Woodrow Wilson as I Know Him

by Joseph P. Tumulty

I would feel deeply mortified to have you or anybody like you vote for me. Since you have access to many disloyal Americans and I have not, I will ask you to convey this message to them.

This sharp and timely rebuke to the unpatriotic spirit to which O'Leary gave expression won the hearty and unanimous approval of the country to the President. Nothing like this bold defiance came from Hughes until a few days before the election.

The Democratic campaign, within twenty-four hours after the publication of the O'Leary telegram, was on again in full swing.

At this same newspaper conference the President, who had not seen the newspaper group since his arrival at Long Branch, discussed the campaign, so that they might have what he called the "inside of his mind." His criticism of the campaign that Justice Hughes was conducting contained bitter irony and, sarcasm. Evidently, the petty things to which Mr. Hughes had adverted in his campaign speeches by way of criticizing the President and his administration had cut the President to the quick. One of the newspaper men asked him what he thought of Mr. Hughes' campaign, and he laughingly replied: "If you will give that gentleman rope enough he will hang himself. He has forgotten many things since he closeted himself on the bench, and he will soon find himself out of touch with the spirit of the nation. His speeches are nothing more or less than blank cartridges and the country, unless I mistake the people very much, will place a true assessment upon them."

The newspaper men left this conference heartened by the reply he had made to O'Leary and with the firm conviction that the Democratic candidate was just "playing" with Hughes and would pounce upon him at the psychological moment.

In the delivery of the campaign speeches at Shadow Lawn each Saturday afternoon President Wilson took full advantage of the swing toward the Democratic side which was manifest after the publication of the famous O'Leary telegram. While the Republican candidate was busily engaged in invading the West in his swing around the circle, the Democratic candidate each week from his porch at Shadow Lawn was delivering sledge-hammer blows at the Republican breastworks. As the Republican candidate in an effort to win the West was heaping maledictions upon Dr. E. Lester Jones, the head of the Geodetic Survey, a Wilson appointee, the President calmly moved on, ripping to pieces and tearing to shreds the poor front behind which the Republican managers were seeking to win the fight.

Mr. Hughes campaigned like a lawyer, Mr. Wilson like a statesman. Mr. Hughes was hunting small game with bird shot, Mr. Wilson trained heavy artillery on the enemies' central position. The essential difference between the two men and the operations of their minds was made clear in the campaign. No one would wish to minimize the unusual abilities of Mr. Hughes, but they are the abilities of an adroit lawyer. He makes "points." He pleases those minds which like cleverness and finesse. He deals with international affairs like an astute lawyer drawing a brief. But has he ever quickened the nation's pulse or stirred its heart by a single utterance? Did he ever make any one feel that behind the formalities of law, civil or international, he detected the heartbeats of humanity whom law is supposedly designed to serve? Mr. Wilson was not thinking of Mr. Hughes, but perhaps he was thinking of the type of which Mr. Hughes is an eminent example when he said in Paris: "This is not to be a lawyers' peace."

Every speech of President Wilson's was, to use a baseball phrase, a home run for the Democratic side. They were delivered without much preparation and were purely extemporaneous in character. The Republican opposition soon began to wince under the smashing blows delivered by the Democratic candidate, and outward proof was soon given of the fear and despair that were now gathering in the Republican ranks. With a few short trips to the West, and his final speech at Long Branch, President Wilson closed his campaign, with Democratic hopes on the rise.

The happenings of Election Day, 1916, will long linger in my memory. I was in charge of the Executive offices located at Asbury Park, while the President remained at Shadow Lawn, awaiting the news of the first returns from the country. The first scattered returns that filtered in to the Executive offices came from a little fishing town in Massachusetts early in the afternoon of Election Day, which showed a slight gain for the President over the election returns of 1912. Then followed early drifts from Colorado and Kansas, which showed great Wilson gains. Those of us who were interested in the President's cause were made jubilant by these early returns. Every indication, though imperfect, up to seven o'clock on the night of the election, forecasted the President's reëlection.

In the early afternoon the President telephoned the Executive offices to inquire what news we had received from the country and he was apprised of the results that had come in up to that time. Then, quickly, the tide turned against us in the most unusual way. Between seven and nine o'clock the returns slowly came in from the East and Middle West that undeniably showed a drift away from us.