CHAPTER XV.
CHOOSING A LEADER.
Chicago, the city of immeasurable possibilities, the twice risen Phoenix, scene of the fairyland of 1893, when the wonders of the world were assembled for the fleeting admiration of man, is the arena in which a battle is to be waged that shall be remembered when the other events that add to the fame of the municipality shall have passed into oblivion.
To the citizens of Chicago a convention has come to be regarded as an every-day occurrence. If it is not a convention of one of the great parties, then some lesser body is in session; always some band of delegates is reported as either arriving in or departing from the city. There had been little stir when the Plutocratic convention was in progress three weeks before. The result of the proceedings was foreordained.
But with the convening of the delegates of the Independence Party the apathy of the people gives way to intense interest. They realize that at least there will be a lively contest over the choice of a leading candidate.
Political forecasters have been chary of expressing opinions, for the much depended on precedent is lacking. Here is a new party, which is to make its second appeal to the people. Where its strength will lay, whom it will select to be the standard-bearer of its radical platform, these are questions that baffle the most astute observers.
The morning of the opening session of the convention finds the vast auditorium of the Music Hall where the meetings are to be held, crowded with spectators. It is impossible for one-tenth of those present to hear the speakers; they come not to hear so much as to breathe the surcharged air of the political storm which it is known will be fostered. The thin blood of the modern civilian is acted upon by less boisterous and gory scenes than those which sufficed to stir the audiences of the Roman circus; yet the human susceptibilities are the same in all ages, and differ only in expression. In the battle of voices, the audience will shout its approval or hiss its disapproval; at the pleasure of the throng a speaker can be silenced, his victory snatched from his very grasp.
Six thousand people are in their places by ten o'clock. The police have been compelled to shut the doors to exclude the crowds who would be satisfied merely to get inside of the building. A murmur fills the place, although no one is speaking above the normal tone; the combined sound resembles the distant boom of a cataract. Here and there in the galleries a splash of color indicates the presence of a woman. The value of feminine headgear is for once clearly demonstrated; it serves to differentiate the sexes.
On the floor of the auditorium the long avenues of chairs are vacant; a dozen men are busy arranging the location of the state delegations. Guidons bearing the names of the states are put in position. At the press tables, at the foot of the speakers' platform, hundreds of reporters are industriously grinding out "copy" for their papers. A formidable army of messenger boys is lined up along the base of the platform. They are a reserve, to be used in case the telegraph service should break down.
Immediately in the rear of the speaker's table is the indispensable adjunct of American politics, the brass band. At 10.15 o'clock the leader of the band gives a signal, and the "Star Spangled Banner" is played, six thousand voices joining in the best known phases and the chorus.
Now the delegates arrive. The New York contingent walks to its place in the middle of the hall. Ex-Senator Sharp is at their head, followed by the prominent county leaders. Their appearance is the signal for an outburst from the galleries. Cheers and hisses are about evenly divided. The conservatism of the New Yorkers makes them the bone of contention.
"They will try to rule this convention in the interests of Wall Street, as they did in the Democratic convention of '96," observes a man in the West gallery, to the man next to him. "The theory of majority rule that was good enough for the founders of the country, does not seem to hold much force now-a-days."
"No," replies the first speaker. "The rule of the majority has been repudiated. It would have been inimical to monopolies, so the Magnates have nullified it. They did the same thing with silver in '73. There could be no money trust with bi-metalism."
"Do you think the Eastern delegations are strong enough to dominate this convention?"
A tumultuous shout drowns the reply.
"Texas! Texas!" cry a thousand voices.
"California, she's all right!" cry as many more.
Delegates from the above-named states appear at two entrances.
By eleven o'clock the convention is assembled. The chairman rises and pounds on the table with his gavel to quiet the audience.
"We will open this convention with prayer. It is the desire of our party to lift itself out of the mire of partisan politics, and nothing is more fitting than that an invocation to the Almighty should constitute our initial performance."
An unknown clergyman from Iowa is called to offer prayer. He is listened to in absolute silence; the great horde of men and women hold their breath; religion at least is not extinct in the people. Following the prayer comes the routine work of passing on credentials and appointing committees. This is done with celerity. The men are anxious to begin the real business.
As the last committee is named, a delegate from every one of the States is on his feet clamoring for recognition.
"Illinois has the floor," the chairman announces. This is done as a matter of courtesy to the state in which the convention is being held.
Congressman Blanchard, representing a Chicago district, is the man who receives recognition.
As he steps upon the rostrum the cheering is deafening. He is the favorite son of the state and this is the supreme moment in which he may launch his boom for the presidential nomination.
The power of his oratory is of a high order. He makes the fatal error of being non-committal; his friends see that the chance has passed him.
Favorite sons from a dozen states strive for the prize; yet for one reason or another are unsuccessful in carrying the convention, or of awakening the enthusiasm of the audience.
"No one has spoken from Pennsylvania," remarks the man in the gallery.
"There are few orators of note in that state now," he adds.
"There are very few; but their small number is counterbalanced by the quality of the men. Have you ever heard Trueman?"
"I never heard him speak, but I have read his speeches. He seems to be a true friend of the people."
"Let us call for a speech from Pennsylvania," suggests the observant auditor.
"Pennsylvania! Pennsylvania!" shouts the impulsive man beside him.
"Pennsylvania!" comes the instant response in every quarter of the auditorium. The audience realizes that the great Keystone State has not been heard from.
The uproar increases. Men stand on their chairs and wave their hats, shouting themselves hoarse.
"Pennsylvania, what's the matter with Pennsylvania? She's all right!"
The man in the gallery draws a flag from beneath his coat and waves it frantically.
"Trueman, Trueman! Speech!"
The cry changes instantly.
From his eyrie, Nevins, the omnipresent, flutters his commands. Under his spell the tumult rises. Delegates from Nebraska and Louisiana rush to the Pennsylvania section and seize Trueman. He is borne to the rostrum across a veritable sea of men.
Now Nevins hides the flag, and as though a switch key had cut off the current from a dynamo, the confusion subsides.
Now only fitful shouts can be heard; they come like the final rifle cracks in a battle.
Trueman has gained his feet and stands erect, facing an audience that is already fired to the white heat of spontaneous combustion.
He is saved the necessity of working for a climax; it is prepared.
"Pennsylvania has come to this convention to be heard," he cries.
This happy introduction catches the crowd. They give a long, hearty cheer and then are silent.
"The delegates from the Keystone State are here to aid in producing a platform that shall contain the declaration of the right of mankind to labor.
"The work of this convention is not to be the single effort of one State delegation; it is not to be that of any prescribed body; but must reflect the united opinions of the American people.
"I shall speak, therefore, as a representative of all liberty-loving men, and shall express their hopes and aspirations as I have found them to exist.
"It is the ever constant belief of the people that popular government is the only form that is compatible with Divine ordination; that all men shall be protected in the right to live, to labor and to prosper according to their deeds and deserts.
"These principles are the basis upon which our republic was built; they have served as the inspiration of our lives; for their perpetuation men have given up their lives on the field of battle, on the altar of martyrdom, and for these principles the vast majority of the citizens of this country are to-day ready to make any sacrifice."
A storm of applause momentarily checks the speaker.
"When a man devotes his energy to honest toil it is for the purpose of securing to himself and to his family the blessings of thrift; the safeguard for honorable old age. In his effort he should be protected by every means that a strong government can devise. The 'millstone' should not be pledged or pillaged; the struggle of life should not be made hopeless by compelling a man to slave for mere subsistence."
"Hear, hear!" come shouts from the galleries.
"Our people have seen the Republic dragged from the line of righteous progress and diverted into the unnatural path of Plutocracy. Insidious methods have been resorted to by those who have wrought this transformation. Sophists have told the plain, credulous workers that industrial combination in the form of Corporations and Trusts is the result of a natural law of evolution. But what is the truth? The great consolidations that have been effected during the past few years have resulted from the enactment of statutory laws. These laws have emanated from the brains of men, paid by the Trust magnates to undermine the republic. No more treasonable acts were ever committed than by the men who have sold the rights of a free people to a band of unscrupulous money worshipers.
"The continuance of this country as a Republic depends upon the restoration of the independent citizen. To-day there are fewer men engaged in independent work, as manufacturers and merchants, than there were ten years ago; to-day the great bulk of the wealth of the country is concentrated in the hands of a few thousand men. These men have become the masters of the Nation; on their payrolls are to be found three-fourths of all the working inhabitants of the land, men, women, and children.
"Men, women and children, I repeat, for where is the man who can earn a sufficient wage to provide proper food and raiment for his family by his single effort?
"As the hope of the people rests on the recovery of the independence of the individual, the platform of this party must declare unequivocally for the abolition of all forms of private monopoly. This must be the main plank in our platform."
These words, uttered in a voice that reaches the remotest corners of the auditorium, call forth a tumultuous shout.
"With private Monopolies destroyed and the channels they control opened to the people, the billions of revenue that now go to increase the fortunes of the Masters of Commerce, will be enjoyed by the toilers who create our National prosperity.
"The statistics of the future shall record the existence in this land of thousands, hundreds of thousands of independent business men. The columns devoted to enumerating the Child Labor of the land will be dispensed with; there will be an increase in the number of mothers and a decrease in the number of women who are forced to earn a living by manual toil.
"The platform we adopt must contain a plank providing for the imposition of a tax on a man according to his ability to pay. There is no sanction for a law to govern a community, however large, however populous, if this law is in contradiction of the principles that govern a household; for we cannot conceive of a government that is not built on the household as the unit.
"Where is the father so inhuman that he will demand of the stripling, the infirm, the feminine members of his family to procure the means of support, before he has exhausted every other effort that can be made by himself and his stalwart sons? Even the insatiate Trust Magnates, were they suddenly to be reduced to penury, would shield their wives, their daughters and their indigent.
"Then who shall say that this Republic, a household on a mammoth scale, is not justified in collecting the taxes necessary for its maintenance from the incomes of the rich, and not from the paltry possessions of the wage-earner? The hundredth part of the income of the rich will more than pay for the legitimate expenses of the Government.
"I am a firm believer in 'vested rights' and carry my adherence back to the dawn of creation. Then it was that God vested mankind with the right to live upon this earth. He endowed man with the ability to earn a living, and gave to each and every man an equal inheritance—opportunity.
"Any laws that man has made which abridge this right of equal opportunity are unconstitutional in the broad sense of being at variance with God's will. Applied to our Constitution, the vested right of the people to the equal opportunity to labor is higher than the right of the few to retain the fruits of the labor of the many.
"I advocate the taxing of the incomes of our citizens before we tax their wages, which is their capital." Cheers interrupt the speaker for a full minute.
"It is my hope, the people's hope, that the bulwark of this country be once more as it was for a century, not a standing army of idle soldiers, but an active army of free men, busied by day in the fields and in the workshops; resting by night under cover of their homes, surrounded by their happy families; an army that is ready at an instant's call to fight for the protection of their Flag and their Homes."
"The united armies of the world would hesitate to face the legions of contented freemen. Our power in the world will be increased more by a fleet of merchant ships than by squadrons of steel battleships.
"We want a National Militia, to be composed of every able bodied man, who in the hours of peace prepares against the possibility of war. We want a Navy strong enough to represent our interest on every sea; a Naval Reserve strong enough to convert our Merchant Marine into the greatest fleet in the world, should need arise.
"We want, and we will succeed in getting the Army of the Unemployed mustered out.
"With us rests the duty of selecting a mustering officer; a man to carry out the wishes of the people; a man who is temperate in his judgment, unswerving in his purpose and unimpeachable in his integrity; a man in whom the people may place full confidence. With such a man as a candidate on the platform we shall adopt, the will of the people cannot be thwarted.
"We can frame the platform. Where is the man?"
"Trueman! Trueman!" comes the cry.
From mouth to mouth the name passes; now it is shrieked by an entire state delegation; now by the entire assemblage. Louder and louder becomes the cry. It is chanted, sung, shouted, shrieked. Men who have shouted themselves hoarse utter it inarticulately.
In the centre of the floor there is a movement; the guidon of New York is moving. It is being borne toward the Pennsylvania delegation.
Another and another state guidon follows in its wake. The convention is in an uproar.
Ten, twenty of the delegations are now swarming about the standard of
Pennsylvania. The galleries keep up the incessant shout of "Trueman!
Trueman!"
A hundred men are clustered about the speaker as he stands, awed by the outburst of enthusiasm. He is picked up and placed on the shoulders of his friends.
The delegations who have rallied to his support now number forty; they are moving toward the platform. The men carrying Trueman go to meet them.
The climax is reached. Trueman is carried round and round the hall, the enthusiasm of the delegates reaching the point of frenzy. Every delegation is now in line. Without waiting for the formality of a motion to adjourn, the convention marches from the building; its candidate at its head.