I

Senator Kern with His First Grandchild, George B. Lawson, Jr., and Julia Kern LawsonSenator Kern with His First Grandchild, George B. Lawson, Jr., and Julia Kern Lawson

several prominent politicians who are still upon the scene.

ON the Saturday before the Baltimore convention met Senator Kern, who had gone to Kerncliffe for a much-needed rest, returned to Washington in comparative ignorance of the developments in the convention city. The news that awaited his return was not of a pleasant nature.

The more important news he learned that hot afternoon as he sat in front of the Congress Hall Hotel was that the National Committee had selected Alton B. Parker of New York for the temporary chairmanship to deliver the keynote speech and that this had been challenged by Mr. Bryan, who had made it quite clear that he would fight. At that time he had no idea that he would be called upon to play any part in the contest other than to cast his individual vote in the convention. But there were various embarrassing angles to the situation thus presented. Many years before he had formed a personal friendship for Judge Parker and this friendship had grown with the years. The National Committeeman from Indiana had voted for Parker, which complicated the situation from the viewpoint of state politics. He entertained a momentary fear that the prospective fight might tend to the disruption of the partyand the destruction of its prospects. But at the same time he understood perfectly the motives actuating Mr. Bryan and sympathized with them. With some forces known to be reactionary, lining up aggressively behind a man thought by the masses of the party west of the eastern mountains to be reactionary in his trend of thought, and with Mr. Bryan sounding the warning that the selection of that man for the temporary chairmanship would be a triumph for reaction, Senator Kern instantly knew his position in the fight. It was not a pleasant one; it came to be a far more important one than is generally known.

The National Committee had entrusted a sub-committee of eight to select the temporary chairman and this committee first proffered the position to Mr. Bryan, who declined, and then to Senator Kern, who refused to serve. It was the suggestion of both Mr. Bryan and Senator Kern that a thoroughly progressive Democrat, nationally known as such, should be chosen. The forces of Champ Clark had a candidate who measured up to the desired standard in Ollie James of Kentucky, then a member of the house, and the Wilson forces favored the election of Robert L. Henry, a representative from Texas, who also harmonized with Mr. Bryan’s idea of a temporary chairman. When the sub-committee met eight of the sixteen voted for Parker, three for James, three for Henry, one for Kern and one for O’Gorman.The one vote cast for Senator Kern was not the vote of the Indiana member, Mr. Taggart. The Indiana member did not vote for Kern because the senator had written him personally that he did not desire the position.

With this vote the fight passed to the full membership of the National Committee, and Bryan with a vigorous pen began a determined warfare through the press against the choice of the sub-committee. Realizing the importance of the issue, the Wilson followers, in view of Mr. Wilson’s telegram to Bryan accepting the latter’s view of the selection of Parker, withdrew the candidacy of Henry and went over to James. On the afternoon of the day before the full committee met in the evening, Bryan declared through the press that in the event the organization recommended Parker he would oppose him on the floor of the convention with another candidate. The issue was clean-cut. That night the full committee selected Parker by a vote of 32 to 20 for James and 2 for O’Gorman. The fight was on.

Mr. Bryan did not want to be the candidate against Parker. It was his plan to serve notice on the rank and file of the party throughout the country of the reactionary trend of the convention through a powerful speech he expected to make in presenting the name of his candidate. This he could not do were he himself the candidate. His first step was to askOllie James to permit the presentation of his name, but having been the avowed candidate before the committee of the Clark forces, the managers of the speaker of the house objected to James being a candidate. He then appealed to Senator O’Gorman, but found that he was pledged to Parker. Then it was he determined upon presenting the name of Senator Kern.

There were several reasons bearing on state politics which made the suggestion distasteful to Kern. He was interested in the nomination of Governor Marshall for the presidency, and the reasons which impelled the Clark forces to object to the candidacy of James made the idea unpleasant to the Indiana senator. All the various reasons were given Bryan in an effort to dissuade him from his plan to nominate Kern, but without effect. Meanwhile many of the senator’s friends became concerned over the proposal. While it did not operate in determining Kern’s state of mind, some of these friends, anticipating the long deadlock which occurred in the balloting for the presidency were convinced that should the convention be forced to go outside the list of avowed candidates no one would loom so promisingly as the Indiana senator, and they were anxious to prevent his prominence in connection with a fight. The strain told physically upon Kern. Many of his friends, and notably Senator Luke Lea of Tennessee,made frequent efforts to persuade the Nebraskan to nominate some other man. Mr. Kern himself had but little hope of their success. The night before the convention met while dining with Lea he made this clear. The Tennesseean made another trip to Bryan’s room and brought back the message that the latter had closed the subject with the remark, “I intend to nominate John to-morrow, and he will have to do what he thinks best about it.” It was after this that Kern himself made a last attempt. “He left my room,” writes Mr. Bryan to me, “late the night before the convention without a positive reply. He urged me to be a candidate, but did not decide the question whether he would accept. Next morning I heard a rumor that he might put me in nomination, but I had explained to him that I wanted to present to the convention the reasons why Parker should not be nominated and that I could only do that in a speech presenting the name of some one else. Not hearing directly from Kern, I presented his name and then he played his part, and it was a very skilful part.”

For the story of Senator Kern’s part between the time he left Mr. Bryan’s room late that night and the following morning I am indebted to Mrs. Kern, who was at the convention. He went directly to his own room and told Mrs. Kern everything that had transpired. He was so worried that he slept nonethat night, and his nervous condition brought on an illness that made sleep impossible. It was during that restless night that he planned his part on the morrow, and the first person to learn of his plans was Mrs. Kern, to whom he detailed his purpose early in the morning as he was sitting on the edge of his bed drawing on his shoes. With this exception he gave no indication of his intention. Contrary to the general assumption at the time that the scene in the convention that day had been planned by Mr. Bryan, the Commoner knew absolutely nothing about it until he witnessed it on the platform. “The plan was his own so far as I know,” Mr. Bryan tells me, “and no actor ever did his work more perfectly.”

Looking down from the gallery upon the convention that day one could easily imagine a storm-tossed sea. The excitement was intense. Great throngs futilely beat against the doors for admission. The day was intensely warm. The session was rich in the dramatic from the moment the venerable Cardinal Gibbons in his scarlet robes passed down the center aisle for the opening invocation until the result of the chairmanship fight was announced. The feeling on the part of Bryan’s enemies among the delegates had been intensified during the night, and there was some concern among the conservative and thoughtful lest the Commoner might be insulted so flagrantly as to result in a general resentment over the country.

When the familiar figure of the Commoner appeared in the convention he was given a remarkable ovation, and when a little later Senator Kern entered Bryan was given another demonstration. These exhibitions of devotion did not tend to sweeten the temper of his enemies, and when he appeared upon the platform to deliver his speech the hiss was not absent from the general turmoil. Seldom has the great orator appeared so majestic as he did in this fighting speech. There was something strangely hard, steel-like, in the man that those who had heard him frequently on less momentous occasions could not recognize. A more militant figure never faced a hostile crowd—and there were enough enemies in the convention to give it the appearance of hostility. Time and again he was compelled to pause by the hisses and imprecations, but he stood there immovable like a stonewall waiting for the storm to subside sufficiently for him to make his voice heard above the din. That speech made history—more so than the Cross of Gold speech in 1896. With the general purport of the speech we are not here concerned, for it is well known. But we are interested that in that portion of the speech having to do directly with Senator Kern. Here he said:

“It is only fair now that, when the hour of triumph has come, the song of victory should be sung by one whose heart has been in the fight. John W. Kernhas been faithful every day during these sixteen years. It has cost him time, it has cost him money, and it has cost him the wear of body and of mind. He has been giving freely of all that he had. Four years ago, when the foundation was laid for the present victory, it was John W. Kern who stood with me and helped to bring into the campaign the idea of publicity before the election which has now swept the country until even the Republican party was compelled by public opinion to give it unanimous indorsement only a few weeks ago.“It was John W. Kern who stood with me on that Denver platform that demanded the election of senators by a direct vote of the people, when a Republican national convention had turned it down by a vote of seven to one, and now he is in the United States senate, where he is measuring up to the high expectations of a great party.“He helped in the fight for the amendment authorizing an income tax, and he has lived to see a president who was opposed to us take that plank out of our platform and put it through the house and senate and to see thirty-four states of the union ratify it. And now he is leading the fight in the United States senate to purge that body of Senator Lorimer, who typifies the supremacy of corruption in politics.“What better man could we have to open a convention?“What better man could we have to represent the spirit of progressive Democracy?”

“It was John W. Kern who stood with me on that Denver platform that demanded the election of senators by a direct vote of the people, when a Republican national convention had turned it down by a vote of seven to one, and now he is in the United States senate, where he is measuring up to the high expectations of a great party.

“He helped in the fight for the amendment authorizing an income tax, and he has lived to see a president who was opposed to us take that plank out of our platform and put it through the house and senate and to see thirty-four states of the union ratify it. And now he is leading the fight in the United States senate to purge that body of Senator Lorimer, who typifies the supremacy of corruption in politics.

“What better man could we have to open a convention?

“What better man could we have to represent the spirit of progressive Democracy?”

As Mr. Bryan was concluding his remarkable speech Senator Kern appeared upon the platform.No one knew his intent. And when the Commoner sat down, both cheered and hissed, and Kern claimed the recognition of the chair, a hush of expectancy fell upon the great convention. Throughout his speech, in some respects one of the most dramatic and effective ever delivered at a national convention, he was given the most respectful attention. Pale and wan from his sleepless night, he looked frail, but his voice was in excellent condition, and the interest of the delegates in his message was so intense that little difficulty was found in hearing him in the most remote portions of the gallery. As he referred to the time in his youth when, in 1872 he attended a Democratic national convention in Baltimore and said that the enthusiasm for Democracy in his young heart then was “no greater than that which glowed in his old heart now” he made a subtle appeal. His almost affectionate reference to his personal friendship for Judge Parker predisposed the followers of the New Yorker to a friendly attitude toward the speaker. And when he made his dramatic personal appeal to Parker, seated in the New York delegation, to join with him in the interest of harmony in withdrawing, and in deciding upon some one of numerous men he mentioned, the scene was almost theatrical. Here and there were murmurs, and Parker was seen engaged in earnest, animated conversation with his colleagues. There is no record of the nature of that conversation.There can be little doubt, however, that had he been an absolutely free agent at that moment, with no sense of obligations to those who were supporting him, he would have responded in the spirit in which the proposition was submitted. With Kern standing in silence waiting for the hoped-for answer, with Parker surrounded by gesticulative men, with the convention growing nervous under the tension, the scene was almost theatrical. And when, on finding that Parker would not respond, Kern turned to Charles F. Murphy, the Tammany chief, referring to him as “the leader of the New York Democracy, who holds that democracy in the hollow of his hand” and made the appeal to him, it was as though a bomb had been dropped from the ceiling. Receiving no response from Murphy, who sat in his seat stolid and unmoved, the attitude of Kern changed instantly from supplication to defiance, and with the declaration that if the contest must be “between the people and the powers,” there was but one man to lead, and withdrew his own name and nominated Bryan it was like the startling effect of an unexpected thunderbolt. This remarkable speech follows:

“Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen of the Convention—I desire a hearing in order that I may state my reason for not desiring to enter the contest for temporary chairman of this convention. I believe that by forty years of service to my party I have earnedthe right to a hearing at the hands of a Democratic convention. I hail from the state of Indiana, which will shortly present to this convention for its consideration the name of one of the best, truest, and most gallant Democrats on earth, in the person of the Hon. Thomas R. Marshall, the governor of that state.“I desire to take no part in this convention that will in any wise militate against him or against his interests, which all true Indiana Democrats this day loyally support. I have been for many years a personal friend of the gentleman who has been named by the national committee. Many years ago, when Judge Parker and I were much younger than we are now, we met in a hotel in Europe and became warm personal friends. That was long before his elevation to the chief justiceship of the court of appeals of his state. Since that time I have enjoyed his friendship. He had had mine. I have accepted the hospitality of his home, and in 1904, when he was a candidate for the presidential nomination, moved largely by that personal friendship, I enlisted under his standard for the nomination long before the convention, and went through that great battle at St. Louis in his behalf. In that campaign, in response to a request of Judge Parker personally made to me, I, on account of my friendship for him, took the standard of a losing cause as candidate for governor of Indiana, and carried it on to defeat, but I hope not an inglorious defeat. In 1908 Judge Parker canvassed in my state for vice-president. Last year when I was a candidate for the national ticket, on which I was a candidate for the senate, in the midst of a heated contest, Judge Parker traveled from New York to Indianapolis to make a speech in my behalf.“We have been during all these years, and are now, personal friends. The greatest desire of my heart is the hope of a Democratic victory. I attended a national convention in Baltimore in 1872, before I had cast my vote, and my young heart was filled with no more enthusiasm for success that year than my old heart is now. I believe that Judge Parker is as earnestly in favor, as earnestly desirous of Democratic success this year as I am.“There are only a little over a thousand delegates in this convention; there are seven million Democrats between the oceans. There are millions of Democrats scattered from one end of this country to the other who at this hour are all looking with aching hearts upon the signs of discord that prevail here when there ought to be forerunners of victory in the shouts of this convention. Is there a man here who does not earnestly desire harmony to the end that there may be victory?“I am going to appeal now and here for that kind of harmony which will change the sadness which at this hour exists in millions of Democratic homes into shouts of joy and gladness.“My friend, Judge Parker, sits before me in this convention, he representing the national committee, I representing, not another faction, thank God, but representing perhaps another section, and we two men have it within our power to send these words of gladness flashing throughout the republic. If my friend will join with me now and here in the selection of a man satisfactory to us both; if he will stand in this presence with me and agree that that distinguished New Yorker who has brought more honor to the Empire state in the United States senate than it has had since the days of Frederick Kernan—James A. O’Gorman—this discord will cease in a moment and the great Democratic party will present a united front. Or if he will agree that that splendid representative from the state of Texas in that same body, Charles A. Culberson shall preside, or if he will agree upon that splendid parliamentarian, Henry D. Clayton of Alabama, or if he will agree upon that young Tennesseean, whose name is known in every home where chivalry abides—Luke Lea—this matter will be settled in a moment. Or if he will agree upon the blue-eyed statesman from Ohio, Governor James E. Campbell; or if he will agree upon the reformer governor of Missouri, ex-Governor Folk; or if he will agree on my own colleague, the stalwart Democrat from Indiana, Benjamin F. Shively, all this discord will cease.“Will some one for Judge Parker, will Judge Parker himself, meet me on this ground and aid in the solution of this problem, a solution of which means victory to the party and relief to the taxpayers of the country?“My fellow Democrats, you will not promote harmony, you will not point the way to victory, by jeering or deriding the name of the man who led your fortunes in 1908. You may put him to the wheel, you may humiliate him here, but in so doing you will bring pain to the hearts of six million men in America who would gladly die for him. You may kill him, but you do not commit homicide when you kill him; you commit suicide.“My friends, I have submitted a proposition to Judge Parker; I submit it to the man, the leader of the New York Democracy who holds that Democracy in the hollow of his hand. What response have I? (A pause.) If there is to be no response, then let the responsibility rest where it belongs. If Alton B. Parker will come here now and join me in this request for harmony, his will be the most honored of all the names amongst American Democrats.“If there is to be no response, if the responsibility is to rest there, if this is to be a contest between the people and the powers, if it is to be a contest such as has been described, a contest which I pray God may be averted, then the cause to which I belong is so great a cause that I am not fit to be its leader. If my proposition for harmony is to be ignored, and this deplorable battle is to go on, there is only one man fit to lead the hosts of progress, and that is the man who has been at the forefront for sixteen years, the great American tribune, William Jennings Bryan. If you will have nothing else, if that must be the issue, then the leader must be worthy of the cause, and that leader must be William Jennings Bryan.”

“I desire to take no part in this convention that will in any wise militate against him or against his interests, which all true Indiana Democrats this day loyally support. I have been for many years a personal friend of the gentleman who has been named by the national committee. Many years ago, when Judge Parker and I were much younger than we are now, we met in a hotel in Europe and became warm personal friends. That was long before his elevation to the chief justiceship of the court of appeals of his state. Since that time I have enjoyed his friendship. He had had mine. I have accepted the hospitality of his home, and in 1904, when he was a candidate for the presidential nomination, moved largely by that personal friendship, I enlisted under his standard for the nomination long before the convention, and went through that great battle at St. Louis in his behalf. In that campaign, in response to a request of Judge Parker personally made to me, I, on account of my friendship for him, took the standard of a losing cause as candidate for governor of Indiana, and carried it on to defeat, but I hope not an inglorious defeat. In 1908 Judge Parker canvassed in my state for vice-president. Last year when I was a candidate for the national ticket, on which I was a candidate for the senate, in the midst of a heated contest, Judge Parker traveled from New York to Indianapolis to make a speech in my behalf.

“We have been during all these years, and are now, personal friends. The greatest desire of my heart is the hope of a Democratic victory. I attended a national convention in Baltimore in 1872, before I had cast my vote, and my young heart was filled with no more enthusiasm for success that year than my old heart is now. I believe that Judge Parker is as earnestly in favor, as earnestly desirous of Democratic success this year as I am.

“There are only a little over a thousand delegates in this convention; there are seven million Democrats between the oceans. There are millions of Democrats scattered from one end of this country to the other who at this hour are all looking with aching hearts upon the signs of discord that prevail here when there ought to be forerunners of victory in the shouts of this convention. Is there a man here who does not earnestly desire harmony to the end that there may be victory?

“I am going to appeal now and here for that kind of harmony which will change the sadness which at this hour exists in millions of Democratic homes into shouts of joy and gladness.

“My friend, Judge Parker, sits before me in this convention, he representing the national committee, I representing, not another faction, thank God, but representing perhaps another section, and we two men have it within our power to send these words of gladness flashing throughout the republic. If my friend will join with me now and here in the selection of a man satisfactory to us both; if he will stand in this presence with me and agree that that distinguished New Yorker who has brought more honor to the Empire state in the United States senate than it has had since the days of Frederick Kernan—James A. O’Gorman—this discord will cease in a moment and the great Democratic party will present a united front. Or if he will agree that that splendid representative from the state of Texas in that same body, Charles A. Culberson shall preside, or if he will agree upon that splendid parliamentarian, Henry D. Clayton of Alabama, or if he will agree upon that young Tennesseean, whose name is known in every home where chivalry abides—Luke Lea—this matter will be settled in a moment. Or if he will agree upon the blue-eyed statesman from Ohio, Governor James E. Campbell; or if he will agree upon the reformer governor of Missouri, ex-Governor Folk; or if he will agree on my own colleague, the stalwart Democrat from Indiana, Benjamin F. Shively, all this discord will cease.

“Will some one for Judge Parker, will Judge Parker himself, meet me on this ground and aid in the solution of this problem, a solution of which means victory to the party and relief to the taxpayers of the country?

“My fellow Democrats, you will not promote harmony, you will not point the way to victory, by jeering or deriding the name of the man who led your fortunes in 1908. You may put him to the wheel, you may humiliate him here, but in so doing you will bring pain to the hearts of six million men in America who would gladly die for him. You may kill him, but you do not commit homicide when you kill him; you commit suicide.

“My friends, I have submitted a proposition to Judge Parker; I submit it to the man, the leader of the New York Democracy who holds that Democracy in the hollow of his hand. What response have I? (A pause.) If there is to be no response, then let the responsibility rest where it belongs. If Alton B. Parker will come here now and join me in this request for harmony, his will be the most honored of all the names amongst American Democrats.

“If there is to be no response, if the responsibility is to rest there, if this is to be a contest between the people and the powers, if it is to be a contest such as has been described, a contest which I pray God may be averted, then the cause to which I belong is so great a cause that I am not fit to be its leader. If my proposition for harmony is to be ignored, and this deplorable battle is to go on, there is only one man fit to lead the hosts of progress, and that is the man who has been at the forefront for sixteen years, the great American tribune, William Jennings Bryan. If you will have nothing else, if that must be the issue, then the leader must be worthy of the cause, and that leader must be William Jennings Bryan.”

As Kern concluded, weak from a sleepless night and an enervating ailment, a friend took him by the arm and led him, “ashen hued and sick,” as the press reports described his appearance, from the stage. He passed within arm’s reach of Bryan, butnot a word was exchanged between the two, nor even a look. The move Kern made was as much of a surprise to Bryan as to Parker. It was not a prearranged affair. There was no sharp practice in it. But it was an earnest effort of a loyal Democrat to pour oil upon the troubled waters and prevent a battle between members of the same army. As he spoke the expression on Bryan’s face clearly denoted his surprise. As he proceeded the expression of surprised anxiety gradually gave way to one of satisfaction and then to frank admiration. And when he was led from the stage, the Commoner in a dramatic manner accepted the commission which had been handed back to him. Had Bryan been a candidate originally the progressives of the country would not have had the warning of the reactionary plot. Had Kern remained silent and permitted the convention to vote between himself and Judge Parker without first submitting his series of compromise proposals, any of which should have been acceptable, the country might not have understood that there was a “rule or ruin” policy behind the men who presented Parker’s name. Thus Kern’s speech was quite as effective and important as that of Bryan.

Still it was not Senator Kern’s purpose to embarrass Judge Parker, in whose personal devotion to the party he had the most perfect confidence. He did entertain the hope that the New York jurist wouldmeet him on the ground of a general conciliation. But when it became apparent that Parker was so situated that he could not respond to what must have been his natural impulse, and Kern made his appeal to Charles F. Murphy it was not so much with the thought that he might accept as with the intention to placing the responsibility and giving it “a local habitation and a name.”

Among Kern’s enemies there was a disposition to disseminate the idea that his action had compromised his personal popularity. Nothing could have been farther from the fact. The United Press on the following day properly gauged the effect when it said that “Kern’s efforts to obtain harmony in his personal appeal to Parker to withdraw in the interest of the party has added to his popularity among the men who championed Parker’s cause.”

That night he saw Bryan for the first time after the late parting of the night before. Accompanied by Mrs. Kern he called at Bryan’s rooms, where he found the Commoner in the center of his reception room surrounded by a crowd. Catching sight of the senator, Bryan broke through the crowd, his face wreathed in the Bryanic smile, and placing his arm affectionately about Kern’s shoulders, he said delightedly:

“How did you ever come to think of it? That was the smartest thing you ever did.”

Mr. Bryan publicly expressed his view of the performance in his newspaper article of the next morning:

“I think the reader, when he has fully digested this scheme (Kern’s) will admit that it is about as good an illustration as has been seen in many a day of the manner in which tact and patriotism can be combined. After I had put Senator Kern in nomination against Parker, he took the platform and made a most forcible and eloquent plea for harmony in the convention. He called attention to the great issues involved and to the importance of presenting a united front. He then presented a list of names.... He called upon Parker, who sat just in front of him, to join him in withdrawing in favor of any one of these men in order that the convention might operate without discord. It was a dramatic moment. Such an opportunity seldom comes to a man. If Parker had accepted it it would have made him the hero of the convention. There was a stir in his neighborhood in a moment. The bosses flocked about him, and the convention looked on in breathless anxiety, but he did not withdraw. The opportunity passed unimproved. Senator Kern then appealed to Mr. Murphy to induce Judge Parker to withdraw, but Mr. Murphy was not in a compromising mood. This was the only thing that Senator Kern did, the good faith of which could be questioned. I am afraid that he had no great expectation of melting the stony heart of the Tammany boss. At any rate nothing came of the generous offer made by Mr. Kern except that itshifted to the shoulders of Judge Parker and his supporters entire responsibility for any discord that might grow out of the contest.”

Such is the true story of Kern’s part in the great fight over the temporary chairmanship which did more to determine the progressive trend of the convention than everything else combined. The defeat of Bryan by a small margin aroused the rank and file of the party everywhere, and the wires to Baltimore were burdened with thousands of indignant telegrams of protest which made a profound impression upon the delegates and made quite impossible a repetition of such a fight, on such an issue, and with such a result.

After the country had been heard from there was a general disposition to give the progressives the right of way. Ollie James was made permanent chairman. And Senator Kern was made chairman of the committee on Resolutions.

When the committee on Resolutions met there was a desire to make Mr. Bryan its chairman, but he refused to serve in that capacity, desiring a freer hand to dealing with the convention than would be compatible with presiding over the deliberations of the committee. It is significant of Senator Kern’s position in the party at that hour that with Bryan’s declination the committee turned instantly to him. Partly because of his physical condition he at first declined, but was finally prevailed upon to accept. The United Press gave the true reason for his unanimous selection when it said that “Senator Kern was turned to at once as representing the progressive Democracy.” It has always been customary for the committee to report after the nomination of a candidate for president, but immediately after its organization Mr. Bryan offered a resolution providing for a report on the platform before the nomination, and urging as a reason that no man should be nominated who did not square with the platform of the party. There was some dissent, but the resolution was passed, and the grind of work began at once and was incessant until completed. Without detracting from the importance of numerous members of the committee it is unquestionably true that the three men who exercised more influence perhaps than any others were Bryan, Senator O’Gorman and Senator Kern.

The platform agreed upon was one of the most progressive on which any candidate of any party ever ran and was in complete accord with the views of its chairman. Senator Kern read the resolutions to the convention and moved their adoption, and they were accepted without a contest of any character.

It is but proper that Senator Kern’s relation to the presidential nomination should be disclosed, for his was the name that hovered over the convention constantly as the most probable compromise selection in the event of a hopeless deadlock. Because of the persistency of the “Kern talk” there has been from hostile quarters a tendency to question his loyalty to the candidacy of Governor Marshall; and during the prevalence of the talkThe New York World’sconvention correspondent attempted to create the impression that the reactionary forces were working quietly for the nomination of the man who next to Bryan did more to force the convention into progressive channels than any man in it.

Senator Kern was as loyal as it was possible for man to be to the candidacy of the Indiana governor. He felt that Mr. Marshall had many elements of strength and looked upon him as a possible compromise between the two leading candidates in the event of a deadlock. Under these circumstances he frowned down any suggestion of his own name as calculated to weaken the prospects of Indiana’s candidate by casting suspicion upon the sincerity of Indiana’s support. I had personal evidence of this of the most positive character.

Several months before the convention, as the number of candidates multiplied and the possibility ofcomplications developed, a number of prominent politicians of a Pacific coast state wrote Senator Kern expressing a desire to launch his candidacy in that state, and to follow it immediately with the organization of “Kern for President” clubs. Assuming of course that a letter of such importance should be answered personally, I placed the letter in his hands. He was seated at his desk writing, and, as usual, smoking. He read it through carefully, a puzzled expression on his face, and then with a quizzical smile he handed it back.

“Aren’t you going to answer it?” he was asked.

By this time he had resumed his writing.

“No—you acknowledge it,” he said, still writing.

“What shall I say?”

“Say that I am not and will not be a candidate; that Indiana has a candidate and one that would give a good account of himself.” That is the kind of letter, not even bearing Kern’s signature, that went back to men of real political potentiality on the Pacific coast. After that many other people in different parts of the country outside Indiana wrote along the same line. These letters were always shown Kern, but with the exception of the first one not one of these was read through to the end, and in every case a letter similar in character to the one he ordered written in the first instance was sent. After a while he was clearly annoyed and disturbed by the suggestion theseletters conveyed. He simply ignored them, refused to seriously consider them, and evidently preferred not to see them.

In Indiana he had many importunate friends who insisted on making him a candidate against his will, and with these he dealt directly and always with the stern injunction that they do absolutely nothing that could possibly create the impression outside the state that there was any divided opinion in the state regarding the position the state should take on the presidency.

This dangling of a possible prize before him was carried to the convention on the day it met and was never permitted out of his range of vision up to the very day that Woodrow Wilson was nominated. Mr. Bryan tells me that one of the reasons given him by Kern for his opposition to being nominated for the temporary chairmanship was the fact that “he was embarrassed by the fact that he was being mentioned for the presidency by men in other delegations” and such prominence as might follow his nomination for the chairmanship might be falsely interpreted as a bid for the prize. On the second day of the convention the Associated Press carried the story that many astute politicians had reached the conclusion that under the two-thirds rule of Democratic conventions none of the avowed candidates could be nominated and that “some of the progressives” had commencedto “test sentiment for Kern” and that the movement had “gained considerable momentum.” On that day it was a commonplace comment about the hotel lobbies that the nominee “would be Wilson or Kern.” And on that day men of much political importance in other states than Indiana began to interest themselves in “testing sentiment for Kern.” The theory of these men was that when the “conservatives” found they could not nominate Clark or Harmon, and the “progressives” learned they could not nominate Wilson, both elements would find in Kern the satisfactory way out. And during that time Kern was importuned, and harassed, every hour of the day, dragged from the Resolutions committee to meet delegates anxious to vote for him, followed to his room at night. When the movement reached such proportions as to seem serious he took the position that as long as there was any possibility of the nomination of any of the avowed candidates, and as long as there was any chance of a compromise on Marshall his name should not under any circumstances appear in the balloting.

Long before the various candidates had been formally presented to the convention it required no extraordinary perspicacity on the part of veterans of national conventions to see that none of the avowed candidates could or would be nominated without prolonged balloting, and that there was a strong possibility of a hopeless deadlock. It did not require many ballots to justify the fear. In the resulting discussion of a compromise candidate or “dark horse” no name appeared with such frequency as that of Kern. Although he was constantly holding his friends in check this did not spare him from the suspicion of some and the open criticism of others.The New York Worldsounded a “note of warning” in a direct charge that “the reactionaries of the convention” were planning to throw the nomination to Senator Kern to prevent it from going to Wilson. The absurdity of the assumption that “reactionaries” would be interested in the nomination of the progressive leader of Indiana, who had been intimately identified with the reform measures of Mr. Bryan was not explained. The truth is that the men who were drawn to the Kern solution of a deadlock were found among members of both wings of the party. But the men who gave the movement impetus in the beginning and remained throughout the most faithful to it were progressives of the most militant stripe. Among them were men whose first choice were Wilson, Clark, Harmon and Marshall. The Underwood forces alone contributed no support to the movement. The most active and aggressive sponsor of the Kern compromise idea in the event the deadlock continued long enough to engender bitterness was Senator Luke Lea of Tennessee, whose first choice was Wilson.

The name of Kern appeared for the first time in the balloting on the third ballot when a delegate from Ohio went to him. After that there was scarcely a ballot in which he did not appear usually with one vote, frequently with two and sometimes with more. This was only significant in that it kept his name constantly before the convention as a way out.

On June 29th, three days before the nomination of Wilson, the Associated Press carried the story of the “dark horse” talk and said that “the names of Kern and Gaynor are most frequently mentioned;” and on the same day the United Press announced that Kern would not be a candidate until it had been clearly demonstrated that Wilson, Clark or Marshall could not be nominated, and that Indiana would then lead the way, to be followed by Illinois.

During these days no man did more to hold the Indiana delegation together for Marshall than Senator Kern. When on the 29th ballot Major G. V. Menzies of Indiana broke the solidarity of the delegation by voting for Kern no man resented it more than the senator, who was more embarrassed than flattered. To all Indianians who called upon him at his room with the suggestion that the “time has come to break from Marshall”—and there were many both on and off the delegation—he stubbornly refused to listen. The thought behind his uncompromising attitude was that once the delegation broke away fromits instructions there was no certainty that the majority would not ultimately find their way into the camp of ultra-conservativism.

Meanwhile he was given to understand that Illinois was ready at any moment Indiana led the way to transfer her vote to him, and he had good reasons for assuming that with his consent he could have the support of Ohio. In the event such a “drive” had been undertaken, assurances were given by men of potentiality that Michigan would follow and that far western states such as Colorado and Wyoming would fall in line. It was a tremendous temptation that was placed before him, and the very incongruity of the company urging it—progressives and bosses—would have made it seem to one less astute and less given to analysis as peculiarly auspicious. The feeling between the followers of the two leading candidates was hourly intensifying. The delegates were tired, and many financially embarrassed by the unexpected prolongation of the convention and were anxious to get away. If at such an hour and under such circumstances three such states as Indiana, Illinois and Ohio had bolted toward a dark horse, followed by Michigan and states from the far west and from the south, it might have resulted in a stampede and his nomination. It was Kern’s personal opinion that it might result in throwing the convention into a turmoil of uncertainty out of whichwould come the nomination of a reactionary; and such he believed to be the intent of some who were most insistent on his giving consent. He refused his consent.

At no time did Mr. Bryan give any encouragement to those who tried to interest him in Kern as a compromise candidate. This led to the silly story that the two former running mates had cooled toward one anther because “Kern had not warmed up to Bryan’s convention propositions.” It was immediately after this story became current, at a time when there was much speculation as to whether the convention would be compelled to adjourn without making a nomination, that Mr. Bryan, in an interview suggesting possible compromise candidates, named Kern, Ollie James, Senator O’Gorman and Senator Culbertson as a list from which a selection might be made. The fact that Kern was first in the list was immediately seized upon as evidence of Bryan’s partiality to his nomination, and that same day bets were offered that he would be nominated. Speaking of Kern, Mr. Bryan said:

“Senator Kern of Indiana already has received the support of nearly six million and a half of Democrats for the vice-presidency, and since that time he not only has been elected to the United States senate, but has distinguished himself among his associates by the prominent part he has taken. He is the leaderof the fight against Senator Lorimer. If there can be no agreement upon any of those now being balloted for it ought to be easy to compromise on a man like Senator Kern.”

Then the drift toward Wilson began with the action of Bryan in withdrawing his vote from Clark because of the action of Tammany in throwing him its support and casting it for the New Jersey governor. It was the beginning of the end. On the day following the action of Bryan Senator Kern in a statement given toThe Indianapolis Newscorrespondent declared that the Indiana delegation was “first, last and all the time for Governor Marshall and had no second choice,” but added that the second choice of the people of Indiana was probably Wilson. From this time on the probability of a “dark horse” dwindled and the convention hurried to the conclusion of its work with the nomination of the ticket of Wilson and Marshall.

No single man with the probable exception of Bryan was more instrumental in the general result of the Baltimore convention than John W. Kern.

His dramatic action in the chairmanship fight had done more than any other one thing could to throw the burden of responsibility for the contest upon the reactionaries; his work on the committee on Resolutions made for progressivism; and his refusal under great pressure to permit the use of his name inthe convention for the purpose of breaking away from the avowed candidates probably made the nomination of Wilson possible; and the support given the candidacy of Governor Marshall by the delegation of a doubtful state like Indiana no doubt made his selection for the vice-presidency logical and inevitable.

But the emotional conflicts through which he passed during those steaming days left him in a state of physical exhaustion from which he did not recover during the summer.

THE result of the election of 1912 was inevitable from the moment Mr. Roosevelt, in a pique because of his rejection by the Republican National Convention, organized a third party and accepted the presidential nomination upon its ticket. For the first time in many years the Democrats awoke the morning following the election to find themselves overwhelmingly triumphant, with Woodrow Wilson elected to the presidency, the Democratic majority in the house greatly increased, and the Republican majority in the senate swept away. But long before the rank and file of the party had permitted the bonfires to smoulder, the responsible leaders had sobered into a solemn realization of the gravity of the duty they would assume after the inauguration. The party had won by a minority vote, and the tenure of its power would depend upon the sincerity with which it met its pre-election obligations. The first two years of the Democratic administration would determine to a large extent the verdict of the public. The program of reformatory and constructive legislation promised in the platform and advocated by the leaders from Mr. Wilson down during the campaign was extensive; and it was to assumepower, after years of opposition, with the suspicion, carefully fostered by Republican speakers and papers for almost half a century, that it was utterly lacking in the qualities of constructive statesmanship. More disturbing to Democrats, however, it was to assume power with painful memories of the schisms which had wrecked it during its brief tenure between 1893 and 1895. The trouble then had developed from the fact that the Democratic organization in the senate was under the domination of men who were not in sympathy with the party platform. And the meager majority in the Democratic senate served to accentuate the fear from this quarter. From the house no fear was entertained. There Champ Clark presided over a great majority, fresh from contact with the people. But in the senate, with the Republicans voting together, the disaffection of three Democrats on any measure would leave the Democratic party in a minority. And the haunting fear of those possible three conjured up visions of Hill, Brice and Smith.

It is not an exaggeration to say that when Woodrow Wilson took the oath of office the fate of the Democratic party for at least a generation rested with the small majority in the senate.

The sixty-third congress ushered into this body eleven new Democratic senators, and among them were several men of unusual capacity. New England, so recently hide-bound in its republicanism, sent Henry Hollis of New Hampshire, a young man of constructive ability and progressive principles. New Jersey contributed a second Democrat in William Hughes, a radical, and an ardent supporter of the new president. Little Delaware turned again to a distinguished Democratic family which had previously been represented in the senate and sent Willard Saulsbury, who was known to be in hearty sympathy with the Baltimore platform. From Kentucky appeared the eloquent Ollie James, the idol of the progressives from coast to coast, and from Illinois the equally eloquent and brilliant James Hamilton Lewis, in whom equal confidence was felt. From Colorado, Governor Shafroth, a veteran in the battles for reform; from Montana, the scholarly, clear-thinking and progressive Thomas J. Walsh, destined to become a pillar of strength to the cause he had always stood for; from Mississippi, James K. Vardaman, who had been nominated over his predecessor in the senate on the issue of progressivism; from Louisiana, Joseph E. Ransdell, concerning whom no fears were entertained; and from Kansas, William H. Thompson, uncompromisingly progressive.

Of the eleven new Democratic senators there was not one whose record and principles did not harmonize with the program the party had promised the people in the platform adopted at Baltimore. And

Kern on His Way to the CapitolKern on His Way to the Capitol

the Democrats who had entered but two years before—men such as Kern, O’Gorman, Lea, Williams, Ashurst, Pomerene, Reed, Myers and Johnson—were looked to with equal assurance. These twenty men, all fresh from the people and temperamentally progressive in their principles, together with some of the older senators in point of service, like Shively of Indiana and Stone of Missouri, were expected by the rank and file to hold the Democratic senate true to the Democratic platform, and to sustain the president in his program.

The short and last session of the sixty-second congress was unimportant in regard to legislation and senators, especially on the Democratic side, gave themselves up largely to personal and party politics. The Republicans could only sit back and wait. To Democrats, and especially they who had entered two years before, the future organization of the senate was the matter of prime importance. The newly elected men who were to be sworn in on March 4th came and went. Without exception they entered heartily into the views of the militantly progressive element that the logic of the situation called for a reorganization, with a new leader and new rules that would make legislation more responsive to the popular will. The congress had not been in session two days before the determination had been reached to challenge the old regime in the coming caucus bypresenting a candidate in opposition to the re-election of Senator Martin to the leadership. Even before the congress had convened some of the leaders in the new movement had been in communication with the newly elected senators and a day or two of canvassing among the older members convinced them that a new leader could and should be chosen.

In all of these preliminary maneuvers and conferences Senator Kern had no part, and he was so occupied until after the holiday recess with the trial of the Structural Iron Workers in the Federal Court at Indianapolis that he had no time for seriously considering the reorganization of the senate. He had been retained for the defense at a time when there was no reason for assuming that the trial would stretch out until December, but he was unable to make his closing argument until after the congressional recess.

The first indication he had that the reorganization movement had again been started and that his name was being considered in connection with the leadership came in the form of a telegram from one of the leaders to the effect that the former opposition to the old regime had “been strengthened by recruits,” that these, with the new senators, would be “sufficient to elect,” and asking for personal assurance of Kern’s co-operation in the movement and of his willingness to accept the chairmanship of the committee on Committees. It was characteristic of Senator Kern that he wired the assurance of his co-operation in the movement and gave no encouragement to the proposal to elect him to the leadership. This telegram was sent just one week after the opening of the short session.

On Sunday evening, the latter part of February, about thirty of the fifty-one Democratic members of the senate met in conference at the home of Senator Luke Lea on Massachusetts avenue to determine upon their candidate for the leadership. At this meeting the qualifications of several men were considered, and one by one all were eliminated until only Senator Kern remained. No effort had been made to secure support for him, nor was he present at the conference. Thus without even expressing a desire for the position he was selected unanimously by the conferees after a process of elimination.

Never before in the history of the senate had any member been called to the leadership of the majority of that body after only two years of service in it. There were many reasons entering into the selection. The first qualification and the one of prime importance was that the leader should be known nationally as a progressive in complete harmony with the Baltimore platform and with the program of the incoming president. No member of the senate met these requirements more fully. His entire life politicallywas in harmony with the program, and he had been chairman of the committee on Resolutions at the national convention.

In this qualification he did not stand alone. But there were other requirements. With such a meager majority, when the disaffection of three Democrats might wreck the party program and renew the disaster of the second Cleveland administration, nothing was more essential than the possession of infinite tact. This he was known to possess in a marked degree. And along with tact, ineffable patience.

During the two years succeeding the inauguration the program of the administration could have been hopelessly wrecked and the party discredited as a constructive force through the impetuosity of a hot-headed leader, or one unable to restrain his impatience or disgust. Senator Joseph W. Bailey, one of the most brilliant senators in half a century, once frankly admitted his unfitness for the leadership on that account. The conditions called for a conciliator, and here personal popularity was important. No one was more generally popular than Kern. And along with his tact, patience and popularity, his reputation for hard common sense and practicability operated to make his election more feasible than that of any one else. And his forty years of unselfish service to his party gave assurance that with him charged with responsibility there would be no successful surprise attacks of the opposition because of any slackening of vigilance.

The announcement that the conference had been held and Senator Kern determined upon as the candidate of the “new deal” element practically ended the contest. It was not a secret that President Wilson would be entirely satisfied to risk his measures in the senate under his leadership. Five days after the thirty senators met at the home of Senator Lea the announcement was made that Senator Martin would not be a candidate for re-election. And when the caucus met, on March 5th, Senator Kern was unanimously elected.

In his first act as leader of the Democratic majority, the appointment of the committee on Committees, popularly known as the Steering committee, which is charged with the general formulation of the policies and program, he gave evidence of the conciliatory tone his leadership would assume. He might have packed the committee with radicals, but that would have been a challenge, and his course throughout was to be one of conciliation. Senator Martin was appointed along with Senator Clark of Arkansas to represent the conservatives, but with Chamberlain, Owen, O’Gorman, Hoke Smith, Lea and Thomas the committee was safely progressive. The revolutionary nature of the selections, however, appeared in the fact that of the nine members Kern,O’Gorman and Lea had only been in the senate two years, Hoke Smith less than two years, and Thomas had just taken his seat—five of the nine being new figures. Thus from the first step the old, superannuated and unpopular rule of seniority which in the days of the Aldrich domination a few men were able to control legislation and to a large degree effect the usefulness of members through committee assignments, was made the object of attack. If the rule of “seniority” was not destroyed in 1913 it was so badly shattered that it could easily have been given the finishing stroke.

In the appointment of the committees the tact of Senator Kern and his co-workers on the committee was noted by theReview of Reviews. His first purpose was to make the personnel of the important committees safely progressive, and after that to come as nearly satisfying or reconciling everybody as possible. This presented a seemingly impossible puzzle. Men who under the old regime and methods would have stepped without a struggle into coveted places found themselves compelled to choose between important assignments instead of taking both. During the time the committee was at work Senator Kern was pulled and hauled and importuned by senators who threatened in some instances and sulked in others. At times the task of organizing the senate for business without creating animosities that wouldseriously disturb the unity essential to Democratic achievement seemed hopeless. But Kern’s tact, persuasion and hard common sense prevailed over all difficulties, and when the work was completed every senator with one exception expressed satisfaction with the arrangement. This one exception was Senator Bacon of Georgia, who wished to hold two coveted places—the chairmanship of the committee on Foreign Relations and the position of president pro tem. He was given the more important chairmanship, and Senator Clark of Arkansas, an ultra conservative, was made president pro tem. However, such was the tact and kindliness of Senator Kern, who greatly admired the exceptional ability of the venerable Georgian that the latter soon forgot his disappointment.

In making the committee assignments the rule of seniority was set aside without compunction when it seemed necessary to making the senate progressive. There was no disposition to punish the ultra-conservatives or to humiliate them in any way. Because he was, at the time, looked upon as holding high protective views, there was a clamor among the radical tariff reformers against permitting Senator Simmonds, the ranking Democratic member of the Finance committee, to serve as its chairman. He was appointed chairman, but with Stone of Missouri, Williams of Mississippi, Johnson of Maine, Shivelyof Indiana, Gore of Oklahoma, Smith of Georgia, Thomas of Colorado, James of Kentucky and Hughes of New Jersey—all progressives and low-tariff men—upon the committee with him.

A new committee on Banking and Currency was created with Senator Owens as chairman and composed of men holding progressive views on currency legislation. This committee, instantly recognized as significant in view of the president’s campaign advocacy of currency reform, was to stand sponsor for the Federal Reserve system, conceded to be the greatest piece of constructive legislation in half a century.

Another new committee was created to handle Woman’s Suffrage legislation, and the liberal attitude of the new senate leaders toward the woman’s movement was shown in the appointment of Senator Thomas, an ardent advocate of suffrage to the chairmanship, and the friendly attitude of the majority of the senators composing it. This within itself indicated a radical change in the spirit of the senate, which had always before been prone to make short shift of bills and resolutions dealing with the suffrage question.

The election of Senator Kern as caucus chairman was the first sign that a new senate had been created; the announcement of the committee assignments was second, and this attracted wide attention and much discussion in the press.The Literary Digestfoundthat “the reorganization of the senate has been accomplished in a way paralleling the overturn of Cannonism in the house by the practical abolition of the seniority rule in making up committees.”The Brooklyn Eagle,The Washington TimesandThe Washington Heraldmade the point that the senate had really become the more radical of the two branches of the congress.The Springfield RepublicanandThe Providence Journalcommended “the throwing off of the customary control of a perpetual succession based on seniority of service.” And Senator Kern in giving to the press his own interpretation of the action of the steering committee said it was the intention to make the senate “Democratic not only in name but in practical results.”

That, however, did not conclude the Democratization of the senate, for new rules were adopted which deprived chairmen of the arbitrary control over legislation which had been their portion during the long period of Aldrich-Hale rule. These rules provided that a majority of the committee might call the committee together at any time for the consideration of any pending bill; that a majority of the majority members might name sub-committees to consider pending measures and report to the full committee; and that a majority of the majority members might name members to confer with the house conferees on any bill on which the two houses mightdisagree. Strangely enough the adoption of these significant new rules which struck at the root of the evils of the old system failed to make much of an impression upon the press, which for the most part, passed them by without comment.The Review of Reviews, however, caught the significance and said that “even more significant than the personal changes which bring a new set of men into control of a body so recently managed by the extreme conservatives of both parties are the changes in the rules.”

The system thus displaced had long been recognized among progressives familiar with its mode of operation as sinister in the extreme. The chairman of a committee could indefinitely postpone action on any bill which did not appeal to him by refusing to call the committee together for its consideration.

If he did finally call the committee he had the autocratic power to name a sub-committee for its consideration packed with its enemies, who could be depended upon to bring in an unfavorable report. More sinister still, perhaps, was his power to select the conferees in the case of a disagreement between the two houses because the measure as passed by the senate could be radically altered in conference and completely changed from the form in which it left the senate and could only be rejected or accepted without amendment on its resubmission to the senate.

The new senate really deprived the chairman of acommittee of any real power in excess of that of any of his colleagues on the committee and reduced him to the harmless status of a presiding officer.

Thus the election of Senator Kern to the leadership of the majority at the beginning of the first Wilson administration, with all that followed in keeping with the meaning of that selection, marked a revolutionary change in the United States senate, broke down the fetish of the seniority rule, smashed superannuated precedents and traditions, made difficult if not impossible the domination of the body by a small coterie of men entrenched in powerful chairmanships, and did more toward the democratization of the senate than had been done in half a century. And, what was more remarkable, it was all done with such tact and fairness that within a week the Democratic majority, small as it was, presented to the opposition a solid front prepared to make good the progressive pledges of the Baltimore platform and the pre-election speeches of President Wilson. How faithfully and effectively and unselfishly Senator Kern did his work during the four years of his leadership and especially during the first two years which were crowded as never before in history with vitally important constructive legislation will be discussed later in a single chapter.

SCARCELY had Senator Kern assumed the leadership of the senate until he was engaged in the most notable and bitter battle of his career against the feudalism of the coal barons of West Virginia. His resolution for a senatorial investigation into the conditions in the Paint Creek district where anarchy was apparently in full flower, with the constitutional guaranties of citizens brushed aside, and men being tried for their lives by drumhead courtmartials while the civil courts were open, was the signal for the marshaling of an army of opposition embracing railroads, coal operators, bankers, all the powerful moneyed interests. Never before in history, in a distinct fight between the working classes on the one side and the great interests on the other, had the masses won in the senate. Never before had a senator just assuming leadership so audaciously challenged defeat. And he won.

But to appreciate the significance of his triumph it is necessary to record something of the ineffable inhumanity of the industrial feudalism which had been established through the employment of armies of gun-men, the subsidization of the press, the prostitution of the courts, the cringing sycophancy of politicians, and the organization of bi-partisan political machines to meet the demands of greed.

It must be a startling story—a story of greed fattening upon the hunger of children, of the trampling of inalienable rights, of the kicking to death of unborn babes by brutes untouched by the law, of the murder of women, and the shooting of unarmed men in the night—a story of tyranny and brutality as infamous and cruel as was ever born of the dynasty of the Romanoffs.

And this story, which shocked the most conservative members of the senate, and shamed a republic, must be told primarily because the American people have been told too little of it. And it must be told in the story of Kern as an illumination of his political character and as an explanation of the bitter hostility with which his course was viewed by such a large portion of “our best people” in his own state.

The story, of the “Kern Resolution” is the story of Kern. But behind the resolution itself is a story that must be told if we are to understand the full significance of it.

COAL has been the crown and the crime of West Virginia. The second state in the union in its deposits of coal, the industrial, social and political life of the commonwealth revolves about the mine. Until a few years ago there was no organization among the miners. They were industrial slaves. The living conditions under which they worked were horrible beyond description. They had no rights that the coal barons were bound to respect, and none that the civil authorities apparently cared to enforce. In the Paint Creek and Cabin Creek sections in the county of the state capital these conditions existed for years. They were robbed of the full fruit of their labors by a system which denied them the privilege of having a representative in the weighing of the coal they produced. Compelled to live in the cottages of the companies, they were charged unreasonable rentals for impossible huts. Forced to purchase their food from the company stores, they were made to pay on an average of thirty per cent more for the food necessities of life than were being charged at independent stores.

From their meager pay the companies deducted every month $6 for rent, $1 for coal, $1 for a physician, 20 cents as a hospital fund, 50 cents for the blacksmith, 80 cents per gallon for miners’ oil, and for various other things approximating an average of $11.05 each month. By the time the miner with a family had paid all this and for the bare necessities of life he was usually in debt to the company. Thus a form of peonage—peonage in reality if not in the legal sense—was established. These men were slaves.

It was the game of the companies to keep them slaves. They thought it paid better than to have free men. And to this end these companies perfected a remarkable organization to prevent the unionization of the miners. This organization was known as “mine guards,” and the miners were compelled to pay the bills. These guards were furnished by the Baldwin-Felts agency and were composed largely of the scourings of the slums of cities. These gun-men had no legal status but the miners were forced to recognize their authority—and their authority was a gun.

The pretext for the use of these armed thugs was the protection of the mines, the purpose was to prevent the organizers of the United Mine Workers from entering the field, to prohibit newspaper men from visiting the camps and exposing the infamy, to forbid the miners from exercising their constitutional right to meet in peaceful assembly for the discussion of their wrongs. The purpose was to Siberianize West Virginia. And the purpose was met.

They were there to terrorize over the miners, to panhandle newspaper men and beat up the organizers of the United Mine Workers—and they did their work with a zest.

These guards met the trains regularly and every organizer of the United Mine Workers understood that if he left the train he did so at the peril of his life. This condition existed for years within a fewmiles of the state capital, within little more than two hundred miles of the capital of the republic and was known to exist. The riff-raff of the scums of the cities, reeking with rotten whisky and armed with guns, held high carnival, panhandling organizers, terrorizing miners, insulting women and children, and they did it with impunity.

And the reason was that popular government had broken down and had been displaced by the feudalism of the coal barons and their allies. To control the labor market, to dictate the laws, to interpret the laws, the mine owners entered politics and became the bosses. Such, in a general way, was the condition in the mine sections of West Virginia when the supreme fight came in 1912.

An hour’s ride from Charlestown, in the Kanawa mountain, are two ragged gulches eight miles apart and divided by a sharp ridge. One is the Cabin Creek mining settlement, and the other the Paint Creek settlement. A decade or more before the trouble of 1912 the miners along Cabin Creek had, after much travail, been organized, but an ill-advised strike had wrought their ruin and resulted in the restoration of the old non-union conditions aggravated now by the hate born of the victory over them. This settlement had come to be known as “Russia.” The mine owners had here established an ideal feudalism. They owned everything in sight but the country road, which was the bed of a creek. Thus it was practically impossible to visit Cabin Creek without trespassing on company ground and being roughly handled by the whisky-crazed gun-men called “guards.” A miner or his family could only call at the shack of a neighbor by suffrance, since he could not reach the neighbor’s house without trespassing on company property. Here the gun-men were supreme. The men were slaves in all but name. They submitted to being robbed of the fruit of their labor, to extortion in the matter of rental and in the purchase of food in the company stores, and organizers of the miners understood that he who ventured into Cabin Creek would probably be carried out upon a stretcher.

The miners of Paint Creek had been organized, but in the spring of 1912 the coal barons determined to extend the feudalism of Cabin Creek across the ridge. The opportunity came when the time for the signing of a new contract was reached. In the conference between the miners and the operators at Charlestown the miners submitted many demands, all of a kind conceded in other mining states such as Indiana and Illinois, but after more than a week the operators refused to sign. In the interest of industrial peace the miners thereupon agreed to continueunder the old contract with the old prices and conditions, provided the operators would agree to the full recognition of the union. This, too, was refused, and a strike was ordered. Within ten days the miners were asked to meet with representatives of the coal companies in an effort to adjust the difference, and this, agreed to by the miners, resulted in a further compromise and the signing of a contract by the operators and the miners. The operators almost immediately broke faith, the strike was renewed and the fight was on. The issue was clear from the beginning—whether or not the conditions in Cabin Creek domineered over by drunken gun-men, should be established in Paint Creek.

The representatives of feudalism acted quickly. Almost immediately Paint Creek was invaded by the gun-men, headed by the infamous and murderous Ernest Gaujot, the “King Guard,” a man with a criminal record, with machine guns, plenty of ammunition and searchlights. Thugs, gun-men and thieves were hastily scoured from the scums of the cities, supplied with whisky and guns and turned loose upon the miners and their families. The program was to terrorize the miners into surrender. In the darkness of the night the gun-men fired the Gatling guns for practice. They swaggered in their drunken insolence into the homes of the unarmed miners, leeringly speculated aloud on what a good target the master of the house would make, turned everything upside down, kicked and cuffed the children, ordered drink and food, and let loose the flood gates of profanity and vulgarity in the presence of the women and babes. Nothing so nearly resembling anarchy has ever been seen on American soil. These drunken brutes invaded the home of a miner by the name of Frank Russe, and finding no one at home but the wife, who was about to become a mother, they slapped her face and drove her from the house. But the crime of that time that cries to heaven and curses the civilization that permitted the criminal to live, was committed at the home of Tony Sevilla, who was in Ohio at the time in search of work. The unspeakable Gaujot and his gang searched the house, and after they had gone a neighboring woman, knowing that Mrs. Sevilla was in a delicate condition, hurried over to find her on her knees, an expression of agony upon her face, making the sign of the cross. Pointing to her side, where one of the gun-men protectors of feudalism had kicked her, she moaned in broken English: “I don’t hear my baby calling me now.”

They had murdered the unborn babe and mother and were permitted to go on with their murderous work. No one was arrested for that! No one was molested for that! That was two hundred miles fromthe capital of the republic, in the county of the capital of an American state, and in the twentieth century of Christian civilization.

And the barons were satisfied. They wanted quick action. The guards were instructed to throw the miners out of their homes without mercy. Women about to become mothers, the sick, the babes, were driven shelterless into the fields. The miners established a tented camp at Holly Grove at the mouth of the creek and another at Mossey, near its headwaters. At Mucklow, near by, the guards—Gaujot’s men—were established. And when the miners, driven to desperation by the prodding of the guards, twice attacked the Mucklow camp, the papers of Charlestown contained lurid accounts of the brutal and bloodthirsty attacks of the anarchistic miners upon the representatives of law and order personified by Gaujot. There was much sympathy for the operators. It looked as though the miners were whipped—that America would be driven out of Paint Creek and Russia established.

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