Part 11 (1/2)

His health was then very bad.

”Mr. Blaine,” I said to him, ”if you are a candidate, you know I will support you with the greatest of pleasure, but if not, then I will accept the invitation of the president.”

Mr. Blaine was most cordial. He said that he had no objections whatever to my taking the commission, but he doubted if the president could be renominated, and that he could not be re-elected if nominated. Harrison had made an excellent president, but his manner of treating people who came to him had filled the country with bitter and powerful enemies, while his friends were very few.

Then he mentioned several other possible candidates, but evidently doubted the success of the Republican party in the election. In regard to himself he said: ”If I should accept the nomination I could not endure the labors of the canva.s.s and its excitements.

It would kill me.” That diagnosis of his condition was correct and was demonstrated by the fact that he died soon after the election, but long before he could be inaugurated if elected.

All organization leaders of the party were united against the nomination of President Harrison. The leaders were Platt, Quay, and Clarkson, who was also chairman of the national committee.

They were the greatest masters of organization and of its management we ever had in politics, especially Platt and Quay. Their methods were always secret, so I decided that the only hope of success for President Harrison was in the greatest publicity.

The position I had accepted soon became known, and I began to give the fullest interviews, each one an argument for the renomination of the president. I went to Chicago a few days in advance of the convention, was met there by correspondents of the press, some fifty of them, and gave them a talk in a body, which made a broadside in the morning papers, each correspondent treating it in his own way, as his own individual interview.

This statement or, rather, argument, was intended to be read and succeeded in being so by the delegates from everywhere who were on their way to the convention and had to pa.s.s through Chicago. The convention was held in Minneapolis. I received from that city an invitation to address a gathering of New Yorkers who had settled in the West to speak before two patriotic audiences, and to make the address at the dedication of the great hall where the convention was to meet.

It was evident that before these engagements had been concluded, every delegate would have attended some of these meetings, and, therefore, with the relations.h.i.+p between a speaker and his audience, I would be practically the only man in the convention who was personally known to every member. This relations.h.i.+p was an enormous benefit in conducting the canva.s.s.

The great organization leaders were difficult of access and carried on their campaign through trusted members of each State delegation.

My rooms were wide open for everybody. On account of the conflicting statements made by members of the State delegations, it was very difficult to make an accurate and detailed list of those who were for the president, and those who were for Mr. Blaine. It occurred to me that it would help to call a meeting of the Harrison delegates.

Many thought it was hazardous, as it might develop a majority the other way.

The meeting was attended, however, by every delegate, those opposed coming out of curiosity. Taking the chair, I asked some member of each delegation to arise and state how many votes he believed could be relied upon from his State. Of course the statement of each delegate was often loudly challenged by others from his State who were present. When the result was announced it showed a majority of three for General Harrison. A veteran campaigner begged me to announce it as fifty, but I refused. ”No,” I said, ”the closeness of the vote when there is every opportunity for manipulation would carry conviction.”

An old gentleman who stood beside me had a gold-headed ebony cane. I seized it and rapped it on the table with such force that it broke in two and announced that the figures showed absolute certainty of President Harrison's renomination. I doubt if there was a reliable majority, but the announcement of this result brought enough of those always anxious to get on the band-wagon to make it certain.

Soon after arriving home I received a letter from the owner of the cane. He wrote: ”I was very angry when you broke my cane.

It was a valued birthday present from my children. It is now in a gla.s.s case in my library, and on the case is this label: 'This cane nominated a president of the United States.'”

Mr. McKinley, then Governor of Ohio, presided at the convention.

I stood close beside him when I made my speech for Harrison's renomination. While thoroughly prepared, the speech was in a way extemporaneous to meet calls or objections. In the midst of a sentence McKinley said to me in a loud voice: ”You are making a remarkably fine speech.” The remark threw me off my balance as an opposition would never have done. I lost the continuity and came near breaking down, but happily the applause gave me time to get again upon the track.

Among my colleagues in the New York delegation was James W. Husted.

General Husted was very ill and unable to leave his room during the convention. He sent for me one morning and said: ”I have just had a call from Governor McKinley. He says that you have the power to nominate him, and that Harrison cannot be nominated.

If you will direct the Harrison forces for him, he will be the next president.”

I told Husted I was enlisted for the war and, while having a great admiration for McKinley, it was impossible.

Soon after arriving home I received an invitation from the president to visit him at Was.h.i.+ngton. I took the night train, arriving there in the morning. My appointment was to lunch with him.

During the morning Stephen B. Elkins, then secretary of war, called and asked me to take a walk. While we were walking he told me that the president was going to offer me the secretarys.h.i.+p of state, in succession to Mr. Blaine, and that I ought to accept.

He then led me to the State Department and pointed to the portraits on the walls of the different secretaries, commencing with Thomas Jefferson. Elkins said that to be in that list was a greater distinction than to be on the walls of the White House, because these men are of far greater eminence.

After luncheon the president invited me into the Blue Room, and with a great deal of emotion said: ”You are the only man who has ever unselfishly befriended me. It was largely through your efforts that I became president, and I am greatly indebted to you for my renomination. I have tried my best to show my appreciation by asking you into my Cabinet and otherwise, but you have refused everything I have heretofore offered. I now want to give you the best I have, which is secretary of state. It is broken bread, because if I am not re-elected it will be only till the 4th of March, but if I am re-elected it will be for four years more. I personally want you in my Cabinet.”

I told the president it was impossible for me to accept; that even if I resigned my presidency of the railroad, coming directly from that position would bring the railroad question, which was very acute, into the canva.s.s. He said he did not think there was anything in that, but I realized that if he was defeated his defeat would be charged to having made that mistake.

He then said: ”Well, how about it if I am re-elected?” I told him that I would regard the appointment the greatest of honors, and the a.s.sociations the most pleasurable of a lifetime.

”Very well,” he said; ”I will appoint Mr. John W. Foster, who has been doing excellent service for the State Department, until next 4th of March, and you can prepare to come here upon that date.”