The make-up of the little "cabinet" or group which surrounded my father was most interesting. There was Mr. Alexander Hamill, the father of Congressman Hamill of Jersey City, a student of Queen's College in Ireland and who afterward taught in the National Schools of Ireland, a well-read, highly cultured, broad-minded man of affairs; and dear Uncle Jimmie Kelter, almost a centenarian, whose fine old gray hair gave him the appearance of a patriarch. Uncle Jimmie nightly revelled in the recital to those who were present as ready listeners, his experience when he was present at a session of the House of Parliament in London and heard the famous Irish statesman, Daniel O'Connell, denounce England's attitude of injustice toward Catholic emancipation. He loved to regale the little group that encircled him by reciting from memory the great speech of Robert Emmett from the dock, and excerpts from the classic speeches of the leading Irish orators like Curran, Sheridan, and Fox.
While these discussions in the little store wended their uneasy way along, a spark of humour was often injected into them by the delightful banter of a rollicking, good-natured Irishman, a big two-fisted fellow, generous- hearted and lovable, whom we affectionately called "Big Phil." I can see him now, standing like a great pyramid in the midst of the little group, every now and then throwing his head back in good-natured abandon, recounting wild and fantastic tales about the fairies and banshees of the Old Land from whence he had come. When his listeners would turn away, with skepticism written all over their countenances, he would turn to me, whose youthful enthusiasm made me an easy victim upon which to work his magic spell in the stories which he told of the wonders of the Old Land across the sea.
I loved these delightful little gatherings in whose deliberations my dear father played so notable a part. Those kind folk, now off the stage, never allowed the spirit of provincialism to guide their judgment or their attitude toward great public affairs. I recall with pleasure their tolerance, their largeness of view, and fine magnanimity which raised every question they discussed to a high level. They were a very simple folk, but independent in their political actions and views. Into that little group of free, independent political thinkers would often come a warning from the Democratic boss of the city that they must follow with undivided allegiance the organization's dictum in political matters and not seek to lead opinion in the community in which they lived. Supremely indifferent were these fine old chaps to those warnings, and unmindful of political consequences. They felt that they had left behind them a land of oppression and they would not submit to tyrannous dictation in this free land of ours, no matter who sought to exert it.
In this political laboratory I came in contact with the raw materials of political life that, as an older man, I was soon to see moulded into political action in a larger way in the years to come. I found in politics that the great policies of a nation are simply the policies and passions of the ward extended. In the little discussions that took place in that store, I was, even as a youth, looking on from the side-lines, struck by the fine, wholesome, generous spirit of my own father. Never would he permit, for instance, in the matter of the discussion of Ireland—so dear to his heart—a shade of resentment or bitterness toward England to influence his judgment in the least, for he believed that no man could be a just judge in any matter where his mind was filled with passion; and so in this matter, the subject of such fierce controversy, as in every other, he held a judgment free and far away from his passionate antagonisms. I found in the simple life of the community where I was brought up the same human things, in a small way, that I was subsequently to come in contact with in a larger way in the whirligig of political life in the Capitol of the Nation. I found the same relative bigness and the same relative smallness, the same petty jealousies and rivalries which manifest themselves in the larger fields of a great nation's life; the same good nature, and the same deep humanity expressing itself in the same way, only differently apparelled.
One of the most interesting places in the world for the study of human character is the country store or the city grocery. I was able as a boy standing behind the counter of the little grocery store to study people; and intimately to become acquainted with them and their daily lives and the lives of their women and children. I never came in contact with their daily routine, their joys and sorrows, their bitter actualities and deep tragedies, without feeling rise in me a desire to be of service. I remember many years ago, seated behind the counter of my father's grocery store, with what passionate resentment I read the vivid headlines of the metropolitan newspapers and the ghastly accounts of the now famous Homestead Strike of 1892. Of course, I came to realize in after years that the headlines of a newspaper are not always in agreement with the actual facts; but I do recall how intently I pored over every detail of this tragic story of industrial war and how, deep in my heart, I resented the efforts of a capitalistic system that would use its power in this unjust, inhuman way. Little did I realize as I pored over the story of this tragedy in that far-off day that some time, seated at my desk at the White House in the office of the secretary to the President of the United States, I would have the pleasure of meeting face to face the leading actor in this lurid drama, Mr. Andrew Carnegie himself, and of hearing from his own lips a human and intelligent recital of the events which formed the interesting background of the Homestead Strike.
CHAPTER II
DOING THE POLITICAL CHORES
For the young man who wishes to rise in the politics of a great city there is no royal road to preferment but only a plain path of modest service uncomplainingly rendered. Of course, there seem to be exceptions to this rule. At times it is possible for the scion of a great family to rise to temporary distinction in politics without a preliminary course in the school of local politics, for as a Democratic boss once said to me: "Great family names are fine window-dressers," but in my own experience I have seen the disappointing end of careers thus begun and have found that sometimes after a great name has been temporarily used to meet certain political emergencies, the would-be politician is quickly thrust aside to make way for the less pretentious but more capable man. There is nothing permanent or lasting about a place in politics gained in this adventitious way. Of course, there sometimes come to high office men from military careers, or men, like the distinguished subject of this book, from fields apparently remote from practical politics, but such successes are due to an appealing personal force, or to exceptional genius which the young aspirant had better not assume that he possesses. The general rule holds good that a political apprenticeship is as necessary and valuable as an industrial apprenticeship.
My first official connection with politics was as the financial secretary of the Fifth Ward Democratic Club of Jersey City. My father had told me that if I intended to play an active part in politics, it would be necessary to begin modestly at the bottom of the ladder, to do the political chores, as it were, which are a necessary part of ward organization work. I recall those days with singular pleasure, for my work gave me an unusual opportunity to meet the privates in the ranks and to make friendships that were permanent.
The meetings of the Club were held each week in a modest club house, with part of the meeting given over to addresses made by what were then considered the leading men in the Democratic party. It is queer how the average political worker favours the senator, or the ex-judge, or the ex-Congressman, as a speaker on these occasions. Ex-Congressman Gray, of Texas (I doubt whether there ever was a congressman by that name), would often be the headliner and he could be depended upon to draw a crowded and enthusiastic house. The knowledge and experience I gained at these inspirational meetings were mighty helpful to me in the political life I had carved out for myself. I found that when you had convinced these plain, everyday fellows that, although you were a college man, you were not necessarily a highbrow, they were willing to serve you to the end. It was a valuable course in a great university. It was not very long until I was given my first opportunity, in 1896, to make my first political speech in behalf of Mr. Bryan, then the Democratic candidate for President. I was not able at that time to disentangle the intricacies of the difficult money problems, but I endeavoured, imperfectly at least, in the speeches I made, to lay my finger on what I considered the great moral issue that lay behind the silver question in that memorable campaign—the attempt by eastern financial interests to dominate the Government of the United States.