VII
The scene in the senate chamber at the conclusion of Lorimer’s speech in his own defense was dramatic. The walls were lined with members of the house and attaches of the senate, the press gallery was filled to capacity, the other galleries packed with men and women, and from the latter came stifled sobs as Lorimer rather pathetically described the consolation that would counter affect his probable humiliation in going home to the embrace of his family. With an impassioned assertion that his expulsion would be a “crime” of “the senate of the United States,” he paused for a moment, still a picture of outraged innocence, and then in his best theatrical manner said, “I am ready,” and sank exhausted into his seat. The roll call on the final vote was followed with intense interest, not to determine the result which had now become inevitable, but to satisfy the curiosity of spectators as to the position of individual members. Throughout the roll call the accused senator sat expressionless, as during the hearings, and even the trembling voice of Cullom, his venerable colleague who had voted to sustain him over a year before, casting a vote for his expulsion had no effect. The breakdown of the indomitable Tillman in reading his explanation of his vote against expulsion added an unexpected thrill to the occasion.
The vote was announced in the official tone of monotony.
The minority report was adopted by a vote of 55 to 28. Senator Newlands immediately rose in the resulting silence to present the credentials of a new senator and the business of the senate proceeded as though the waters of oblivion had not just closed over a career.
For a few moments Lorimer sat motionless in his seat—then rose and looking neither to the right nor the left passed back the center aisle and into the Republican cloak room for the last time. At that moment there were probably some who felt a fierce joy in his degradation, but Senator Kern was not one of these.
CHAPTER XIII
Kern’s Position at the Baltimore Convention
SENATOR KERN had not completely recovered from the strain of the Lorimer case when he found himself unexpectedly precipitated into the maelstrom of the Democratic National Convention at Baltimore, unquestionably the most remarkable assembly of the representatives of any party ever held in America. There have been many versions of his part in the important features of the convention, but the strange thing is that there has been such a general ignorance of the fact that he was in truth one of the potential figures in that great drama. It is known to all, of course, that he was the chairman of the committee on Resolutions and Mr. Bryan’s candidate for the temporary chairmanship, but the circumstances under which he became the candidate, the importance of his strategy in that contest, and the fact that but for his dissent his name would have been presented as a presidential candidate at a time when the convention seemed hopelessly deadlocked and with the support of a number of the most potential states, have never figured in the public’s estimate of his rôle. It is the intention here to relate this story as fully as possible without unpleasantly affecting
several prominent politicians who are still upon the scene.