The life of John Worth Kern

by Claude G. Bowers

By this time he had resumed his writing.

“No—you acknowledge it,” he said, still writing.

“What shall I say?”

“Say that I am not and will not be a candidate; that Indiana has a candidate and one that would give a good account of himself.” That is the kind of letter, not even bearing Kern’s signature, that went back to men of real political potentiality on the Pacific coast. After that many other people in different parts of the country outside Indiana wrote along the same line. These letters were always shown Kern, but with the exception of the first one not one of these was read through to the end, and in every case a letter similar in character to the one he ordered written in the first instance was sent. After a while he was clearly annoyed and disturbed by the suggestion these letters conveyed. He simply ignored them, refused to seriously consider them, and evidently preferred not to see them.

In Indiana he had many importunate friends who insisted on making him a candidate against his will, and with these he dealt directly and always with the stern injunction that they do absolutely nothing that could possibly create the impression outside the state that there was any divided opinion in the state regarding the position the state should take on the presidency.

This dangling of a possible prize before him was carried to the convention on the day it met and was never permitted out of his range of vision up to the very day that Woodrow Wilson was nominated. Mr. Bryan tells me that one of the reasons given him by Kern for his opposition to being nominated for the temporary chairmanship was the fact that “he was embarrassed by the fact that he was being mentioned for the presidency by men in other delegations” and such prominence as might follow his nomination for the chairmanship might be falsely interpreted as a bid for the prize. On the second day of the convention the Associated Press carried the story that many astute politicians had reached the conclusion that under the two-thirds rule of Democratic conventions none of the avowed candidates could be nominated and that “some of the progressives” had commenced to “test sentiment for Kern” and that the movement had “gained considerable momentum.” On that day it was a commonplace comment about the hotel lobbies that the nominee “would be Wilson or Kern.” And on that day men of much political importance in other states than Indiana began to interest themselves in “testing sentiment for Kern.” The theory of these men was that when the “conservatives” found they could not nominate Clark or Harmon, and the “progressives” learned they could not nominate Wilson, both elements would find in Kern the satisfactory way out. And during that time Kern was importuned, and harassed, every hour of the day, dragged from the Resolutions committee to meet delegates anxious to vote for him, followed to his room at night. When the movement reached such proportions as to seem serious he took the position that as long as there was any possibility of the nomination of any of the avowed candidates, and as long as there was any chance of a compromise on Marshall his name should not under any circumstances appear in the balloting.

Long before the various candidates had been formally presented to the convention it required no extraordinary perspicacity on the part of veterans of national conventions to see that none of the avowed candidates could or would be nominated without prolonged balloting, and that there was a strong possibility of a hopeless deadlock. It did not require many ballots to justify the fear. In the resulting discussion of a compromise candidate or “dark horse” no name appeared with such frequency as that of Kern. Although he was constantly holding his friends in check this did not spare him from the suspicion of some and the open criticism of others. The New York World sounded a “note of warning” in a direct charge that “the reactionaries of the convention” were planning to throw the nomination to Senator Kern to prevent it from going to Wilson. The absurdity of the assumption that “reactionaries” would be interested in the nomination of the progressive leader of Indiana, who had been intimately identified with the reform measures of Mr. Bryan was not explained. The truth is that the men who were drawn to the Kern solution of a deadlock were found among members of both wings of the party. But the men who gave the movement impetus in the beginning and remained throughout the most faithful to it were progressives of the most militant stripe. Among them were men whose first choice were Wilson, Clark, Harmon and Marshall. The Underwood forces alone contributed no support to the movement. The most active and aggressive sponsor of the Kern compromise idea in the event the deadlock continued long enough to engender bitterness was Senator Luke Lea of Tennessee, whose first choice was Wilson.

The name of Kern appeared for the first time in the balloting on the third ballot when a delegate from Ohio went to him. After that there was scarcely a ballot in which he did not appear usually with one vote, frequently with two and sometimes with more. This was only significant in that it kept his name constantly before the convention as a way out.

On June 29th, three days before the nomination of Wilson, the Associated Press carried the story of the “dark horse” talk and said that “the names of Kern and Gaynor are most frequently mentioned;” and on the same day the United Press announced that Kern would not be a candidate until it had been clearly demonstrated that Wilson, Clark or Marshall could not be nominated, and that Indiana would then lead the way, to be followed by Illinois.

During these days no man did more to hold the Indiana delegation together for Marshall than Senator Kern. When on the 29th ballot Major G. V. Menzies of Indiana broke the solidarity of the delegation by voting for Kern no man resented it more than the senator, who was more embarrassed than flattered. To all Indianians who called upon him at his room with the suggestion that the “time has come to break from Marshall”—and there were many both on and off the delegation—he stubbornly refused to listen. The thought behind his uncompromising attitude was that once the delegation broke away from its instructions there was no certainty that the majority would not ultimately find their way into the camp of ultra-conservativism.