“In actual reality, war has been creeping nearer and nearer until it stares at us from just beyond our three-mile limit, and we face it without policy, plan, purpose, or preparation. No sane man can to-day be so blind as to believe President Wilson’s original statement that the war was no concern of ours. Every thinking man must realize the utter futility of a statesmanship without plan or policy until such facts as these now stare us in the face.”
Such were the virile statements used many times during the following campaign. One of the most interesting human documents connected with Theodore Roosevelt during this period was written by a young reporter, Edwin N. Lewis, in private letters to his own family, from the special train upon which Theodore Roosevelt travelled for one of the most active ten days of his active life, during which he urged the American people to accept the Republican candidate. With Mr. Lewis’s permission, I am quoting from these interesting letters, written by the kind of young American for whom my brother had the warmest and most friendly feeling, the kind of young American whose family life had been such that he wished to share with his family whatever was of interest in his life.
The first letter, dated October 17, 1916, begins:
“Just getting into Rochester—7 P. M.—Dear Ma:—The big tour is on. I was presented to Colonel Roosevelt by his secretary before the train pulled out. Since there are only three correspondents in the party, he insists that we eat in his private car with him. The trip is going to be a little family party with the Colonel a sort of jovial master of ceremonies. He permits me, a stranger, to take part in the conversation with the group. In fact, I feel, now, after my experiences at luncheon, that I have known him a long while. He is just as remarkable, energetic, mentally alert and forcible as his chroniclers picture him. I could entertain you and pa for an evening with the stories he told this noon, and dinner is coming in a half hour! Wonderful meals too,—with the New York Central chefs straining every effort to give Theodore Roosevelt something fine to eat. Cronin of The Sun and Yoder of the United Press are the only other newspaper men along.... Tomorrow we face a busy day. From Cincinnati, we turn down through a mountain section of Kentucky which has never seen a President, an ex-President or a Presidential candidate. Mountaineers will drive from miles around to see the man they have worshipped for years. The Colonel makes thirteen stops between Falmouth and Louisville. I realize how you are thinking of me on this trip. It helps me to make good.”
Leaving Louisville, Ky., October 18, 11 P. M.:
“This has been a long day with hundreds of miles travelled by our special train through the valleys of Kentucky in a steady run. I wrote about 2000 words but do not imagine that all of it will get in the first edition which you will see in New England. Tonight, “T. R.” pulled one of his familiar stunts with his changing the whole introduction to his speech at one-half hour’s notice. He spoke for half an hour on the Adamson law and what he would have done to prevent the threatened railroad strikes. I had to shoot in 500 words additional just as we pulled out. It was written in long hand while the Colonel delivered the tail end of his talk. Louisville went wild over him. As we climbed down in the mud and rain, red fire burned, rockets glared in the mist, and the factory whistles screeched their welcome. As the New York correspondents travelling with the Colonel, we are members of his personal body-guard. You can imagine how seriously we take the job, when you remember that Mr. Roosevelt was shot and severely wounded when speaking at Milwaukee a few years ago; a man of such intense affections and such stirring convictions always has venomous enemies. For this reason, when we take the Colonel through a crowd as we did tonight, we completely surround him and use our elbows and fists if need be to protect him. If any harm should come to him, we would all be crushed. Tonight, however, he was only liable to be hurt by the overwhelming love of Louisville citizens.... Our relations with him could not be more cordial and democratic. This noon Colonel Roosevelt was terribly excited because Cronin and I did not get luncheon with him owing to the prevalence of Kentucky politicians who swarmed on the train like rats caught in a flood. He swore that he would eat nothing tonight until we had been fed. Tonight at 7 P. M. the porter came into my compartment and announced that Mr. Roosevelt was waiting dinner for Mr. Lewis and Mr. Cronin. He still apologized although we protested that the chef had filled our most prominent cavity successfully with sandwiches and coffee at 3 P. M. This gives you just one little glimpse of this remarkable man. I could write all night along this line. Mind you, he is taking all these precautions not for old friends but for two newspaper men whom he has never seen before and whose articles he has never read.
“Tonight as he left the hall, I jumped around to his right side, grabbed him by the arm and offered to act as a bumper against his admirers who fought like bears to shake his hand. He still remains the great idol of the American people. He smiled at me, drew his arm through mine and we swayed, pushed, and shoved our way out.
“The Colonel is a little older than he used to be. I think he will be fifty-eight the day we return to New York. At times, in the thick of the excitement, an expression of fatigue flashes across his features. There is a touch of sadness too, I believe, in his face, as he looks out over these crowds of people who have come for miles just to see him. He is not a candidate for President, thanks to the Chicago Convention,—but in spite of all these things which would discourage an ordinary man, he is travelling four thousand miles to win the election.... If the Colonel likes a person, he loves them with gigantic affection. His favorite character in literature is Great Heart from ‘Pilgrim’s Progress.’
“We fought our way into the hall tonight after passing through miles of streets lined with black and white people, standing patiently in the rain just to see the Colonel go by. We had a difficult time getting him out by the rear entrance for the larger crowd which could not get inside insisted on a brief speech from a bandstand outside. Then, we hustled back through the rain to the railroad station, climbed on the train and now we are approaching the Indiana border en route to Arizona through Missouri and Kansas. We are to take our meals with the Colonel three times a day. He promises that this rule will be lived up to. He relies on us to read the daily newspapers, giving him material. He never reads the papers as near as I can make out. We look forward to these next days with great pleasure. We are to tour the plains and run almost to the rim of the Grand Canyon. The Colonel expects to present us to some of the old horse thieves and other respectable men with whom he associated in his cow-punching days!”
October 21, 1916, near Phœnix: