Woodrow Wilson as I Know Him Part 8

CHAPTER XVI

THE BALTIMORE CONVENTION

At Sea Girt we kept in close touch with our friends at Baltimore, so that after each ballot the New Jersey candidate was apprised of the result.

During the trying days and nights of the Convention the only eager and anxious ones in the family group, besides myself, were Mrs. Wilson and the Wilson girls. The candidate himself indeed seemed to take only perfunctory interest in what was happening at Baltimore. He never allowed a single ballot or the changes those ballots reflected to ruffle or disturb him.

Never before was the equable disposition of the man better manifested than during these trying days. Only once did he show evidences of irritation.

It was upon the receipt of word from Baltimore, carried through the daily press, that his manager Mr. McCombs was indulging in patronage deals to secure blocks of delegates. Upon considering this news he immediately issued a public statement saying that no one was authorized to make any offer of a Cabinet post for him and that those who had done so were acting without authority from him. This caused a flurry in the ranks of our friends in Baltimore and the statement was the subject of heated discussion between the Governor and Mr. McCombs over the telephone. Of course, I did not hear what was said at the other end of the wire, but I remember that the Governor said: "I am sorry, McCombs, but my statement must stand as I have issued it. There must be no conditions whatever attached to the nomination." And there the conversation ended. While this colloquy took place I was seated just outside of the telephone booth. When the Governor came out he told me of the talk he had had with McCombs, and that their princ.i.p.al discussion was the attempt by McCombs and his friends at Baltimore to exact from him a promise that in case of his nomination William Jennings Bryan should not be named for the post of Secretary of State; that a great deal in the way of delegates' votes from the Eastern states depended upon his giving this promise. The Governor then said to me: "I will not bargain for this office. It would be foolish for me at this time to decide upon a Cabinet officer, and it would be outrageous to eliminate anybody from consideration now, particularly Mr. Bryan, who has rendered such fine service to the party in all seasons."

The candidacy of the New Jersey Governor gained with each ballot--only slightly, however--but he was the only candidate who showed an increased vote at each stage of the Convention proceedings. The critical period was reached on Thursday night. In the early afternoon we had received intimations from Baltimore that on that night the New York delegation would throw its support to Champ Clark, and our friends at Baltimore were afraid that if this purpose was carried out it would result in a stampede to Clark. We discussed the possibilities of the situation that night after dinner, but up to ten o'clock, when the Governor retired for the night, New York was still voting for Harmon. I left the Sea Girt cottage and went out to the newspaper men's tent to await word from Baltimore. The telegrapher in charge of the a.s.sociated Press wire was a devoted friend and admirer of the New Jersey candidate. There was no one in the tent but the telegrapher and myself. Everything was quiet. Suddenly the telegraph instrument began to register. The operator looked up from the instrument, and I could tell from his expression that something big was coming. He took his pad and quickly began to record the message. In a tone of voice that indicated its seriousness, he read to me the following message: "New York casts its seventy-six votes for Champ Clark. Great demonstration on."

And then the instrument stopped recording. It looked as if the "jig was up." Frankly, I almost collapsed at the news. I had been up for many nights and had had only a few hours' sleep. I left the tent, almost in despair, about eleven o'clock, and returned to the Sea Girt cottage, preparatory to going to my home at Avon, New Jersey. As I was leaving the cottage the Governor appeared at one of the upper windows, clad in his pajamas, and looking at me in the most serious way, said: "Tumulty, is there any news from Baltimore?" I replied: "Nothing new, Governor." When we were breakfasting together the next morning, he laughingly said to me: "You thought you could fool me last night when I asked if there was any word from Baltimore; but I could tell from the serious expression on your face that something had gone wrong." This was about the first evidence of real interest he had shown in the Baltimore proceedings.

As will be recalled, the thing that prevented Champ Clark from gathering the full benefit which would have come to him from the casting of the New York vote in his favour was a question by "Alfalfa Bill" Murray, a delegate from Oklahoma. He said: "Is this convention going to surrender its leadership to the Tammany Tiger?" This stemmed the tide toward Mr.

Clark, and changed the whole face of the Convention.

It was evident that on Friday night the deadlock stage of the Convention had been finally reached. The Wilson vote had risen to 354, and there remained without perceptible change. It began to look as if the candidacy of the New Jersey Governor had reached its full strength. The frantic efforts of the Wilson men to win additional votes were unavailing. Indeed, Wilson's case appeared to be hopeless. On Sat.u.r.day morning, McCombs telephoned Sea Girt and asked for the Governor. The Governor took up the 'phone and for a long time listened intently to what was being said at the other end. I afterward learned that McCombs had conveyed word to the Governor that his case was hopeless and that it was useless to continue the fight, and asked for instructions. Whereupon, the following conversation took place in my presence: "So, McCombs, you feel it is hopeless to make further endeavours?" When McCombs asked the Governor if he would instruct his friends to support Mr. Underwood, Mr. Wilson said: "No, that would not be fair. I ought not to try to influence my friends in behalf of another candidate. They have been mighty loyal and kind to me.

Please say to them how greatly I appreciate their generous support and that they are now free to support any candidate they choose."

In the room at the time of this conversation between McCombs and the New Jersey Governor sat Mrs. Wilson and myself. When the Governor said to McCombs, "So you think it is hopeless?" great tears stood in the eyes of Mrs. Wilson, and as the Governor put down the telephone, she walked over to him and in the most tender way put her arms around his neck, saying:

"My dear Woodrow, I am sorry, indeed, that you have failed." Looking at her, with a smile that carried no evidence of the disappointment or chagrin he felt at the news he had just received, he said: "My dear, of course I am disappointed, but we must not complain. We must be sportsmen.

After all, it is G.o.d's will, and I feel that a great load has been lifted from my shoulders." With a smile he remarked that this failure would make it possible for them, when his term as Governor of New Jersey was completed, to go for a vacation to the English Lake country--a region loved by them both, where they had previously spent happy summers. Turning to me, he asked for a pencil and pad and informed me that he would prepare a message of congratulation to Champ Clark, saying as he left the room: "Champ Clark will be nominated and I will give you the message in a few minutes."

I afterward learned that McCombs was about to release the delegates when Roger Sullivan, who had been informed of McCombs' message to the New Jersey Governor, rushed over to McCombs and said to him, "d.a.m.n you, don't you do that. Sit steady in the boat."

This is the true story of the occurrence so strangely distorted by Mr.

McCombs in the book he left for publication after his death, wherein he would make it appear that Governor Wilson had got in a panic and tried to withdraw from the race; whereas the panic was all in the troubled breast of Mr. McCombs, a physically frail, morally timid person, const.i.tutionally unfit for the task of conducting such a fight as was being waged in Baltimore. More st.u.r.dy friends of Governor Wilson at the Convention were busy trying to brace up the halting manager and persuade him to continue the fight, even against the desperate odds that faced them. But for these stronger natures, among whom were old Roger Sullivan of Illinois and W. G.

McAdoo, the battle would have been lost.

The message of congratulation to Champ Clark was prepared and ready to be put on the wire for transmission to him when the Baltimore Convention a.s.sembled again on Sat.u.r.day, June 29, 1912. I had argued with the Governor that despite what McCombs had said to him over the 'phone on the previous day I felt that there was still a great deal of latent strength in the Wilson forces in the Convention which was ready to jump into action as soon as it appeared that Champ Clark's case was hopeless. The first ballot on Sat.u.r.day gave weight to my view, for upon that ballot Wilson gained fifteen or twenty votes, which injected new hope into our forces in the Convention. From that time on Wilson steadily moved forward, and then came Bryan's resolutions, opposing any candidate who received the support of the "privilege-hunting" cla.s.s, and attempting the expulsion of a certain Eastern group from the Convention. Pandemonium reigned in the Convention Hall, but the vote upon the resolutions themselves showed the temper of the delegates. This made the Clark nomination hopeless. Bryan's role as an exponent of outraged public opinion and as a master of great conventions was superbly played. When he finally threw his tremendous influence to Wilson, the struggle was over. Indiana jumped to Wilson, then Illinois, and the fight was won. Wilson received the necessary two-third vote and was proclaimed the candidate.

The progressive element of the Democratic party had triumphed after a long, stubborn fight by what at first was a minority in the Convention for enlightened progressivism, with Woodrow Wilson as the standard bearer. To those like myself far away from the Convention there was the sense of a great issue at stake at Baltimore. One old gentleman who visited Sea Girt after the Convention compared the stand of the Liberals in the Convention to the handful at Thermopylae; others compared their heroic determination to the struggle of Garibaldi and his troops. To the outside world it was plain that a great battle for the right was being waged at Baltimore, under the inspiration of a new leadership. At times it appeared that the raw Wilson recruits would have to surrender, that they could not withstand the smashing blows delivered by the trained army which the Conservatives had mobilized. But they stood firm, for there was in the ranks of the Liberal group in the Baltimore Convention an unconquerable spirit, akin to that of the Crusaders, and a leadership of ardent men who were convinced that they were fighting, not merely for a man but for a principle which this man symbolized. Among these were men like W. G. McAdoo of New York, A. Mitch.e.l.l Palmer, Joseph Guffey, and Vance McCormick of Pennsylvania, Senator "Billy" Hughes of New Jersey, and Angus McLean of North Carolina.

Although the Wilson forces were largely made up of "new" men, some of whom had never before been actively interested in politics, comparatively young men like McAdoo, Palmer, McCormick, McLean, Guffey, and old men like Judge Westcott of New Jersey, yet they were drawn to the light that had dawned in New Jersey and were eager and anxious to have that light of inspired leadership given to the nation. Judge Westcott fired the Convention with his eloquence and brought showers of applause when he quoted at length from a speech Mr. Wilson had made when president of Princeton, and for which he had been hissed, lampooned, and derided by the Princeton opposition. Judge Westcott said:

Men are known by what they say and do. Men are known by those who hate them and those who oppose them. Many years ago the great executive of New Jersey said: "No man is great who thinks himself so, and no man is good who does not strive to secure the happiness and comfort of others." This is the secret of his life. This is, in the last a.n.a.lysis, the explanation of his power. Later, in his memorable effort to retain high scholarship and simple democracy in Princeton University, he declared: "The great voice of America does not come from seats of learning. It comes in a murmur from the hills and woods, and the farms and factories and the mills, rolling on and gaining volume until it comes to us from the homes of common men. Do these murmurs echo in the corridors of our universities? I have not heard them." A clarion call to the spirit that now moves America. Still later he shouted: "I will not cry peace so long as social injustice and political wrong exist in the state of New Jersey." Here is the very soul of the silent revolution now solidifying sentiment and purpose in our common country.

Men in the Convention, overwhelmed with the emotion of the great hour and the vindication of the bold liberal, Woodrow Wilson, bowed their heads and sobbed aloud. The "amateurs" of that convention had met the onslaughts of the Old Guard and had won, and thus was brought about, through their efforts, their courage, and their devotion, the dawn of a new day in the politics of the nation.

CHAPTER XVII

FACING A SOLEMN RESPONSIBILITY

Shortly after the Democratic National Convention I gave a dinner at the newspaper men's cottage at Sea Girt, to which I invited the Democratic candidate and the newspaper men, in order that they might be given a chance to meet him in the most intimate way and obtain from him what he was pleased to call the "inside" of his mind. Upon the conclusion of the dinner, the Democratic candidate opened his heart in a little talk of the most intimate and interesting character. It contained not only his views of the Presidency, but also a frank discussion of the great problems that would confront the next administration. In referring to Mr. Roosevelt, he said that he had done a great service in rousing the country from its lethargy, and in that work he had rendered admirable and lasting service, but beyond that he had failed, for he had not, during his administrations, attacked two of the major problems: the tariff and the currency, which he, Wilson, considered to be the heart and centre of the whole movement for lasting and permanent reform in America. Discussing Mr. Roosevelt, he said:

He promised too often the millennium. No public man has a right to go so far afield. You have no right to promise Heaven unless you can bring us to it, for, in making promises, you create too much expectation and your failure brings with it only disappointment and sometimes despair. As a candidate for the Presidency I do not want to promise Heaven unless I can bring you to it. I can only see a little distance up the road. I cannot tell you what is around the corner. The successful leader ought not to keep too far in advance of the ma.s.s he is seeking to lead, for he will soon lose contact with them. No unusual expectation ought to be created by him. When messages are brought to me by my friends of what is expected of the next President, I am sometimes terrified at the task that would await me in case I should be elected. For instance, my daughter, who is engaged in social-welfare work in Philadelphia, told me of a visit she paid a humble home in that city where the head of a large family told her that her husband was going to vote for me because it would mean cheaper bread. My G.o.d, gentlemen, just think of the responsibility an expectation of that kind creates! I can't reduce the price of bread. I can only strive in the few years I shall have in office to remove the noxious growths that have been planted in our soil and try to clear the way for the new adjustment which is necessary. That adjustment cannot be brought about suddenly. We cannot arbitrarily turn right about face and pull one policy up by the roots and cast it aside, while we plant another in virgin soil. A great industrial system has been built up in this country under the fosterage of the Government, behind a wall of unproductive taxes. Changes must be brought about, first here, then there, and then there again. We must move from step to step with as much prudence as resolution. In other words, we are called upon to perform a delicate operation, and in performing a delicate operation it is necessary for the surgeon who uses the knife to know where the foundation of vitality is, so that in cutting out the excrescence he shall not interfere with the vital tissues.

And while we do so we must create by absolute fairness and open- mindedness the atmosphere of mutual concession. There are no old scores to be paid off; there are no resentments to be satisfied; there is no revolution to be attempted. Men of every interest must be drawn into conference as to what it behooves us to do, and what it is possible for us to do. No one should be excluded from the conference except those who will not come in upon terms of equality and the common interest. We deal with great and delicate matters.

We should deal with them with pure and elevated purpose, without fear, without excitement, without undue haste, like men dealing with the sacred fortunes of a great country, and not like those who play for political advantage, or seek to reverse any policy in their own behalf.

CHAPTER XVIII

WILLIAM F. MCCOMBS

The election being over, the President-elect proceeded with the selection of his Cabinet and with that end in view immediately began those conferences with his friends throughout the country in an effort to gather information upon which to base a final selection. All sorts of suggestions began to flow into the Executive offices at Trenton. Tentative slates were prepared for consideration, and the records and antecedents of the men whose names appeared on them, were subjected to a searching scrutiny.

Every now and then during this period the President-elect would discuss with me the various candidates and ask me to investigate this or that phase of the character of certain men under consideration.

One day as we were leaving the Executive offices at Trenton, the Governor said: "Tumulty, you have read Gideon Wells's 'Diary of the Civil War', have you not?" I told him that some months before he had generously presented me with those three interesting volumes that contained a most accurate and comprehensive inside view of Mr. Lincoln's Cabinet. "Who," he said, "in Wells's discussion of the Lincoln Cabinet reminds you of William F. McCombs?" I replied that, in some respects, William A. Seward, Mr.

Lincoln's Secretary of State. Not, of course, in the bigness of Seward's mind, for I was not attempting to make any comparison between the intellects of the two men, but in the effort of Seward to dominate Lincoln and thus creating jealousies in other members of the Cabinet that were the cause of continual embarra.s.sment to Mr. Lincoln. Mr. Wilson turned to me and said: "You are absolutely right, and that is one reason why I have not seriously considered the claims of Mr. McCombs for a Cabinet post. I am sure that if I did put him in my Cabinet, I should find him interfering with the administration of the other departments in the same way that Seward sought to interfere, for instance, with the Treasury Department under Salmon P. Chase. McCombs is a man of fine intellect, but he is never satisfied unless he plays the stellar role, and I am afraid he cannot work in harness with other men and that I should never get any real team work from him. There is another serious objection to McCombs for a place in my Cabinet. A few days ago he boldly informed me that he desired to have the post of Attorney General. When I asked him why he preferred to be Attorney General, he informed me that, being a lawyer, the Attorney Generalship would help him professionally after his term of office expired. What a surprising statement for any man to make! Why, Tumulty, many of the scandals of previous administrations have come about in this way, Cabinet officers using their posts to advance their own personal fortunes. It must not be done in our administration. It would const.i.tute a grave scandal to appoint such a man to so high an office."

It has often been charged by Mr. McCombs' friends that Mr. Wilson showed a lack of appreciation of his services and an utter disregard of the fine things McCombs did in his behalf. Those of us who were on the inside and witnessed the patience of Woodrow Wilson in handling this most difficult person know how untrue such statements are. I personally know that during the trying days preceding the election most of Mr. Wilson's time was given over to straightening out McCombs and attempting to satisfy his mind that neither Mr. McAdoo, Colonel House, nor any other friends of Mr. Wilson were seeking to unhorse him and to take his place in the candidate's affections. Never did any man show greater patience than did Woodrow Wilson in his att.i.tude toward McCombs. The illness of McCombs during the campaign fed fuel to the fires of his naturally jealous disposition. He suspected everybody; trusted no one, and suspected that the President's friends were engaged in a conspiracy to destroy him. Of course, it is true that Mr. Wilson refused to give him the post of Attorney General which he greatly coveted, for reasons I have fully stated above; but at the very time when McCombs' friends were saying that the President had ignored him and failed to offer him any place in his administration, the President had already tendered McCombs his choice of two of the most important diplomatic posts at his disposal--the Amba.s.sadorship to Germany and the Amba.s.sadorship to France. An interesting incident in connection with the offer of the French post to McCombs and his acceptance of it is worth relating.

The President arrived in Washington on the third of March and went to the Sh.o.r.eham Hotel. McCombs had already received Mr. Wilson's offer of the French Amba.s.sadorship, and on the night of the third of March he concluded he would accept it. He sent a messenger to the Sh.o.r.eham Hotel with his letter of acceptance. Before the arrival of McCombs' letter at the Sh.o.r.eham the President had retired for the night, and the message was inserted under the door of his room. However, it seems that shortly after sending the message of acceptance McCombs changed his mind and sent a friend to the Sh.o.r.eham to recover the letter, and at twelve o'clock at night I found him outside of the President's room on his knees, busily engaged in digging out McCombs' letter of acceptance from underneath the door.

From that time on, with every changing wind, McCombs would first accept and then reject the offer of the French post. By his vacillation he prevented the appointment of an Amba.s.sador to France for four months. He had easy access to the President and saw him frequently. As he left the White House after calling on the President one day, Mr. Wilson showed sharp irritation and said to me: "If McCombs would only discuss somebody else for office save himself I would be more interested."

That the offer of the French post was made by the President and rejected by McCombs is evidenced by the following letter, addressed to the President by McCombs, under date of April 3, 1913:

WILLIAM F. MCCOMBS COUNSELLOR AT LAW 96 Broadway & 6 Wall Street New York

April 3, 1913.

My Dear Mr. President:

Since I saw you on Sat.u.r.day, I have been making continuous efforts to dispose of my affairs so that I might accept your very flattering offer. I have been in touch with Tumulty from day to day to find out whether my delay was embarra.s.sing you in any way, and he told me it was not.

Of course, I did not want to inconvenience you. As I have told you before, my difficulty in accepting the post has lain in the adjustments of my financial affairs here and in the forming of a connection which would continue, in some degree, my practice. The clientele which any lawyer has is very largely personal to himself, and it is almost impossible to arrange that the affairs of such a clientele be handled by others. This is the difficulty under which I have labored.

After intimations to my clients, I find my absence would, in their view, be prejudicial to their interests and that they would each seek separate counsel. This would mean my return to New York without any clientele whatsoever and a new start. After the statement which you so kindly issued, it occurred to me that I might make an arrangement under which my affairs could be handled. I am convinced now that it is impossible, and that I must remain here to maintain myself. During the past two years I have been compelled to neglect my business to a very large extent, and I feel that it is absolutely essential for me to recoup. In view of the very great honor of the French post, I was quite willing to sacrifice almost anything. I now know that the sacrifice would be complete.

I was sorry to see in the New York papers of yesterday, under Washington date line, that I had accepted the emba.s.sy. It has placed me in a most embarra.s.sing position, and has caused general comment of vacillation. I cannot imagine how the fact that I was re-considering became public. The press clippings I get in the matter are most annoying to me, and must be to you. I suppose the only thing to say in the matter is that my position is the same as it was when my statement was given out in Washington.

Let me again thank you very deeply for the great honor you have conferred upon me. I sincerely wish it were within my power to accept.

It is such a thing as rarely comes in a man's lifetime.

Believe me as ever, Always yours to command, WM. F. MCCOMBS.

HON. WOODROW WILSON, The White House, Washington, D. C.