From St. Louis I went direct to Burbank.
His heart had been set upon a grand speech-making tour. He was fond of
wandering about, showing himself to cheering crowds; and he had a deep,
and by no means unwarranted, confidence in his platform magnetism. At
first I had been inclined to give him his way. But the more I considered
the matter, the stronger seemed to become the force of the
objections--it takes a far bigger man than was Burbank at that stage of
his growth not to be cheapened by "steeple-chasing for votes"; also, the
coming of the candidate causes jealousy and heart-burnings over matters
of precedence, reception and entertainment among the local celebrities,
and so he often leaves the party lukewarm where he found it
enthusiastic. Further, it uses up local campaign money that ought to be
spent in hiring workers at the polls, which is the polite phrase for
vote-buying as "retaining-fee" is the polite phrase for bribe.
I decided against the tour and for the highly expensive but always
admirable and profitable "pilgrimage plan".
Burbank's own home was at Rivington, and I should have had him visited
there, had it not been on a single-track branch-railway which could not
handle without danger and discomfort the scores of thousands we were
planning to carry to and from him almost daily. So, it was given out
that he purposed as far as possible to withdraw from the strife of the
campaign and to await the results in the dignified calm in which he
wished the voters to determine it. He took--after Woodruff had carefully
selected it--a "retired" house "in the country."
And it was in the open country. A farm garden adjoined it on the one
side, a wheat field on the other, a large orchard to the rear. The broad
meadow in front gave plenty of room for delegations visiting the
"standard bearer of the party of patriotism" in his "rural seclusion,"
to hear his simple, spontaneous words of welcome. But for all the remote
aspect of the place, it was only five minutes' drive and ten minutes'
walk from a station through which four big railroads passed. One of the
out-buildings was changed into a telegraph office from which accounts of
the enthusiasm of the delegations and of his speeches could be sent to
the whole country. On his desk in his little study stood a private-wire
telephone that, without danger of leakage, would put him in direct
communication either with my study at Fredonia or with Doc Woodruff's
privatest private room in the party national headquarters at Chicago.
Thus, our statesman, though he seemed to be aloof, was in the very thick
of the fray; and the tens of thousands of his fellow citizens, though
they seemed to come almost on their own invitation inspired by
uncontrollable enthusiasm for the great statesman, were in fact free
excursionists--and a very troublesome, critical, expensive lot they
were. But--the public was impressed. It sits in its seat in the theater
of action and believes that the play is real, and ignores and forgets
the fact that there is a behind-the-scenes.
The party distributed from various centers tons of "literature." And in
addition to meetings arranged by state and local committees, a series
of huge demonstrations was held in the cities of every doubtful state.
Besides the party's regular speakers, we hired as many "independent"
orators as we could. But all these other branches of the public side of
the campaign were subsidiary to the work at the "retreat." It might be
called the headquarters of the rank and file of the party--those
millions of "principle" voters and workers who were for Burbank because
he was the standard-bearer of their party. No money, no bribes of
patronage have to be given to them; but it costs several millions to
raise that mass to the pitch of hot enthusiasm which will make each
individual in it certain to go to the polls on election day and take his
neighbors, instead of staying at home and hoping the party won't lose.
Burbank's work was, therefore, highly important. But the seat of the
real campaign was Woodruff's privatest private room in the Chicago
headquarters. For, there were laid and were put in the way of execution
the plans for acquiring those elements that, in the doubtful states,
have the balance of power between the two opposing and about evenly
matched masses of "principle" voters. I just now recall a talk I had
with my wife, about that time. She took no interest in politics and
rarely spoke of political matters--and both of us discouraged political
talk before the children. One day she said to me: "This campaign of
yours and Mr. Burbank's must be costing an awful lot of money."
"A good deal," said I.
"Several millions?"
"This is a big country, and you can't stir it up politically for
nothing. Why do you ask?"
"Who gives the money?" she persisted.
"The rich men--the big corporations--give most of it."
"Why?"
"Patriotism," said I. "To save the nation from our wicked opponent."
"How do Mr. Roebuck and the others get it back?" she pursued, ignoring
my pleasantry.
"Get what back?"
"Why the money they advance. They aren't the men to _give_ anything."