it down to the ground. They had to kill another nigger who tried to run out of the county after they burned this Bacote nigger. My Uncle Ed said they always have to kill niggers in pairs to keep the other niggers in place. I don’t know though, the folks seem a little skittish of the niggers. They all came back, but they act pretty sullen. They look mean as hell when you pass them down at the store. The other day I was down to Brinkley’s store, and a white cropper said it didn’t do no good to kill the niggers ‘cause things don’t get no better. He looked hungry as hell. Most of the croppers look hungry. You’d be surprised how hungry white folks can look. Somebody said that he’d better shut his damn mouth, and he shut up. But from the look on his face he won’t stay shut long. He went out of the store muttering to himself and spit a big chew of tobacco right down on Brinkley’s floor. Brinkley said he was sore ‘cause he wouldn’t let him have credit. Anyway, it didn’t seem to help things. First it was the nigger and the storm, then the plane, then the woman and the wire, and now I hear the airplane line is investigating to find who set the fire that almost wrecked their plane. All that in one night, and all of it but the storm over one nigger. It was some night all right. It was some party too. I was right there, see. I was right there watching it all. It was my first party and my last. God, but that nigger was tough. That Bacote nigger was some nigger!