When, moved by a desire to belong to the governing class instead of to the governed, he told his folks that he wanted to join the Republican Club as his first step in politics, he relates that they told him that he would meet the groom and the saloonkeeper there; that in addition politics were low and that for this reason no gentleman could afford to join with such men in ward affairs.
Roosevelt was as ready then with an answer as he was in later life. “If that is so,” he replied, according to his close friend, Jacob Riis, “the groom and the saloonkeeper are the governing class and you confess weakness. You have all the chances, the education, the position, and you let them rule you. They must be better men!” He went to the Republican Club, leaving his would-be advisers dolefully shaking their heads.
This opposition overcome, Roosevelt found another obstacle in his way. He had transferred his citizenship from Oyster Bay, where he cast his first vote, to the fashionable Murray Hill district. He therefore was handicapped by a “silk stocking” reputation. Immediately he went to work to show the politicians that, while he had associated with wearers of silk hose, he knew how to wear a slouch hat and how to get down to a shirt-sleeves basis if by doing so he could make those with whom he mingled feel easier. Joe Murray, Roosevelt’s first political sponsor, was won to him by the genuine spirit of democracy he saw in the young aspirant.
Murray was in need of friends just at that time. He had rebelled against the rule of “Jake” Hess, the Republican boss of the district. Jake had his own special candidate for the next Assemblyman from the 21st District. Murray had become the leader of the anti-Hess faction, but had no worth-while candidate for the Legislature. He observed that Roosevelt was popular with the crowd.
“Look here men,” Murray said to his adherents, “what this district wants is a swell candidate who can go as a guest to the drawing room and at the same time be man enough to shake hands with the butler. Teddy Roosevelt is the one!”
He asked Roosevelt to become a candidate. Roosevelt refused. Instead he suggested the names of several men; but Murray kept on persuading, until at last he drew from Roosevelt a promise to be his candidate if he could not secure a better one. Joe at once stopped searching.
“I can’t find any better nor as good!” was his verdict. The matter ended in the nomination of the youthful-looking collegiate “Teddy,” now thoroughly warm to the campaign. He plunged into the battle with an intensity that was earnest of the ardor with which he went into his later and more important political conflicts.
The next barrier that rose before the candidate was high license. A trip to the saloons was said by his political sponsors to be a necessary part of the campaign. At Valentine Young’s saloon on Sixth Avenue, Roosevelt opened his campaign. Mr. Young was against high license. He expressed the hope that Roosevelt was also opposed to it. Roosevelt promptly replied that he was for it, and would advocate it as hard as he could. The argument became hot; the saloon-keeper made personal remarks. Then and there Roosevelt quitted the saloon canvass. Murray and his friends were dismayed, but Roosevelt appealed to his neighbors. The silk-stocking vote joined that of the footmen and shopkeepers, who had become enthusiastic over the scrappy and democratic young candidate. Roosevelt was elected and became the youngest member of the Legislature.
ROOSEVELT AND THE GRAFTERS
The next obstruction that confronted young Roosevelt was the attitude of his party associates in the Legislature. Many of these men were in politics for purely commercial reasons. They frowned on crusaders and tried to squelch any tendency in Roosevelt toward independence of thought and action. His part, as they saw it, was to be merely the smallest cog in the political machine, moving only when a man higher up applied the power.