II
The campaign of 1884, in which Kern first appeared on the platform as a party leader, and the two following contests during which he was in office, were among the most exciting and picturesque in the history of state politics. It was the day of immense meetings, of torchlight processions when party papers quarreled over the number of torches carried in parades, and over the number of men who rode on horseback—a day of joint debates, and bitter assaults. And it was the day of real giants. Hendricks in ’84 was to make his last appearance. Voorhees was sweeping over the state leaving behind a frenzy of enthusiasm, McDonald was speaking the more sober language of statesmanship to great assemblies, Turpie was discoursing textbooks on political science from which less erudite politicians were to learn their lessons. Gray was meeting Calkins in joint debates from which the amateur debaters of the country stores, the blacksmith shops and the street corners were to get their cue; John E. Lamb, just out of his twenties and known from river to lake as “the blue-eyed boy of destiny,” was setting the woods on fire by driving his opponents in congressional races from the stump; Benjamin F. Shively, still in his twenties, was duplicating the trick in the South Bend district; and a young and exceedingly popular politician was just beginning to attract attention as a party manager in Marion county—Tom Taggart.
From the beginning of the campaign Kern was one of the most active and effective figures on the stump, as is disclosed by a consultation of the files of The Indianapolis Sentinel. This indicates that he confined his speeches largely to the tariff question and spoke usually for two hours. In the campaign of ’84 we find him speaking to “a large and enthusiastic audience for two hours” at Bourbon; addressing “5,000 people on Michigan street,” in Michigan City, where his speech was “invariably considered to have been the ablest delivered in the present campaign.” Here, too, he was given “a grand ovation” and reviewed “the largest procession of the campaign with over 1,000 torches in line.” At Dekalb he spoke to “a bigger meeting than Voorhees had in the county” and was given “one of the grand ovations of the season.” The correspondent at Dekalb in his enthusiasm wrote: “Too much praise can not be given Mr. Kern for the eloquent, logical and convincing manner in which he handles the subjects at issue. He is making one of our best political orators, and in time will have more than a state reputation.” The Sentinel’s correspondent at Hagerstown assures us that “his speech was the most effective delivered here during the campaign,” that he “discussed the tariff in a masterly manner,” and that “his social manner won for him a host of friends irrespective of party.”
It is evident that he made a fine impression in the campaign of 1884 from the nature of the assignments that were given him in the next campaign. He had evidently become a favorite on the stump. The columns of The Indianapolis Sentinel for this campaign indicate that after the great leaders of the time, Voorhees, Gray, Turpie and McDonald, he was a favorite with partisan audiences. Thus in the report of his speech at Logansport this year he is referred to as “John the Eloquent;” the report from his Greenfield meeting referred to him as “one of Indiana’s finest orators” and to the “easy and graceful way he showed up General Harrison;” the Rushville correspondent wrote that “the name of John W. Kern was sufficient to insure a full house” and “the impression left behind is highly complimentary to Mr. Kern.” Something of the militant nature of his partisanship during this period may be gathered from an incident connected with his meeting at Connersville. Finding that he was dated to speak the same night that Colonel Charles L. Holstein was to discuss the issues from the Republican point of view, he immediately challenged the colonel to meet him on the same platform in a joint discussion—an invitation that was not considered attractive. Kern then spoke at his own meeting and the report has it that “his fiery review of the Republican protective tariff robbery aroused great enthusiasm.” But the most laudatory account of any of his meetings in this campaign was sent out, naturally enough, from Kokomo, in which he was described as “the most eloquent orator of his years in Indiana.” It then went on to describe his speech—“The young man eloquent was in splendid form and his speech was admitted on all sides to have been the ablest effort on either side during the present campaign.... For one and a half hours he poured hot shot into the rotten hull of the enemies’ craft. Old Democrats declare they have never heard a more electrical speech in their lives. Put the Howard county democracy down solid for Kern for governor bye and bye.”
If any further evidence were necessary to establish the fact that during the time he was reporter of the supreme court he was looked upon in many quarters as the future leader of the party, two cards that appeared in The Indianapolis Sentinel at the time would surely suffice. These cards are important to our purpose in establishing Kern’s status between 1885 and 1889. An “Indianapolis attorney” wrote:
“If the Democrats intend to push young men to the front for the governorship and party leadership, what is the matter with John W. Kern, reporter of the supreme court? He is the man whom the late Vice-President Hendricks once referred to as ‘one of the rising Democratic leaders of Indiana.’ At the last election he received a larger popular vote than any man on the state ticket except Judge Mitchell, who had the additional support of the Greenbackers, and he even got a larger majority than the latter. Then there is no man in the state who comes nearer being the political idol of the young democracy, and I know of hundreds of young Republicans who would support him for any position to which he might aspire. No one can say that John Kern can’t make a speech; there is not a public talker in the state who can arouse the ‘boys’ in a speech more completely than he; and then he has brains enough to fill any position; is shrewd enough for a manager, and no one has more personal friends.”
The following day another card appeared from “An Old-Style Democrat.”
“Your talk from an Indianapolis attorney made me a little zealous. While it is true that ‘John W. Kern is the idol of the young democracy of the state,’ he is no less a favorite of us old Democrats. He is young, able and progressive, just such a man as we need. John W. Kern is a born leader. To be sure he is young, but he has got a mighty old head on him, and it will be seen that he don’t need much pushing to get to the front.”
I am indebted to Dr. E. E. Quivey of Fort Wayne for some interesting recollections of the Kern of the eighties. In the campaign of 1884 he was a member of a Democratic quartette which was sent over the state with various orators, and for three weeks the quartette accompanied Kern. Any one knowing him in the latter years of his life will find in these reminiscences a striking likeness to the man they knew. His charm of manner, courtesy, thoughtfulness, simplicity and democracy of bearing are prominently featured in Doctor Quivey’s recollections:
“At this time Mr. Kern was a comparatively young man and not widely known in Indiana outside the confines of his own district. He was very slender and in the long frock coat of the period seemed much taller than when I saw him years afterward. He had an abundance of hair which was almost black and which he wore rather long, but always neatly trimmed about the edges. His face was rather pale and already lines were graven on his forehead and about the eyes, which, together with heavy eyebrows, gave an expression of austerity which wholly belied his nature. Although an indefatigable worker he was not a rugged man, and was therefore very careful of his physical welfare, using every precaution to forestall some seemingly ever-impending illness. While I am sure that he had many hours of physical discomfort, he never even intimated that he was not in the best of health.
“Wherever he appeared he made a profound impression by his fluent speech and the compelling force of his logic. He seldom embellished his thoughts with figurative language, and his speeches were entirely devoid of verbosity; his power seemed to lie in the earnest, lucid simplicity of his appeal. He never sought to please the fancy of his auditors by lofty flights of oratory, nor did he indulge in any of the tricks that crafty orators employ for applause. Indeed applause seemed more disconcerting than pleasing to him.
“He was by far the most approachable public man we had encountered. The distant, awe-inspiring characteristics of some of the other speakers were wholly foreign to his nature.
“Mr. Kern’s humanity was made evident on several occasions, but the following incident will suffice to show that he possessed this ennobling quality to a very marked degree. It was at Monticello, if my memory serves me rightly, that one of the boys had an acute attack of indigestion and he was violently sick for a few hours. Mr. Kern did not know it until it was time to leave for the meeting; and when told that Carlston was ill, disappointment and alarm were expressed on his face as he said, ‘Where is he? Take me to him.’ He was shown to Carlston’s room, which was indeed a cheerless one, and after a quick survey of the surroundings he said, ‘This won’t do; we can not leave him here.’ And he insisted that he be transferred to a warm and cheerful room, that a physician be summoned at once, and that some one be secured to stay with him during our absence. Nor would he go to the meeting, despite the impatient entreaties of the committee to ‘hurry up,’ until every detail for Carlston’s comfort had been completed.
“An amusing incident happened on the day following which revealed a phase of Mr. Kern’s character not often brought to the surface. Under no consideration would he deliberately offer offense to any one, and he was inclined to let personal incivilities go unrebuked and apparently unnoticed. Yet when goaded to retaliation he was equal to any emergency. It seems that some of the Republican papers were claiming that William H. Calkins had challenged Senator Voorhees to meet him in a series of joint debates and that Voorhees would not respond to the challenge. During Kern’s speech, I think at Crown Point, a man in the audience kept interrupting him with inquiries as to why Senator Voorhees refused to meet Calkins in joint debate. At first no attention was paid to the interruptions, but the man was so persistent that finally Mr. Kern stopped, pointed his finger at the disturber and said, ‘I am surprised than any one in Indiana has the hardihood to ask such a question. Sir, it is evident that you do not know Senator Voorhees and Mr. Calkins. Why, my friend, you could no more drag William H. Calkins into a discussion with Senator Voorhees than you could lasso a wild goose a mile high.’
“One day after Mr. Kern had spoken at an afternoon meeting we drove to another town some twelve or fifteen miles distant, where he was scheduled to speak at night. Upon our arrival he went directly to the hotel to arrange for accommodations for the night. The office, which was dingy and cheerless, offered anything but encouraging prospects for the night. It was a typical country town hotel of the period with three or four of the proverbial loafing cronies of the landlord in evidence. When Mr. Kern registered the landlord looked at the name over his spectacles, and then at Mr. Kern, and no doubt hoping to create a laugh at Kern’s expense, said, ‘So you’re the feller what’s goin’ to make a Democratic speech here to-night. Well, you fellers may be Democrats, but I tell ye right now yer stoppin’ at a Republican hotel.’ Kern in a droll manner that was ridiculously funny replied, ‘I suspected as much; the Republican hostelries this fall are very gloomy places.’
“It became our custom before going to bed to gather in Kern’s room and spend an hour or two in smoking, reviewing the events of the day, and singing, and those preslumber occasions I shall ever hold as cherished memories. They were indeed pleasant hours, and I am sure Mr. Kern enjoyed them as much as did we boys, for the gatherings were invariably held at his suggestion. He was fond of sentimental ballads and simple melodies, and I recall two songs which he often asked us to sing, and to which he always listened with profound attention. Of one of these songs I can recall but one verse and the chorus:
“I am longing so sadly, I’m longing
For the days that have vanished and fled,
For the flowers that around us were blooming
That, alas, are all withered and dead.
Tints that of all the rarest
Fade as upon them we gaze
And the hours that are brightest and fairest
Soon are hid with the lost yesterdays.
Flitting, flitting away,
All that we cherished most dear.
There is nothing on earth that will stay;
Roses must die with the year.”
“Another song of which he was especially fond was ‘The Little Old Church on the Hill.’
“One night in Kern’s room when we finished that song he said: ‘Boys, that song tells a story and paints a picture of simple rural life that all men should reverence. It is the story of the people who are the bulwark of the nation’s life.’”
It is on just such occasions as are herein described that the real character of a man asserts itself. No one who ever knew Mr. Kern at any period of his life will fail to recognize the fidelity of the portrait painted from memory by a man who was scarcely more than a boy when he knew the original.