Kern’s Speaking Posture Taken while addressing the people at the monument, Indianapolis, by Leslie Nagley, staff photographer, Indianapolis TimesKern’s Speaking PostureTaken while addressing the people at the monument, Indianapolis, by Leslie Nagley, staff photographer, Indianapolis Times
politicians. Mr. Morss, who aspired to be something of a Warrick, and whose ability and prestige as the editor of the state organ of his party gave him considerable influence in party councils determined to force the issue upon Kern, and with that in view he invited about twenty prominent party leaders to a dinner at his home. Among those invited was Mr. Kern. The victim of the dinner tenaciously held out against the insistence of his friends, until toward midnight he was being charged with being a party ingrate for his refusal to respond to the demand. It had been the hope of Mr. Morss that a formal announcement could be prepared that night forThe Sentinelof the following morning, but it was not until the party broke up and Mr. Kern had been followed into the street with importunities that he finally agreed to be a candidate. It was then too late to prepare a formal announcement, but the wily Morss, in probable fear of a recantation on the morrow, took the precaution to announce in the paper the next morning that “in answer to a direct question,” Mr. Kern had said that he would be a candidate. On the following day he did prepare a short formal statement announcing his candidacy.
The contest for the nomination was one-sided. All the organization forces were with Kern. He and Burke attended a number of county conventions, and the latter made many warm admirers by the remarkable eloquence with which he assailed the imperialism of the hour. Mr. Kern found himself in the position of being “the machine candidate” and had to stand the brunt of that. At the eleventh hour, with all the delegates in Indianapolis and a large part of them crowded into the corridors of the Grand Hotel, a new element was injected into the situation, when Benjamin F. Shively, who had been the nominee in 1896, entered the lobby and was greeted with great enthusiasm. He had made a brilliant canvass four years before. A man of imposing presence, tall and slender, and dressed that night in a light gray suit which served to accentuate his physical advantages, it is not surprising that his appearance carried with it the suggestion of a third candidate. The fact that he went to his room immediately and into conference and refused to be interviewed gave color to the rumors afloat that he would be a candidate. This was set at rest, however, on the morrow, when the chairman of the convention read a letter from Shively positively removing himself from consideration. It required one ballot to nominate and Kern was an easy victor. It was in moving that the nomination be made unanimous that Burke thrilled the convention with what was perhaps the most moving bit of oratory ever heard in Indiana.
It is needless here to review the campaign which followed. It began with imperialism, the paramountissue following Mr. Bryan’s remarkable arraignment in his speech of acceptance at Indianapolis, but other issues such as the tariff and the trusts soon entered, and throughout the campaign Kern discussed them all together with state issues that now have no historic interest. The only incident of special interest was the attempt of the Republican papers to create divisions in the Democracy by circulating the report that the friends of Kern were engaged in an effort to trade off Bryan for him. This, of course, was a peculiarly mean and malicious falsehood and was denounced by Kern as “an atrocious lie.” It is true that Kern did run a little ahead of the national ticket, but this was due to local conditions, personal friendships, and the fact that some conservative Democrats who had left the party in 1896 and did not vote the national ticket in 1900 voted for Kern. The entire ticket was defeated—Kern had made his sacrifice and it was not to be his last.
Before describing Mr. Kern’s second race for governor in 1904 it is necessary to a proper appreciation of his political character to refer to a few events of the intervening four years, one of which served to definitely fix his political status not only in Indiana but in the nation. While his tendencies had always been progressive and his instincts had always impelled him to battle for the under dog, we have seen that the startling, revolutionary incidents of the national convention of 1896 had momentarily threatened to divert him from his natural course. He had not comprehended instantly the momentous meaning of that revolution. And while his party loyalty had never wavered he had been ranked among Indiana politicians as a conservative. He had become a warm supporter of Mr. Bryan before the campaign of 1900, but henceforth he was to burn all bridges behind him and stand forth quite frankly not only as a progressive, but as a radical. In doing so, however, he was inclined at all times to hold forth the olive branch to those who had left the party in 1896.
In the December following the election he was given an opportunity to develop his point of view, and under circumstances calculated to attract national attention. It was the occasion of the annual dinner given by the Jefferson Club of Lincoln, Nebraska, to Mr. Bryan, an event of the greatest political significance. While several speakers of national prominence were on the program, “the eloquent and stalwart Democratic leader of Indiana,” as he was described byThe Omaha World-Herald, was easily the feature of the evening aside from the guest of honor. By attending the dinner he had conclusively cast his political fortunes with that of the great Commoner, and in his speech of this occasion he left nodoubt as to his position. Beginning with a reference to the natural conservatism of the Indiana Democracy and the policy of Hendricks to always conciliate party differences when it could be done without a compromise of principles, he continued:
“But while the Democratic party of Indiana is still the conservative party it was in the days of Hendricks, ready now as then to strive to find common ground upon which all Democrats who believe in constitutional government may stand in coming conflicts, it is to-day holding no parley with deserters. Its ears are closed against words of advice gratuitously offered by alleged Democrats who vote the Republican ticket, or by those who in the struggle of 1900 withheld both voice and vote from the cause of the people and could see in that mighty contest only ‘a painful and distressing situation.’“During the next four years the best thought and most conscientious effort of Democratic leadership should be exerted to bring about complete harmony within our ranks, and a perfect union of all forces opposed to the revolutionary schemes of the party in power.“In this intervening period the work of organization and education should not be neglected, but should be carried on in every precinct of the union. There is no occasion for crimination or recrimination as between Democrats, but there should always be a generous and patriotic rivalry as to who will render the most effective service in the work of building up the party organization and strengthening the party lines for the coming conflict.”
“But while the Democratic party of Indiana is still the conservative party it was in the days of Hendricks, ready now as then to strive to find common ground upon which all Democrats who believe in constitutional government may stand in coming conflicts, it is to-day holding no parley with deserters. Its ears are closed against words of advice gratuitously offered by alleged Democrats who vote the Republican ticket, or by those who in the struggle of 1900 withheld both voice and vote from the cause of the people and could see in that mighty contest only ‘a painful and distressing situation.’
“During the next four years the best thought and most conscientious effort of Democratic leadership should be exerted to bring about complete harmony within our ranks, and a perfect union of all forces opposed to the revolutionary schemes of the party in power.
“In this intervening period the work of organization and education should not be neglected, but should be carried on in every precinct of the union. There is no occasion for crimination or recrimination as between Democrats, but there should always be a generous and patriotic rivalry as to who will render the most effective service in the work of building up the party organization and strengthening the party lines for the coming conflict.”
Referring then in terms of commendation of the action of men like Olney, Cockran and Watterson in returning to the party in the campaign of 1900, he continued:
“And these men, and all others who had faltered in the campaign of 1896 because of economic questions involved, received a most royal welcome on their return to the Democratic household. It is in no spirit of bitterness that I add that there were a few men, once prominent in the Democratic ranks, who in the midst of all the stirring scenes of this mighty contest remained unmoved and silent, except that now and then they took occasion to furnish aid and comfort to the enemy by making public denial that they were in sympathy with the cause of the people. For the sake of the future welfare of the party I shall attempt no harsh criticism of the course of these gentlemen, but I will not forbear saying here and everywhere that alleged Democrats who could not afford to stand with Bryan, Cockran and Watterson in a contest between imperialism and republicanism, between tariff for revenue and protection, between monopoly and the people, and between plutocracy and democracy, need not be surprised if any gratuitous counsel which they may seek to thrust upon the millions of loyal Democrats who fought the good fight and kept the faith shall fall upon reluctant ears.”
“And these men, and all others who had faltered in the campaign of 1896 because of economic questions involved, received a most royal welcome on their return to the Democratic household. It is in no spirit of bitterness that I add that there were a few men, once prominent in the Democratic ranks, who in the midst of all the stirring scenes of this mighty contest remained unmoved and silent, except that now and then they took occasion to furnish aid and comfort to the enemy by making public denial that they were in sympathy with the cause of the people. For the sake of the future welfare of the party I shall attempt no harsh criticism of the course of these gentlemen, but I will not forbear saying here and everywhere that alleged Democrats who could not afford to stand with Bryan, Cockran and Watterson in a contest between imperialism and republicanism, between tariff for revenue and protection, between monopoly and the people, and between plutocracy and democracy, need not be surprised if any gratuitous counsel which they may seek to thrust upon the millions of loyal Democrats who fought the good fight and kept the faith shall fall upon reluctant ears.”
Continuing he predicted that the fight in 1904 would be based upon the demand “that the encroachments of the great financial and industrial monopolies upon the rights of the people shall cease and that legislation shall be enacted that will strip them of the power to control the political destiny of the nation.” He followed this with a bitter denunciation of these powerful interests for their brazen resort to coercion and intimidation in both the campaigns of 1896 and 1900, and concluded with a tribute to Mr. Bryan which carried a prophecy:
“I want to say to all men who are interesting themselves in party organization or reorganization that any attempt in any quarter, at any time, to belittle the splendid and heroic service rendered in 1896 and 1900 by that magnificent leader and tribune of the people—William Jennings Bryan—or to cast stigma or reproach upon him, in any degree, however slight, will meet with stern and quick rebuke from the millions of Democrats who followed his banner in those memorable contests.”
“I want to say to all men who are interesting themselves in party organization or reorganization that any attempt in any quarter, at any time, to belittle the splendid and heroic service rendered in 1896 and 1900 by that magnificent leader and tribune of the people—William Jennings Bryan—or to cast stigma or reproach upon him, in any degree, however slight, will meet with stern and quick rebuke from the millions of Democrats who followed his banner in those memorable contests.”
The speech of Kern aroused his hearers to a high pitch of enthusiasm, and called forth comment and speculation in political circles over the country. The Washington correspondent ofThe Indianapolis Journalinterpreted the speech to mean that the speaker “has been selected by Colonel Bryan as his choice for the presidential nomination in 1904,” andsaid “Kern must now be reckoned among the possible candidates for the presidential nomination four years hence.”
One thing the speech did do—it put Kern to the fore, in the minds of the masses, as the chief lieutenant of Mr. Bryan in Indiana, and he was destined to hold this position until his death. It thoroughly established him in the leadership of the masses of the party, and when the state convention met in 1902 he was chosen to deliver the “keynote” speech. This address, harmonizing in spirit with that at Lincoln, dealt with the problems of imperialism, the destruction of the Boer republics through the connivance of the national administration, the ship subsidy measure for which Senator Fairbanks, a candidate for re-election, had voted, the Dingley law and the trusts. It was in this speech that he touched upon one of the scandals of the Spanish-American war—the wholesale distribution of officers’ commissions among the sons of the rich and the politically influential without regard to qualification. Fifteen years later and in private conversation I heard him discussing this scandal and in language indicative of the sincerity of his disgust. After referring in his speech to an attempt by the son of an Indiana millionaire, who had been thus honored and had afterward left the Democratic party, he said:
“I reflected as I listened to his tirade, delivered with all the zeal of a new convert and the malice of an apostate, that the Democratic party is the soldiers’ truest friend; that when the war with Spain was inaugurated the Democratic party believed that the soldiers who for years had served their country and endured the hardships of drill and camp life on the frontier, looking forward to a promotion—the soldiers’ only reward of merit—should receive the commissions of captain and lieutenant, which were about to be distributed with a lavish hand. Those brave boys had waited long and served their country faithfully, and now hopefully looked for recognition, but while they were in the trenches and on the march a force in the rear was at work against them. The sons of millionaires, senators and congressmen—men with a political pull, who had never seen an hour of military service, were preferred, and received the commissions, and the soldier boys waited on, and in the ranks, fought on and won new glory and honor for their country.”
“I reflected as I listened to his tirade, delivered with all the zeal of a new convert and the malice of an apostate, that the Democratic party is the soldiers’ truest friend; that when the war with Spain was inaugurated the Democratic party believed that the soldiers who for years had served their country and endured the hardships of drill and camp life on the frontier, looking forward to a promotion—the soldiers’ only reward of merit—should receive the commissions of captain and lieutenant, which were about to be distributed with a lavish hand. Those brave boys had waited long and served their country faithfully, and now hopefully looked for recognition, but while they were in the trenches and on the march a force in the rear was at work against them. The sons of millionaires, senators and congressmen—men with a political pull, who had never seen an hour of military service, were preferred, and received the commissions, and the soldier boys waited on, and in the ranks, fought on and won new glory and honor for their country.”
This speech was published as a campaign document and scattered broadcast over the state. On the stump that fall Mr. Kern participated in his sixteenth campaign, in demand all over the state. No Democrat stood higher in Indiana; no Indiana Democrat stood so high in party circles in the country. Such was his political status when the forces began to line up for the campaign of 1904.
In the late winter of 1903 there was a general feeling of optimism among Democrats everywhere. The greater portion of the men who had left the party in 1896 had returned to the fold. The bitterness incidental to their leaving had been mellowed by time. Mr. Roosevelt, who had succeeded to the Presidency on the assassination of McKinley, had never been popular with the working forces of his party, and in the role of the proverbial bull in the china shop he was keeping business in such a state of constant agitation that there was a general feeling that this element, which had been the most potential enemy of the Democratic party in the two previous presidential campaigns, would take revenge upon him by throwing its influence to the Democracy. Mr. Bryan had made it clear that he would not be a candidate, thus leaving the field clear for other men. Acting upon the theory that a man unknown in national politics would probably possess more strength than one with a record to defend, and that this man should be found in the state of New York, an organization was perfected to urge the nomination of Alton B. Parker, an able lawyer, with an unblemished political career, and a distinguished record as a jurist. The majority of the Indiana leaders took kindly to the suggestion, even the venerable David Turpie breaking his rule of silence to bestow upon it hishearty commendation. The candidacy of Judge Parker made a personal appeal to Mr. Kern. While in Europe in 1895 he had stopped for some time at the same hotel in London where the New York lawyer was staying, and a personal friendship had resulted which had been strengthened by occasional meetings in the nine years intervening. Thus it was that he had become a strong partisan of the Parker candidacy.
But Judge Parker was not to have the Indiana delegation without a contest. William Randolph Hearst, the journalist, and a multi-millionaire, became a candidate and immediately set to work with the liberal use of money to build up a strong organization in every state. Perhaps we shall never know how much was spent, but if as much money was expended elsewhere as in Indiana a liberal fortune was squandered. At no time did Mr. Bryan manifest the slightest interest in Hearst’s candidacy, and it was well known that he looked with considerable distrust upon the sincerity of the editor’s progressive protestations. He was able to appeal, however, to many locally influential Democrats who were attracted by his radicalism, and had not failed to be impressed with the support given Mr. Bryan in his papers at a time when few metropolitan papers were not picturing the Nebraskan as an anarchist and a repudiationist. These sincere men—and amongthem were many who were then and afterward among Mr. Kern’s most valued personal and political friends—were augmented by the sordid and disreputable element of the larger centers of population. Agents authorized to spend money lavishly were sent out over the state to capture the delegations to the state convention that was to meet in May for the exclusive purpose of electing delegates to the national convention. The result was the creation of an intense feeling.
In the state delegate convention the contest was bitter, the speakers on both sides being interrupted with jeers and insults. Mr. Kern, who had taken a positive position for Parker, while addressing the convention in his behalf, was interrupted with the threat—“You need never ask for anything again.” Thoroughly aroused, he replied that “threats like that from men higher up in the Hearst crowd have been made, but I have no fear of Hearst or the Hearst papers.” The convention resulted in the selection of a Parker delegation, but the contest left behind some bitter scars. The prospects of the party in Indiana had been compromised.
This might have been smoothed over before the election but for the incidents in the national convention, the insulting attitude toward Mr. Bryan, the advertisement of the rejection of all his suggestions, the blatant anti-Bryan attitude of some of the Parkerforces, and all climaxed by the telegram of Judge Parker after his nomination declaring that he would run only with the distinct understanding that he stood for the gold standard. No Indiana Democrat will ever forget the stunning effect of that telegram when it was flashed upon the bulletins. It practically assured the state to the Republicans, for it was interpreted by the rank and file of Mr. Bryan’s followers as a direct insult to their idol.
Such was the situation, misunderstood by few, as the convention approached in August for the nomination of a state ticket. The dearth of aspirants for places on the ticket told the story. No one expressed the slightest desire for the gubernatorial nomination, and again, as had come to be its wont, the party turned to Kern.
To all such suggestions he gave a stern denial—and yet he finally agreed to make his second sacrifice. It was the fashion among his enemies during his lifetime to refer to Mr. Kern as a persistent office seeker, a “perpetual candidate,” when, as a matter of historic truth, he seldom sought a nomination and in most instances was forced by tremendous pressure from his party to accept nominations his judgment warned him against.
He became a candidate for governor in 1904 on the earnest personal request of Judge Parker, the presidential nominee of his party.
Having always understood this to be the case, I personally appealed to Judge Parker for the facts, and the following letter to me definitely settles the matter:
“My first acquaintance with John Kern began in London in 1895. We both happened to be stopping at the same hotel, and, as we knew about each other, we soon came together and formed a friendship that I always treasured.“The story that you have heard from time to time, as you stated, that I requested Mr. Kern to accept the nomination for governor of Indiana in 1904 is quite true. But I did this only after seeing quite a number of the leading Democrats of the state. Without exception, these men said that Mr. Kern would be the very strongest man that the party could nominate. But some of them, and I think it is no exaggeration to say that all of them were of the opinion that he would much prefer not to make the race. Reaching the conclusion that his nomination would strengthen the party in the state, I telegraphed him, asking him to visit me, which he did, at my home. After discussing the party situation in the state with him, as I had with many others from the state, I told him that without exception every man I had seen from Indiana had said that he would be the strongest nominee that the party could find, and hence I ventured to urge him to accept the nomination if the convention should, as I believed it would, tender it to him unanimously. The result you know.”
“My first acquaintance with John Kern began in London in 1895. We both happened to be stopping at the same hotel, and, as we knew about each other, we soon came together and formed a friendship that I always treasured.
“The story that you have heard from time to time, as you stated, that I requested Mr. Kern to accept the nomination for governor of Indiana in 1904 is quite true. But I did this only after seeing quite a number of the leading Democrats of the state. Without exception, these men said that Mr. Kern would be the very strongest man that the party could nominate. But some of them, and I think it is no exaggeration to say that all of them were of the opinion that he would much prefer not to make the race. Reaching the conclusion that his nomination would strengthen the party in the state, I telegraphed him, asking him to visit me, which he did, at my home. After discussing the party situation in the state with him, as I had with many others from the state, I told him that without exception every man I had seen from Indiana had said that he would be the strongest nominee that the party could find, and hence I ventured to urge him to accept the nomination if the convention should, as I believed it would, tender it to him unanimously. The result you know.”
Having responded to the personal request, which as a good party man he considered a command from the commanding officer of his party in that campaign, Mr. Kern plunged into the campaign with his usual zeal and made a thorough canvass of the state. The extent of the Republican landslide that year is a matter of history. Kern had made his second sacrifice.
IN July, 1906, feeling the need of rest and relaxation, Mr. Kern, accompanied by Alonzo Green Smith, formerly attorney-general of Indiana, sailed from New York for a few weeks of meandering and sightseeing in the British Isles. It would be hard to imagine a more incongruous couple for an European jaunt. The ex-attorney-general was an able lawyer of much strength of character, a rough diamond accused by his enemies of “practicing law with a club.” More interested in law and politics than in scenery and shrines, more practical than sentimental, to him that scenery which would not yield a harvest was uninteresting waste land, and the building of venerable years and rich in history could not compare with a New York sky-scraper with its modern conveniences. The travelers were fond of one another, but they were soon to find that nature had never intended that they should tour Europe together.
As both were traveling for their health, they took a slow, ten-day boat, leaving New York harbor on July 21st and reaching Glasgow on the last day of the month. The trip over was uneventful and pleasant enough, although they were five days in a fog and two on a rough sea. They had seats at the captain’s table, made many friends on board, and Kern records in a letter that “Green didn’t enjoy the rough sea or the fog, but didn’t grumble much and became quite a favorite on board. He won’t admit it, but his cough is much better and he is greatly improved.” It was characteristic of Kern to write home the moment he landed. “It seems an age since I saw you,” he wrote the morning of his landing, “I am writing this hurriedly and am going out to send a cable, which you will get by your breakfast time.” Later the same day he wrote his second letter home, giving more particulars of the voyage and relating how he had not thought of “getting sunburned with the sun shining through the fog until I found my nose and face blistered and looking like an old bloat,” how he “got some cold cream from an old lady on board,” how in a rough sea he was thrown from his chair and slid down to the rail. “I am getting along very well with Mr. Smith,” he writes, as though surprised. “He is quite willing to do as I suggest and has thus far been as docile as a child, except on one or two occasions, when he got to talking politics, when he partly startled the whales and the other monsters of the deep.” Unhappily for the peace of the moment, but fortunately for future reminiscences, this docility was not to last long.
They lingered for more than two weeks in Scotland visiting the birthplace of Burns and the countryassociated with his life, riding across Lake Lomore and Lake Katrine, the scene of The Lady of the Lake, and journeying through the “Trossacks” by Sterling and on to Edinburgh.
His love of home shines out in an incident at Lake Katrine, where he waited for the boat to carry him across. “It came,” he wrote, “bringing a lot of tourists who were traveling through the Trossacks in the opposite direction. As I was rushing down to the boat I ran right into Rev. M. L. Haines (First Presbyterian Church at Indianapolis), who was rushing up the hill for dear life to get seats on the big brake wagon which was waiting at the hotel. He looked around and grabbed me by the hand, but we hadn’t time for a word. There was his wagon and my boat both waiting and we both rushed on. The wagon and boat, however, were not more than seventy-five yards apart, and we spent the several minutes that elapsed before the wagon started by standing up and waving and making all kinds of friendly signs at each other. There were two ladies with him, but I did not see them until they got up in the wagon with him and joined in the waving. It was like ships passing in the night, but Brother Haines looked awfully good to me just the same.” He was delighted with the beauty and the historic charm of Edinburgh. While passing through Holyrood Palace and looking at the bed in which Mary, Queen of the Scots slept, he wasaccosted by another Hoosier he had never met but who recognized him. By this time the docility of Smith had passed. He grumbled over the foolishness of tramping about looking at old palaces where dead queens had slept, and at tumble-down shacks in which poets had penned immortal lines. At length, patient though he was, Kern issued his declaration of independence. “Now don’t you pay any attention to my movements in a town or on the trip,” he said, “we haven’t time to argue and we are not here for argument. I am going just where I please and in the way I please and I want you to do the same.” The result was that Smith thereafter spent hours in his room at the hotel writing long letters about places he had not seen, and the remainder in regaling the natives with lurid stories of the greatness of America. “I overheard him,” Kern wrote, “telling the other day how a calf had been carried over two hundred miles in a cyclone.”
The travelers went up to London on August 16th, where they went their separate ways, meeting in the evening, and not bothering each other with a recital of their doings of the day. The ancient city fascinated Kern as it had ten years before. I am indebted to Thomas R. Shipp of Washington and Indianapolis for an incident which is interesting in that it again reflects Kern’s love of home and home folks:
“When mother and I were in England we happened to be lunching with Mr. and Mrs. Henry Rauh of Indianapolis in a little café opposite Windsor Castle, when suddenly from an unnoticed alcove came a deep voice, saying, ‘Has anybody seen anything of Henry Rauh and Tom Shipp?’ Upon investigating we found it was Mr. Kern, who was taking a quiet lunch with Alonzo Green Smith. Nothing would do Mr. Kern but that we all should meet him that evening in the Hotel Victoria, where he promised an Indiana party.“On arriving at the hotel that evening we found that in some unaccountable manner Mr. Kern had rounded up ten Hoosiers, whom, it seemed, he had run into at different times and places in England. Mr. Kern furnished the refreshments generously and soon there was created a ‘Banks of the Wabash’ atmosphere in Ol’ Lunnon. Most of the inimitable stories he told were jokes on himself and good-natured jests about English manners and customs. I wish I could remember some of these, but my recollection is only of a most unusual and pleasant Indiana evening in a far-away country, provided by a gentle and genial man, who thought enough of his Indiana friends to keep track of them even in the great city of London.”
“When mother and I were in England we happened to be lunching with Mr. and Mrs. Henry Rauh of Indianapolis in a little café opposite Windsor Castle, when suddenly from an unnoticed alcove came a deep voice, saying, ‘Has anybody seen anything of Henry Rauh and Tom Shipp?’ Upon investigating we found it was Mr. Kern, who was taking a quiet lunch with Alonzo Green Smith. Nothing would do Mr. Kern but that we all should meet him that evening in the Hotel Victoria, where he promised an Indiana party.
“On arriving at the hotel that evening we found that in some unaccountable manner Mr. Kern had rounded up ten Hoosiers, whom, it seemed, he had run into at different times and places in England. Mr. Kern furnished the refreshments generously and soon there was created a ‘Banks of the Wabash’ atmosphere in Ol’ Lunnon. Most of the inimitable stories he told were jokes on himself and good-natured jests about English manners and customs. I wish I could remember some of these, but my recollection is only of a most unusual and pleasant Indiana evening in a far-away country, provided by a gentle and genial man, who thought enough of his Indiana friends to keep track of them even in the great city of London.”
On leaving London the travelers went to Liverpool and thence to Dublin and then on to the Lakes of Killarney, where they spent three days. Then on to Cork, back to Dublin, then on to Belfast, theGiant’s Causeway, Londonderry, and finally to Movelle, where they took passage on the Columbia, a slow steamer, for home.
Some of Kern’s most amusing stories of the trip that he loved to tell in later years were drawn from experiences in Ireland.
While the travelers were going through the Killarney country in a jaunting car drawn by an old horse that made frequent pauses until prodded by the driver, it occurred to Kern to play a joke on Smith, who had not failed to observe, especially in England, a tendency to make the tourists pay. Leaning close to the ex-attorney-general, Kern whispered, “Do you notice how often this horse stops?”
“Yes. What’s the trouble?” Smith asked, instantly suspicious.
“We are paying by the hour,” whispered Kern, wickedly.
“Just watch me stop that,” growled Smith.
A moment later the horse again stopped to rest.
“What kind of a horse is that?” roared the ex-attorney-general.
“It’s a scan’ry horse,” answered the driver in soft tones.
“And what kind of horse is that?” demanded Smith.
“It’s a horse that stops before a beautiful piece of scan’ry when the tourist ain’t got the sense to appreciate it,” sweetly replied the driver without looking around.
The travelers sailed on August 25th, reaching New York ten days later, much refreshed but without having received the physical benefits expected.
A few weeks later Kern plunged into the campaign of 1906 with his usual vigor, contracting a cold which his weakened physical condition made it impossible for his system to throw off. He began to lose weight, his voice became chronically husky, and after a thorough examination his physician whispered the ominous word—tuberculosis in its incipiency. But with his usual determination he prepared to battle for his life. He had devoted too much of his time to his political activities to have accumulated money, and at the age of fifty-seven his determination to get well, strengthened by his passionate desire to be of further service to his boys of six and seven, he set out for Dr. Von Ruck’s sanatorium at Asheville, North Carolina, about three weeks before Christmas. His letters of that period reflect his intense love for his family. All thought of worldly honors were put aside and his one hope was to be spared for a few years more with his wife and children and in their service. A separation even under less unhappy circumstances was always hard, and it was with a heavyheart that he resigned himself to the inevitable exile. As Christmas approached the pain of the separation was accentuated by the knowledge that he could not share in the home festivities. The day after Christmas he wrote home:
“On yesterday afternoon I received the box and was greatly rejoiced to have the pictures of you all and to have your several letters. The book was pleasing, the cigars good, and the trousers welcome. Christmas passed off all right and we had a great dinner. I send you a menu card. You mustn’t think we have that sort of a meal every day, but we do pretty well—get plenty of eggs and milk, corn bread and buttermilk. On Christmas evening the young people here—patients—turned themselves loose, singing, playing and raising cain, and you wouldn’t have thought this much of a hospital. Yesterday was a beautiful day. I was out most of the time.... I had a long letter from Judge Hackney. It was full of sympathy and affectionate in character and I was deeply touched by it. Also had a similar letter from my old friend, Dan Simms of Lafayette. Had Julia’s letter and enjoyed it very much. I have your pictures ranged around my room, so that it looks a good deal like home.“It is cloudy to-day but pleasant. I walked a long ways this morning, and am going for another walk this evening.... I am anxious to hear how you got along on Christmas, and whether my dear litle ones were pleased with what Santa Claus did for them. I am uneasy to hear of dear little Billy’s continuedsickness with cold. Don’t you think you had better consult a doctor about him? It seems too bad to keep him in the house all winter. I am getting to be a great believer in fresh air, and I can’t believe that it is good for a child as full of life as he is to keep him in a hot room all winter. Let him have fresh air and sunshine whenever possible.“I am feeling very well to-day and the doctors say I am doing nicely, though they can’t give me much definite information yet. I have the same routine every day, and while it is a little monotonous sometimes the time slips by pretty rapidly. I am glad Christmas is over, and hope that next Christmas we may all be together and be well. It will be a happy day for me when I can be with my dear ones again, and be strong enough to work and make up for all this lost time. Tell John, Jr., that I enjoy his letters very much. He writes just like a man. I know I am going to be very proud of him. Tell Billy that he doesn’t write quite as plainly as John, but that I read his letter over and over again just the same. With lots of love for all of you, I am, as always, your husband, papa, father and daddy.”
“On yesterday afternoon I received the box and was greatly rejoiced to have the pictures of you all and to have your several letters. The book was pleasing, the cigars good, and the trousers welcome. Christmas passed off all right and we had a great dinner. I send you a menu card. You mustn’t think we have that sort of a meal every day, but we do pretty well—get plenty of eggs and milk, corn bread and buttermilk. On Christmas evening the young people here—patients—turned themselves loose, singing, playing and raising cain, and you wouldn’t have thought this much of a hospital. Yesterday was a beautiful day. I was out most of the time.... I had a long letter from Judge Hackney. It was full of sympathy and affectionate in character and I was deeply touched by it. Also had a similar letter from my old friend, Dan Simms of Lafayette. Had Julia’s letter and enjoyed it very much. I have your pictures ranged around my room, so that it looks a good deal like home.
“It is cloudy to-day but pleasant. I walked a long ways this morning, and am going for another walk this evening.... I am anxious to hear how you got along on Christmas, and whether my dear litle ones were pleased with what Santa Claus did for them. I am uneasy to hear of dear little Billy’s continuedsickness with cold. Don’t you think you had better consult a doctor about him? It seems too bad to keep him in the house all winter. I am getting to be a great believer in fresh air, and I can’t believe that it is good for a child as full of life as he is to keep him in a hot room all winter. Let him have fresh air and sunshine whenever possible.
“I am feeling very well to-day and the doctors say I am doing nicely, though they can’t give me much definite information yet. I have the same routine every day, and while it is a little monotonous sometimes the time slips by pretty rapidly. I am glad Christmas is over, and hope that next Christmas we may all be together and be well. It will be a happy day for me when I can be with my dear ones again, and be strong enough to work and make up for all this lost time. Tell John, Jr., that I enjoy his letters very much. He writes just like a man. I know I am going to be very proud of him. Tell Billy that he doesn’t write quite as plainly as John, but that I read his letter over and over again just the same. With lots of love for all of you, I am, as always, your husband, papa, father and daddy.”
During the three months that he was there he endeared himself to all who came in contact with him by the sweetness of his disposition, and even the physicians were impressed with his reluctance to being a burden to them. He passed his time following the doctor’s instructions. He read much light literature from the library of the sanatorium and wrotelong letters home, not forgetting individual letters for the children. His rare gift of entering into the thoughts of childhood is illustrated in his letters to John, Jr.
“My Dear Little Man:“Your nice letter came this morning—also mother’s postcard telling me how nicely Billy was doing. It made me feel mighty good to hear that Billy was feeling so well after his operation, and to see what a fine letter you can write, and how well you are doing at school. I know you will be a good boy and help mother all you can while I am away. You must pay lots of attention to dear little Billy while he is sick, and help entertain him. You must also watch sister, and not let her run around too much and stay up late at night. Tell mother she must take good care of herself and not get sick, for we can’t afford to have more than two sick at one time.“I am getting better, but it will be some time before I can come home. But I get very homesick and want to see you all so badly I hardly know what to do. The weather is still warm and sunshiny. I wish you were here to go walking with me over the hills and through the woods. We would have a good time. They have a lot of turkeys and chickens on the grounds here. Yesterday a turkey gobbler and a rooster got to fighting, and they had a great time. Then afterward the rooster came around where the turkeys were and four big gobblers got after him and got him down, and were about to kill him whensome of the boys drove him away. Then the rooster got up and crowed just as if he had whipped them all.... I had a letter from Judge Anderson this morning saying that my cases in his court could wait until I got home to be tried. I must close now to get this in the mail. Tell mother and sister and Billy that I love them very much. You know that I love you, don’t you? You must write as often as you can and take care of things while I am away. With lots of love, I am, yourFather.”
“My Dear Little Man:
“Your nice letter came this morning—also mother’s postcard telling me how nicely Billy was doing. It made me feel mighty good to hear that Billy was feeling so well after his operation, and to see what a fine letter you can write, and how well you are doing at school. I know you will be a good boy and help mother all you can while I am away. You must pay lots of attention to dear little Billy while he is sick, and help entertain him. You must also watch sister, and not let her run around too much and stay up late at night. Tell mother she must take good care of herself and not get sick, for we can’t afford to have more than two sick at one time.
“I am getting better, but it will be some time before I can come home. But I get very homesick and want to see you all so badly I hardly know what to do. The weather is still warm and sunshiny. I wish you were here to go walking with me over the hills and through the woods. We would have a good time. They have a lot of turkeys and chickens on the grounds here. Yesterday a turkey gobbler and a rooster got to fighting, and they had a great time. Then afterward the rooster came around where the turkeys were and four big gobblers got after him and got him down, and were about to kill him whensome of the boys drove him away. Then the rooster got up and crowed just as if he had whipped them all.... I had a letter from Judge Anderson this morning saying that my cases in his court could wait until I got home to be tried. I must close now to get this in the mail. Tell mother and sister and Billy that I love them very much. You know that I love you, don’t you? You must write as often as you can and take care of things while I am away. With lots of love, I am, your
Father.”
During his Asheville days Mr. Kern spent every moment that he could in the open air and soon developed into a great pedestrian, trudging all alone over the hills and through the woods and into Asheville, where he made friends and renewed old friendships. His appetite returned and he slept well. As he felt his strength returning his anxiety to get back home and in the harness intensified. Toward the middle of February we find him writing in homesick vein to John, Jr.
“My Dear Little Man:“I had your picture of Hiawatha in her tent, and also the other pictures made by you and I think they are fine. I am very proud of you, and know you are going to be a good boy and a good man. I can’t tell you how much I want to see you and dear little Billy and mother and sister. I am very lonesome away down here by myself. But it will only be a few weeksuntil I will be at home, and I will be so happy to be with you all.“I am feeling pretty well this morning. It rained yesterday, but the sun is shining now and that always makes me feel good. You must not let Billy forget his daddy. I expect you will both be grown so I will hardly know you. Kiss mother and sister and Billy for me, and then make them kiss you for your father.”
“My Dear Little Man:
“I had your picture of Hiawatha in her tent, and also the other pictures made by you and I think they are fine. I am very proud of you, and know you are going to be a good boy and a good man. I can’t tell you how much I want to see you and dear little Billy and mother and sister. I am very lonesome away down here by myself. But it will only be a few weeksuntil I will be at home, and I will be so happy to be with you all.
“I am feeling pretty well this morning. It rained yesterday, but the sun is shining now and that always makes me feel good. You must not let Billy forget his daddy. I expect you will both be grown so I will hardly know you. Kiss mother and sister and Billy for me, and then make them kiss you for your father.”
In March he left the sanitorium and went home for a visit, without being dismissed, and did not return until his last illness ten years later. The separation under such tragic circumstances had served to draw him even closer to his home and family, and it is probable when he crossed the threshold of his home on that March day in 1907 it was with the determination to put behind him political aspirations and to conserve his strength for the service of those dependent on him. Little could he have thought at the time that in scarcely more than a year he would be again drawn into the vortex of intense political activity, and that his career as a national figure was just in the dawning.
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 apart 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 toThe 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 myfriends, who may be misled by newspaper reports, which persist in making me a candidate against my will.John W. Kern.“Chicago, July 1.”
“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 myfriends, 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 thrustupon 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 thepointed 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. StokesJackson, 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.