The crisis of the campaign came when George L. Record, Progressive leader in the ranks of the Republican party in Hudson County, uttered a ringing challenge to the Democratic candidate to debate the issues of the campaign with him. The challenge contained an alternative proposition that the Democratic candidate either meet Mr. Record in joint debate in various parts of the state or that he answer certain questions with reference to the control of the Democratic party by what Mr. Record called the "Old Guard." Mr. Record's letter and challenge created a profound sensation throughout the state and brought hope and comfort to the ranks of the Republican party.
Record emphasized the Old Guard's control of the convention at which Wilson was nominated, basing most of his questions upon this character of political control, and openly challenging Wilson, the Democratic candidate, to say whether the elements that were dominant at Trenton in the Convention would be permitted by him, in case of his election, to influence his action as governor.
For several days after the letter containing the challenge reached the Democratic candidate, there was a great deal of apprehension in the ranks of the Democratic party lest the candidate should decide to ignore the Record challenge, thus giving aid and comfort to the enemies of progressivism in the state, or, on the other hand, that he would accept it and thus give Mr. Record, who was a most resourceful public speaker and a leading exponent of liberalism in the state, a chance to outwit him in public debate. The latter practically demanded of the Democratic candidate that he repudiate not only the Old Guard but the active management of his campaign which had been taken over by James R. Nugent, one of the leaders of Essex County, who daily accompanied the Democratic candidate on his tour of the state. For a time it looked as if Doctor Wilson would ignore entirely the Record challenge. It was plainly evident from all sides that what appeared to be his reluctance to take a stand in the matter had turned support away at a time when the sentiment of the state was rapidly flowing his way.
I accompanied the candidate on an automobile tour of the state and in our little talks I sought to find out, in a diplomatic way, just how his mind was running on the Record challenge and how he intended to meet it. In the automobile with us on this tour was James R. Nugent, then the state chairman of the Democratic Committee. I ascertained that even he knew nothing about the Princetonian's attitude toward the Record challenge. A significant remark which the candidate dropped "between meetings" gave me the first intimation that the Democratic candidate was, to use a baseball expression, "on to the Record curve" and that he would answer him in so emphatic and overwhelming a fashion that the Republican campaign would never entirely recover from the blow.
One day while we were seated in the tonneau of the automobile discussing the Record challenge, Mr. Wilson pointed his finger at Jim Nugent and said, very significantly: "I intend to reply to Mr. Record, but I am sure that it will hurt the feelings of this fine fellow."
A few days later, without consulting any one, Mr. Wilson replied to Record's challenge. It was a definite, clean-cut, unequivocal repudiation of the Old Guard's control of the Democratic party, and a convincing answer to every question that had been put to him. It rang true. Old-line Republicans, after reading this conclusive reply, shook their heads and said, regretfully, "Damn Record; the campaign's over."
It was plainly evident that the crisis of the campaign had been safely passed and that Mr. Wilson was on his way to the governorship.
In his challenge Mr. Record had addressed to Doctor Wilson nineteen questions. Mr. Wilson's reply was in part as follows:
You wish to know what my relations would be with the Democrats whose power and influence you fear should I be elected governor, particularly in such important matters as appointments and the signing of bills, and I am very glad to tell you. If elected I shall not either in the matter of appointments to office, or assent to legislation, or in shaping any part of the policy of my administration, submit to the dictation of any person, or persons, "special interests," or organizations. I will always welcome advice and suggestions from any citizens, whether boss, leader, organization man, or plain citizen, and I shall confidently seek the advice of influential and disinterested men representative of the communities and disconnected from political organizations entirely; but all suggestions and all advice will be considered on its merits and no additional weight will be given to any man's advice because of his exercising, or supposing that he exercises, some sort of political influence or control. I should deem myself for ever disgraced should I, in even the slightest degree, coöperate in any such system. I regard myself as pledged to the regeneration of the Democratic party.
Mr. Record also inquired: "Do you admit that the boss system exists as I have described it?" "If so, how do you propose to abolish it?"
Mr. Wilson said:
Of course I admit it. Its existence is notorious. I have made it my business for many years to observe and understand that system, and I hate it as thoroughly as I understand it. You are quite right in saying that the system is bipartisan; that it constitutes "the most dangerous condition in the public life of our state and nation to- day"; and that it has virtually, for the time being, "destroyed representative government and in its place set up a government of privilege." I would propose to abolish it by the reforms suggested in the Democratic platform, by the election to office of men who will refuse to submit to it, and who will lend all their energies to break it up, and by pitiless publicity.
Still hoping to corner the Governor, Mr. Record named the bosses:
In referring to the Board of Guardians, do you mean such Republican leaders as Baird, Murphy, Kean, and Stokes? Wherein do the relations to the special interests of such leaders differ from the relation to the same interests of such Democratic leaders as Smith, Nugent, and Davis?
Mr. Wilson, answering this, said:
I refer to the men you name. They [meaning Baird, Murphy, Kean, Stokes] differ from the others in this, that they are in control of the government of the state while the others are not, and cannot be if the present Democratic ticket is elected.
In reply to Mr. Record's question: "Will you join me in denouncing the Democratic 'overlords' as parties to a political boss system?" Doctor Wilson replied: "Certainly I will join you in denouncing them—or any one of either party who attempts any outrages against the Government and public morality."
At this time I was in close touch with the managers of the Wilson campaign, including Smith, Nugent, and Davis. While they admired the fine strategy that lay back of the Democratic candidate's reply to Mr. Record, they looked upon it as a mere gesture upon the part of Mr. Wilson and scorned to believe that his reply to Mr. Record constituted a challenge to their leadership. They did not show any evidences of dismay or chagrin at the courageous attitude taken by Doctor Wilson. They simply smiled and shrugged their shoulders and said: "This is a great campaign play."
The final meeting of the gubernatorial campaign was held in a large auditorium in Newark, New Jersey, where the last appeal was made by the Democratic candidate. It was a meeting filled with emotionalism such as I had never seen in a campaign before. The Democratic candidate, Woodrow Wilson, had covered every section of the state and it was easy for even the casual observer to note the rising tide in his favour. The campaign had, indeed, become a crusade; his eloquence and sledge-hammer blows at the opposition having cut our party lines asunder. I was present at the final meeting and took my place in the wings of the theatre or auditorium, alongside of Senator Smith, the Democratic chieftain who a few weeks before had, in a masterful fashion, manipulated the workings of the Convention at Trenton in such a way as to make the Doctor's nomination possible. Mr. Wilson's speech on this occasion was a profession of faith in the people, in the plain people, those "whose names never emerged into the headlines of newspapers." When he said in a delightful sort of banter to his audience, "I want you to take a sportsman's chance on me," there went up a shout of approval which could be heard as far as the hills of old Bergen.
The peroration of his final speech, spoken in a tone of voice that seemed not only to reach every ear but, in fact, to touch every heart, was as follows:
We have begun a fight that, it may be, will take many a generation to complete, the fight against privilege; but you know that men are not put into this world to go the path of ease. They are put into this world to go the path of pain and struggle. No man would wish to sit idly by and lose the opportunity to take part in such a struggle. All through the centuries there has been this slow, painful struggle forward, forward, up, up, a little at a time, along the entire incline, the interminable way which leads to the perfection of force, to the real seat of justice and honour.
There are men who have fallen by the way; blood without stint has been shed; men have sacrificed everything in this sometimes blind, but always instinctive and constant struggle, and America has undertaken to lead the way; America has undertaken to be the haven of hope, the opportunity for all men.
Don't look forward too much. Don't look at the road ahead of you in dismay. Look at the road behind you. Don't you see how far up the hill we have come? Don't you see what those low and damp miasmatic levels were from which we have slowly led the way? Don't you see the rows of men come, not upon the lower level, but upon the upper, like the rays of the rising sun? Don't you see the light starting and don't you see the light illuminating all nations?
Don't you know that you are coming more and more into the beauty of its radiance? Don't you know that the past is for ever behind us, that we have passed many kinds of evils no longer possible, that we have achieved great ends and have almost seen their fruition in free America? Don't forget the road that you have trod, but, remembering it and looking back for reassurance, look forward with confidence and charity to your fellow men one at a time as you pass them along the road, and see those who are willing to lead you, and say, "We do not believe you know the whole road. We know that you are no prophet, we know that you are no seer, but we believe that you know the direction and are leading us in that direction, though it costs you your life, provided it does not cost you your honour."
And then trust your guides, imperfect as they are, and some day, when we all are dead, men will come and point at the distant upland with a great shout of joy and triumph and thank God that there were men who undertook to lead in the struggle. What difference does it make if we ourselves do not reach the uplands? We have given our lives to the enterprise. The world is made happier and humankind better because we have lived.
At the end of this memorable and touching speech old Senator James Smith, seated alongside of me, pulled me by the coat and, in a voice just above a whisper and with tears in his eyes, said: "That is a great man, Mr. Tumulty. He is destined for great things."
It did not seem possible on this memorable night that within a few days these two Democratic chieftains would be challenging each other and engaging in a desperate struggle to decide the question of Democratic leadership in the state.
All the prophecies and predictions of the political seers and philosophers of New Jersey, many of them of course feeling their own partisan pulse, were annihilated and set adrift by the happenings in New Jersey on the first Tuesday in November, 1910. Woodrow Wilson, college professor, man of mystery, political recluse, the nominee of the most standpat Democratic convention of many years, had been chosen the leader of the people of the state by the unprecedented majority of 39,000, and was wearing the laurels of victory. The old bosses and leaders chuckled and smiled; they were soon to have a Roman holiday under the aegis of the Wilson Administration.
There were many surprises in the Wilson victory. The Democrats awoke on the day after the election to find that they had not only won the governorship of the state, but their joy was unbounded to find that they had captured the Lower House of the Legislature that would have the election, under the preferential primary system just adopted, of a United States senator. Therein lay the fly in the ointment. Never in their wildest dreams or vain imaginings did the leaders of the Democratic party believe that there was the slightest chance even under the most favourable circumstances of carrying a majority of the vote of the state for the Democratic choice, James E. Martine, of Plainfield.
The suggestion that it was possible to elect a Democrat to the United States Senate was considered a form of political heresy. The nomination for the Senate had been thrown about the state until torn and tattered almost beyond repair; it was finally taken up and salvaged by that sturdy old Democrat of Union County, Jim Martine. Even I had received the offer of the senatorial toga, but the one who brought the nomination to me was rudely cast out of my office. The question was: What would be the attitude of the new Democratic leader, Woodrow Wilson, toward the preferential choice, Martine? Would the vote at the election be considered as having the full virtue and vigour of a solemn referendum or was it to be considered as Senator Smith would have it, a sort of practical joke perpetrated upon the electors? Soon the opinion of the people of the state began to express itself in no uncertain way, demanding the carrying out of the "solemn covenant" of the election, only to be answered by the challenge of Senator Smith and his friends to enter the field against Martine, the choice at the election.
This business pitchforked the Governor-elect prematurely into the rough- and-tumble of "politics as she is," not always a dainty game. As I review in retrospect this famous chapter of state history, which, because of the subsequent supreme distinction of one of the parties to the contest, became a chapter in national history, I realize the almost pathetic situation of Mr. Wilson. He had called himself an amateur in politics, and such he was in the practical details and involutions of the great American game, though in his campaign he had shown himself a master of political debate. In the ordinary course of events he would have been allowed two months between his election and inauguration to begin an orderly adjustment to the new life, to make a gradual transition from the comely proprieties of an academic chair to the catch-as-catch-can methods of the political wrestling mat, to get acquainted with the men and problems of the new career. But the Smith-Martine affair gave birth prematurely to an immediate occasion for a fight.
As president of Princeton, Doctor Wilson had proved that he was not averse to a fight when a fight was necessary and when it was distinctly his affair, but he may well have paused to consider whether the Smith-Martine business was his affair. One of his favourite stories in later years was of the Irishman who entered a saloon and seeing two men in a tangle of fists and writhing legs and bloody heads on the floor at the rear of the saloon, turned to the barkeeper and asked: "Is this a private fight, or can anybody git into it?" A more politic man than Woodrow Wilson and one less sensitive to moral duty, might well have argued that this contest was the business of the Legislature, not of the Governor. Many a governor- elect would have avoided the issue on this unquestionably sound legal principle, and friends in Princeton were in fact advising Mr. Wilson to precisely this course, the course of neutrality. It would not be strange if neutrality, aloofness, had presented a rather attractive picture at times to Mr. Wilson's mind. Why should he gratuitously take a partisan position between the factions which would inevitably win for him the enmity of a strong element within the party? Which would also win for him the unpleasant reputation of ingratitude? For though he had at the first overtures from Senator Smith and his friends made it as clear as language can make anything that he could accept the nomination only with the explicit understanding that acceptance should establish no obligations of political favours to anybody, it would be impossible to make it appear that opposition to Smith's darling desire to become senator was not an ungracious return to the man who had led the forces which had nominated Wilson at Trenton.
On the other hand, there was his distinct pledge to the people during his campaign, that if they elected him governor he would make himself the leader of the party, would broadly and not with pettifogging legalism interpret his constitutional relationship to the Legislature, would undertake to assist in legislative action, and not wait supinely for the Legislature to do something, and then sign or veto the thing done. Moreover, he had insisted on the principle of the preferential primary as one means by which the people should participate in their own government and convey an expression of their will and purpose to the law-making body. The people had voted for Martine. The fact that Senator Smith had scorned to have his name placed on the ballot, the fact that human imagination could picture a stronger senator from New Jersey than genial "Jim" Martine did not affect the argument. A great majority had voted for Martine and for nobody else. Was the use of the preferential primary for the first time in the selection of a United States senator to be ignored, and all the arguments that Candidate Wilson and others had made in behalf of the system to be taken "in a Pickwickian sense," as not meaning anything?
There was a real dilemma doubtless much more acutely realized by the Governor-elect than by the hot-heads, including myself, who were clamorous for an immediate proclamation of support of Martine, on progressive principles, and for an ultimatum of war-to-the-knife against Smith and the old crowd.
It seemed as if Mr. Wilson were hesitating and holding off, reluctant to accept the gage of battle thrown down by the challenge of the Smith wing. The leading Democratic and Independent journals of the state were most insistent that immediate proof be given by Governor-elect Wilson of his leadership and control over the party and that a test should be made as to which influence, reactionary or progressive, was to control the destinies of our party in the state. Those of us who had followed the candidate throughout the campaign and who had been heartened by his progressive attitude were sorely disappointed at his failure immediately to act. It was painfully evident to us that behind the scenes at Princeton the new governor's friends, particularly Colonel Harvey, were urging upon him cautious and well-considered action and what mayhap might be called "a policy of watchful waiting," picturing to him the insurmountable difficulties that would lie in his path in case he exercised his leadership in the matter of Martine's selection to the United States Senate. They suggested that the vote for Martine had no binding force; that it was a mere perfunctory expression of preference in the matter of the United States senatorship which the Legislature was free to ignore. The only man, therefore, who could make the vote effective was the Governor-elect himself. What he would do in these circumstances was for days after the election a matter of perplexing doubt to his many friends. Disappointment and chagrin at the candidate's silence brooded over the ranks of the progressives of the state. In my law office in Jersey City I tried to convince those who came to confer with me regarding the matter that they must be patient; that, ultimately, everything would be all right and that Doctor Wilson would soon assert his leadership over the party and take his proper place at the head of those who worked to make the preferential vote an effective instrumentality. Frankly, though I did not give expression to my doubts, I was profoundly and deeply disappointed at the apparently hesitant, uncertain attitude of the Governor-elect. Feeling certain that popular opinion would be with him in case he decided to lead in this struggle, I was convinced that the delay in announcing his attitude toward the Smith-Nugent "defi" was dampening the ardour and enthusiasm of many of his friends.
The progressive Democrats of the state waited with patience the word of command and counsel from the Princeton professor to initiate the fight that would settle for all time in the state of New Jersey the question whether the referendum on the question of the election of United States senators should be treated as "a scrap of paper," or whether it was to be upheld and vindicated by the action of the Legislature. No direct word came to me of the Governor-elect's attitude on this vital question. Rumours of his position toward Senator Smith's candidacy filtered "through the lines" from Princeton; various stories and intimations that seemed to indicate that the Governor-elect would allow Martine's selection to go by default; that he would not interfere in any way to carry out the mandate of the election.
Things were in this unsatisfactory condition when to my surprise I received a call in my modest Jersey City law offices from the Governor- elect. Knowing him as I know him, I can see that in his deliberate fashion he was taking testimony from both sides and slowly arriving at his own decision. Having heard from the cautious who counselled neutrality, he was now seeking the arguments of the impetuous who demanded action and wanted it "hot off the bat." But at that time, not knowing him as I now know him, he seemed, in this interview, to be vacillating between two opinions, for he did what I have often known him to do subsequently: stated with lucidity the arguments of the other side, and with the air of one quite open-minded, without opinions of his own, seemed to seek my arguments in rebuttal. I was sorely disappointed by what then seemed to me his negative attitude, so unlike the militant debater whom I had come to admire in the campaign which had recently been brought to a brilliant and victorious close. In my youthful impetuosity I felt that we had been deceived in our man, a bold talker but timid in action. I simply did not then know the man and the mixed elements in him. Later, in close association, I was to see this phase of him not infrequently, the canny Scot, listening without comment and apparently with mind to let to conflicting arguments while his own mind was slowly moving to its own position, where it would stand fixed and immovable as Gibraltar.
Almost as if it were an academic question, with which he had no personal concern, he propounded the alternatives: Should he lead the fight against Senator Smith, or should he stand aloof and permit the Legislature to act without any suggestion from him? He summarized the arguments of his friends at Princeton who were advising him to steer clear of this fight and not permit himself to be drawn into it by young, impetuous people like myself. He said that certain overtures and suggestions of compromises had been made to him by Senator Smith's friends, to the effect that if he would not play a leading part in the fight and allow the Legislature to act without interference from him, Senator Smith and his friends in the state would agree not to oppose his legislative programme at the coming session. It was further suggested that Senator Smith had the necessary votes to elect himself and that it would be futile to attempt to elect Jim Martine; and that his intervention in this family quarrel would result in a bitter and humiliating defeat for him at the very outset of his administration. When the Governor-elect had concluded this preliminary statement, I was depressed and disappointed. I did not think there should be a moment's hesitation on his part in at once accepting the challenge so defiantly addressed to him by the Democratic bosses of the state.
Frankly, I laid the whole case before him in words to this effect: "My dear Doctor Wilson, there is no way I can better serve you than by frankly dealing with the question. Your friends away off in Princeton probably do not know how for years our party and its destinies have been in the hands of these very men, enemies of liberalism in New Jersey, who by your silence or indifference as to the United States senatorship are to be given a new lease on life. The issue involved in this fight is fundamental and goes far beyond the senatorship. The action you take will have a far- reaching effect upon our party's fortunes and no one can calculate the effect it will undoubtedly have on your own political future. In urging you not to take part in this fight your friends are acting unwisely. You cannot afford not to fight and not to have an immediate test of your leadership in this matter. The question of Mr. Martine's fitness, as your friends urge, is not an issue seriously to be considered. 47,454 votes in the state have decided that matter and you cannot reverse their verdict. Your friends have placed too much emphasis on Martine's alleged unfitness and too little on the duty you owe the party and the state asleader."
I called to his attention the fact that men like myself had been heartened and encouraged by his speeches in the campaign; how we felt that at last we had found in him a leader, bold and fearless, and that now, when the first real test of leadership came, it appeared that we were to be disappointed and that by his silence and inaction he would permit Senator Smith to win and allow Martine, the popular choice, to be defeated, thus setting aside the verdict of the election. He listened intently but without comment to all I had to say. Proceeding with my argument, I said: "The people of New Jersey accepted your word and, to employ your own phrase, 'took a sportsman's chance on you' and they must not be disappointed. Your failure to make this fight will mean that you have not only surrendered your leadership as governor in this matter, but by the same act you will have abdicated your leadership in favour of the Old Guard all along the line. They have set a trap for you, and I know you will not permit yourself to be caught in it." In conclusion I said: "They say they will support your reform programme. What assurance have you that, having defeated you in this your first big fight, they will not turn on you and defeat your whole legislative programme? As governor, you have the power to lead us to a great victory in this vital matter. Exercise it now, and opinion throughout the state will strongly and enthusiastically support you. You have but to announce your willingness to lead and the people of the state will rally to your standard. The fight, in any event, will be made and we wish you to lead it. This is really the first step to the Presidency. That is what is really involved. Not only the people of New Jersey but the people of America are interested in this fight. They are clamouring for leadership, and I am sure you are the man to lead, and that you will not fail."
When the Governor-elect rose to leave my office, he turned to me and asked, still in a non-committal manner, whether in my opinion we could win the fight in case he should decide to enter upon it. I at once assured him that while the various political machines of the state would oppose him at every turn, their so-called organizations were made of cardboard and that they would immediately disintegrate and fall the moment he assumed leadership and announced that the fight was on.
In his own time and by his own processes Mr. Wilson arrived at his decision. It was the first of my many experiences of his deliberative processes in making up his mind and of the fire and granite in him after he had made his decision. He informed me that he would support Martine and use all his force, official and personal, to have the Legislature accept the preferential primary as the people's mandate.
With prudence and caution, with a political sense that challenged the admiration of every practical politician in the state, the Princetonian began to set the stage for the preliminary test. There was nothing dramatic about these preliminaries. Quickly assuming the offensive, he went about the task of mobilizing his political forces in the most patient, practical way. No statement to the people of his purposes to accept the challenge of the Democratic bosses was made by him. Certain things in the way of accommodation were necessary to be done before this definite step was taken. It was decided that until the Governor-elect had conferred with the Democratic bosses in an effort to persuade them that the course they had adopted was wrong, it would be best not to make an immediate issue by the Governor-elect's announcement. We thought that by tactfully handling Smith and Davis we would be able by this method of conciliation to convince their friends, at least those in the party organization, that we were not ruthlessly bent upon leading a revolt, but that we were attempting peacefully a settlement that would prevent a split in our party ranks.
We were convinced that in the great body of organization Democrats there were many fine men who resented this attempt of the bosses to force Jim Smith again on the party and that there were many who silently wished us success, although they were not free to come to our side in open espousal. Thus we began patiently to build our back-fire in the ranks of the Democratic organization itself, to unhorse the Essex boss.
The first thing to carry out the programme was a visit paid to the sick room of the Democratic boss of the Hudson wing, Bob Davis, who lay dangerously ill in his modest home on Grove Street, Jersey City. The visit itself of the Governor-elect to the home of the stricken boss had a marked psychological effect in conciliating and winning over to our side the active party workers in the Davis machine. To many of the privates in the ranks the boss was a veritable hero and they witnessed with pleasure the personal visit of the new Governor-elect to the boss at his home and looked upon it as a genuine act of obeisance and deference to their stricken leader. They thought this a generous and a big thing to do, and so it naturally turned their sympathies to the Governor-elect. It gave further proof to them that the man elected Governor was not "high-browish" or inclined to fight unless he had previously laid all his cards on the table. We also realized that to have ignored the boss would have been to give strength and comfort to the enemy, and so we deliberately set out to cultivate his friends in a spirit of honourable and frank dealing. The visit to the boss was a part of this plan. The meeting between these two men—one, the Governor-elect and until recently the president of Princeton; the other, a Democratic boss, old and battle-scarred—in the little sick room of the humble home, was a most interesting affair and at times a most touching and pathetic one. Both men were frank in dealing with each other. There was no formality or coldness in the meeting. The Governor-elect quickly placed the whole situation before the boss, showing how the Democratic party had for many years advocated the very system—the election of United States senators by the people—that the Democratic bosses of the state were now attacking and repudiating. Briefly, he sketched the disastrous effects upon our party and its prestige in the state and the nation if a Democratic legislature should be the first, after advocating it, to cast it aside in order to satisfy the selfish ambition and vanity of one of the Old Guard. In a sincere manly fashion, so characteristic of him, Boss Davis then proceeded to statehiscase. Briefly, it was this: He had given his solemn promise and had entered into a gentleman's agreement with Smith to deliver to him the twelve legislative votes from Hudson. He would not violate his agreement. Laughingly, he said to the Governor-elect: "If the Pope of Rome, of whose Church I am a member, should come to this room to urge me to change my attitude, I would refuse to do so. I have given my promise and you would not have me break it, would you, Doctor?" With real feeling and a show of appreciation of the boss's frankness and loyalty to his friends, the Governor-elect quickly replied: "Of course, I would not have you break your promise, but you must not feel aggrieved if I shall find it necessary to fight you and Smith in the open for the Hudson votes." "Go on, Doctor," said the sick man, "I am a game sport and I am sure that with you there will be no hitting below the belt." And thus the first conference between the Governor-elect and the political boss ended.
Mr. Wilson's next visit was to Senator Smith himself at the Senator's home in Newark, a meeting entirely friendly in character and frank in expressions of the unalterable determination of the two men, of Senator Smith not to withdraw from the race, of Doctor Wilson to oppose his candidacy and place the issue before the people of the state. Senator Smith with engaging candour gave Mr. Wilson his strong personal reasons for wishing to return to the United States Senate: he said that he had left the Senate under a cloud due to the investigations of the Sugar Trust and that for the sake of his children he wanted to reinstate himself in the Senate. Mr. Wilson expressed his sympathy for this motive, more appealing than mere personal ambition, but declared that he could not permit his sympathy as an individual to interfere with his duty as he conceived it, as an official pledged by all his public utterances to support progressive principles, among which was the preferential primary system, and committed to a course of active leadership in matters which concerned the state at large, in which category the selection of a United States senator certainly fell. He made a personal appeal to the Senator for the sake of the party to forego his desire and by a noble act of renunciation to win the regard of all the citizens of the state, saying: "Why, Senator, you have it in your power to become instantly, the biggest man in the state." But the Senator was firm. And so, though the visit was conducted with the dignity and courtesy characteristic of both men, it ended with their frank acknowledgment to each other that from now on there existed between them a state of war.
Returning to Princeton from Newark, the formal announcement of the Governor's entrance into the fight was made and the contest for the senatorship and the leadership of the Democratic party was on. The announcement was as follows:
WOODROW WILSON'S CHALLENGE TO THE BOSSESFriday Evening, Dec. 9,1910.
The question who should be chosen by the incoming legislature of the state to occupy the seat in the Senate of the United States which will presently be made vacant by the expiration of the term of Mr. Kean is of such vital importance to the people of the state, both as a question of political good faith and as a question of genuine representation in the Senate, that I feel constrained to express my own opinion with regard to it in terms which cannot be misunderstood. I had hoped that it would not be necessary for me to speak; but it is.
I realize the delicacy of taking any part in the discussion of the matter. As Governor of New Jersey I shall have no part in the choice of a Senator. Legally speaking, it is not my duty even to give advice with regard to the choice. But there are other duties besides legal duties. The recent campaign has put me in an unusual position. I offered, if elected, to be the political spokesman and adviser of the people. I even asked those who did not care to make their choice of governor upon that understanding not to vote for me. I believe that the choice was made upon that undertaking; and I cannot escape the responsibility involved. I have no desire to escape it. It is my duty to say, with a full sense of the peculiar responsibility of my position, what I deem it to be the obligation of the Legislature to do in this gravely important matter.
I know that the people of New Jersey do not desire Mr. James Smith, Jr., to be sent again to the Senate. If he should be, he will not go as their representative. The only means I have of knowing whom they do desire to represent them is the vote at the recent primaries, where 48,000 Democratic voters, a majority of the whole number who voted at the primaries, declared their preference for Mr. Martine, of Union County. For me that vote is conclusive. I think it should be for every member of the Legislature.
Absolute good faith in dealing with the people, an unhesitating fidelity to every principle avowed, is the highest law of political morality under a constitutional government. The Democratic party has been given a majority in the Legislature; the Democratic voters of the state have expressed their preference under a law advocated and supported by the opinion of their party, declared alike in platforms and in enacted law. It is clearly the duty of every Democratic legislator who would keep faith with the law of the state with the avowed principles of his party to vote for Mr. Martine. It is my duty to advocate his election—to urge it by every honourable means at my command.
Immediately the work of organizing our forces for the fight was set in motion. I had been designated by the Governor-elect to handle the fight in Hudson County, the Davis stronghold. Meetings were arranged for at what were considered the strategic points in the fight: Jersey City and Newark. The announcement of the Governor-elect's acceptance of the challenge had given a thrill to the whole state and immediately the reaction against the Old Guard's attempt to discredit the primary choice was evident. The bitterness in the ranks of the contesting factions began to express itself in charges and counter-charges that were made. Speeches for and against the candidates were addressed to the ears of the unwary voter. The state was soon up in arms. There was no doubt of the attitude of the people. This was made plain in so many ways that our task was to impress this opinion upon the members of the Legislature, whose vote, in the last analysis, would be the determining factor in this contest. While we were laying down a barrage in the way of organization work and making preparations for our meetings throughout the state, the Governor-elect was conferring nightly with members of the Legislature at the University Club in New York. From day to day could be observed the rising tide in favour of our cause, and slowly its effect upon the members of the Legislature was made manifest. The first meeting in the senatorial contest was held in Jersey City. As chairman of the committee, I had arranged the details for this first speech of the Governor-elect. I had adopted a plan in making the arrangements that I felt would remove from the minds of the organization workers, to whom we desired to appeal, the idea that this was a revolt or secessionist movement in the ranks of the Democratic party. The committee in charge of the meeting had selected the finest, cleanest men in our party's ranks to preside over and take part in the meeting.
There was never such an outpouring of people. Men and women from outside the state, and, particularly, men and women from New York and Connecticut, had come all the way to New Jersey to witness this first skirmish in the political upheaval that was soon to take place. The metropolitan dailies had sent their best men to write up the story and to give a "size-up" of the new Governor-elect in fighting action. They were not disappointed. He was in rare form. His speech was filled with epigrams that carried the fight home to those upon whom we were trying to make an impression. When he warned his friends not to be afraid of the machine which the bosses controlled he said, with biting irony: "We do not fear their fortresses [meaning the political machines] that frown and look down upon us from their shining heights." Smiling deprecatingly and waving his hand, he continued: "They are but made of paste-board and when you approach them they fall at your very touch."
Ridiculing and belittling the power of the bosses, he called them "warts upon the body politic." "It is not," said the new chief of Democracy, "a capital process to cut off a wart. You don't have to go to the hospital and take an anaesthetic. The thing can be done while you wait, and it is being done. The clinic is open, and every man can witness the operation."
The meeting was a triumph and strikingly demonstrated the power of brain and fine leadership over brawn and selfish politics.
The final appeal to the voters on the United States senatorship was made in the heart of the enemy's country, the stronghold of the Smith-Nugent faction at Newark, New Jersey. The same enthusiastic, whole-souled response that characterized the Jersey City meeting was repeated. The same defiant challenge to the Old Guard was uttered by the new Governor. Sarcasm, bitter irony, delightful humour, and good-natured flings at the Old Guard were found in this his final appeal. In a tone of voice that carried the deep emotion he felt, he said, as his final word:
Do you know what is true of the special interests at this moment! They have got all their baggage packed and they are ready to strike camp over night, provided they think it is profitable for them to come over to the Democratic party. They are waiting to come over bag and baggage and take possession of the Democratic party. Will they be welcome? Do you want them? I pray God we may never wake up some fine morning and find them encamped on our side.
The response was thrilling. The two meetings just held, one in Jersey City and the other in Newark, convinced those of us in charge of the Martine campaign that we had made the right impression in the state and, having deeply aroused the voters, all we had to do was to harvest the crop, the seed of which had been planted in the soil of public opinion by the speeches the new Governor had made. It was plain that the machine crowd was stunned and reeling from the frequent and telling blows that had been so vigorously delivered by him. Suggestions of compromise came from the enemy's ranks, but no armistice would be granted, except upon the basis of an absolute and unconditional surrender. Offers and suggested proposals from the Old Guard to the Governor-elect were thrust aside as valueless and not worthy his consideration. There was nothing to do but play for a "knock-out." Soon the full pressure of the opinion of the state began to be felt. Members of the Legislature from the various counties began to feel its influence upon them. Our ranks began to be strengthened by additions from the other side. The Governor's speeches and his nightly conferences were having their full effect. The bosses, now in panic, were each day borne down by the news brought to them of the innumerable defections in their quickly dwindling forces. However, the bosses showed a bold front and declared that their man had the votes. But their confidence waned as election day approached. Realizing the fact that we were dealing with the best-trained minds in the Democratic party, we gave no news to the outside world of the strength in number of our own ranks, knowing full well that if we did so imprudent a thing, the active men in the ranks of the enemy would pull every wire of influence and use every method of threats and coercion to wean the votes away from us. We "stood pat" and watched with interest every move made by the other side. In his final statement before the joint meeting of the Legislature Smith boldly announced his election to the Senate on the strength of the number of legislative votes pledged to him, but those of us who were in the midst of this political melee knew that he was licked and that he was only whistling to keep up his courage.
In the meantime, the Governor-elect had tendered to me the post of secretary to the Governor, and I accepted this office which brought me into more intimate association with him and his plans.
The conferences and meetings in preparation for the great senatorial fight having been concluded, the scene of activities was transferred to Trenton, where shortly after the Inauguration plans were laid for the final battle.
Immediately upon the conclusion of the Inaugural ceremonies, the hand-to- hand contests for the great prize and incidentally the leadership of the Democrats, was on in full swing. At the beginning of the fight the bosses counted upon the active support of the influential Democratic leaders throughout the state, like Robert S. Hudspeth of Hudson County, Johnston Cornish of Warren County, Edward E. Grosscup of Gloucester County, Barney Gannon and Peter Daley of Middlesex County, old Doctor Barber of Warren County, Otto Wittpenn of Hudson County, Billy French and Judge Westcott of Camden, Dave Crater of Monmouth, and minor bosses or leaders in south and middle Jersey. But in utter amazement they found that we had captured these fine pieces of heavy political artillery and that through them we had acquired and taken over some of the most valuable political salients in the state.
A little incident in the campaign is worth reciting. In managing the campaign I found that for some unaccountable reason the so-called Irish vote of the state was massed solidly behind ex-Senator Smith and in bitter opposition to Governor Wilson. We were constantly coming in contact with these currents of opposition, and how to overcome them and bring the Irish vote into our fold was the task that devolved upon me as the manager of Martine's campaign. Seated in my office one day I recalled that years before I had read in the Congressional Record an account of a speech delivered in the United States Senate by James Smith, upholding in terms of highest praise the famous Hay-Pauncefote Treaty. The speech in all its details, particularly the argument it contained calling for closer relations between the United States and Great Britain, was still fresh in my memory. Evidently Senator Smith and his Irish friends had forgotten it, for he was now trying to mobilize the Irish vote of the state in his favour. On re-reading this speech of the old Senator, I smiled with satisfaction, realizing the campaign use that could be made of it. After considering the matter carefully, I sent for a devoted friend of mine, a fine, clean-cut Irishman, who stood high in the ranks of the Clan-na-Gael and other Irish societies in our county. After he had read the speech, we discussed the method of using it, for we felt sure that our Irish friends, when they became acquainted with this speech upon reading it, would not find themselves in agreement with Smith's attitude toward England and the Treaty. My friend consented to write letters to the leading papers, particularly the Irish papers of the state, setting forth Smith's attitude toward the Treaty. The effect upon the Irish vote was immediate and soon resolutions began to be adopted by the various Irish societies throughout the state, denouncing Smith for having advocated the much-despised "Anglo- Saxon Alliance."
While I opposed Senator Smith in this contest there was nothing personally antagonistic in my attitude. We were, I hope, friends throughout the conflict, and many times since then we have discussed the events leading up to Martine's election to the United States Senate. It was only a few months ago, while seated at a table at the Shoreham Hotel in Washington, that the old Senator, genial and debonair as ever, was discussing the fights of the old days, and particularly the events leading up to his defeat for the United States senatorship. In discussing the New Jersey campaign, he told me of the use that had been made by "someone" in the Wilson ranks of his Senate speech on the Hay-Pauncefote Treaty. He said that his reason for making this speech was his sincere desire as an Irish- American to bring about more amicable relations between the United States and England, and as I listened to this frank recital I felt that, although the use I had made of his speech was legitimate in the circumstances, there was nothing to be proud of in having exploited the Senator's really fine speech for political purposes.
The State House at Trenton on the night previous to the balloting for the senatorship was a place of feverish activity. The Essex ex-Chieftain, Smith, kept "open house" in the then famous Room 100 of the Trenton House. The Governor-elect, calm and apparently undisturbed, but anxious and ready for a contest, quietly moved about the Executive offices attending to official matters.
We felt confident of the result of the vote if the members of the Legislature were left free, but we were certain that every kind of pressure would be put upon them to change the votes of the wobblers in our ranks. All night long and until four or five o'clock in the morning the Governor-elect and I remained in the Executive office, keeping in close contact with our friends both by telephone and personal conference. Senator Smith never knew it, but some of the men close to him and participating in his own conferences on this fateful night hourly brought to us information as to what would be the real line-up of his forces on the day set for balloting. We found a spy in our own ranks—a leading lawyer and politician from, my own county—who, while pretending to be our friend, was supplying the enemy with what he thought was useful information. We, however, were already aware of this gentleman's duplicity and, although he never suspected it, whenever he left the Executive office he was followed by a professional detective, who heard and reported to us every bit of information he had supplied to our political foes.
On the night before the election the Smith-Nugent leaders had gathered their forces and, headed by a band, paraded through the streets of Trenton, passing in review before Senator Smith who stood upon the steps of the Trenton House and greeted them in most generous fashion. The purpose of this demonstration was obvious to the Governor-elect and his friends. It was simply to give to the arriving legislators an impression of great strength behind the Smith-Nugent forces.
On the morning of the balloting the corridors and lobby of the State House were crowded with the henchmen of the Essex chieftain. The surface indications were that Smith had the necessary number of votes, but to those of us who were able accurately to analyze the situation it was apparent that the froth would soon pass away. The parade and the demonstration of the Nugent followers had deeply impressed some of the men in our ranks, particularly the editor of a Trenton newspaper, who came to the Executive offices and urged upon the Governor the publication of a statement which he had prepared, filled with grandiloquent phrase, warning the people of the state that the members of the Legislature were about to be coerced and threatened by the strong-arm methods of the Smith-Nugent organization.
Frankly, the suggestion which this Trenton editor made to the new Governor impressed him. The Governor made certain changes in the statement and then sent for me to read it, asking my advice upon it. The first test of my official connection with the Governor was at hand. Upon reading the editor's article I saw at once that its issuance would be most unwise, and I frankly said so. My practical and political objection to it, however, was that if published it would give to the people of the state the impression that our forces were in a panic and that we, were in grave fear of the result. I further argued that it was an attempt at executive coercion of the Legislature that would meet with bitter resentment. I felt that we had already won the fight; that the Legislature, which was the jury in the case, was inclined to favour us if we did not seek to influence its members by such foolish action as the Trenton editor advised. The statement was not published.
I found in this little argument with the new Governor that he was open- minded and anxious for advice and I thereafter felt free to discuss matters with him in the frankest way.
The first ballot showed Martine leading heavily. In the following ballots he gained strength at every count. The Legislature adjourned the first day without reaching a decision. As we surveyed the field after the first day's balloting it was clear to us that if we hoped to win the fight we would have to have Hudson County's legislative vote. The Democratic boss, Bob Davis, had died a few days previous, and had entrusted his affairs to the hands of a fine, clean-cut, wholesome Irish-American, James Hennessy, then chairman of the Hudson County Democratic Committee. He was one of the squarest men I ever met in politics and had been an intimate associate of my father in the old days in Jersey City. On the day of the final balloting we were sorely pressed. When it seemed as if we had reached the limit of our strength, it occurred to me that a final appeal to Hennessy by the Governor might have some effect. We decided to send for Hennessy to come to the Executive offices. It was clear from his attitude when he arrived that, while his sympathies lay with us, he was bound in honour to carry out the instructions of his chief and deliver the Hudson County vote to Smith. The Governor, getting very close to him and discussing the campaign in the most intimate way, told him that if Martine was rejected, the political effect on our party's fortunes would be disastrous; that we were sure we had the votes and that the next ballot would give proof of this, and that it was only a question, to use a campaign phrase, of "getting on the band wagon" and making Martine's nomination unanimous. When the Governor concluded his talk, I turned to Hennessy in the most familiar way, and spoke of the Governor's desire to elect Martine and of the unselfish purpose he had in mind and how he, Hennessy, was blocking the way. I said to him: "You have it in your power to do a big thing. You may never have the chance again." He finally stood up and said to me: "What do you want me to do?" I told him that we wanted him to go to the Hudson delegates and give word that the "jig" was up and that they must throw their support to Martine. Shortly after this meeting the Hudson delegation met in caucus and agreed to support Martine.
When Smith and Nugent heard of this message they practically surrendered. The balloting which began at ten o'clock was a mere formal affair for it was plainly evident from the changes in the early balloting that Martine's election was assured. Martine's election was a fact; and Woodrow Wilson was the victor in the first battle for the Presidency.
I have stated that I am not proud of the way I used Senator Smith's speech on the Hay-Pauncefote Treaty. We were fighting veterans in the political game, men who knew all the tricks and who did not scruple to play any of them. In the rough school of practical politics I had been taught that "you must fight the devil with fire" and that it is as legitimate in politics as in war to deceive the enemy about your resources. But we conducted politics on higher levels during the eight years in the White House, when my chief, no longer an amateur, taught me, by precept and example, that effective fighting can be conducted without resort to the tricks and duplicities of those who place political advantage above principle. Woodrow Wilson made new rules for the game, and they were the rules which men of honour adopt when conducting their private business on principles of good faith and truth-telling.
The election of Martine having been settled and the preferential vote having been validated through the courageous handling of a delicate situation, the new Governor was firmly in the saddle. His leadership had been tested and only the fragments of the Old Guard machine were left. The road was thus cleared of all obstacles in his own party that might be put in the way of his programme of constructive legislation.
Having delivered his first message, which contained a full and detailed discussion of his whole programme, he applied himself with great energy and industry to the task of preparing bills for introduction in the Senate and House. Not content with the mere delivery of his message, he put himself entirely at the disposal of the members of the Legislature and industriously applied himself to the task of preparation until the following measures:Regulation of Public Utilities, Corrupt Practices Act,Direct Primaries Act, and theEmployers' Liability Act, were in shape to be introduced.
While his leadership was vindicated as a result of the Smith-Martine fight, the contest had undoubtedly left many bitter scars and enmities which soon manifested themselves in the unfriendly attitude of the Smith men in the Legislature toward the new Governor and particularly toward his programme of constructive legislation. For awhile after the election of Martine they seemed subdued and cheerfully resigned to defeat; but when the new Governor launched his legislative programme they began eagerly to attack it in many subtle ways. While there were some members of this group who honestly opposed the Governor's programme because of their conservative tendencies, the majority of the opposition were bent upon "putting it to sleep," because, forsooth, it bore the Wilson label. The new Governor quickly grasped the full significance of the situation and openly challenged the opposition. To accomplish his purpose, he did an unprecedented thing. He invited the Democratic members of the Legislature to meet him in the Supreme Court Room of the State House and there, face to face, he laid before them various items of his programme and challenged the opposition to lay their cards on the table. In the course of this conference one of the leaders of the Smith-Nugent faction expressed his dissatisfaction with the whole programme, challenging the new Governor's right to be present at the conference; even intimating that his presence was an unconstitutional act which might subject him to impeachment. The new Governor, undisturbed by this criticism, turned to the gentleman who had challenged his right to be present at the conference, and said:
You can turn aside from the measure if you choose; you can decline to follow me; you can deprive me of office and turn away from me, but you cannot deprive me of power so long as I steadfastly stand for what I believe to be the interests and legitimate demands of the people themselves. I beg you to remember, in this which promises to be an historic conference, you are settling the question of the power or impotence, the distinction or the ignominy of the party to which the people with singular generosity have offered the conduct of their affairs.
Some of the members of the Legislature came to my office after this conference and told me of the great speech the Governor had just delivered and how defiantly he had met the attack of his enemies. This caucus gave an emphatic endorsement of his legislative programme and in a few weeks the House of Assembly had acted upon it, and the various bills that constituted his entire programme were on their way to the Republican Senate. How to induce favourable action at the hands of the Republican Senate was a problem. There were very few members of the Senate whose ideals and purposes were in agreement with those of the Governor.
When the bills reached the Senate, the Governor began daily conferences with the Republican members of that body, discussing with them the items of his programme and urging speedy action upon them. As a part of the programme of inducing the Republicans to support him, a friend of mine who was on the inside of the Republican situation reported to me that it was the opinion in the Republican ranks that the new Governor was too much a professor and doctrinaire; that he was lacking in good-fellowship and companionship; that while the members of the Legislature who had conferred with him had found him open and frank, they thought there was a coldness and an austerity about him which held the Governor aloof and prevented that intimate contact that was so necessary in working out the programme we had outlined.
We finally decided that the fault lay in the lack of social intimacy between the new Governor and the members of the Legislature. In my social and official contact with Mr. Wilson I always found him most genial and agreeable. When we were at luncheon or dinner at the old Sterling Hotel in Trenton he would never burden our little talks by any weighty discussion of important matters that were pending before him. He entirely forgot all business and gave himself over to the telling of delightful stories. How to make the real good-fellowship of the man an asset in dealing with the members of the Senate was a problem. I very frankly told him one day at luncheon that many members of both legislative bodies felt that he was too stiff and academic and that they were anxious to find out for themselves if there was a more human side to him. In order to give him an opportunity to overcome this false impression we arranged a delightful dinner at the Trenton Country Club, to which we invited both Democratic and Republican members of the Senate. The evening was a delightful one. In the corner of the little room where the dinner was served sat three darky musicians who regaled the little group with fine old southern melodies. It was real fun to watch the new Governor's conduct in this environment. He was like a boy out of school. He was no longer the college professor or the cold man of affairs. He delighted the members of the Senate who sat about him with amusing stories, witty remarks, and delightful bits of sarcasm. At the close of the dinner, Senator Frelinghuysen walked over and challenged him to a Virginia Reel. He accepted this invitation and the crowd of men were soon delighted to see the Somerset senator lead the new Governor out on the floor and his long legs were soon moving in rhythm with the music.
[Illustration:
Telegram.
The White HouseWashington
3 RN JM 75 Govt.114pm
Windsor, Vermont, July 5, 1915
Hon. Jos. P. Tumulty,The White House,Washington, D.C.
—— is down and out in his newspaper work and desperately in need of employment. Says there is a vacancy as foreign trade adviser in the State Department and also one in the District Play Grounds department. Would be very much obliged if you would see if something can be done for him in either place. His address 221 A. Street, Northeast.
Woodrow Wilson.
* * * * *
Dear Tumulty,
I want to issue this statement to help Mr. Hoover and his Commission in the splendid work they are doing, and head off mischief-makers (or, rather, one particular mischief-maker who is a little out of his mind) on this side the water.
Will you not please read it to Lansing over the phone and, if he has no objection to offer, give it out?
A glimpse at the President's human side.]
After all, men are just boys, and this bringing together of these practical men on so happy and free an occasion did much to convince the members of the Senate that the new Governor after all was like themselves, a plain, simple man, modestly trying to serve the interests of a great state.
This affair broke the ice, and after that there was a close intimacy between the Governor and the members of the Legislature, both Democrats and Republicans, and this coöperation soon brought about the enactment of the whole Wilson programme. Never before had so comprehensive a programme been so expeditiously acted upon by a legislative body. The Legislature had convened in January and by the middle of April every campaign pledge that the Governor had made had been kept, although the Senate with which he had to deal was largely Republican.
As the legislative session progressed it appeared that certain Democratic senators were reluctant to follow his leadership. Indeed it was also apparent that the Republicans were alike unwilling to act favourably upon his legislative suggestions. In this situation he summoned the Democratic senators and reminded them of the party pledges in the platform and served notice that if they did not vote for these measures they would have to explain to their constituents. He then summoned the Republican senators and said to them, in effect, this: "The legislation proposed was promised in the Democratic platform. That is not your platform. Therefore, you are not pledged to this action. But if you obstruct the action I shall have to trouble you to go with me to your districts and discuss these matters with your constituents and tell them why you consider this bad legislation and why you resisted it."
The newspapers of the country soon began to discuss the achievements of the Wilson administration in New Jersey and immediately the name of the Governor began to be mentioned in connection with the Presidency.
One of the matters of national importance with which he was called upon to deal during this legislative session was the passage of railroad grade- crossing legislation. In response to the agitation that had long existed in New Jersey for the elimination of grade crossings, the Democrats had inserted a radical plank in their platform in reference to it, and, acting upon this, the Legislature had passed a grade-crossing bill, to which the railroads of the state strenuously objected. It was a matter of the greatest public interest and importance that for many years had been the subject of bitter controversies throughout the state. While the bill was before the Governor for consideration, the railroad attorneys had prepared long, comprehensive briefs attacking the bill as unjust to the railroads and as containing many features which in their essence were confiscatory. When the bill came before the Governor for final action no one considered for a moment the possibility of a veto, first, because of the traditional attitude of the Democratic party of New Jersey in the matter of grade crossings; and, secondly, because of the effect a veto would have upon the progressive thought of the country. I recall very well my discussion with him in regard to this most important bill. Realizing that he was at this time looming up as a national figure, and knowing that the Progressives of the country were awaiting with keen interest his action on the bill, I feared the effect upon his political fortunes that a veto of the bill would undoubtedly have.
The Baltimore Convention was only a few months away and it was clear to me that no matter how safe and sane were the grounds upon which he would veto this legislation, his enemies in the Democratic party would charge him with being influenced by the New Jersey railroad interests who were engaged in a most vigorous campaign against the passage of this legislation. In fact, when we came to discuss the matter, I frankly called this phase of it to his attention. I tried to make him see the effects such a veto would have upon his political fortunes, but he soon made it clear to me that he was unmindful of all such consequences. After thoroughly considering the matter, he finally decided to veto the bill. In discussing the matter with me, he said: "I realize the unjust and unfortunate inference that will be drawn by my political enemies from a veto of this bill, but the bill, as drawn, is unjust and unfair to the railroads and I ought not to be afraid to say so publicly. I cannot consider the effect of a veto upon my own political fortunes. If I should sign this bill it would mean practically a confiscation of railroad property and I would not be worthy of the trust of a single mail in the state or in the country were I afraid to do my duty and to protect private property by my act." His attitude toward the bill was clearly set forth in the veto, part of which is as follows:
I know the seriousness and great consequence of the question affected by this important measure. There is a demand, well grounded and imperative, throughout the state that some practicable legislation should be adopted whereby the grade crossings of railways which everywhere threaten life and interfere with the convenience of both city and rural communities should as rapidly as possible be abolished. But there is certainly not a demand in New Jersey for legislation which is unjust and impracticable.
* * * * *
The non-enactment of this bill into law will, of course, be a serious disappointment to the people of the state, but it will only concentrate their attention upon the just and equitable way of accomplishing the end in view. I do not believe that the people of the state are in such haste as to be willing to work a gross injustice, either to the railroads or to private owners of property, or to the several communities affected.
Of course his political enemies made free use of this veto in an effort to injure him throughout the country in every state campaign where his fortunes as candidate were involved. As a matter of fact, his veto of this bill did shock the people of the state, but when they seriously considered the matter in all its aspects, they felt that their governor had, at least, done an honourable and a courageous thing in refusing to approve it.
Discussion of him as a strong Presidential possibility was steadily growing. I had felt a delicacy about talking of this with him, but in a walk that we were accustomed to take along the banks of the Delaware and Raritan Canal between office hours, I, one day, made bold to open, the subject in this way: "It is evident from the newspapers, Governor, that you are being considered for the Presidency." I could plainly see from the way he met the suggestion that he did not resent my boldness in opening the discussion. I told him that we were receiving letters at the Executive offices from various parts of the country in praise of the programme he had just put through the legislature. As we discussed the possibilities of the Presidential situation, he turned to me in the most solemn way, and putting his hand to his mouth, as if to whisper something, said: "I do not know, Tumulty, that I would care to be President during the next four years." And then looking around as if he were afraid uninvited ears might be listening, he continued: "For the next President will have a war on his hands, and I am not sure that I would make a good war President." This reply greatly excited my curiosity and interest and I said: "With what nation do you think we will have a war?" Very cautiously he said: "I do not care to name the nation," and our little talk ended. This statement was made to me in April, 1911. Was it a prophecy of the war that was to burst upon the world in August, 1914?