He went into the bedroom and was gone for more than an hour. I had to wait so long that I grew impatient and, ringing for a waiter, ordered my luncheon. As I ate, I could hear the voices through the closed door, and though I could not distinguish the conversation, it was violent, for occasionally I could hear an explosion of vocal fireworks in the bedroom. When at length Sulzer came out, his manner was one of excited bravado. Throwing back the tails of his Prince Albert coat and assuming the Henry Clay pose, he exclaimed, “Well, I have done it! I have actually defied them!”
And he added:
“I did it on your account and by your advice. And now you have got to do me a favour.”
When I asked what this meant, he replied: “It may come to this: Murphy may press me so hard to name somebody else whom I ought not to nominate that I may have to appoint you yourself as chairman of the Commission. Even Murphy would not dare to prevent the confirmation of the appointment of the chairman of the Finance Committee of the Democratic National Committee. Will you accept the position if that situation arises?”
This was a critical test of my willingness to serve the cause of good government, as I had every reason to suspect that President Wilson would soon offer me a position of a much greater distinction in the National Government. But I was so wrapped up in the hope of achieving political regeneration in New York, as we had just achieved it in the nation, that I did not hesitate.
“If I can keep you from having to obey orders from Murphy in making your appointments, I will even do that,” I replied.
Sulzer thanked me warmly and then added:
“Now you must do me one other favour.”
“What is that?” I inquired.
“You have got to make a speech at my birthday dinner down at the Café Boulevard to-morrow night. I want you to show that you are back of me.”