My Brother, Theodore Roosevelt

by Corinne Roosevelt Robinson

He has described this part of his life in his own autobiography. He has told of how he met Joseph Murray, a force in the political district, who became his devoted adherent, and how he decided himself to become one of the “governing class.” This effort resulted in his nomination for the New York State Assembly, and on January 1, 1882, Theodore Roosevelt became outwardly, what inwardly he had always been, a devoted public servant. That winter remains in my mind as one of intense interest in all of his activities. We were all living at my mother’s home in 57th Street, and he spent part of the week in Albany, returning, as a rule, on Friday for the week-end. Many were the long talks, many the humorous accounts given us of his adventures as an assemblyman, and all the time we, his family, realized that an influence unusual in that New York State Assembly was beginning to be felt. Already, by the end of a month or so, he was known as “the Young Reformer,” ardent and earnest, who pleaded for right thinking, and definite practical interpretation of right thinking. His name was on the lips of many before he had been three months an assemblyman, and already his native city was beginning to take a more than amused interest in his activities.

A certain highbrow club called “The 19th Century Club,” whose president was the editor of the Evening Post (a paper neither then nor later always in accord with the ideals and methods of Theodore Roosevelt!), invited the young assemblyman to make an address before its members. He accepted the invitation, feeling, as he always did, that it was well to give the type of message that he wished to give to the type of citizens of which that club was composed. Following my invariable custom whenever it was possible for me to do so, I accompanied him to the meeting. The method of procedure in “The 19th Century Club” was as follows: The speaker of the evening was allowed to choose his own subject, announced, of course, several weeks in advance, and he was given a half-hour in which to develop his idea. A second speaker was invited to rebut the first speaker. The speaker of the evening was then allowed ten minutes to rebut the rebutter. It is, I think, of special interest to remember that the young assemblyman, twenty-three years of age, chose for his subject the same theme on which the man of sixty, who was about to die, wrote his last message to his countrymen.

Theodore Roosevelt announced that he would speak to “The 19th Century Club” on “Americanism.” A brilliant editor of an able newspaper was asked to make the speech in answer to the address of “the Young Reformer.” As I say, I went with my brother to the meeting and sat directly under him in a front seat. It was the first time I had ever heard him speak in public and I confess to having been extremely nervous. He was never an orator, although later his speeches were delivered with great charm of manner and diction, but at this early stage of his career he had not the graces of an older and more finished speaker. I can see him now as he came forward on the platform and began with eager ardor his plea for Americanism. Every fibre of my being responded to him and to his theme, but I seemed to be alone in my response, for the somewhat chilly audience, full of that same armchair criticism of which I have spoken, gave but little response to the desire of the heart of Theodore Roosevelt, and when he had finished his half-hour’s presentation of his plea, there was very little applause, and he sat down looking somewhat nervous and disappointed. Then the brilliant man, twice the age of Theodore Roosevelt, who had been chosen to reply to him, rose, and with deft oratorical manipulation rang the changes on every “ism” he could think of, using as his fundamental argument the fact that all “isms” were fads. He spoke of the superstition of spiritualism, the extravagance of fanaticism, the hypocrisy of hypnotism, the plausibility of socialism—and the highbrow members of “The 19th Century Club” were with the brilliant orator from start to finish, and as he closed his subtile argument, which left Americanism high and dry on the shores of faddism, the audience felt that “the Young Reformer” had had his lesson, and gave genuine applause to his opponent.

Half-way through that opponent’s address, I confess, on my own part, to having experienced a great feeling of discouragement; not because I agreed with what he said, but because of the effect produced upon the listeners; but suddenly I saw my brother smile the same smile which used to cross his face in later years when some heckler would try to embarrass him from the back of a great hall, and he took a pencil and wrote something on his cuff. The smile was transitory but it gave me fresh hope, and I knew quite well that the audience would hear something worth while, if not to their liking, in the last ten minutes of the evening, when, as I said before, the speaker of the evening was allowed to rebut the rebutter. The clever editor sat down amidst interested applause, and “the Young Reformer” stepped once more forward to the edge of the platform. He leaned far over from the platform, so earnest, so eager was he, and this is what he said: “I believe that I am allowed ten minutes in which to refute the arguments of my opponent. I do not need ten minutes—I do not need five minutes—I hardly need one minute—I shall ask you one question, and as you answer that question, you will decide who has won this argument—myself or the gentleman on the other side of this platform. My question is as follows: If it is true that all isms are fads, I would ask you, Fellow Citizens, what about Patriotism?” The audience rose to its feet; even “The 19th Century Club” could not but acknowledge that patriotism was a valuable attribute for American citizens to possess. That was the first time that Theodore Roosevelt, in public, asked of his fellow countrymen, “What about Patriotism?” but all his life long, from that time on, it was the question forever on his lips, the question which his own life most adequately answered.

In April of that same year, Theodore, an assemblyman not yet twenty-four, had already made himself so conspicuous a figure that mention of him and his attitudes was constantly in the New York press. In an envelope, put away long ago, I find an excerpt from the New York Times, April 5, 1882. It is yellow with age and brittle, but there was something ineffaceable and prophetic in the faded words; I quote:

“He called from the table his resolution directing an investigation by the Standing Judiciary Committee of the acts of Judge Westbrook and Ex-Attorney General Ward in connection with the gigantic stock jobbing scheme of the Manhattan Railroad Co. (Elevated). Ex-Governor Alvord tried to prevent resolution, but it was carried 48–22. As Mr. Roosevelt rose to speak, the House, for almost the only time during the Session, grew silent and listened to every word that he uttered.”

In the midst of a body of men somewhat inclined to a certain kind of careless irreverence, it is of marked interest that “as Mr. Roosevelt rose to speak, the House, for almost the only time during the Session, grew silent and listened to every word that he uttered.” To how few young men of twenty-three would “the House” accord such respect! As I say, the attitude was prophetic, for the following forty years, no matter how fiercely he was criticised, no matter what fury of invective was launched against him, no matter how jealously and vindictively he was occasionally opposed, there was never a place where Theodore Roosevelt rose to speak that he was not listened to with great attention.

In the Sun of the same date the account of the incident runs as follows: “Mr. Roosevelt’s speech was delivered with deliberation and measured emphasis, and his charges were made with a boldness that was almost startling.” Those first two years of his career as an assemblyman showed, indeed, again, that the youth was father to the man. The characteristics which marked his whole public life never showed more dominantly than as a young assemblyman in Albany. Uncompromising courage was combined with common sense, and the power of practical though never unworthy compromise was as evident then as later in his life. Those years have been fully dwelt upon in his own autobiography.

The great tragedy of his young wife’s death at the birth of her first child was an even greater tragedy because the death of our lovely mother occurred twenty-four hours before her son’s wife passed away. Our mother’s home at 57th Street had been the background of our young married life, as it had been the foreground of our youth, and the winter of 1884 had been spent by my husband and myself at 6 West 57th Street, and the consequence was that as Theodore also made his headquarters there, we had been much together, and that very fact made it even harder to break up the home which had been so long the centre of our family life.

The next two years were almost the saddest of our happy lives. My brother had, fortunately, already interested himself in a ranching enterprise in North Dakota, and although he returned to the assembly in February, 1884, and with his usual courage finished his year of duty there, he turned gladly to the new life of the West, and became, through his absolute comprehension of the pioneer type of the cowboy and the ranchman, not only one of them from a physical standpoint, but also one of them from the standpoint of understanding their mental outlook.