Governor Gillett incorporated that telegram in a message which he sent to Senate and Assembly the next day. "A telegram so forcible as this," said the Governor, "from the President of the United States, is entitled to full consideration, and demands that no hasty or ill-considered action be taken by this State which may involve the whole country. It seems to me that it is time to lay sentiment and personal opinion and considerations aside and take a broad and unprejudiced view of the important question involved in the proposed legislation, and in a calm and dispassionate manner pass upon them, keeping in mind not only the interests of our State, but of the Nation as well, and the duty we owe to it in observing the treaties entered into by it with a friendly power."
"I trust," concluded the Governor, "that no action will be taken which will violate any treaty made by our country or in any manner question its good faith. I most respectfully submit this message to you with the full hope and belief that when final action shall be taken nothing will be done which can be the subject of criticism by the people of this Nation, and that no law will be enacted which will be in contravention of the Constitution or any treaty of the United States."
The Governor's message was not at all well received[92]; in fact,
Governor and message were denounced by both Republican and Democratic
Assemblymen.
From the hour that the bill had been passed, the Governor had been in consultation with his lieutenants in the Assembly. Speaker Stanton made canvass of the situation. But little headway was made. That reconsideration would be denied was evident. Leeds, to save the situation, moved that reconsideration be postponed until February 10th. An amendment was made that it be re-referred to the Judiciary Committee. It was on this amended motion that the issue was fought out.
"I know what you want," declared Johnson of Sacramento in his opening speech, "and you know it. You want to bury this bill. You want time to hold another caucus on the question and decide what you will do. You want time to take another canvass of this Assembly."
Had the question been put when Johnson had concluded, reconsideration would unquestionably have been denied. In the emergency, Speaker Stanton left his desk and took the floor to plead for delay. For once in his life, at least, Phil Stanton was impressive. He did not say much, - and as the sequel showed he had little to say - but there was a suggestion of thundering guns and sacked cities and marching armies in his words, that caused the listening statesmen to follow him with unstatesmen-like uneasiness.
"It was not my intention," said Stanton, "to take the floor unless we were confronted by some grave crisis. Such a crisis is, in my opinion, upon us. I not only believe it, but I know it. But my lips are sealed."
"I would that I could tell you what I know, but I cannot for the present. But I can tell you that we are treading upon dangerous ground. I can feel it slipping from under my feet."
"In my judgment this matter should be postponed. I believe that further information will, within a few days, be given you."
The psychological moment had come in the history of Assembly Bill 14. All eyes were turned on Johnson of Sacramento. It was for him to say whether the postponement asked should be granted. Had Johnson said "no," such was the attitude of the Assembly at that moment, reconsideration of the measure would unquestionably have been denied, and Assembly Bill 14 declared passed by the House of its origin.