The life of John Worth Kern

by Claude G. Bowers

I

THE Democratic leaders in Indiana approached the campaign of 1900 with a feeling of considerable pessimism. The disaffected element which had left the party in 1896 on the money issue had not yet returned to the fold, and it seemed improbable that the white-heat enthusiasm of Mr. Bryan’s following in his first campaign could be maintained. The election of 1898 had brought no rift in the clouds, and the party in power seemed hopelessly entrenched. With conditions prosperous, our armies but recently victorious, our possessions increased through the acquisition of Porto Rico and the Philippines, with all the pomp and circumstances of a national triumph with an enemy waving the flag, the Democratic party was about to make its appeal to the people on an abstract question of political morals. We were to discuss the wrongs of a people thousands of miles distant, of another race and color, of whom hundreds of thousands of Americans had never heard. And while these wrongs could not inevitably react upon our own people the practical politician and psychologist of the stump was painfully conscious of the difficulty of making that point sufficiently impressive. Under these circumstances there was no great demand for places on the state ticket, and as late as the first of May no one had manifested any desire to lead the party as its candidate for governor. About the first of May, Frank B. Burke announced his candidacy. He was in many respects one of the most remarkable men in the political history of the state, at times under the proper inspiration thrillingly eloquent, courageous as a lion, and possessed of a personality that endeared him to friend and foe alike. As United States district attorney under Cleveland he had won the admiration of the bench and bar and made an impression upon the people in the streets. But with all his splendid qualities he was lacking in one of the essentials of safe leadership—he was utterly deficient in tact and always preferred a fight to a compromise. In brief he was a genius with all that that sometimes implies of weakness.

At that time I was writing editorials on The Sentinel, and, being one of Burke’s youthful idolaters, I wrote a fervent editorial eulogy on the day of his announcement and took it to Samuel E. Morss, the editor and former consul-general to Paris, for his approval. He read it with evident amusement and tactfully suggested that while Mr. Burke was a brilliant and able man, there might be other candidates and it would not be advisable for The Sentinel to take such a pronounced stand that early. I did not know at the time, being scarcely out of my teens, that the “organization” forces were bending every effort to persuade Mr. Kern to enter the lists. The first choice of the organization was Mayor Taggart, who persisted in his refusal to make the race. It was then that the politicians turned to Kern.

Independent of politicians associated with what may be described as “the organization” were scores of Democrats throughout the state, personal friends and admirers of Mr. Kern, who were insisting that he become a candidate. He had made up his mind definitely that he would not. Aside from the unattractiveness of the political prospects he had personal reasons for preferring to stay out. But with the announcement of Burke, who was not popular with the “organization,” and the resulting necessity for an early challenge of his candidacy, the forces at that time predominate in the Democratic party in the state centered with practical unanimity upon Kern.

On the evening of May 15 The Indianapolis News carried the item that “Last night influential Democrats were in conference at the home of Samuel E. Morss, editor of The Sentinel, until after midnight, and it is taken for granted that they were discussing the platform on which Kern will conduct his campaign.”

It was not the first time that newspapers have misinterpreted the purpose of a conference of

politicians. Mr. Morss, who aspired to be something of a Warrick, and whose ability and prestige as the editor of the state organ of his party gave him considerable influence in party councils determined to force the issue upon Kern, and with that in view he invited about twenty prominent party leaders to a dinner at his home. Among those invited was Mr. Kern. The victim of the dinner tenaciously held out against the insistence of his friends, until toward midnight he was being charged with being a party ingrate for his refusal to respond to the demand. It had been the hope of Mr. Morss that a formal announcement could be prepared that night for The Sentinel of the following morning, but it was not until the party broke up and Mr. Kern had been followed into the street with importunities that he finally agreed to be a candidate. It was then too late to prepare a formal announcement, but the wily Morss, in probable fear of a recantation on the morrow, took the precaution to announce in the paper the next morning that “in answer to a direct question,” Mr. Kern had said that he would be a candidate. On the following day he did prepare a short formal statement announcing his candidacy.

The contest for the nomination was one-sided. All the organization forces were with Kern. He and Burke attended a number of county conventions, and the latter made many warm admirers by the remarkable eloquence with which he assailed the imperialism of the hour. Mr. Kern found himself in the position of being “the machine candidate” and had to stand the brunt of that. At the eleventh hour, with all the delegates in Indianapolis and a large part of them crowded into the corridors of the Grand Hotel, a new element was injected into the situation, when Benjamin F. Shively, who had been the nominee in 1896, entered the lobby and was greeted with great enthusiasm. He had made a brilliant canvass four years before. A man of imposing presence, tall and slender, and dressed that night in a light gray suit which served to accentuate his physical advantages, it is not surprising that his appearance carried with it the suggestion of a third candidate. The fact that he went to his room immediately and into conference and refused to be interviewed gave color to the rumors afloat that he would be a candidate. This was set at rest, however, on the morrow, when the chairman of the convention read a letter from Shively positively removing himself from consideration. It required one ballot to nominate and Kern was an easy victor. It was in moving that the nomination be made unanimous that Burke thrilled the convention with what was perhaps the most moving bit of oratory ever heard in Indiana.

It is needless here to review the campaign which followed. It began with imperialism, the paramount issue following Mr. Bryan’s remarkable arraignment in his speech of acceptance at Indianapolis, but other issues such as the tariff and the trusts soon entered, and throughout the campaign Kern discussed them all together with state issues that now have no historic interest. The only incident of special interest was the attempt of the Republican papers to create divisions in the Democracy by circulating the report that the friends of Kern were engaged in an effort to trade off Bryan for him. This, of course, was a peculiarly mean and malicious falsehood and was denounced by Kern as “an atrocious lie.” It is true that Kern did run a little ahead of the national ticket, but this was due to local conditions, personal friendships, and the fact that some conservative Democrats who had left the party in 1896 and did not vote the national ticket in 1900 voted for Kern. The entire ticket was defeated—Kern had made his sacrifice and it was not to be his last.