Woodrow Wilson_ A Biography Part 2

This transparent attempt to discredit Wilson with Bryan and his followers fooled n.o.body, but it caused some tense moments. McCombs panicked and charged that a conspiracy was afoot, masterminded by Wall Street tyc.o.o.ns. Bryan took the matter in stride. It helped that he happened to be in Raleigh, North Carolina, when the news broke and staying with his close friend Josephus Daniels, a newspaper editor and prominent Democrat who backed Wilson. Daniels worked on Bryan and traveled with him to Was.h.i.+ngton, where the New Jersey governor was scheduled to speak on January 8 at the Democrats' biggest annual event, the Jackson Day dinner. One Democrat who sought to mollify Bryan remembered him saying, "If the big financial interests think they are going to make a rift in the Progressive ranks of the Democratic Party by such tactics, they are mistaken."17 Wilson reacted in a similar manner. He drafted a statement to the press praising Bryan but decided against issuing it. "We must not appear to place ourselves on the defensive," an adviser recalled him saying. "I will cover the situation tonight in my address." In his Jackson Day speech, he praised Bryan for having "the steadfast vision of what it was that was the matter" and having based his career unfailingly on principle. He urged Democrats to "move against the trusts" and remain faithful to "that vision which sees that no society is renewed from the top and every society is renewed from the bottom." The speech did the trick. Bryan put his hand on Wilson's shoulder and said to him, "That was splendid, splendid." Other Democrats rushed to congratulate him, and as he told Mary Peck, "I was made the lion of the occasion,-to my great surprise; and the effect of it all (for it was a national affair) seems to have been to strengthen the probabilities of my nomination many-fold."18 One more problem from the conservative side vexed Wilson in January 1912. This involved George Harvey and his cohort Henry Watterson, editor of the Louisville Courier-Journal Courier-Journal. In December, Wilson had dinner with the two men in New York, and they discussed the political situation. At the end of the evening, Harvey asked for "a perfectly frank answer" to the question of whether his support was embarra.s.sing Wilson, who answered that it might be. Wilson quickly regretted his frankness and, not having thanked Harvey for his support, said, "Forgive me, and forget my manners." Harvey affected to accept the apology, but he did not forgive his onetime protege for his apostasy from Democratic conservatism. Harvey dropped the slogan "For President: Woodrow Wilson," which he had been running on the cover of Harper's Weekly Harper's Weekly. He also fed stories to newspapers about a "break" between him and Wilson and released a misleading statement to the press accusing Wilson of acting on his own initiative to brush him off. This attack backfired because Watterson wrote a letter to The New York Times The New York Times in which he inadvertently confirmed that Harvey had initiated the affair. Meanwhile, Bryan sprang to Wilson's defense. In his magazine, in which he inadvertently confirmed that Harvey had initiated the affair. Meanwhile, Bryan sprang to Wilson's defense. In his magazine, The Commoner The Commoner, he a.s.serted that the attacks "are proving the sincerity of his [Wilson's] present position. ... [T]he venom of his adversaries removes all doubt as to the REALITY of the change."19 In retrospect, this incident and the others would shrink in importance compared with the biggest test Wilson faced in his quest for the nomination-challenges from rival aspirants. His apparent ease in marching toward the party's top prize was deceptive. Novelty at first enhanced his attractiveness, while the Democrats' losing record in recent presidential contests initially made more-established politicians shy away. Both of those circ.u.mstances had changed by the end of 1911. Wilson's novelty may have been wearing off, and mounting political troubles for the Taft administration-together with open warfare in Republican ranks-made the Democrats' presidential prospects look unexpectedly bright.

The biggest question hanging over the party was whether its top national officeholder would make a bid for the nomination. He was the Speaker of the House of Representatives, James Beauchamp Clark of Missouri. Clark, who went by the nickname Champ, was sixty-one years old in 1911. Active in Democratic politics for four decades, he had served in the House, with one interruption, for the past eighteen years, becoming minority leader in 1907 and Speaker after the party won control in 1910. An educated man who had practiced and taught law and had briefly been a college president, Clark nevertheless gave the appearance of being Wilson's polar opposite. Folksy and taciturn, he had once endorsed a patent medicine in a speech on the floor of the House, and he had gotten ahead in politics in part by letting people underestimate him. To the press, Clark seemed the epitome of the small-town party hack, a public image that was both unfortunate and unfair. In his years as minority leader, Clark had welded the House Democrats into a disciplined, progressive force, and on all the important issues he was a loyal Bryanite. That record prompted many observers to predict that Bryan would endorse Clark for the nomination after the Speaker announced his candidacy late in the fall of 1911. Champ Clark was a formidable contender, as Wilson and his backers soon discovered.20 Nor was Clark the only serious challenger. The Democrats' second-ranking national officeholder also entered the race for the nomination. He was the majority leader in the House, Oscar W. Underwood of Alabama. At first, his candidacy seemed to be just another home-state "favorite son" bid, but in the early months of 1912 Underwood began to gather support throughout the South. His attractiveness was testimony to the weakness in the South that worried Wilson.

Wilson drew fire from opposite ends of the political spectrum in the South. So-called Bourbon Democrats-conservatives who led the political machines in their states-recoiled from his "radical" progressive views. Agrarian radicals-such as Tom Watson of Georgia, once a leading Populist, and James K. Vardaman of Mississippi-rejected him on account of his anti-Bryan past. The common denominator of this opposition was the belief that this expatriate was no longer a "real" southerner. Wilson's opponents viewed him as someone who had adopted alien Yankee ways-either the radical progressivism that irked the Bourbons or the friendliness toward urbanites and big business that irked the agrarian radicals. His southern supporters tended to be more progressive types, such as Josephus Daniels and, ironically, Wilson's old but not fond acquaintance at the Atlanta bar, Hoke Smith. The fault line separating his supporters and opponents in the former Confederacy ran mainly between reconstructed and unreconstructed white southerners.21 Another irony made it clear that Underwood's backers did not so much love him more as they loved Wilson less. The forty-nine-year-old congressman was arguably no more a "real" southerner than the New Jersey governor. He was a native of Louisville, Kentucky, and had spent part of his boyhood in Minnesota. Only after attending the University of Virginia-his time there briefly overlapping with Wilson's, although the two men never knew each other-did he move to the Deep South, where, like Wilson, he had set up a law practice in a New South boomtown, in Underwood's case the rising manufacturing center of Birmingham, Alabama. After his election to Congress in the mid-1890s, Underwood became a spokesman for his city's business interests. Smooth-faced and affable, he owed his rise among House Democrats to his pleasant manner and his champions.h.i.+p of tariff reform. His candidacy for the nomination was a blessing in disguise for Wilson. Besides keeping Bourbons from backing Clark, as some of them probably would have done, it kept sectional feeling strong. Southerners wanted one of their own to be the nominee, and an expatriate might be better than an outsider.

The race for the nomination got going in earnest when William Randolph Hearst came out for Clark at the end of January 1912. This was another case of loving Wilson less. The "personal reasons" cited by Wilson to account for Hearst's opposition evidently dated back to the beginning of his term as governor. According to later recollections, the newspaper tyc.o.o.n had made a roundabout approach to Wilson, who responded, "Tell Mr. Hearst to go to h.e.l.l." Wilson reportedly also remarked, "G.o.d knows I want the Democratic presidential nomination and I am going to do everything legitimately to get it, but if I am to grovel at Hearst's feet, I will never have it."22 Wilson had made a dangerous enemy. Hearst's newspapers enjoyed a wide readers.h.i.+p, particularly among working-cla.s.s people in big cities. Those papers started to blacken the governor's name by reprinting derogatory comments about recent immigrants from southern and eastern Europe that appeared in Wilson's Wilson had made a dangerous enemy. Hearst's newspapers enjoyed a wide readers.h.i.+p, particularly among working-cla.s.s people in big cities. Those papers started to blacken the governor's name by reprinting derogatory comments about recent immigrants from southern and eastern Europe that appeared in Wilson's History of the American People History of the American People. Conversely, Tom Watson attacked him as a tool of the Catholic church because Joe Tumulty was his secretary, and as soft on race because he had spoken to African American audiences.

The four months from February to the end of May 1912 marked a time of trial and discouragement for Wilson. His bid for the nomination met one setback after another, with only a few bright moments to relieve the gloom. In 1912, neither party chose a majority of its convention delegates through primaries, although several states did pick their delegates that way. Those primaries provided indications of how well candidates were doing and helped or hurt them in the race to gain other delegates. Wilson skipped the first of the primaries, in Missouri, because it was Clark's home state. The Speaker won handily there, despite some factional divisions. The governor prevailed in primaries in Wisconsin, Kansas, and Oklahoma, but he skipped Alabama because it was Underwood's home state. Meanwhile, Underwood drew support throughout the South. A heavy blow to Wilson's candidacy fell early in April in Illinois, where Clark beat him in the primary by a two-to-one margin. Soon afterward, the Speaker carried Bryan's adopted home state, Nebraska, although with only a plurality. The news was not good in the nonprimary states either. In New York, despite the efforts of such supporters as a young Democratic state senator named Franklin D. Roosevelt, Tammany chose a delegation that was hostile to Wilson. In May, Underwood swept primaries in several southern states, including one where Wilson had strong personal ties, Georgia; in another state where he had strong ties, South Carolina, he did eke out a victory. Meanwhile, Clark won primaries in western and northeastern states, and many observers predicted that he would be the nominee.23 The defeats were embarra.s.sing to Wilson. He believed in primaries and had brought them to New Jersey; plus, he was running as the most progressive candidate and the one with the broadest appeal. Republicans had a ready, if disparaging, answer to the question of why Wilson had failed to do better. With them-conservatives and progressives alike-it was an article of faith that the Democrats were fundamentally unsound, triply tainted by the legacies of slavery and secession, by the corrupt influence of city machines, and by the cranky notions of farmer radicals. In the South, memories of the Civil War, with race lurking in the background, undermined Wilson's appeal. In northern states such as Illinois and New York, Hearst's attacks and Clark's ties to party organizations turned politicians and voters against him. Finally, Clark had a record on economic issues, which mattered more to Bryanites than political reform, and he stood unsullied by any earlier conservative flirtations.24 Wilson's high-toned but hard-hitting reformist style would have worked better with Republicans. In fact, at that moment Theodore Roosevelt was showing how strong such an appeal was. "My hat is in the ring," the ex-president announced in February 1912. He elbowed aside La Follette, who had previously carried the insurgent progressive banner against Taft, to run for the nomination against his own handpicked successor. Roosevelt denounced bosses and big business, advocated political and economic reform measures, and demanded that the will of the people be heard. He won all but one of the primaries he entered, even beating the president in his home state of Ohio. This turn of events hurt Wilson's prospects. The spectacular internecine fight in the other party-especially because it involved such a famous and colorful figure as Roosevelt-distracted public attention from the contest for the Democratic nomination. Moreover, the damage that Roosevelt's fight with Taft did to their party vastly improved Democratic prospects in November, so that the Democrats looked likely to win no matter whom they nominated. Why, then, turn to an unconventional newcomer when they could send a tried-and-true party man to the White House?

Wilson's poor showing in the primaries did not stem from lack of effort. When he spoke in various states during the first half of 1912, he gave a compelling exposition of his political thinking. He continued to hit away at the theme of unleas.h.i.+ng the economic energies of ordinary people. In a newspaper interview, he echoed Bryan's well-known refrain from the 1896 Cross of Gold speech: "Who are the business men of the country? Are not the farmers business men? ... Is not every employer of labor, every purchaser of material and every master of any enterprise, big or little, and every man in every profession a business man?" He also invoked sacred symbols, appropriating Lincoln's memory as an example of how high common folk could rise, and he traveled farther down the road to Monticello, avowing, "I turn, with ever renewed admiration, to that great founder of the Democratic party, Thomas Jefferson." Wilson likewise painted his own vision of a vigorous government led by a dynamic president. Several times, he implicitly or explicitly praised Roosevelt's a.s.sertive style, and he maintained, "Government must regulate business, because that is the foundation of every other relations.h.i.+p, particularly of the political relations.h.i.+p."25 By the time Wilson uttered those words, his prospects of leading the nation looked dim. Not only had the primaries gone against him around the country, but he also had to fight on his home turf. Vengeful to the end, Smith and Nugent endorsed Clark and mounted a campaign to deny the governor delegates to the convention. After some initial reluctance, Wilson came out swinging. He made speeches around the state, and in a public letter to the party faithful he asked, "Shall the Democrats of New Jersey send delegates to Baltimore who are free men, or are the special interests again to name men to represent them? ... [D]o you wish to support government conducted by public opinion, rather than by private understanding and management, or do you wish to slip back into the slough of the old despair and disgrace?" Distraction from the hard-fought contest between Roosevelt and Taft in the Republican primary did not help. Wilson and Roosevelt crossed paths in Princeton, when the ex-president spoke in front of the Na.s.sau Inn the day before the New Jersey primary and Wilson stood in the crowd across the street, in front of the First Presbyterian Church. In his own speech, on the steps of his rented house an hour later, he commented on "two very militant gentlemen" whose fight was making it hard for people to concentrate on the issues.26 Still, the primary, on May 28, went Wilson's way. The up-and-coming new boss in Jersey City, Frank Hague, failed to deliver for Clark, and Nugent's Newark returned the only non-Wilson delegates-four of them. Still, the primary, on May 28, went Wilson's way. The up-and-coming new boss in Jersey City, Frank Hague, failed to deliver for Clark, and Nugent's Newark returned the only non-Wilson delegates-four of them.

Sweetening that outcome was an editorial endors.e.m.e.nt two days later from the New York World World. For The World The World, it was partly a matter of loving Clark a lot less. The paper had earlier called his nomination "Democratic suicide" "Democratic suicide" and feared that it would open the way to another term for Roosevelt, whom the editorial called "the most cunning and adroit demagogue that modern civilization has produced since Napoleon III." Wilson seemed a bit too Bryanite for and feared that it would open the way to another term for Roosevelt, whom the editorial called "the most cunning and adroit demagogue that modern civilization has produced since Napoleon III." Wilson seemed a bit too Bryanite for The World's The World's taste, but that shortcoming was "vastly overbalanced by his elements of strength." Wilson had proved "his political courage and fearlessness" and shown himself to be "the sort of a man who ought to be President." This good news from New Jersey and taste, but that shortcoming was "vastly overbalanced by his elements of strength." Wilson had proved "his political courage and fearlessness" and shown himself to be "the sort of a man who ought to be President." This good news from New Jersey and The World The World did not hearten Wilson. He told Mary Peck, "I have not the least idea of being nominated, because ... the outcome is in the hands of professional case-hardened politicians who serve only their own interests and who know I will not serve them except as I might serve the party in general. I have no deep stakes involved in the game." did not hearten Wilson. He told Mary Peck, "I have not the least idea of being nominated, because ... the outcome is in the hands of professional case-hardened politicians who serve only their own interests and who know I will not serve them except as I might serve the party in general. I have no deep stakes involved in the game."27 Wilson was bracing himself to face an impending disappointment. But his prospects were not quite as bleak as he thought. Despite the primary defeats, his candidacy had attracted widespread support. In addition to The World The World, a number of important newspapers and magazines endorsed his nomination, such as Page's The World's Work, The Independent, The Nation, The Outlook The World's Work, The Independent, The Nation, The Outlook, the New York Evening Post, The Kansas City Star New York Evening Post, The Kansas City Star, and Daniels's Raleigh News and Observer News and Observer. Protestant church leaders and journals embraced him as one of their own, as did teachers around the country. Wilson college clubs had more than 100 chapters by the time of the convention, with 10,000 members. Most important, Wilson had a strong, well-financed organization behind him. His wealthy Princeton friends contributed $85,000, of which $51,000 came from Cleveland Dodge, while other big donors chipped in an additional $65,000. Tensions between McCombs and McAdoo did not prevent them from resourcefully working the political circuit. They played the southern cards skillfully, gaining second-choice support from Underwood backers and extracting promises from his managers not to withdraw in favor of Clark. Moreover, Bryan declined to endorse Clark, and some people thought he might try to exploit a deadlocked convention to gain another nomination for himself. In short, Wilson's situation was serious but not hopeless.28 The year 1912 witnessed two of the most exciting national political conventions in American history. The first to meet and by far the more dramatic was the Republican gathering at the middle of June in Chicago. Nothing could match that convention's furious exchanges on and off the floor between the Roosevelt and Taft forces, charges of a "steal" from the ex-president and his supporters, and the walkout by his delegates, who promised to start a third party. Roosevelt spoke to those delegates in person. In the most impa.s.sioned speech of his life, he pledged to carry the battle forward with the new party: "We fight in honorable fas.h.i.+on for the good of mankind; fearless of the future; unheeding of our individual hearts; with unflinching hearts and undimmed eyes; we stand at Armageddon, and we battle for the Lord." Wilson's reaction to these events was guarded and quizzical. Even before the Republican convention, he had soured on Roosevelt and what he called "his present insane distemper of egotism!"29 The Republican split brought both peril and opportunity to Wilson's cause. At first glance, this development worsened things for him by making victory for the Democrats now seem well-nigh certain. All they had to do was hang together, so the conventional wisdom went, and they would win no matter who headed their ticket. At a deeper level, however, Roosevelt's bolt vastly expanded the stakes of the election. Some of the ex-president's friends thought he got carried away with his emotions, while others shared Wilson's view that he was at least slightly mad. Neither was true. Despite the sound and fury of the Republican convention and the pretext offered by the "steal," there was long-pondered, deeply thought-out method in Roosevelt's madness. He had convinced himself that the current battles over the control of big business and the extension of democracy were repeating the sectional conflict half a century earlier over slavery. He intended his new party to play the role previously played by Lincoln's Republicans-of standing up and fighting for freedom and national unity-and to emerge as a major, lasting political force.30 Wilson shared these views, though with a different twist. In February, he had alluded to Lincoln's "fearless a.n.a.lysis" that the nation could not endure half-slave and half-free. "[T]hat statement ought be made now," Wilson declared, "-that as our economic affairs are now organized they cannot go on as our economic affairs are now organized they cannot go on." The present division of the country was more intricate and difficult, but it was "something that can, by clear thinking, be dealt with and successfully dealt with, and no man who is a friend of this country predicts any deeper sorts of trouble." Now Roosevelt's actions threatened to inject dangerous pa.s.sions into the present conflict and reshape the face of American politics. If the Democrats nominated a party regular like Clark or a southerner like Underwood, they would follow the Republicans in discrediting themselves in the eyes of progressive-minded voters, thus expanding Roosevelt's new venture into a major party-so Roosevelt and his supporters believed and hoped. His son Kermit told their distant cousin Franklin, who was married to the ex-president's niece Eleanor, "Pop is praying for the nomination of Champ Clark."31 The delegates who convened in Baltimore on June 25, 1912, came close to giving the ex-president his heart's desire. On the first ballot, Clark led Wilson by 440 to 324, with Governor Harmon of Ohio next at 148 and Underwood fourth at 117; another 57 votes were scattered among four candidates, including 31 for Governor Thomas R. Marshall of Indiana. On the next eight ballots, Wilson and Clark each picked up a few votes. The standoff broke on the tenth ballot. Persistent rumors predicted that Tammany would switch from Harmon to Clark, and that happened when the machine's boss, Charles Murphy, cast the state's 90 votes for the Speaker. That s.h.i.+ft gave a majority of the delegates to Clark, who reportedly was writing his telegram of acceptance and expected to be nominated on one of the next few ballots, and Wilson was ready to concede.32 If this had been a Republican convention, it would have been all over; only a majority was required for that party's nomination. If this had been a normal Democratic convention, it would also have been all over. The party did require two thirds for nomination, but not since 1844 had a candidate won a majority and not gone on to win the nomination. But this was far from a normal Democratic convention. Though nowhere near as explosive as the Republicans' recent fracas in Chicago, this one witnessed plenty of fireworks. Before the proceedings opened, Bryan had telegraphed the candidates to demand that they oppose anyone for temporary chairman of the convention who was "conspicuously identified with the reactionary element of the party." He was taking a slap at Alton Parker, the party's conservative nominee in the race against Roosevelt in 1904, who enjoyed the backing of Tammany and other northern machines. McCombs drafted a reply for Wilson that straddled the issue, just as Clark's reply did. When the governor received McCombs's draft, in his bedroom at Sea Girt, he said, "I cannot sign this." Sitting on the edge of a bed, he wrote his own reply on a pad of paper. "You are quite right," he told Bryan. "No one will doubt where my sympathies lie." Parker won the convention chairmans.h.i.+p with votes from the Clark forces, thereby adding weight to the rumors about a deal with Tammany. Further fights followed over the seating of delegates and the rules for voting. Bryan stirred up more controversy when he introduced a resolution on the floor demanding that delegates allied with Wall Street moguls not be seated. It was a quixotic gesture that angered even some of his staunchest allies, but it kept progressive sentiment squarely at the fore of the convention.33 Those fights offered a prelude to what transpired next. Tammany's switch on the tenth ballot infuriated Bryan, who began to maneuver against Clark. According to Tumulty's recollection, Bryan telephoned Wilson to tell him that his only chance was to declare that he would not accept the nomination with Tammany's help. Tumulty and Wilson decided that there was nothing to lose, and the governor sent a telephone message stating, "For myself, I have no hesitation in making that declaration." Then, possibly at Ellen's instigation, he sent a second message saying he would not make that declaration public. McCombs later claimed he had not delivered either message to Bryan. Whatever happened, Bryan took to the warpath against Tammany. During the calling of the roll for the fourteenth ballot, he declared on the floor that he could not vote for any candidate who would "accept the high honor of the presidential nomination at the hands of Mr. Murphy." He then switched his previously instructed vote for Clark to Wilson.34 This marked the beginning of the turn of Wilson's fortunes. This marked the beginning of the turn of Wilson's fortunes.

At Sea Girt, the governor tried to deal at long distance with what was happening in Baltimore. He tried to stay calm by playing golf and reading John Morley's Life of Gladstone Life of Gladstone. But as he later confessed to Mrs. Peck, "While the convention was in session there was hardly a minute between breakfast and midnight when some one of our little corps was not at the telephone on some business connected with the convention." One telephone call came early in the morning of June 29 from a distraught McCombs, who said all was lost. According to William McAdoo's recollection, McCombs went to pieces, and the two men got into an argument after the call. McAdoo then telephoned Wilson and talked him out of quitting. In Sea Girt, everyone around the breakfast table was dispirited-except Wilson. When he noticed a catalog from a coffin company in the morning mail, he commented, "They've got their catalogue here by the first mail." But he was not ready to attend his own political funeral. Later in the day, reporters asked him what answer he might give to a telegram from Clark's manager asking him to withdraw. "There will be none," the governor said.35 From then on, Wilson's prospects improved, though at a snail's pace. This convention offered a foretaste of the party's fratricidal, seemingly interminable gatherings in the next decade. Behind the open debates about progressivism and bosses there were rumblings of the social and cultural conflict between country and city, "native" and immigrant, Protestant and Catholic, that would come close to destroying the Democrats in the 1920s. But in 1912, those conflicts had not yet come to the forefront. Also, an undemocratic rule and old-fas.h.i.+oned wheeling and dealing still prevailed. The two-thirds rule, which, like most progressive Democrats, Wilson opposed, saved him from defeat. Behind-the-scenes horse trading finally brought him victory.

During the long, hot days and nights in Baltimore, Wilson's managers worked tirelessly to get votes. McAdoo later claimed that he had a total of four hours' sleep during the last three days of balloting. More than McCombs, who turned into a nervous wreck, it was McAdoo who played the biggest part in putting Wilson over the top. He and others worked several angles successfully. One was to gain Indiana's votes by promising the vice-presidential nomination to Governor Marshall; that suited the state's party boss, who wanted to get rid of the governor. Another tactic was to cling to the ironclad agreement with the Underwood forces not to withdraw in Clark's favor. Wilson's managers offered Underwood the vice-presidential nomination, which he declined, and they promised to switch their votes to him if Wilson withdrew. Finally and mysteriously, the managers persuaded the Chicago boss, Roger Sullivan, to s.h.i.+ft a large bloc of Illinois votes from Clark to Wilson. McAdoo and others cultivated Sullivan, who had clashed with Hearst's allies and Clark's supporters in Illinois. Also, Sullivan was reportedly afraid that a prolonged deadlock might result in Bryan's nomination. The Illinois switch came on the morning of July 2, on the forty-second ballot. It took four more ballots, and another of McCombs's panic attacks, before Wilson finally reached the magic two thirds and became the Democrats' nominee for president.36 A telephone call at two forty-eight in the afternoon brought official word of the nomination to Sea Girt. Wilson was alone in the library when the call came. He went upstairs to tell Ellen, who was planning a family trip to their favorite spot, Rydal Mount, in England's Lake District, in the event he was not nominated. She knew what was going to happen when she heard his footsteps on the stair. "Well, dear, I guess we won't go to Mount Rydal [sic] [sic] this Summer after all," he told her, and she answered, "I don't care a bit, for I know lots of other places just as good." The couple came downstairs, with Mrs. Wilson on her husband's arm. Reporters noticed that Wilson's eyes were moist, while Ellen was smiling. The men of the press stood in silence, holding their hats in their hands. Then the governor made a statement: "The honor is as great as can come to any man by the nomination of a party, especially in the circ.u.mstances, and I hope I appreciate it at its true value; but just [at] this moment I feel the tremendous responsibility it involves even more than I feel the honor. I hope with all my heart that the party will never have reason to regret it." this Summer after all," he told her, and she answered, "I don't care a bit, for I know lots of other places just as good." The couple came downstairs, with Mrs. Wilson on her husband's arm. Reporters noticed that Wilson's eyes were moist, while Ellen was smiling. The men of the press stood in silence, holding their hats in their hands. Then the governor made a statement: "The honor is as great as can come to any man by the nomination of a party, especially in the circ.u.mstances, and I hope I appreciate it at its true value; but just [at] this moment I feel the tremendous responsibility it involves even more than I feel the honor. I hope with all my heart that the party will never have reason to regret it."37 That downbeat note was not just a bit of modesty for public consumption. Tumulty had hired a band to play outside, and Nell Wilson remembered, "Father asked him if he had instructed them to slink away in case of defeat." Someone in the crowd said, "Governor, you don't seem a bit excited." Wilson answered, "I can't effervesce in the face of responsibility." Four days later, he told Mary Peck, "I am wondering how all this happened to come to me, and whether, when [the] test is over, I shall have been found to be in any sense worthy. It is awesome to be so believed in and trusted."38 Such faith and trust were going to be needed as Woodrow Wilson went out to do battle with the most formidable opponent he could face in an election that promised to be one of the most momentous in the nation's history. Such faith and trust were going to be needed as Woodrow Wilson went out to do battle with the most formidable opponent he could face in an election that promised to be one of the most momentous in the nation's history.

8.

THE GREAT CAMPAIGN.

The election of 1912 witnessed one of the greatest presidential campaigns in American history, featuring a past president, a present president, and a future president: Theodore Roosevelt, William Howard Taft, and Woodrow Wilson. Coincidentally, these men were graduates of three of the country's oldest and most prestigious universities-Harvard for Roosevelt, Yale for Taft, and Princeton for Wilson. Also running was the country's most appealing radical politician, the Socialist Party's Eugene Victor Debs. From the outset, knowledgeable observers agreed that the real contest was between Roosevelt and Wilson. The fight between this pair held the center ring of the main tent of this electoral circus. It pitted the most colorful presidential politician since Andrew Jackson against the most articulate presidential politician since Thomas Jefferson. Woodrow Wilson could not have asked for a tougher or worthier opponent. If he won this fight, he could take pride in having beaten the heavyweight champion of politics.1 By another coincidence, Roosevelt and Wilson accepted their respective parties' nominations on the same day, August 7, 1912. Roosevelt's new Progressive Party met in the same hall in Chicago where the Republicans had gathered two months before. This convention struck many who were there as more like a religious revival than a political conclave. The delegates sang "Onward, Christian Soldiers," "Battle Hymn of the Republic," and words set to the tune commonly used in Protestant churches for the doxology. Roosevelt broke precedent by appearing in person at the opening of the convention to deliver his "Confession of Faith." He denounced the Republicans as hidebound reactionaries and "Professor Wilson" and the Democrats as wedded to "an archaic construction of the States'-rights doctrine" and quack economic remedies derived from Bryan's free-silver notions. He rejected "cla.s.s government" by both "the rich few" and "the needy many": the country needed a transcendent vision of the national interest that would "give the right trend to our democracy, a trend which will take it away from mere greedy shortsighted materialism." He closed by repeating his famous shout: "We stand at Armageddon, and we battle for the Lord." Curiously, however, when the Progressives nominated him with great fanfare the next day, he said only a few words thanking the delegates for the honor.2 Wilson's acceptance of his party's nomination, which occurred a few hours earlier, was a tamer affair. He observed the formality of waiting for a party delegation to come and inform him of his nomination, a practice dating back more than three quarters of a century, to the first party conventions, which had taken place before railroads and telegraphs, when it had presumably taken some time to learn that one had received the party's nomination. In fact, the business of a delegation traveling to inform the nominee had long since become an artificial ritual, but it did give the nominee time to prepare an acceptance speech, which traditionally served to kick off the campaign. Wilson performed that duty when a committee of Democrats journeyed to Sea Girt on August 7.

Standing on the porch of the governor's summer residence, he thanked the committee for this "great honor" and then delivered a strongly progressive message. "We stand in the presence of an awakened nation, impatient of partisan make-believe," Wilson announced. "The nation has awakened to a sense of neglected ideals and neglected duties." In this "new age," it would require "self-restraint not to attempt too much, and yet it would be cowardly to attempt too little." He praised the Democratic platform, especially the planks on the tariff, the trusts, banking reform, and labor, as well as those on presidential primaries, popular election of senators, and disclosure of campaign spending. On the tariff, he again refused to condemn protection in principle and urged caution. On the trusts, he did not condemn bigness in itself: "Big business is not dangerous because it is big." Rather, new laws were needed to curb and prevent monopoly. He called banking reform a "complicated and difficult question" and confessed that he did not "know enough about this subject to be dogmatic about it." On labor, he declared, "No law that safeguards [workers'] life, that improve[s] the physical and moral conditions under which they live ... can properly be regarded as cla.s.s legislation or as anything but a measure taken in the interest of the whole people." He closed by demanding "unentangled government, a government that cannot be used for private purposes, either in business or in politics; a government that will not tolerate the use of the organization of a great party to serve the personal aims and ambitions of any individual. ... It is a great conception, and I am free to serve it, as are you."3 As the slam at "personal aims and ambitions" indicated, Wilson was taking aim at Roosevelt. Each man had been sizing up the other for some time. Their once-friendly, mutually admiring acquaintance was long since dead. For several years, Roosevelt had been casting aspersions on Wilson as an impractical academic who purveyed outmoded and pernicious notions and had been belittling his conversion to progressivism. Several times during 1911, progressive Republicans and even Roosevelt's oldest son suggested to him that a Democratic victory in 1912 under Wilson might offer a good alternative to Taft and their party's conservatives. Roosevelt spurned such suggestions. In October 1911, he had told Governor Hiram Johnson of California that the Democrats were hopeless because "even those among them who are not foolish, like Woodrow Wilson, are not sincere ... but are playing politics for advantage, and are quite capable of tricking the progressives by leading them into a quarrel over States' rights as against National duties."4 Wilson's att.i.tude was more complicated. From the time he started to come out as a progressive, he publicly praised Roosevelt, despite his recent aspersion on the ex-president's alleged egotism. In October 1910, during his gubernatorial campaign, he had discussed with a Princeton faculty colleague the recent espousal by Roosevelt of the "New Nationalism," a phrase and idea borrowed from Herbert Croly's Promise of American Life Promise of American Life. In a campaign speech, Wilson praised the New Nationalism and dismissed fears of centralized government. When he emerged on the national scene, reporters often compared him to Roosevelt, and at the end of 1911, when it began to look as if he and Roosevelt might become opponents in the presidential election, he told Mrs. Peck, "That would make the campaign worth while." would make the campaign worth while."5 Neither man rushed into the fray. Roosevelt faced the task of building a party and a campaign from scratch. Wilson was more fortunate in having an established party behind him, and one that smelled victory. Even before the ceremony on August 7, the governor had begun receiving visits and getting advice from leading Democrats. A sullen Champ Clark made an obligatory call and perfunctorily pledged his support. Oscar Underwood was more genial and voluble on his visit. The organizational work fell to McCombs, whose uncertain nerves compelled him to bow out for a while, and increasingly to McAdoo. Veteran party operatives likewise pitched in. After the acceptance ceremony, Wilson occasionally commuted to Trenton and received visitors in the governor's office.6 Wilson was mulling over how to approach the campaign, and he was weighing the challenge he faced from Roosevelt. His daughter Nell later recalled, "Father gave a delicious imitation of Teddy delivering his hysterical slogan, 'We stand at Armageddon and battle for the Lord,' and added, 'Good old Teddy-what a help he is.'" For all his joviality, Wilson regarded Roosevelt with the utmost seriousness. "Do not be too confident of the result," he told Mary Peck. "I feel that Roosevelt's strength is altogether incalculable. ... He appeals to ... [people's] imaginations; I do not. He is a real, vivid person, whom they have seen and shouted themselves hoa.r.s.e over and voted for, millions strong; I am a vague, conjectural personality made up more of opinions and academic prepossessions than of human traits and red corpuscles. We shall see what will happen!" He thought the popular stereotypes reversed their real selves, with Roosevelt the cool calculator and him the pa.s.sionately committed politician. Taking Roosevelt on "would be a splendid adventure and it would make me solemnly glad to undertake it."7 Wilson never thought about doing anything else but appealing to public opinion. Nell also remembered, "Father did not deny Roosevelt's popularity and influence, but he said, 'Are people interested in personalities rather than in principles? If that is true they will not vote for me.'" Another alternative might have been for Wilson to play things safe and rely upon having an undivided party behind him. Bryan advised against such a strategy, reminding Wilson that "our only hope is in holding our progressives holding our progressives and winning over progressive Republicans." and winning over progressive Republicans."8 Wilson agreed, and he got potent reinforcement in this approach when a man whom he had not met before came to see him at Sea Girt on August 28, 1912. Wilson agreed, and he got potent reinforcement in this approach when a man whom he had not met before came to see him at Sea Girt on August 28, 1912.

The caller was the well-known "people's attorney" and reformer from Boston, Louis D. Brandeis. Just a month older than Wilson, the craggy-faced, mournful-eyed Brandeis was the son of Czech Jewish immigrants who had come to America in the wake of the failed revolutions of 1848. Like Wilson, Brandeis was a southern expatriate. He had been born in Louisville, Kentucky, although his parents were abolitionists and supporters of the Union. Unlike Wilson, he spoke with a southern accent all his life, but he had also gone north in 1875, to complete his education, in his case at Harvard Law School. Settling in Boston, Brandeis had become a highly successful attorney and seemed to fit in well with the city's Brahmin establishment. Yet he continued to view the economy and society from the standpoint of an outsider, and after the mid-1890s he had defended workers and small businesses. In 1908 he successfully argued before the Supreme Court in favor of Oregon's law limiting the hours women could work. He was also a friend and political adviser to the insurgent Republican leader Robert La Follette of Wisconsin.9 Brandeis came to see Wilson as a man on a mission. His study of economics and his defense of workers and small businesses had made him a fierce opponent of the trusts, and he was appalled at the stand Roosevelt had forced on the Progressives in favor of regulating rather than breaking up the trusts. He told reporters at Sea Girt that the right course was "to eliminate the evil and introduce good as a subst.i.tute," which meant "to regulate compet.i.tion instead of monopoly." The two men talked for three hours, over lunch and afterward, and claimed to reporters that they had had a meeting of the minds. Brandeis later recalled that he had spent much of the time in an effort to wean Wilson from his belief that punis.h.i.+ng guilty individuals would solve the trust problem, arguing instead for attacking the system that permitted such wrongdoing and fostering conditions that encouraged compet.i.tion.10 Brandeis seems to have been persuasive, because Wilson did address the trust issue in those terms during the rest of the campaign. Brandeis seems to have been persuasive, because Wilson did address the trust issue in those terms during the rest of the campaign.

It would be wrong to think that Wilson's concern about the trusts originated with Brandeis. He had been criticizing the shortcomings of the existing anti-trust law for some time, and his visitor supplied tactical rather than strategic advice for the upcoming campaign, something Wilson would later call upon him for again. Brandeis put his finger on the issue where Roosevelt was most vulnerable and offered plans for attacking him there. Also, Brandeis's emphasis on freedom may have planted the seed in Wilson's mind to stress that word and concept and eventually counter Roosevelt's New Nationalism with his own "New Freedom." In all, this meeting proved important to the way Wilson waged his campaign, although it probably was not essential to his winning the election. He was both gracious and accurate when he told Brandeis right after the election, "You were yourself a great part of the victory."11 Wilson followed this new plan of attack five days later when he gave his first major speech since accepting the nomination. At a Labor Day rally in Buffalo, he commended the "social program" in the platform of Roosevelt's new party, "the bringing about of social justice," but he condemned its trust program "because once the government regulates the monopoly, then monopoly will see to it that it regulates the government." Worse, the party's program wanted to play "Providence for you," and he feared "a government of experts. G.o.d forbid that in a democratic country we should resign that task and give the government over to experts. ... Because if we don't understand the job we are not a free people." That objection hinted at another of Roosevelt's vulnerable points-the widespread belief that he was a power-hungry potential despot. Wilson noted that people said he was "disqualified for politics" because he was a schoolteacher: "But there is one thing a schoolteacher learns that he never forgets, namely, that it is his business to learn all he can and then communicate it to others." Likewise, his party, the Democrats, did not seek to legalize monopoly, and they were "the only organized force by which you can set your government free."12 No one expected Roosevelt to take such charges lying down, and he did not disappoint expectations. Speaking in Fargo, North Dakota, four days later, he maintained that the past two decades' attempts to break up the trusts had failed, and he quoted a celebrated remark by the greatest of the trust magnates, J. Pierpont Morgan: "You can't unscramble the eggs in an omelet." Taft had tried to unscramble the eggs with anti-trust prosecutions and had failed, and now Wilson wanted to try the same futile approach. He scoffed at Wilson's aspersion on "government by experts" and extolled his own program as a "definite and concrete" approach to the trust problem, in contrast to Wilson's "vague, puzzled, and hopeless purpose feebly to continue the present policy."13 This rejoinder opened a debate on the trust question that would last for most of the month of September 1912. This rejoinder opened a debate on the trust question that would last for most of the month of September 1912.

Roosevelt's reply contained the germ of the attack that he was about to launch at Wilson. If the trust issue was his Achilles heel, then Wilson's was his onetime flirtation with conservative Democrats, which left lingering suspicions about the depth and sincerity of his progressivism. Roosevelt had also been taking his opponent's mark and looking for a point of attack. One of his press aides on the campaign train recalled, "It was Wilson, Wilson, Wilson, all the time in the private car, and nothing but Wilson and his record in the Colonel's talks. We believed we were on the way to drive Wilson into one of his characteristic explosions, with [a] result that could only be detrimental to his campaign."14 Why they thought they could provoke Wilson is not clear. The governor did not have a record of "characteristic explosions;" the idea that he did may have come from some stories about quarrels at Princeton, exaggerated and distorted in the retelling. At any event, three days after Roosevelt spoke, he found the opening he wanted. Why they thought they could provoke Wilson is not clear. The governor did not have a record of "characteristic explosions;" the idea that he did may have come from some stories about quarrels at Princeton, exaggerated and distorted in the retelling. At any event, three days after Roosevelt spoke, he found the opening he wanted.

On September 9, Wilson gave a speech in New York that contained the sentence "The history of liberty is a history of the limitation of governmental power, not the increase of it." In the body of the speech, that statement was part of an exhortation to keep government in touch with the people. By itself, however, as many newspapers quoted the sentence, it seemed to show that Wilson still clung to conservative Democratic state rights, limited-government views. Roosevelt wasted no time in exploiting the opening. In a speech in San Francisco on September 14, he quoted that sentence and called it "the key to Mr. Wilson's position," which he dismissed as "a bit of outworn academic doctrine which was kept in the schoolroom and the professorial study for a generation after it had been abandoned by all who had experience of actual life." He scorned Wilson's position as outmoded laissez-faire economics and proudly proclaimed his own intention "to use the whole power of government" to combat "an unregulated and purely individualistic industrialism."15 Roosevelt was d.a.m.ning Wilson as a heartless, outmoded conservative and an impractical academic out of touch with the real world while presenting his own position in the most attractive light. Roosevelt was d.a.m.ning Wilson as a heartless, outmoded conservative and an impractical academic out of touch with the real world while presenting his own position in the most attractive light.

Wilson, with his penchant for extemporaneous speaking and his inexperience in national politics, with its far greater press coverage, opened himself to misrepresentations. Roosevelt had learned his lesson the hard way in 1910, when his remarks about recalling judicial decisions had been similarly quoted out of context; now he supplied the press with advance texts of his speeches. During one of his campaign trips, Wilson asked reporters who had covered Roosevelt how the ex-president managed to produce those texts. "I wish I could do that," one reporter said Wilson confessed. "I've tried to do it over and over again, but I can't." He thought prepared texts spoiled the spontaneity of his speaking. Only on the most formal occasions, such as the acceptance speech in August and major state addresses he delivered as president, would he write an address and read from a prepared text. Otherwise, he persisted in speaking from sketchy notes, usually in shorthand, or using no notes at all. As president, however, he would remedy the problem by having a team of stenographers quickly prepare transcripts of his speeches.16 Nevertheless, Roosevelt's counterattack proved a boon to Wilson. On his first extended campaign tour-a grueling five-day railroad trip that took him around a large swath of the Midwest at the middle of September-he began to spell out his economic views. In Sioux City, Iowa, he argued, "Now a trust is not merely a business that has grown big. ... A trust is an arrangement to get rid of compet.i.tion, and a big business is a business that has survived compet.i.tion by conquering in the field of intelligence and economy. I am for big business, I am against trusts." But, he noted, "the third party says that trusts are inevitable; that is the only way of efficiency. I would say parenthetically that they don't know what they are talking about." In other speeches, he denied that monopoly was inevitable-"I absolutely deny that we have lost the power to set ourselves free"-and explained that regulated compet.i.tion would open the marketplace to newcomers: "We are going to say to the newcomers, 'It depends upon your genius, upon your initiative.' "17 Roosevelt's aspersions on Wilson's progressivism provided still richer grist for his mill. On Wilson's second campaign tour-another five-day train trip immediately afterward, this one through the Northeast-he expounded on his political beliefs. In a speech in Pennsylvania, he explicitly rejected Jefferson's limited-government views and threw Roosevelt's accusation back in his face: "Because we won't take the dictum of a leader who thinks he knows exactly what ought to be done by everybody, we are accused of wis.h.i.+ng to minimize the powers of the Government of the United States. I am not afraid of the utmost exercise of the powers of the government of Pennsylvania, or of the Union, provided they are exercised with patriotism and intelligence and really in the interest of the people who are living under them." In another speech, he used the story from Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking-Gla.s.s Through the Looking-Gla.s.s about Alice's running as hard as she can just to stay in the same place to explain his progressivism: "I am, therefore, a progressive because we have not kept up with our own changes of conditions, either in the economic field or the political field." He also affirmed that modern life often left individuals helpless in the face of great obstacles and, "therefore, law in our day must come to the a.s.sistance of the individual." about Alice's running as hard as she can just to stay in the same place to explain his progressivism: "I am, therefore, a progressive because we have not kept up with our own changes of conditions, either in the economic field or the political field." He also affirmed that modern life often left individuals helpless in the face of great obstacles and, "therefore, law in our day must come to the a.s.sistance of the individual."18 On that campaign swing, Wilson had two important meetings, both in Boston on September 27. The first was a chance encounter that stirred up some nice publicity. When he arrived at the Copley Plaza Hotel, he learned that President Taft was in the building, preparing to give a speech. He asked to call on the president, and the two men met in a private room on the fifth floor. According to press reports, the president asked the governor if campaigning had worn him out. "It hasn't done that, but it has nearly done so," Wilson answered and asked in turn, "How's your voice, is it holding out?" Taft said that it was and put the same question to Wilson. "It's pretty fine, but now and then it gets a bit husky," Wilson answered. Taft then observed, "Well, there are three men that can sympathize with you, Mr. Bryan, Mr. Roosevelt, and myself. We have been through it all." Afterward, Wilson told reporters, "It was a very delightful meeting. I am very fond of President Taft." He also made a joke about the president's renowned girth, saying that he knew the bed in his hotel room would be big enough "because it was built especially for the President."19 This was the only face-to-face encounter between any of the candidates in 1912. This was the only face-to-face encounter between any of the candidates in 1912.

Wilson could afford to joke about Taft. No one believed the president had a chance of winning, not even Taft himself. Some people believed that he was staying in the race out of spite, to ensure Roosevelt's defeat by splitting the Republican vote. Taft did harbor deep feelings of hurt and resentment toward his onetime friend and patron, but in not bowing out he also believed he was pursuing a greater political aim. At the time of the convention, he had confided to a supporter, "If I win the nomination and Roosevelt bolts, it means a long hard fight with probable defeat. But I can stand defeat if we retain the regular Republican party as a nucleus for future conservative action." In his campaign speeches, Taft attacked Roosevelt and preached a conservative sermon. Two days after his encounter with Wilson, he admonished, "A National Government cannot create good times. It cannot make the rain to fall, the sun to s.h.i.+ne, or the crops to grow, but it can, by pursuing a meddlesome policy, attempting to change economic conditions, and frightening the investment of capital, prevent a prosperity and a revival of business which might otherwise have taken place."20 Such sentiments were new for Taft, who had earlier been a moderate progressive, and they sounded like the limited-government views then usually a.s.sociated with conservative Democrats. This marked an early step toward the ideological transformation of the Republican Party during the rest of the twentieth century. Such sentiments were new for Taft, who had earlier been a moderate progressive, and they sounded like the limited-government views then usually a.s.sociated with conservative Democrats. This marked an early step toward the ideological transformation of the Republican Party during the rest of the twentieth century.

Wilson's other meeting in Boston on September 27 was with Brandeis. He asked the attorney to give him fresh proposals for dealing with the trusts. First in a lengthy talk and a few days later in two long memoranda, Brandeis outlined a legislative program. His proposals included, first, the removal of uncertainties in the current anti-trust law by facilitating court enforcement and establis.h.i.+ng an agency to aid in enforcement and, second, the enumeration of prohibited practices and remedies for those practices. The remedies included withdrawing government business from convicted firms and attacking those firms' patents. At first, Wilson planned to use Brandeis's ideas in a letter to the press on anti-trust policy, but he decided instead to incorporate them into his speeches. Even before he received the memoranda, he revealed Brandeis's influence when he announced in a speech the same day that they met, "[T]here is a point of bigness-as every businessman in this country knows, though some will not admit it ... where you pa.s.s the point of efficiency and get to the point of clumsiness and unwieldiness." He also warned that the country was nearing "the time when the combined power of high finance would be greater than the power of the government."21 Wilson was starting to hit his full stride as a campaigner. In the first half of October, he made his longest and most intensive tour, a nine-day trip in which he revisited the Midwest and went as far west as Colorado. In Indianapolis, he coined his own great slogan when he urged people "to organize the forces of liberty in our time to make conquest of a new freedom." Americans had a choice: either submit to "legalized monopoly" or else "open again the fields of compet.i.tion, so that new men with brains, new men with capital, new men with energy in their veins, may build up enterprises in America." In Omaha, he poked fun at people who "have regarded me as a very remote and academic person. They don't know how much human nature there is in me to give me trouble all my life." He particularly relished meeting "the plainest sort of men. ... And when they call me 'Kid' or 'Woody,' and all the rest of it, I know that I am all right." In Lincoln, which he called "the Mecca of progressive Democracy," he stayed overnight at Bryan's home, where the two men talked late into the night about the campaign, and they attended church together the next day. Despite the strains of train travel and constant speechmaking, he enjoyed talking with the reporters who accompanied him; it was on this western trip that he quizzed them on how Roosevelt got out advance texts of his speeches. The reporters found him more down-to-earth, humorous, and given to cussing than they had expected. When he heard about a New York paper refusing to support a Tammany-backed candidate, he scoffed, "There's no use in being so d.a.m.ned ladylike."22 On this campaign swing, Wilson grew relentless in attacking Roosevelt and seeking to undercut his appeal. He praised insurgent Republicans and reminded people that La Follette, "that st.u.r.dy little giant in Wisconsin," refused to support Roosevelt and what Wilson always called the "third party," the "new party," or the "irregular, the variegated Republicans"-never the Progressives. He also called Roosevelt "a very, very erratic comet on the horizon" and accused him of harboring delusions of being the nation's savior. Reciting the famous rhyme about the purple cow, he said he felt the same way about such would-be saviors: "I never saw one, I never hope to see one, but I'll tell you, I would rather see one than be one." Not all of his campaigning was negative, however. In Abraham Lincoln's adopted hometown, he apologized for speaking while the World Series was going on and appealed to memories of "the Great Emanc.i.p.ator. We are going to repudiate all this [monopolistic] slavery as emphatically as we repudiated the other." This oratorical effort came at a cost. Early on the trip, he strained his voice: "The trouble with me is I talk too d.a.m.n much," he told Mary Peck.23 Wilson was not the only candidate who strained his voice. Taft's quip about the three men in the country who could sympathize with his laryngeal problem applied even more aptly to their mutual adversary. Roosevelt was not a polished, disciplined speaker like Wilson or Bryan, and early in October he also started to suffer from the rigors of making himself heard to the crowds. This physical problem came on top of other troubles. Vigorous and bl.u.s.tery as ever, he kept up a campaign schedule that was even more grueling than the governor's. As he crisscrossed the eastern half of the country, he hammered away at his messages of trust regulation and strong government, but he did not talk much about his basic message of transcendent nationalism to overcome cla.s.s division. This emphasis testified to how effectively Wilson was fending off Roosevelt's attacks and putting the ex-president himself on the defensive. Speaking in a cracking voice on October 12, he denied being pro-monopoly: "Free compet.i.tion and monopoly-they're all the same thing unless you improve the condition of workers. ... What I am interested in is getting the hand of government put on all of them."24 Later, he issued a statement that endorsed strengthening the anti-trust laws along lines similar to those Brandeis had recommended to Wilson. Later, he issued a statement that endorsed strengthening the anti-trust laws along lines similar to those Brandeis had recommended to Wilson.

In a twisted way, both candidates found relief for their strained voices. On October 14 in Milwaukee, a mentally deranged bartender shot Roosevelt in the chest. The ex-president's practice of preparing speeches in advance helped save his life. The ma.n.u.script pages and his steel-reinforced spectacle case, both of which were in his jacket pocket, absorbed much of the impact of the bullet. True to form, Roosevelt insisted on going ahead with the speech. After informing the audience that he had just been wounded, he declared, "I have altogether too important things to think of to feel any concern over my own death; and now I cannot speak to you insincerely within five minutes of being shot." He said the incident showed the need to overcome the division between the "Havenots" and the "Haves," and he likened his present political crusade to the time when he had led his troops in the Spanish-American War, another battle "for the good of our common country." Those lines read like a dying declaration, and some historians have speculated that he was disappointed that he did not die after uttering those words. But he kept on talking and grew incoherent from shock and loss of blood until supporters led him off the stage. Roosevelt spent several days in a Chicago hospital and then convalesced at home for another two weeks. He gave one last speech, at a rally at Madison Square Garden, but for all practical purposes the attempt on his life