CHAPTER TWELVE

_CHICAGO CONVENTION_

The First World War started in August 1914, and was catalogued as somebody else’s trouble by nearly everybody in the United States. Its effect on local politics was to start arguments about whether or not our government should spend money to rearm.

Anyway, the situation in 1914 was different than that of 1912. Woodrow Wilson, who had become President largely as a result of the Progressive-party movement in 1912, was being looked at askance by manufacturers, bankers, shippers and conservative politicians who thought that he was a mistake.

Borglum, still standing fast by the Progressive banner, figured that another election would see his party in power if enough people got interested in the prospect. At the moment, he pointed out to those who would listen to him, the policies of the federal government involved something besides a waste of money. Human lives were concerned. He declared that if England had been prepared, the Kaiser would never have invaded Belgium, and that he would certainly have stayed at home if the United States and England had been prepared and had showed they would support France. Theodore Roosevelt had always advocated preparedness. His words, “Speak softly and carry a big stick,” were well known and often quoted.

In the crisis during the Congressional election of 1914 the sculptor did not advise Progressives to return to the Republican party. Instead he tried to persuade Republicans to nominate candidates whom Progressives could support. In Connecticut the Progressives held the balance of power. Gutzon did not believe that they should put a ticket of their own into the field. They should keep their identity, he felt, and place their power as a group behind the best candidates nominated by other parties.

At the same time, he believed that the Progressive element was stronger in the Republican than in the Democratic party. He advised adopting a liberal attitude toward Republicans to avoid a further breach with the parent organization. By following such a policy in the 1914 election, he hoped that by 1916 it would be possible to elect Theodore Roosevelt President. At all events, he considered a strong Congress essential in 1914.

After careful consideration Gutzon decided to support for Congress Ebenezer J. Hill of Fairfield County, a man who had previously been in Congress and had been defeated by the Progressives in the 1912 election. He chose Hill because of his stand on the nonpartisan tariff board, which he favored, and his open quarrel with boss rule.

The sculptor’s stand for Hill was strongly opposed by Herbert Knox Smith of Connecticut and George W. Perkins of New York, national leader of the Progressive party. Gutzon and Perkins had an argument over the matter on Mr. Childs’s yacht on Long Island Sound one night about midnight. Other Progressives were there, including Colonel Roosevelt, who appears to have been noncommittal on the subject of Progressives supporting Republicans. Gutzon always believed, however, that Roosevelt approved his action.

The sculptor was concerned only with what he believed to be right. He walked out of a meeting in March 1914 when Herbert Knox Smith had put through the state central committee a resolution that only enrolled Progressives could vote in the primaries. Smith’s methods were unfair, Gutzon declared, and he wrote an open letter accusing him of gag rule. Despite such difficulties, however, he did take time to prepare and deliver a resolution of welcome and allegiance to Roosevelt at a public rally held in Hartford in August 1914.

There is some evidence that to him politics had begun to look less like a fine tournament. To Isaac Ullman of New Haven he wrote: “I am pretty sick and discouraged with what is called politics. You know only too well what I mean--the sordid and selfish side of the little ones and their own personal advancement. The best we can do is to do our best, and I try to do that all the time....”

Another disappointment to the sculptor in this campaign was the placing in the field, by the state central committee, of an independent Progressive ballot which he had consistently opposed. The fact that he was named candidate for one of the offices in no way placated him. He refused to let his name appear on the ticket, and he was bitter in giving his reasons.

In the 1916 campaign Gutzon again supported Mr. Hill, who had been elected two years before with about eighty-five per cent of the Progressives voting for him. But by that time the sculptor had become conscious of the political boss John T. King, who had appeared at the first Bridgeport meeting sponsoring Mr. Hill. The congressman entered into long correspondence with him explaining Mr. King’s motivation.

A year later when Colonel Roosevelt met Mr. King in Stamford the sculptor wrote an open letter of protest to Roosevelt. The former President took the rebuke good-naturedly. When a reporter in 1918, during the aircraft investigation, asked Roosevelt if it was not true that Borglum was a traitor on account of his charges against the administration, Roosevelt snapped back, “What! Borglum a traitor? If he isn’t a patriot there aren’t any!”

“But Colonel,” the newsman persisted, “didn’t Borglum criticize even you?”

Roosevelt laughed. “Oh, that,” he said. “Nothing! Borglum just didn’t like the company I kept.”

As for the national situation after 1914, the chief question was: “What will Theodore Roosevelt do in 1916?” It was discussed wherever men gathered. Come to think about it, 1916 is now some thirty-six years behind us, and to much of the populace the interesting characters of that season’s presidential campaign are merely a confused collection of names.

Colonel Theodore Roosevelt, veteran of the Spanish-American War, governor of New York from 1898-1900, had been drafted to run for the Vice-Presidency of the United States in William McKinley’s 1900 presidential campaign. He became President in September 1901, after McKinley was killed by the terrorist Leon Czolgosz, and was re-elected in 1904.

Roosevelt was a man of vision. He was popular and he was fearless. He was also an experienced and naturally shrewd politician. He began his service as President with an outcry against Big Business in politics. He dissolved the Northern Securities Company and other corporations for violation of the antitrust laws. In 1903 he instituted the Department of Commerce and Labor. Also in 1903 he promoted the Elkins Act which forbade railroad rebates to favored corporations. In 1906 he sponsored the Hepburn Act which regulated railroad fares. That same year he was behind the passage of the Pure Food and Drugs Act. And it was his influence that made possible the Reclamation Act and the employers’ liability laws. He mediated the peace between Japan and Russia in 1905 and won the Nobel Peace Prize. By recognizing Panama he made possible the construction of the Panama Canal, which was started during his administration. He was a great showman and singularly active, and most Americans loved him whether they liked his political philosophy or not.

In 1908 he got the presidential nomination for his friend William Howard Taft, and Taft was elected. But there was some difficulty during the next four years. Roosevelt turned a bit sour on the President because he thought Taft wasn’t liberal enough. A real political crisis came in 1912. Taft wanted the presidential nomination and he got it. Roosevelt, it seems, also wanted the presidential nomination. So he walked his delegates out of the Chicago convention and organized the Progressive party. Woodrow Wilson, the Democratic candidate, was elected.

The Progressives turned out to be a pretty strong organization, and they made some gains during the next four years. The split in Republican thought was still pretty wide when it came time to think about the 1916 campaign, and Theodore Roosevelt was still one of the biggest men in the country. There were some indications that in his promotion of harmony between the Progressives and the regular Republicans he might accept a nomination and run for a third term.

Gossip had touched on two other men who might be considered by the delegates--Charles Evans Hughes, who had been governor of New York for two terms, and Major General Leonard Wood, former Chief of Staff of the U. S. Army, commander of the Department of the East and close friend of Theodore Roosevelt. Hughes was an old-line Republican. Wood was a Progressive.

To the former President, Gutzon sent a five-page letter showing his fear for the disunity between the different groups and the certain disaster it could bring to the nation. He said:

You can be the next nominee for the Presidency of the U. S. if that is what you wish. But it will be wrung from the powerful grip of powerful forces, and I very much question the result that would follow such a conquest.

I think you should boldly and frankly name a man close to you, a man long known and tried by you, a man who would include you in his private councils. There is another advantage in this besides quieting the antagonism and putting the lie to a million or more irreconcilables. You would enter for good that position so enviable as the First American.

There was no doubt whatever that General Leonard Wood was the man Gutzon had in mind when he made this appeal. He had been on friendly terms with the general for years, and had boundless respect for the abilities he had shown as a soldier and as the chief administrator of Cuban affairs after the Spanish-American War. He had never been more cheered than when a newspaper reported that Colonel Roosevelt had himself proposed General Wood as a nominee to be considered by the Chicago convention. Promptly, in April 1916, he wrote to Roosevelt, “In naming Leonard Wood, your lifelong friend, you have given the conservatives and the irreconcilables the key to the threatened deadlock, or, as some have boasted, ‘deathlock.’ You have said the first thing that has been said to make impossible a bitter struggle.”

He had many friends who did not share his belief that Roosevelt would turn out to be altruistic at Chicago. It is interesting to see how he clung to his faith in his hero despite all indication that for once he might be wrong ... and it is also a little pathetic.

Meanwhile, he went about the country on artistic commissions, interviewing Progressive leaders on the way for the information of George W. Perkins. He was on his way home from Atlanta in May when he got a mysterious call to stop in Washington. There he learned that Progressives had made overtures to the Republicans asking that a representative acceptable to both sides be chosen to act as a confidential go-between for the inside leaders. An approach had been made to Colonel Roosevelt by Congressman William B. McKinley of Illinois, who asked if Borglum would be acceptable. The colonel had said that he would. Gutzon was notified. And that is not the least fantastic thing that happened at this fantastic convention.

Old Guard Republicans would not allow Roosevelt to be nominated, but they knew they couldn’t win without his aid. They were willing to accept Leonard Wood if Roosevelt wanted him, and they were glad to have Borglum to carry such important messages.

The sculptor called on McKinley, then interviewed Colonel Roosevelt and General Wood. Their agreement, plainly stated, was that if Roosevelt could not be nominated, he would throw his influence to Wood. Others aware of this agreement were John A. Stewart of New York, and E. B. Johns, correspondent of the _Army and Navy Journal_ in Washington.

Gutzon went to Chicago early in June and registered at the Union League Club. There he met Speaker Joe Cannon, Representative McKinley and other high-ranking Republicans with whom he kept in constant touch. Also, he visited Perkins and Governor Hiram Johnson and other Progressive leaders at Progressive headquarters. He was as widely and officially informed of the situation, he thought, as any man could hope to be. Everybody was friendly and straightforward. His great advantage, he felt, was that, as a well-known artist who had no political ties or aspirations, he was to be trusted. Well, maybe....

Most of the lads he was meeting had never in all their lives trusted anybody. What Gutzon seems never to have realized is that he was squarely in the middle of what amounted to a species of civil war. The Republican party was definitely split--make no mistake about that--and its two factions, after giving the Presidency to the Democrats, had been doing well enough in other elections to survive. Neither side was as good as it said it was. Neither side could stand any losses. So the leaders of each side wore broad, confidential smiles in public, and in private they moved in the fashion of morose and wary conspirators. Each side feared the other with a real, practical fear, and each side looked on a messenger from the other as a self-seeking ferret who must be lulled by soft--and wrong--answers.

Excerpts from Gutzon’s detailed report to General Wood give one coherent account of the convention, many details of which are still the subject of controversy after more than thirty years. The sculptor shows himself to have been an able observer, though puzzled; and he seems to have overlooked one fairly evident feature--that Roosevelt in the midst of turmoil was serenely waiting for a miracle, well aware of his importance and convinced that in the failure of others he might well grow stronger. He certainly would have liked to be nominated ... and who can say that he overestimated his chances?

In the beginning of his report to Major General Wood the sculptor said:

I had been in Chicago hardly twenty-four hours when I found out that the Progressives would not have anything to do with Republicans. They were playing a foolish game of waiting to be called on. They had even turned down the proposition of entering the convention on equal terms for the first few ballots and adjourning at will. Apparently they were afraid to run the risk, although they were boasting that they had as high as 400 votes. Where they could get half that number nobody knew but themselves.

On the subject of the Progressives’ failure to join Republicans in presenting favorite sons in the early balloting, the sculptor wired Colonel Roosevelt on Thursday, June 8:

ONE OF THE MOST POWERFUL INDIANANS JUST SAID THAT IF YOU DECLARED NOW PUBLICLY FOR ANY CANDIDATE, THE REST MIGHT AS WELL GO HOME. HE ADDED THAT THIS POSITION CAN’T LAST. HAVE SEEN LEADERS OF OHIO, PENNSYLVANIA, NEW YORK, NEW JERSEY, INDIANA, ILLINOIS, NEBRASKA, CALIFORNIA, MASSACHUSETTS; ALSO HITCHCOCK, WHOM I KNEW PERSONALLY. BAD EFFECT CREATED BY PROGRESSIVES NOT DARING TO WORK ON FIRST BALLOTS WITH FAVORITE SONS. PROGRESSIVES PASSIVE TOWARD HUGHES. OLD GUARD SAY THAT UNDER NO CONSIDERATION WILL THEY ACCEPT HUGHES UNLESS FORCED.

Before this message he had sent two to the colonel on Wednesday, June 7: The first message read:

FAVORITE SONS SUCCEEDED IN PASSING RULE TO GIVE A MAN AS MUCH TIME AS DESIRED FOR NOMINATING SPEECHES. NUMBER OF FIVE-MINUTE SPEECHES UNLIMITED. THIS GIVES US TIME TO ARRANGE FORCES BEHIND WOOD IF YOU WANT HIM.

And the second read:

CRISIS REACHED. IF ANYTHING BUT PULLING DOWN TEMPLE ON OUR HEADS IS TO BE DONE WE MUST DO IT NOW. IMMEASURABLE CONSEQUENCES TO OUR COUNTRY AND VAST INEVITABLE ADJUSTMENTS FACING AMERICA HANG IN THE BALANCE. THEY WAIT FOR YOU. DELAY MEANS SUICIDE.

But there was no response from the big man in Oyster Bay.

On Wednesday and Thursday Gutzon received two telegrams from General Wood on Governor’s Island. Both were hopeful. The first one read:

NO INDICATION ANY CHANGE IN ATTITUDE OF COLONEL. REMAIN IN TOUCH HERE FOR FEW DAYS.

And later:

SAW THE CHIEF YESTERDAY. POLICY AND ATTITUDE UNCHANGED.

The sculptor, putting all this together, continued his report to General Wood. Here is part of that revealing document:

Before three o’clock the next morning (Friday) I was awakened by ’phone call telling me that the favorite-son group had over 518 votes and that they did not need the colonel. That was the first definite rebuke, and my telegram of Thursday indicates my feeling at the time. I am of course bearing in mind what I learned months ago, and I cannot understand why Progressive leaders do not know it, or why the colonel did not know it--that he never had a chance in Chicago. When I found that he was not willing, or that his agents in Chicago were not willing to risk their ability on the floor of the convention against the favorite sons, I felt, and many felt, that they were simply playing poker with the threat of an independent Progressive convention back of them.

Thursday night I sat with a number of gentlemen at Union League Club. We went over the entire situation regarding the colonel’s candidacy. There were in this group men representing three states that had favorite sons. Finally, after their declination to consider the colonel on any terms, I urged upon them your availability. I pointed out to them the colonel’s friendship for you and his _absolute faithfulness_ to the friendship, and I urged upon them the desirability of nominating you directly. They replied that they would be glad to do this and that in ordinary circumstances it would be done, but, because of their relation to the favorite-sons group, such a step would be considered disloyal and would endanger the whole situation.

They further said that your great value as a candidate was the colonel’s loyalty to your lifelong friendship and that your nomination would secure the colonel’s support of the old organization. After considerable debate I proposed sending a telegram to the colonel. This telegram was duly approved and Speaker Cannon remarked, “If the colonel answers that in the right spirit, we will know that he is sincere. And if he doesn’t----” Mr. Cannon shrugged his shoulders. Here is the telegram:

“Colonel Roosevelt, Oyster Bay, New York, Thursday, June 8, 1916, 2 A.M.

“Please send me a line confirming your approval of Wood. Powerful members of Old Guard approve and ask your approval. They say he can be nominated. Address me, Union League Club.”

I sent this telegram and, as you see, it contained my address and asked for a reply. I waited twelve hours, until about 2 o’clock in the afternoon. Having promised a reply to these Old Guard gentlemen, I was extremely anxious. I called the colonel on the phone and succeeded in getting him. The day was wet.

The wire was noisy and the connection bad. I told the colonel that I had wired him and was waiting for an answer. He replied, “Didn’t you get my telegram?” I told him I had not. He then said he had answered my questions by telegram and told me that if there was anything else I wanted to know, to see his son Theodore. The connection was bad, the answer unsatisfactory.

I immediately tried to find Theodore, Jr., but could not locate him. I searched political headquarters in Chicago for the telegram the colonel said he had sent me. I went to the head office and had them search the wires, but could find no telegram. None had reached Chicago. I requested both companies to go back over the lines to Oyster Bay and locate the message. They did and reported in two hours that no message had been received at Oyster Bay or in New York for me from Colonel Roosevelt.

Following the failure to receive a telegram from the colonel that would support you, or any definite answer whatever on the subject, I sent another telegram warning him of the situation and the loss of time. And again I received no response. That there might be nothing lost by oversight on my part, I sent a copy of this telegram to you; also one to Mr. Perkins, together with a letter. Perkins, too, remained silent and continued to believe that Roosevelt would be nominated. At least he said so, and that no one else would be nominated or could be. Reports were being circulated bearing his name saying that you would not be nominated and that you could not be nominated. Perhaps I ought to add here that the only objection I have heard to your nomination came out of Mr. Perkins’ headquarters.

Friday arrived. The convention was ready to ballot. We all waited on the result of the conference for which we had long worked and from which we believed some harmonious solution might come. It reported--failure. But we all still hoped. By that time we knew that the conference was not a party conference; that the Progressive party no longer had any authority, having lost what standing it possessed. The only conference now was between Oyster Bay and Republican leaders.

On the other hand, this Republican convention was the soundest, solidest body of men of that sort ever assembled in America. They were patient; they were independent; they knew the world of politics; they wanted the Progressives; they wanted the colonel to join with them in naming a President. They were even willing that he should try his strength with them openly. But 900 delegates absolutely declined to let him either force the convention or to destroy the party’s chances of defeating Wilson.

About 2 A.M. Saturday all hope was really abandoned, and the most influential member of the Central States group said, “Well, no man can say I have not done everything, tried everything, and waited till the last minute to harmonize this situation. And here we are forced to move in the nomination none of us wants.”

After two in the morning, quick and definite plans were made for the Saturday-morning session and wholly without consideration of Oyster Bay. What happened at Perkins’ headquarters I do not know. But results came quickly and everybody soon knew that a great harmonious plan, each group compromising for the common interest, had failed, and the cause of its failure was at Oyster Bay.

The Central States had the key, and they had the moral courage to sacrifice personal advantage for the larger good. At 2 o’clock they took the bull by the horns and turned sharply to Hughes. Illinois and Indiana were from the beginning the brain and the power of that convention, and it was this powerful group that wished to work with the colonel and who favored you. When forced to follow another leader they showed their wisdom by selecting McCormick, a late Progressive, to announce the move of Illinois toward Hughes--which swung the whole convention into line behind them.

The reading of the colonel’s message was unfortunate. It came too late. It was too long. In naming Lodge, it was as disappointing a thing as could be contributed by the colonel’s worst enemy. It was met without applause of any sort. All Roosevelt interest died then and there.

Regarding your name at the Convention, it rose head and shoulders above the names of other candidates, and I heard nothing but praise of you, such as would most gratify a sincere man. Some fear of a military man was expressed, but I heard no one among the influential inner group of Republicans who did not always say, “Wood has a record. We can elect him if the colonel will work with us.”

Several years later Gutzon learned, from inside sources not to be doubted, several items of information which threw light on the bewildering events of the last night of the convention. In relation to that urgent telegram to the colonel that was never answered, he learned that someone at Progressive headquarters had tapped the line to Oyster Bay; that Gutzon’s message, which had been endorsed by Republican leaders who anxiously awaited the answer, was instantly followed by a message from Progressive headquarters saying that Borglum was all wrong, the author or victim of a “frame-up,” and that the colonel would surely be nominated by acclamation on Saturday morning. It was presented that he, Roosevelt, should withdraw and nominate Senator Lodge, who would refuse by agreement, and the convention would then turn immediately to the colonel.

Another item was that Nicholas Murray Butler had likewise talked to Colonel Roosevelt on that fateful Saturday at early dawn and in answer to a query about Leonard Wood’s chances had shaken his head. “Impossible,” he said. “At this juncture in the international situation it would be suicide for us to nominate a military man.” This was told to Gutzon by Herman Hagedorn.

All parties returned from the convention in a state of complete exhaustion. E. B. Johns wrote, “It was three or four days before I got back to normal, and I am still doing some mental swearing at the stupidity of Colonel Roosevelt and some of his advisors.” For Gutzon it was one of the bitterest experiences of his life.

Wilson, it will be remembered, was elected by the vote of California after most of his newspaper support had conceded the victory to Hughes. It took three days to find out who had won.