Chapter IX: Running with Bryan

I

Long before the Denver convention in 1908 speculation was rife in political circles as to the possibility of the nomination of Mr. Kern for the vice-presidency. The nomination of Mr. Bryan for the third time for the presidency had been a foregone conclusion since the disastrous experiment of returning to “conservatism” in 1904, and the intimacy of the personal relations between The Commoner and Mr. Kern gave color to the rumors. There were many who really thought that the Nebraskan had selected the Indiana leader as a running mate as much as a year before. All this was purely speculative and without any color of justification, but it served to keep Mr. Kern’s name in the mind of the leaders throughout the country. To all suggestions that he permit the presentation of his name to the convention he had invariably made dissent. He was not unmindful of the distinction, and his personal affection and admiration for the leader of the Democracy made the idea of being associated with him in a great national campaign enticing. But there were sufficient reasons for his desire to escape the responsibility that would entail. Scarcely more than a year before he had gone to Asheville in a serious physical condition and not at all certain of his ability to successfully combat the tubercular trouble that threatened an early termination of his career. He had recuperated with unexpected rapidity and had left the sanatorium apparently out of danger, but he and his family and intimate friends had grave doubts of his ability to pass through the ordeal of a speaking campaign over the country, with all that would mean of exposure, physical exhaustion and mental worry. Some time before the convention he had confided to one of his friends that but for his physical condition and his lack of means he would be tempted to encourage the canvassing of his availability because of what it would mean to his children. About that time he publicly laughed at the suggestion of his possible nomination, and in the presence of Mr. Bryan. It was on the occasion of a dinner of the Indiana Democratic Club at Claypool Hotel in Indianapolis. John E. Hollet, president of the club, had expressed the hope that he might be selected as Mr. Bryan’s running mate, and Kern in speaking afterward referred facetiously to the suggestion with a reminder of his poverty and the necessity, in the event of his nomination and election, of being forced to “live in one room.” In following, Mr. Bryan created much enthusiasm among Kern’s friends and neighbors by saying that “if John is elected he will not have to live in one room, for I will give him a part of the White House.” This good-natured compliment was immediately given undue significance, and from that hour the Indiana Democracy determined, if conditions were at all auspicious to press the availability of Kern upon the convention. There was no formal indorsement by the convention, but the contingent of Democrats who turned their faces toward Denver did so with the fixed determination to take advantage of any proper opportunity to secure his nomination.

When Mr. Kern himself started to Denver it was with the definite decision to discourage any movement in his behalf. When he reached Chicago and found that the politicians of other states had been giving serious consideration to his claims he thought it well to publicly make his position clear. This he did in a letter to _The Indianapolis News_, the substance of which was carried by the press associations throughout the country.

“EDITOR OF THE NEWS:

“Sir--I am not, have never been, and will not be a candidate for
the vice-presidential nomination. For personal reasons involving
matters of business and health, I do not want the office and made
this plain to my friends long ago.

“My name will not be presented to the convention at Denver if I can
prevent it, and I think I can.

“I make this statement for the benefit of my friends, who may be
misled by newspaper reports, which persist in making me a candidate
against my will.

JOHN W. KERN.

“Chicago, July 1.”

As one of the delegates to the convention accompanying Mr. Kern to Denver I know that during the long journey, during which the party was constantly together and discussing the probable results of the convention the name of the Indiana leader was not discussed, if so much as mentioned, in connection with the vice-presidency. John E. Lamb, who, after Kern and Taggart, was the most potential and widely known man on the delegation, had for months accepted the latter’s statement that he was not in condition, physically or financially to make the race. Among the members of the party the hope may have been expressed that Indiana would be given a place on the ticket, but never in the presence of the man all had in mind.

The Kern party arrived at Lincoln, where it had been planned to stop over for a conference with Mr. Bryan in the early morning and went to bed at once at the Lincoln Hotel. It was a dismal night of rain, and in the morning the rain was pouring down in torrents.

There was just one occasion during Mr. Kern’s visit to Lincoln when he might have discussed the vice-presidency with Mr. Bryan. Soon after the latter’s arrival at the hotel he held a conference with Kern and Lamb in the former’s room at the Lincoln Hotel, and after a time Mr. Lamb retired, leaving the two men who were destined to be on the ticket together alone. I have satisfied myself that the vice-presidency was not a subject of discussion by appealing to Mr. Bryan, who informs me that he was in no way instrumental in determining the action of the convention on the vice-presidency. “There was no plan for his nomination,” he says. “His availability was discussed and it was known that he was of the inner circle of my friends, but I did not attempt to select a running mate.” This is important as disproving not only the claim that he dictated the nomination of Mr. Kern but the report that he exerted himself to persuade others to accept the nomination before Kern was selected. Mr. Kern left Lincoln for Denver with no new reason for assuming that he would play any other part in the convention than that of chairman of the Indiana delegation and advocate of a thoroughly progressive platform.

On reaching Denver, however, he found that his was among the half-dozen names most insistently mentioned for the vice-presidency and himself the subject of disconcerting notoriety. From the moment he was lined up at the Denver railway station for a series of snapshots he was not permitted to forget for a moment that an unsought honor might be thrust upon him. Before the convention had been called to order some impetuous Hoosiers had hung Kern lithographs in the hotel lobbies, and his first interview on his arrival was in the nature of a disclaimer of any designs on the nomination. Before he retired the first night he found himself at a dinner given for Indiana people at the Savoy Hotel converted into a “boom” dinner in his behalf, and this did not escape the keen eye of the press. On the following day the Illinois delegation, which had stopped at Lincoln, arrived with the message that “Kern’s nomination would be satisfactory to Bryan,” and Willis J. Abbott, described as having charge of publicity work for the Commoner, and fresh from Lincoln, declared in an interview to which many attached significance that “Mr. Bryan thinks a great deal of John W. Kern.” If these incidents caused Mr. Kern any concern he did not show it in any way. He threw himself into the preliminary work of the convention with but one object in view--to make certain the adoption of a platform that would be in complete harmony with Mr. Bryan’s views. At the time of the fight over the seating of the Guffy delegation from Pennsylvania, which became bitter, he failed to disclose the timidity or “discretion” of a candidate, by going in among the delegations on the floor and urging them to vote against the seating of the delegation of the Standard Oil boss, and in the pointed manner in which he announced the solid vote of Indiana against it. Even the press commented upon this attitude as calculated to injure his “candidacy” in view of the opinion of some that “something should be done to placate the Guffy element.”

During this time he occupied the same room at the Albany Hotel with Mr. Lamb, and it is significant that it was not until the day before the nomination was made that the latter gave any thought to the possibility of his nomination. The two breakfasted, frequently lunched and dined together, but Kern’s attitude was such that his companion was persuaded that he would not, under any circumstances, consider the nomination. But during all the time the Indiana contingent was chafing on the bits, eager to begin an aggressive propaganda in his behalf. Meanwhile the convention was completely at sea as to who to nominate. Under these circumstances the Indiana delegation and others from Indiana not on the delegation, such as John W. Holtzman, prevailed upon Kern to relent in his opposition to their wishes to the extent of permitting them to make a canvass of the sentiment of the convention.

Thus on July 9, one day before the convention was to act, the Indiana contingent met at its headquarters at the Albany, and in the absence of Mr. Kern perfected an organization for this purpose. Stokes Jackson, the state chairman, presided and the writer served as secretary. A committee composed of Holtzman, Representative Lincoln Dixon and Jackson immediately selected committees to visit the delegations of all the states not having a candidate with the view to determining their possible reception of Kern’s candidacy. Never has a little group of men set to a task with greater zest or enthusiasm. Never have men on such a mission been more cordially received. While Mr. Kern had expressly forbidden these committees to represent him as a candidate, not a few of his zealous friends disregarded the spirit of the instructions, and their reports were of such a nature that there was no longer any possibility of holding the Hoosiers in check.

On the morning of the day of the nomination the Indianians were called together for the purpose of hearing from Mr. Kern a more precise definition of his position. He appeared with Lincoln Dixon and his manner and appearance indicated that he was deeply moved not only by the possible event of the afternoon, but by the fervency of his friends’ support. The customary smile was conspicuously absent and he spoke with deep earnestness and feeling. His speech was brief, but it so perfectly mirrored the spirit of the man, then and always, that it has a proper place here.

“In the first place I want to thank you all for your good wishes
and your efforts in my behalf. But my position and yours is the
same that it has ever been since we came to Denver. I am not, and
have not been a candidate for the vice-presidential nomination, and
if there is to be any contest, any balloting at all, my name will
not be presented. That is what I wish the position of the Indiana
delegation to be, and if you agree with me that is what it will be.
Let us forget about it and go home and carry Indiana. God bless you
all.”

About the time he was uttering these words the leaders from over the country were in conference canvassing the availability of the various men mentioned, and here the Indiana leaders’ claims were being urged by John E. Lamb and Thomas Taggart. The conference agreed that the best interest of the party would be served by the nomination of Mr. Kern.

It was a feverish group of Indianians that early sought their seats in the very front of the great convention hall at noon that day. When Alabama was called for nominations she yielded to Indiana, and thus for the first time Thomas Riley Marshall, then the nominee for governor in Indiana and destined to the rare distinction of two elections to the vice-presidency, appeared upon the platform and faced the Democracy of the nation. He had only had a few minutes for reflection, as it was the original intention that Mr. Lamb, whose voice was almost gone, to present the name of Mr. Kern. As the small, wirey figure of the now familiar national leader appeared, there seemed little probability that he could impress the convention in that vast auditorium. There was no doubt on the part of the Hoosiers. Nor was there any doubt on the part of the convention after he had uttered his first sentence. This speech pleased Kern.

In seconding the nomination of Kern, Governor Folk of Missouri described him as a man who was fit to represent the platform and fight beside Bryan. Martin J. Wade of Iowa described him as a “broad-gauged, energetic, faithful, loyal Democrat.” Ollie James, speaking for Kentucky, referred to him as “one of the gamest, knightliest and bravest Democrats in the Union.” George Fred Williams of Massachusetts spoke of him as “a man absolutely beyond any criticism, whose nomination will arouse the undivided enthusiasm of all the Democrats of the nation.” State after state rose to second the nomination of Kern as the enthusiasm of the convention intensified, the loyal Hoosier delegation voiceless from shouting long before the roll call was ended. The names of others were presented, among them the name of Charles A. Towne, who soon caught the drift of the convention and appeared upon the platform and withdrew his name to the end that an acclamation nomination might be made of “that able and worthy Democratic war horse of Indiana.” A motion was soon thereafter made to that effect and Mr. Kern was nominated without a ballot being taken.

II

While the convention was acting Mr. Kern sat alone in his room at the Albany smoking. His first act on learning of his nomination when enthusiastic Hoosier friends burst in upon him was to send a telegram to his family at Indianapolis--“Have just now been nominated. God bless you all.” Within a few minutes after the convention acted he began to pay the penalty of the celebrity thrust upon him. The crowds flocked to his room in such numbers that he was finally forced to make his escape to Mr. Taggart’s room in the Brown Palace, but almost immediately afterward his hiding place was discovered by Senator Gore and thereafter no further effort was made to find a place of retirement. Among the first telegrams that reached him was the one that meant more perhaps than any other--from Mr. Bryan:

“LINCOLN, NEB., July 10.
“HON. JOHN W. KERN, DENVER, COLO.:

“Accept my warmest congratulations. Your nomination gratifies me
very much. We have a splendid platform and I am glad to have a
running mate in such complete harmony with the platform. Stop off
and see us on your way east.

“WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN.”

Addressing a delegation of returning Nebraskans soon afterwards, Mr. Bryan said:

“I am sure that when people come to know John W. Kern as I have
known him for many years, they will believe, as I do, that he is in
perfect harmony with the platform, and can be trusted to carry out
that platform to the letter, if circumstances should place upon him
the responsibility for its enforcement.”

Into his retreat at the Brown Palace the crowds thronged. The newspaper men with their cameras and note books appeared and the candidate, with his customary amiability, submitted to being cross-examined as to the most intimate details of his life. The _Denver Times_ was much impressed because Kern did not “talk in the Hoosier dialect”--a puzzle that was solved to its satisfaction by the discovery that his father was a Virginian and he, as a boy, had lived in Iowa. Other papers solemnly assured their readers that he was the original of “The Man From Home” of Booth Tarkington’s creation. The nomination of Bryan having been a foregone conclusion, the vice-presidential nominee became the chief topic of conversation, and that night Kern was being discussed almost exclusively by the politicians in hotel lobbies, cafés and upon the streets. An interview on the nomination by as astute an observer as Herbert Quick, of Iowa, gives as accurate an appraisement of the atmosphere in which it was made as can be found. “The nomination of Mr. Kern was widely favored,” he said, “in my section of the middle west long before the convention. He is regarded as a man whose high character and place of residence would add strength to the ticket. He will not be regarded as an unknown or an accident. I watched the convention as it nominated Kern and mingled in the groups engaged in the preliminary discussions. No one was ever nominated in an atmosphere freer from dickering and trading. The galleries were for Kern and the galleries have a curious faculty of feeling the national pulse.”

He remained in Denver for a time so as to reach Lincoln just in time for the meeting of the national committee at Fairview on July 14th, and during the interval was kept busy conferring with party leaders and with social engagements. I was with him on the train on the return trip as far as Lincoln and had an opportunity to note the effect the new celebrity had upon him. If anything, and if possible, he was even more democratic, genuinely democratic, in his manner, and a trifle subdued, as though he felt the responsibility that would fall to him in meeting his share of the burdens of the campaign. The night his party left Denver he stayed up late keeping his companions in mirthful mood with a seemingly interminable string of stories gleaned from his own experiences. It was on the train that he first had an opportunity to read the Indianapolis papers and learn of the joy and jubilation of his friends and neighbors of both parties and of the plans of his old Kokomo friends to tender him a great reception. These things seemed to touch him more than the honor of the nomination.

Again he reached Lincoln in the night, this time at three o’clock in the morning, but this time he was met by a delegation of citizens and taken to the hotel. Before he was up in the morning a large crowd was at the hotel to greet him, and for a time, as the press put it, “the town went Kern mad.”

About noon on the day of his arrival he went to Fairview on the car, receiving ovations along the way, and he remained at the home of Mr. Bryan through the afternoon meeting party leaders. During that afternoon, too, in a campaign conference with Mr. Bryan, a plan was determined upon that was destined to make the Bryan and Kern campaign of 1908 memorable and of vital importance to the nation regardless of the result of the election, for it was then decided to pledge the party to giving publicity to campaign contributions before the election, and to limit the amount that could be subscribed by any one party.

On the following day when the members of the national committee had been called to order at Fairview, Mr. Bryan, when called upon, referring to Mr. Kern in the course of his brief speech, said:

“I desire to express ... my gratitude that a candidate for
vice-president has been selected who is not only a political friend
and a personal friend, but one in whom I have entire confidence
(applause). I do not know how I can better express my feeling on
the subject than to say that if I am elected president and Mr. Kern
is elected vice-president, I shall not be afraid to die, because I
shall feel that the policies outlined in the platform, which I
shall endeavor to put into operation, will be just as faithfully
carried out by him as they would be by me.” (Applause.)

Mr. Bryan then presented his history-making proposal which had been discussed by him with Mr. Kern the previous afternoon:

“We suggest for your approval a maximum of $10,000 and a minimum of
$100, no contribution to be received above $10,000 and all
contributions above $100 to be made public before the election.

“We suggest, also, that on or before the 15th day of October,
publication shall be made of all contributions above $100 received
up to that date; that after the 15th of October publication shall
be made of such contributions on the day that the same are
received, and that no contribution above $100 shall be accepted
within three days of the election.

“With the hope that these suggestions may be favorably acted upon,
we are, with great respect, etc.,

“Yours truly,

“WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN,

“JOHN W. KERN.”

Thus the first act of Mr. Kern as a candidate was to affix his signature to a proposal destined, after much controversy and sophisticated efforts to escape, to be written into the law of the land. After Mr. Kern had spoken briefly, a resolution embodying the ideas of the proposal was submitted by Josephus Daniels of North Carolina and unanimously adopted. History was made at Fairview that afternoon. An issue of such vital moment was then made that it would not down. And the issue was all the more direct because a Republican congress had just refused to enact a publicity law, the Republican national convention had refused to incorporate in its platform a provision for one, and the announcement of the Fairview plan was at first ridiculed by the reactionary press of the country. But the issue was so clear that it could not be scoffed from the boards. Mr. Taft tried to meet it by reforming on his original selection of a treasurer of his campaign committee, and that, failing to satisfy the independent press, he tried to offset the Fairview program with a proposal of publicity of contributions after the election. This was so manifestly absurd that it failed utterly to satisfy, notwithstanding President Roosevelt’s remarkable advocacy of the proposal of Taft to lock the stable after the horse was stolen. The impression made by the plan outlined at the conference between Bryan and Kern at Fairview that afternoon was so pronounced that the popular demand for a law of that character persisted, and finally under the administration of Mr. Taft, who had opposed it, it was written into law at the behest of an overwhelming public opinion. That incident alone, aside from the platform, makes the Bryan-Kern campaign of 1908 one of vital value to the institutions of America.

On the evening of the day of the adoption of this resolution, Mr. Kern and his party turned their faces toward home--and here he was to partake of the sweets of his triumph.

III

Mr. Kern knew, through the press, that his friends and neighbors were taking the keenest delight in the honor that had been shown him. On the night of the nomination great crowds of cheering men, headed by a band, waving flags, burning red fire, and singing patriotic songs, had been quickly improvised with the view to serenading the family of the candidate. Stopping on the way to cheer in front of the Columbia club, the Republican organization, and to

JOHN H. KERN, JR. MRS. KERN WILLIAM C. KERN ]

serenade the newspapers, it had gone rollicking to the Kern residence, where Mrs. Kern greeted the enthusiasts from the porch, and Judge Gavin had responded in her behalf. Returning it paused at the home of Vice-President Fairbanks, who appeared and briefly paid tribute to Kern the man and neighbor. “There is no better man in the city of Indianapolis or in the state of Indiana than John W. Kern,” he said, and the crowd, with “three cheers for Fairbanks,” passed on to pause again at the home of the venerable former Senator David Turpie, who was too feeble to appear but sent assurances of his participation in the common joy. The Indianapolis press, regardless of politics, editorially joined in the general jubilation. Four years before when a similar reception had been given Mr. Fairbanks, Mr. Kern had presided, and at that time the former had predicted that he would one day serve as chairman of such a meeting to greet Kern. The arrangements were made accordingly.

There was something in this reception so significant of the affection of his fellow citizens, and something in Mr. Kern’s attitude toward it so characteristic of the man that it deserves more than a mere reference. When the train stopped to permit his party to alight at Capitol avenue he was met by a delegation representing the civic bodies of the community, a large crowd of citizens, and a band playing “When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again,” Vice-President Fairbanks was the first to grasp his hand. He was followed by Mayor Bookwalter, also a Republican, and the two escorted the nominee to his carriage. The procession moved through cheering crowds to where Mrs. Kern and the family were waiting to receive him. As the home of the nominee was approached the streets were packed, and houses of Democrats and Republicans alike were hung with bunting and brightened with flags, while a streamer stretched across the street announced a “Welcome by Your Neighbors.” As Mr. Kern, bearing his two boys in his arms, ascended the steps of his home any one who knew the heart of the man could appreciate the emotions with which he faced his fellow citizens.

“Sometimes I can talk,” he said to the crowd, “but this is not one
of the times. On some other occasion I shall tell you all how glad
I am to see you, but for reasons that must be obvious to you all I
can not speak now.”

That evening it was the carriage of Vice-President Fairbanks that called to convey Mr. Kern to the court house yard, where a platform had been erected and where the formal home welcome was to be given. Here fully 15,000 people had assembled when Mr. Fairbanks assumed charge of the meeting. In the course of a generous address the vice-president referred to Kern’s “ability as a lawyer, eminence as an orator, integrity as a man, uprightness as a neighbor, and admirable life within the sacred circle of home.”

Seldom has a more remarkable ovation ever been accorded any man within the confines of Indiana than that which greeted Mr. Kern when he rose to speak. For eleven minutes the thousands cheered and shouted, and the efforts of the recipient of the honor to still the tumult only seemed to give it impetus. The speech of Mr. Kern on this occasion disclosed the inner man.

“I am tired and somewhat travel worn to-night and I don’t know that
I can make myself heard to the uttermost limits of this vast
audience. I am sure that I can find no words which will in any
measure express the emotions of my heart upon this occasion.

“It is true, as has been said, a mark of distinction has been given
me by the national convention of my party, and to that convention
and the men it represents I am deeply grateful, but I am more
grateful to Almighty God for the friends He has given me in
Indianapolis, regardless of political affiliation. I would be very
much more or less than a man were I not deeply touched by this
manifestation of your personal friendship and confidence which I
have witnessed from the time I alighted at the station this
afternoon until the present hour. I may be defeated at the polls,
but if so that is not a killing matter, because I have become
accustomed to that; but if I should go down in defeat in November,
the memory of what has occurred here to-night will amply repay me
for whatever of toil may be my lot between now and then.

“And the fact of this great assemblage attesting your loyalty and
friendship to me I will bequeath to my children as a richer legacy
than any on the face of the earth or all of the wealth of the
world....

“How small is the man who will stop in campaign time, or any other
time, to quarrel with his neighbor, because that neighbor, in his
right of citizenship, differs from him as to the best method of
government. The true American feeling is manifest here to-night.
Our children must play together in the years to come, whether they
are Democrats or Republicans. They will inter-marry. They will rear
families. Their lots will be cast together; they will all be
interested alike in promoting the welfare, the honor and the glory
of this mighty republic, and this being so, why will we quarrel
because they can not agree?”

The _Indianapolis News_, politically antagonistic, editorially referred to “Mr. Kern’s unusual gift of felicitous extemporaneous speech” in commenting upon his “altogether admirable speech.” After a few days of much needed rest spent with his family at the home, the nominee turned to the preparation of briefs in supreme court cases during the next few weeks, with occasional political journeys, and some non-partisan addresses. Most enjoyable to him among the latter was his trip to Kokomo to receive the non-partisan homage of his “home folks.” Here he was forced to address a great throng from the hotel balcony before the exercises in the evening at the theater, where Judge Harness, a Republican, presided. Here he was greatly affected as he stood waiting for the ovation to end while the band played “Auld Lang Syne.” And here, too, he made a heart speech, unmarred by a partisan note. In the latter part of July he attended a meeting of the national committee at Chicago when Norman Mack was chosen for the national chairmanship, and here he again conferred with Mr. Bryan. And on August 11 he was the guest of Mr. Bryan at Fairview on the occasion of the latter’s notification. Here he made a brief non-partisan address and conferred with the presidential nominee and Mr. Mack. Another non-partisan address at Indianola, Iowa, where he visited his mother’s grave, renewed boyhood friendships, and revisited the scenes of childhood, and a political speech at Milwaukee intervened before his formal notification at Indianapolis on August 25.

This was a great day in the history of the Hoosier Democracy. The faithful gathered from the four quarters, for not only was the Indiana leader, most beloved by the rank and file, to receive his formal notification, but Mr. Bryan, the idol of the same element, was to participate in the ceremonies. Indianapolis was thronged. The day was ideal. In the morning before the exercises Mr. Bryan and Kern received and conferred with party leaders from over the country, and met the members of the national committee and the notification committee, and all these sat down to a luncheon at the Denison hotel. The notification was made in the enormous coliseum at the state fair grounds, which seats 20,000 people. Hundreds of automobiles bearing the politicians dashed out Meridian street, and it required 500 street cars to carry the less favored. When Bryan and Kern entered the immense auditorium each was given an ovation from the vast audience. Theodore Bell, of California, chairman of the notification committee, charmed with his eloquent address of notification, and Mr. Kern, in accepting the nomination, took up the challenge thrown down by James S. Sherman, his Republican competitor, in his speech at Utica, N. Y., making a powerful presentation of the Democratic case on the tariff, the trusts, and popular government. That evening he and Mrs. Kern entertained the party celebrities at dinner at the Country club, and the great day was over. Mr. Kern was now the nominee for vice-president, and knew it.

IV

By the middle of September Mr. Kern’s itinerary had been made out by the national committee and called for extensive campaigning, especially in the east and south. There had been rumblings through the press of some apathy in the southern states, and while there was no danger of losing the electoral votes of this section, it was thought but the part of deserved courtesy to send the vice-presidential nominee through the south. The middle of September found him addressing a great throng at the state fair at Louisville, where he carefully refrained from any expression of a partisan nature; two days later he was in Chicago with Mr. Bryan, and on the 19th he began his speaking tour of the south. This took him first into Maryland. It was while here that the unfortunate Haskell episode, which occasioned such concern and embarrassment to leading Democrats, occurred. The charge that the treasurer of the Democratic national committee had some sort of connections with the Standard Oil Company, had been taken up by President Roosevelt with the view to convincing the people of the insincerity, if not dishonesty, of the Democratic candidates in the matter of campaign contributions. There was enough fire to make much smoke with the careful handling of an astute politician like Mr. Roosevelt using his high office as a base of operations. The publicity-before-the-election policy of Bryan and Kern was causing Mr. Taft and Mr. Roosevelt no end of trouble, and the attempt of the former, strangely backed by the latter, to convince the people that a program of publicity-after-the-election would do quite as well was not making a favorable impression. Thus the Haskell incident was worked to the limit of its possibilities. At Elliott City, Md., Mr. Kern took notice of the president’s contribution to the campaign concerning the Haskell matter, charging him with using it in an effort to muddy the waters, and ridiculing his pretensions as a reformer. From Maryland he was forced to jump to Mansfield, Ohio, to formally open the campaign in that state with former Gov. James E. Campbell, where he discussed the tariff and trusts and facetiously referred to the Foraker-Taft-Roosevelt Kilkenny cat fight. Five days later he met his opponent for the first time at the Auditorium Annex in Chicago. Learning that Mr. Sherman was in the hotel, he expressed a desire to Senator Smith, of Michigan, to meet him. The senator called the Republican nominee from his room and the meeting took place in the lobby, to the delight of the newspaper men. This was the beginning of a warm personal friendship between two men whose political opinions were as divergent as it was possible for them to be.

From Chicago Mr. Kern plunged into the south, making his first speeches in Alabama. All the Kern meetings in the south were remarkable demonstrations. His meeting at Birmingham was a huge success. On his way from this industrial capital of Alabama to Atlanta he spoke for ten minutes to the mill hands at Anniston. These were the men to whom he made a strong appeal.

At Macon, Ga., when his train drew into the station he found a cheering crowd to greet him and the meeting in the evening was one of the most rousing he addressed during the campaign. Here he took occasion to reply vigorously to the attacks of Mr. Bryan’s enemies on the ground that he was “unsafe.”

His meeting at Asheville, N. C., in early October, was one of the stirring old-fashioned sort, the greatest political meeting that had been held there since 1896. A picturesque touch was given to this demonstration by several hundred mountaineers riding into town from miles around on mules. Here he was introduced by former Governor Glenn and followed by the brilliant James Hamilton Lewis.

Having in two weeks spoken in Maryland, Alabama, Georgia, North Carolina and South Carolina, he closed this part of his canvass, hoarse from a cold and from over-use of the voice at a great meeting at Huntington, W. Va., on October 10, and on the following day he reached his home in Indianapolis.

Here a great trouble awaited him. John Kern, Jr., had been stricken with that most distressing of maladies, infantile paralysis. During the next three days the candidate spent every moment possible at the bedside of his stricken boy, but the 14th of October found him engaged in strenuous campaigning in New Jersey. In the afternoon he spoke to the business men in Elizabeth, and at night to two remarkable meetings at Newark and Jersey City. At the former meeting the meeting was preceded by an old-fashioned parade with marching clubs, and the faithful in automobiles, the streets aglare from the red lights carried by the marchers, and by occasional bonfires along the streets. From Newark he was hurried to Jersey City, where he was greeted with a great crowd at Phœnix hall. It was at this latter meeting that he attacked the source of some great fortunes. Referring to the comment of Judge Taft that one way to reduce swollen fortunes would be for the possessors to give generously, Kern said that “Judge Taft advocates the pillaging of the people and trusting to the generosity of the pillager to pay back some of the ill-gotten riches.”

On the following day the candidate spoke at Tammany Hall in New York city, where his entrance was the signal for an ovation which was repeated a moment later when Lieutenant-Governor Chandler, the nominee for governor, ascended the platform and clasped the hand of the vice-presidential nominee. Mr. Kern’s speech here in the great financial center of the country was significant of his unwillingness to in any way compromise on his progressive principles for the possible effect in New York city.

In all his speeches on his eastern tour Mr. Kern made a special plea to the laboring classes, for upon these he predicated his sole hope of carrying New York, New Jersey or Connecticut. At Bridgeport, Conn., he addressed his remarks exclusively to these.

On the 19th of October he went to Utica, the home city of Mr. Sherman, his Republican opponent. Here, to his surprise, he was given one of the most remarkable welcomes of his tour. Knowing of Mr. Sherman’s wonderful hold on the affections of his fellow citizens he was startled at the warmth of the greeting until he learned that his opponent had wired a request to his own followers to join in the general welcome. As he stepped upon the platform to face a great audience he was handed a personal telegram of welcome from Sherman, then touring the west. This was a touch that Kern could appreciate, for it smacked of himself, and his opening remarks were in a happy vein as he referred to the incident. His speech here was an attack upon the great trusts and on swollen fortunes made possible by special legislation. It was here he said that “the spending on one dinner by the ultra-rich of sufficient to feed a million starving men is doing more to foster socialism and anarchism than all the socialistic and anarchistic propaganda.”

If Utica was to be remembered by him as the scene of a pleasing act of chivalric courtesy, it was also to be associated with the most painful shock of the campaign. It was here that a telegram reached him announcing the serious condition of young John and summoning him to the bedside. He immediately canceled all engagements and left for Indianapolis. Reaching home in the early morning, worn with fatigue of travel and speaking, he took up his vigil by the sick boy’s bed, scarcely leaving his side. The next few days found the vice-presidential nominee in the sick room. On October 26th he arranged to keep in constant touch with his home, and left for a week of strenuous campaigning in Indiana. By using steam train, interurbans and automobiles he was able to cover the state from the river to the lake making many speeches each day. On the Friday night before the election he spoke to the people of Indianapolis at a great meeting at Tomlinson hall. During the days immediately preceding Andrew Carnegie had gravely announced his adherence to the cause of Taft and Protection, and this announcement, which was unnecessary, was followed by one equally unnecessary from John D. Rockefeller to the same effect. These announcements appealed to Mr. Kern’s sense of humor, and he discussed them with biting sarcasm.

Mr. Kern’s close of his Indiana campaign at Evansville on Saturday night was not to mark the end of his labors. On the insistence of the national committee he was hurried into northern Ohio for a number of speeches on the day before the election, and after a meteoric rush through numerous towns he spoke his last word at night at an important meeting at Toledo.

But as he turned toward home that night it was not of the battle of ballots on the morrow that he was thinking.

V

It was a sad group that gathered in the Kern library the night of the election. The returns were not the cause nor did they create much interest for the immediate family, which was alone; they were more intent on the news that the doctors and nurse were bringing from the room above where John, Jr., was fighting what then seemed to be a hopeless battle. He was not expected to live through the night. The fact that the little warrior’s mind was keen and alert that night only added a poignancy to the pathos. He won his battle; and on the morning after when Mrs. Kern entered the room the little fellow looked up anxiously:

“Mother, was father elected?”

Mrs. Kern hesitated a moment and then told the truth:

“No, John, your father was defeated.”

The boy closed his eyes tight and with the bitterness of childhood exclaimed:

“Uh! What fools the people of the United States are to turn down such a man as father.”

Later on, when the boy was on the road to ultimate recovery, this remark, rather pathetic at the time, took on a humorous side; and when two years later Vice-President Sherman was in Indianapolis and called at the Kern home the story was told for his amusement. To the surprise of every one the amusing feature of the story did not appeal to him. His eyes filled up, and tenderly placing his hand on the head of the boy, still crippled, he said gravely:

“My boy, the more I have seen of your father and the better I know him the more I am inclined to think you were right.”

This incident, so expressive of the sweetness and tenderness of Mr. Sherman, added to many other manifestations of his chivalry, endeared him to Mr. Kern. While no two men could possibly have differed more widely on almost every phase of public policy, a personal affection sprang up between them which lasted through the life of both. During the campaign the chivalry of Mr. Sherman was not confined to urging his supporters to give his opponent a royal welcome to Utica, nor to the personal telegram of greeting that was handed Mr. Kern that night on the platform. When the announcement went out from that city that the Democratic nominee had been summoned home by the serious illness of his boy, he had scarcely turned homeward when another telegram reached him from Mr. Sherman expressing his sympathy in tenderest phrasing. And when during the last week of the campaign a vicious personal attack was made on Kern by a New York paper, even before he had heard of it, his Republican opponent wired him of his personal disgust. When two years later Mr. Kern entered the Senate and had been sworn in, before he could reach his seat a page overtook him with a request from the vice-president for him to take the chair. And these instances of the beautiful chivalry of “Jim” Sherman might be multiplied. When the vice-president died Mr. Kern was one of the senators chosen to pay tribute to his memory at the impressive services in the Senate chamber attended by the president and his cabinet, the justices of the supreme court, the members of the House, and the diplomatic corps. The address he made on this occasion is the only one he delivered during his senatorial career in which he took special pride. He put his heart into it, for, like so many others who differed with him radically in politics, he had learned to love the man who defeated him for the vice-presidency in 1908.