The life of John Worth Kern

by Claude G. Bowers

I

SENATOR Kern had hardly had time to acquaint himself with the capitol before the senate assigned to him one of the most unpleasant, onerous and important duties of his career in placing him on the sub-committee of the committee on Privileges and Elections to investigate the charge that Senator Lorimer had entered the senate through the corruption of members of the Illinois legislature. In the election of 1908 the primary choice of the Republicans for the senatorship was Senator Hopkins, the Democratic choice Lawrence B. Stringer. The election resulted in 127 Republicans and 77 Democrats being sent to the legislature, and in the regular order the Republican candidate would have been promptly elected to the senate. Many Republicans, however, had refused to abide by the edict of the primary, and a prolonged deadlock was the result. The balloting extended through many weeks, and in the meanwhile the Republicans, engaged in a bitter battle in the United States senate over the Payne-Aldrich tariff bill, and with numerous schedules in danger of defeat because of the disaffection represented by the opposition of Dolliver, Beveridge and others, became insistent upon the strengthening of their lines through the termination of the deadlock in Illinois and the election of a Republican senator. Thus the senatorial contest at Springfield took on a national importance. The Republicans were suffering through the deadlock, which deprived them of an additional vote, and the Democrats were having all the advantage. Suddenly fifty-three Democrats, disregarding the plea of their national committeeman that they remain loyal to their party’s candidate, joined with fifty-five Republicans and elected William Lorimer, a reactionary Republican who could be depended upon by the Aldrich-Penrose forces in the tariff fight at Washington. Almost a year later The Chicago Tribune published the sensational confession of Charles A. White, a Democratic member of the legislature, implicating other members in a wholesale purchase under the engineery of Lee O’Neil Browne, the leader of the majority faction of the Democrats. This was followed by the filing of formal charges in the senate against Lorimer, and an investigation was instituted under the direction of a sub-committee of the committee on Privileges and Elections under the chairmanship of Senator Burrows of Michigan. This investigation was farsical in many respects, and the committee reported in substance that the charges had not been sustained. The evidence that was permitted to leak through, however, was so damning and convincing in its nature that a minority report was submitted, and powerful speeches against the “blond boss,” as Lorimer was called, were delivered by Senator Root and Beveridge. The press of the country generally characterized the report of the committee as a “white wash,” and the public was aroused.

Almost a month after the congress had adjourned a committee of the state senate of Illinois, investigating the charges, was informed through the editor of The Chicago Tribune that Clarence S. Funk of the International Harvester Company had been approached immediately after the election of Lorimer by Edward Hines of the Lumber Trust with the information that it had required $100,000 to elect Lorimer, and the request that Funk’s company contribute $10,000 toward the fund.

Immediately afterward Senator Lafollette introduced a resolution in the United States senate providing for a new investigation.

Thus was inaugurated one of the most exhaustive and significant investigations ever held by the United States senate, which was to delve deep into the most sinister influences that assail the integrity of free institutions, the debasing effect of bi-partisan combinations of politicians for personal gain, the corrupting influence of powerful financial elements upon the public life of the nation, the all-too frequent susceptibility of law makers to the blandishments of the bribe giver. For 102 days the committee was to listen to the unraveling of one of the most startling tales of political debauchery ever told. Before it was to file an incongruous company of witnesses—leaders of the United States senate, such as Aldrich and Penrose, potential political leaders like Roger A. Sullivan, governors and former governors, the millionaire and the beggar, the briber and the bribed, journalists and bartenders, detectives and street car conductors, drunkards and reformers, the high and low, the rich and poor, the good and bad. It was to become a participant in one of the most tremendous political dramas ever enacted in America—comedy treading on the heels of tragedy, to be followed by burlesque and vaudeville. It was to have a hundred million people, the perpetuity of whose institutions was at stake, as an audience, and they were to await with the keenest interest the moral of the play.

And in this drama Senator Kern was soon to play the most important rôle, from the viewpoint of those who believed the extermination of Lorimerism to be essential to the safety of free institutions. There was nothing theatrical about the setting of the play. With the exception of a few weeks in Chicago the committee held its hearings in a prosy, unadorned, and small room on the ground floor of the senate office building. The witness chair in the center in the front of the room—to one side the long table of the press correspondents, at which sat some of the cleverest men of the profession—on the opposite side the members of the committee, and stretching back to the wall chairs for the audience. These were often, for the most part, unoccupied, but usually they were filled and many were standing—attaches of the capitol who dropped in while on their errands to catch a few words of the witnesses. These attaches were for the most part intense partisans of the accused senator, who found ways of making their feeling felt. And strangely enough the greater part of the audience through those hot summer days of 1911 and the winter days of 1912 were intensely loyal to the blond boss—so much so that the capitol policeman stationed in the room was requested by a Lorimer partisan to move the parties who were not sufficiently demonstrative in their jubilation when the accused man scored.

In the front row sat Lorimer—bland, humble, the picture of innocent martyrdom—a pose he consistently maintained until he walked out of the senate at the behest of his colleagues and to the applause of the republic. Nothing so damaging as to disturb his composure, nothing so startling as to coax to his placid features an expression of surprise. And beside him sat the Symbol of his ruin—Edward Hines, the millionaire lumber man whose boast of having “put Lorimer over” whispered in the lobby of the Union League Club at Chicago resounded through the country. This strangely indiscreet, purse-proud exponent of Big Business at its worst hovered near Lorimer like a shadow. And there too beside him sat the clever, brilliant, sarcastic and witty Judge Henecy, his attorney—as resourceful and able as any lawyer in the country. Across the room at another table were the counsel of the committee, Healy and Marble, keen, alert, as resourceful as the judge and buttressed about by a better cause.

Senator Kern was not eager for the task the senate had assigned him. It meant his practical withdrawal from all other senate activities for an indefinite period, and his concentration as in a case in court upon every word of evidence adduced. While morally positive of Lorimer’s guilt from the beginning, he was early convinced, and his sense of duty gradually forced him into greater and greater prominence as a developer of the case against the accused. A man of kindly instincts, he had never relished the rôle of a prosecutor, and in his private practice of his profession had seldom appeared except in defense in criminal cases. But once convinced of Lorimer’s guilt, he determined that every possible avenue of information tending to uncover what he considered a great crime against American institutions should be followed to the end. It was early whispered about and generally credited that the second investigation, like the first, would end in a white wash. Very early he was startled to find from their general attitude that the majority of the committee were apparently not impressed by what he considered overwhelming evidence of guilt. The honesty of this attitude he never questioned, but, convinced himself, he set himself to the task of developing the evidence along the line of his own conviction. This led him to the position he unquestionably held at the conclusion of the hearings as the leader in the fight for the unseating of the blond boss.