THE ST. LOUIS CAUCUS, MAY 8, 9, AND 10
All during the morning of May 8th that delegation was constantly
getting together with this delegation; this leader conferring with
that one; was this question going to come up, and what would be done
if that question was tabled? Everybody interested, everybody excited,
everybody waiting to see the other fellow's hand at the show-down,
which was scheduled for the Shubert-Jefferson Theater at half-past two
o'clock in the afternoon. Of course, everybody had found out the
previous evening that every card in the pack was red, white, and blue,
and that, from the very beginning of the game, an attempt had been
made to keep the knaves out. As a matter of fact, they'd never been
in, but the new Bills who made up the delegations to this caucus were
going to look everybody over mighty carefully before any serious
playing was done.
Suppressed excitement doesn't describe at all the half-hour preceding
the opening of the caucus, because the excitement was not suppressed
in the least. Eager, shining, tanned faces, eyes alert, heads erect,
straight-bodied and straight-talking men one by one took seats which
were assigned to them by delegations.
A flashlight photograph of the gathering was made, but this caucus was
not one that could be pictured by the camera at all accurately. The
outstanding feature of this great get together was the spirit of the
men, and that no camera could catch.
Three large wooden tiers of seats, the kind the circus has under
canvas, were built in a sort of semicircular fashion around the large
stage. The New York delegation occupied one of these tiers; the
Ohioans another, while the third was built for distinguished guests.
If any distinguished guests came they were entirely put out of the
limelight by the audience, for this was one show which was enacted
before the footlights rather than behind them, and, with one or two
exceptions the star performing took place where the spectators usually
sit. In fact, the only spectators that I saw were the newspaper men,
seated at tables within the corral formed by the tiers. All of them
had been in the army or navy or had seen the big show abroad as war
correspondents.
When Theodore Roosevelt, as temporary chairman jammed that gaveled
bit of the rudder of the North Pole ship down hard on the table and
called the meeting to order he got what he had never received while in
the army: that is, direct disobedience. He commanded order, and there
was utter disorder. It was rank insubordination, distinctly requiring
court-martial of everyone present, from a military point of view--but
the American Legion isn't military! And so the delegates howled
joyously. Roosevelt, demanding order at this time, had just about as
much chance of getting it as the Kaiser has of making Prince Joachim
King of the Bronx. Somebody started a cheer, and the crowd didn't stop
yelling for two minutes and a half.
"Young Teddy," as they called him, was manifestly surprised at the
ovation and tried repeatedly to get the crowd quiet. He wanted to be
pleasant and yet he wanted order and so between knocks with his gavel
he smiled. And a very engaging smile it was, too.
"Gentlemen," he pleaded. "Gentlemen, a little order." Finally there
was comparative quiet. "Now let's proceed to the business of the
meeting. The floor is open for nominations for permanent chairman of
this caucus."
Sergeant Jack Sullivan of the State of Washington got the floor.
Sergeant Jack is a husky northwesterner who did his bit in the
intelligence section in Seattle and has seen a lot of the Bolsheviki
out there.
"In behalf of the State of Washington and representing the men of the
rank and file of the Pacific Northwest, it gives me pleasure at this
time to place for your consideration the name of a sterling patriot,"
he shouted. "The man I am going to place in nomination proved himself
to be a one hundred per cent. true blooded American when his country's
honor was assailed. He was among the first who placed himself in the
front-line trenches, he was wounded twice, he was ready and willing to
make the supreme sacrifice in order that this world might be made safe
for democracy. I deem it an honor and a privilege, and the Pacific
Northwest deems it an honor and a privilege to place in nomination the
worthy son of a worthy sire--Theodore Roosevelt."
The crowd seemed to know all along who Jack meant and it held its
enthusiasm in tether as best it could. But when Sullivan got to the
word Theodore, the Roosevelt was drowned out in the mightiest cheer
that is possible for eight or nine hundred throats to utter. The
second to the motion, made by Colonel Luke Lea of Tennessee, wasn't
heard at all. This time it took Colonel Roosevelt more than two
minutes to get order.
"Gentlemen, I want to speak on that now," he shouted and during a
lull in the cheering managed to make himself heard. "I wish to say
that I want to withdraw my name from nomination--"
But the "gang wouldn't hear to it." Somebody raised the old cry:
"We want Teddy!" "We want Teddy!" "We want Teddy!" they chanted in
unison. Bedlam broke loose at that. Men stood on their seats and waved
their hats and handkerchiefs; some took their collars and neckties
off; some wept, some cursed for sheer joy and others--I believe that
when Gabriel blows his horn and all the dead arise that some of the
men who attended that caucus will try to make a speech! These speeches
were going on four and five at a time during the entire hullabaloo. It
didn't seem to matter in the least to the speakers that they weren't
being heard. They couldn't hear themselves. They added a little to the
noise and that satisfied the crowd and seemed to satisfy them.
"Please, please let me talk," pleaded Colonel Roosevelt. He finally
got his plea over by means of the sign language.
"I want to withdraw my name for a number of reasons," he continued.
"The first is that I want the country at large to get the correct
impression of this meeting here. We are gathered together for a very
high purpose. I want every American through the length and breadth of
this land to realize that there isn't a man in this convention who is
seeking anything for himself personally; that all of us are working
simply for the good of the entire country. I believe, furthermore,
that what we want here is someone who has been connected with the
movement only since it started on this side of the water, someone who
originates from the convention."
The din started again.
"No, no, gentlemen," shouted the Colonel. "I want to withdraw. It is
my earnest wish. It is my absolute determination."
But the caucus seemed equally determined. "We want Teddy!" "We're
going to have Teddy!" "You got this thing going, you ought to run it."
Colonel Roosevelt paced up and down the stage, trying his best to
silence them. Then, during the din, one by one some of his oldest
friends went to him and begged him to accede to the crowd's wish.
"Take it Ted," they urged. "Take it." That underslung jaw of the young
Colonel's became rigid.
"I won't do it. I can't do it," he answered.
Then someone managed to make a motion that the nomination of Colonel
Roosevelt be made unanimous. It was seconded and made extremely
_unanimous_.
[Illustration: Theodore Roosevelt, Jr.]
[Illustration: Group on the Stage at St. Louis Caucus]
"Then, gentlemen, I accept and I resign," Colonel Roosevelt said. "I
want quiet for a moment here on this situation. This is something that
I have thought about and have given my most earnest consideration. I
am positive I am right on it. We must not have creep into this
situation, in which we all believe from the bottom of our hearts, the
slightest suspicion in the country at large. I don't think there is
any suspicion among us that anyone is trying to use it for his
personal advancement. But it is absolutely essential that this spirit
be proven. I am going to stick by this from the beginning down to the
very end because, in my opinion, we have got to create to-day the
impression all over the country on which this organization will carry
on and serve a great purpose for years to come."
Again there were outbursts of applause for the Colonel. "We want
Teddy!" "We want Teddy!" the crowd cried again and again. Men ran to
the stage from the orchestra seats and even from the second balcony.
"Take it, Colonel. You ought to take it," they urged.
What the Colonel answered couldn't be heard but the jaw was working
and the head was shaking vigorously.
A couple of newspaper men dashed up to him.
"You oughtn't to take it, Colonel," one of them whispered. "If you
don't, it will give the lie to those who are saying the Legion is
being conducted for your special political benefit."
"I haven't the slightest intention of taking it," he answered back.
He didn't take it and he nailed the lie that the Legion was started to
further his own selfish ends.
On motion of Colonel E. Lester Jones of the District of Columbia the
nominations were reopened again.
Sergeant Haines of Maine put up the name of Colonel Henry D. Lindsley,
a banker of Dallas, Texas, and a prominent Southern Democrat, for
permanent chairman. Think of it! A man from Maine nominating a
Southern Democrat! One of the Ohio delegation seconded the nomination.
Think of that too! Colonel Claud Birkhead of San Antonio, Texas,
leader of the Texas delegation "thirded" the nomination. He told
Colonel Lindsley's record. The Colonel had been Mayor of his home
city, and during the war had served his country so well in France that
he had been awarded the Distinguished Service Medal. He and Major
Willard Straight, now dead, had started the War Risk Insurance Bureau
abroad and, at the time of the caucus, Colonel Lindsley was the head
of the Bureau under the Treasury Department in Washington.
Minutes of a meeting usually are dry but here I am going to quote
directly from them because they tell the story in the most vivid way.
Fancy between the lines, please, dozens of cheers, a couple of rebel
yells, a great deal of talking and shouting for "T.R.!" "T.R.!" and a
Babelous babble that ebbed or flowed according to the strength Colonel
Roosevelt used in wielding his gavel.
COLONEL JONES (of Washington, D.C.): "Mr. Chairman, I personally feel,
and I think I voice the unanimous sentiment of this organization, that
your withdrawal is a mistake. We are not only sincere, but we are
telling you what is in the bottom of our hearts. We are weighing also
the sincerity which you have expressed, and in deference to your
wishes, which I know have not arisen spontaneously but which you have
talked about for some time, regarding the chairmanship of this
committee, I think we should not embarrass you further. I have one in
mind who I feel is going to be a man who will do credit to this
organization--"
MR. ABBOTT (of Ohio): "Gentlemen of the caucus, I think we are wasting
time around here. I can't see why we can't have for the permanent
chairman of this convention the man who will be elected in November."
THE CHAIRMAN: "Gentlemen, can't you see how it is? I can't possibly
change my convictions. I can't go back on what I have told you without
everybody, who doesn't understand the situation here, feeling that I
have just come out here to make a grandstand play. I am right. I am
absolutely sincere and right."
A motion was made that Colonel Theodore Roosevelt temporarily yield
the chair to Colonel Bennett Clark.
COLONEL BENNETT CLARK: "It is very evident what the desire of this
convention is. I know that Colonel Lindsley of Texas was only put in
nomination in response to the express wishes and repeated
determination of Colonel Roosevelt. I think that that explanation
should be made in justice to Colonel Lindsley. I think that Colonel
Roosevelt should take this chairmanship or if he doesn't want to take
it he should be made to take it. (Applause.) The chair will recognize
a motion to that effect."
CAPTAIN BOYCE (of New York shouting to a yelling audience): "What is
the use of our acting like a lot of kids? Just one minute; only one
man can talk at a time and get anywhere. Colonel Roosevelt will not
take it."
COLONEL BENNETT CLARK: "The chair will recognize nobody until the
convention is in order. It has been moved and seconded that Colonel
Roosevelt be elected chairman of this convention by acclamation."
Cries of approval from the audience and a request for the question.
COLONEL BENNETT CLARK: "On that the chair will take the responsibility
of ordering a roll call. (Applause.) The Secretary will call the
roll."
SECRETARY WOOD: "The motion is that Colonel Roosevelt be nominated by
acclamation. The chairman has directed me to call the roll by States.
Alabama--"
A call for a point of order.
DELEGATE: "After nominations have been made and closed a roll call
cannot be taken."
COLONEL CLARK: "The chair was fully aware that he was proceeding
outside of parliamentary law because it was the unanimous wish of the
convention."
MR. SULLIVAN: "I move that a roll call be made on the original
nominations."
COLONEL CLARK: "Colonel Roosevelt has expressed to me his absolute
desire that that not be done. He refuses to enter into a contest with
Colonel Lindsley in any way."
COLONEL JONES (Washington, D.C.): "Mr. Chairman, the nominations were
reopened."
COLONEL CLARK: "The chair is informed that while he was on the way up
here a motion was carried to reopen nominations after the resignation
of Colonel Roosevelt. Now nominations are again in order."
MAJOR SAMUEL D. ROYCE (Indiana): "On behalf of the State of Indiana, I
nominate Colonel Theodore Roosevelt."
The motion was seconded.
COLONEL CLARK: "The gentleman from the District of Columbia has the
floor. Others please be quiet."
Here I must inject my story into the minutes again. Colonel Roosevelt
saw the convention was "getting away to a Roosevelt finish" again, to
use a racing term, and he sent a hurry call to the Arizona delegation
for Colonel Jack Greenway.
Jack Greenway followed the elder Roosevelt up San Juan hill. He wears
underneath his civilian coat to-day, but right over his heart, a
Distinguished Service Cross won at Cantigny.
"Jack, for Heaven's sake, tell them I won't take it," Colonel
Roosevelt plead.
It was just at this moment that Colonel Clark, the acting chairman,
was saying: "The gentleman from the District of Columbia has the
floor. Others please be quiet...."
Colonel Jack waving one arm at the chairman and another at the
audience strode to the center of the stage.
The minutes read:
COLONEL JACK GREENWAY: "Will you give me the floor? I won't keep you
five minutes.
"My name is Greenway but that doesn't mean anything to you. Gentlemen,
Colonel Roosevelt has said that he is not going to take the nomination
of the caucus and you can take it from me that he is not going to do
it. Now wait a minute. Whoa! Quit yelling! I know this Roosevelt
outfit and when they say something they mean it. I followed his daddy
through Cuba and I know. I saw this boy in the first division at
Cantigny and on the Toul Front and I know that he means he is not
going to take the chairmanship of this temporary caucus. There is a
big misunderstanding about what you are trying to do. I have just
talked to Colonel Roosevelt and he says that he will not be a
candidate for the temporary caucus, but if, after all the boys come
home at the convention in November, it is still the desire of that
body as a whole, he will give the matter reconsideration." (Applause.)
Colonel Roosevelt resumes the chairmanship.
THE CHAIRMAN: "Mr. Lindsley, the gentleman of Texas is in nomination
for chairman. I mean absolutely what I say. I can't do it. I won't
serve if elected. What you have done will always be a great memory to
my family. (Applause.) I mean that, gentlemen! I mean that! Now is
there anybody else you want to put in nomination? I absolutely mean
that for the good of the cause; you have got to do what I say on that.
"Gentlemen, I believe the nominations were reopened."
Now I must again put the minutes by for a moment, for Bill has come to
the stage and what he says doesn't get into the minutes, although I
wish his remarks were there:
"That was pretty fine in him," Bill said, pointing to Colonel
Roosevelt. I nodded only, for somehow this whole thing had got to me
pretty strong and I felt like crying for some unaccountable reason.
"And then he gives his family the credit for all this yelling," Bill
was saying. "We like his family all right, but say, this wasn't to
compliment his family, not by a darn sight. Why, you know that young
Colonel's got a h---- of a fine record himself--"
But somebody within an inch of my ear was letting out a warwhoop for
Jack Sullivan who had just been nominated for permanent chairman and
I didn't hear the last of Bill's remark.
Sergeant Sullivan got up and tried to withdraw in favor of Colonel
Lindsley, and Colonel Lindsley did the same thing and each was refused
the opportunity. Colonel Lindsley then took the floor. "Comrades," he
said, "I want you to know that I came here for one man for the
chairman of this caucus, and that man was Theodore Roosevelt. He has
refused it absolutely. I appreciate the support that has been given to
my name. If honored with the chairmanship I shall be glad to serve,
but it is important that we get to business immediately. I am certain
that Mr. Sullivan will make an excellent presiding officer. If I had
the right, I should be glad to withdraw my name in his favor. But the
point is, gentlemen, let's get to business. This is the greatest
meeting that has ever gathered in the United States, and it is not so
material who is chairman of the meeting as it is to proceed to
business."
While the roll is being called let's glance around the theater again.
Most of the men in uniform are enlisted men. It is difficult to tell
at a glance just what rank or rating the majority of those present
held in the army or navy because in civilian clothing the officer and
the man are indistinguishable. I mean to say that our army was
different from most other military establishments. Being primarily a
citizen affair it was really representative. It was the desire of the
temporary committee that sixty per cent. of the delegates should be
enlisted men and when the call for the caucus was issued that was set
forth most plainly. No one seems to have taken the trouble to check
the thing up at the caucus. Anyone desiring to do so can find the
information in this volume. I was interested at the opening of the
caucus to know just what the percentage was, but after it got into
swing it didn't make any difference. No one cared. There was talk
(among officers) of making an enlisted man permanent chairman. The
only persons that I heard objecting to such a procedure were the
enlisted men themselves.
"We've forgotten all that stuff about rank. If the officers insist on
an enlisted man they'll make a mistake. We want the best man and
because we're in the majority in the organization we don't want to
discriminate against the officer. Taken as a whole, he was a mighty
fine sort."
This from Sergeant Laverne Collier of the Idaho delegation when I
asked him what he thought of the enlisted man idea. While we were
talking about it the vote was being cast on Lindsley and Sullivan. As
if to reecho Collier's sentiments, Sullivan got up and demanded that
Lindsley's election should be made unanimous, and so it was.
Colonel Roosevelt promptly put Sullivan's name in nomination for
vice-chairman. Mr. Abbott of Ohio seconded it and further moved that
the sergeant's election be made unanimous. Sergeant Jack Sullivan was
elected by acclamation. Then Colonel Wood was chosen secretary, the
rules of the House of Representatives were decided upon to govern the
procedure, and debate was limited to five minutes.
Insistence on that point was unnecessary. Our new American back from
the wars has been too accustomed to action to like words that aren't
concise and aimed right at the heart of the point. There was a good
deal of noise and talk at this particular juncture and someone moved
the appointment of a sergeant at arms. Captain A.L. Boyce of Boyce's
Tigers (those young men who drilled so persistently in Central Park in
New York preparing for the war) was picked. While this guardian of the
peace was being appointed at least five gentlemen from as many
delegations started to speak at once, perhaps against the five-minute
debate rule, and in the confusion a delegate, whom Checkers might have
described as carrying a load he should have made three trips with,
took the platform and began something that sounded about as
intelligible as Cicero's oration against Catiline in the original.
"Do I understand, Mr. Chairman, that a sergeant at arms has been
appointed?" shouted Mr. J.L. Walsh of the Pennsylvania delegation.
"That's right," answered the chairman.
"Then let's have him get busy," rejoined Mr. Walsh. "We didn't come
down here for a vaudeville show or to be entertained by some boob,
because we've got boobs back home."
After this remark, the minutes read "Laughter and applause" but that
doesn't half describe it.
Captain Boyce "got busy" and if the minutes could record the result of
his actions they would probably read "Order restored--almost. Quieter,
for a time."
Colonel Lindsley made a splendid presiding officer. None could have
done better, but as the stenographer who took the minutes remarked
(and she was convention-worn because she had attended so many): "This
is the funnest meeting I ever wrote up." Right. It was the funniest
meeting--funny being used in the sense of unusual as the stenographer
meant it--that anyone ever saw. In fact it was unique; absolutely the
only one of its kind. Because the delegates were unique. There never
was anything like them in all the history of the country. They had
gone into training camps like Bill, very tired, anæmic, with a shop
and office pallor; and they came out of the war like Bill,--new,
virile, interested, placing a value on themselves which would have
been unthinkable prior to April 6, 1917.
But they placed a greater value on this organization which was so near
the heart of all of them. No better proof of it can be shown than the
incident which has just been described, viz., the refusal of Theodore
Roosevelt to be the permanent chairman. Although I do not pretend to
be able to explain the processes of thought and reasoning which led
Colonel Roosevelt to take the action he did, still I do know this
much! There are very few young men who would have been so deaf to the
plaudits of the multitude, to the advice of old friends and to the
still small voice of personal ambition as he was in refusing. I
maintain that this refusal was by no means altogether prompted by
anything of an hereditary nature but, rather, by the experiences and
environment which had been Colonel Roosevelt's during the war. It took
more than an under-slung jaw and a rugged Rooseveltian determination
to refuse this great honor. It took _discipline_, and Colonel
Roosevelt knew how to inflict that upon himself just as he did upon
his troops whenever it was wise and necessary.
In much smaller, but no less important matters, did I see other men
practice discipline upon themselves. I saw men forego the discussion
of subjects in which they believed with all their hearts and with all
their minds solely for the purpose of doing nothing that would tend to
disrupt the Caucus or give the impression throughout the United States
that the men who had stuck together so closely in times of daring and
danger could not still stick and face, as a band of brothers in the
American Legion, any perils or pitfalls which peace might hold for
this country. Therefore, it seems to me that Colonel Roosevelt's
action was more than a manifestation of his own sterling determination
to do nothing which might hurt the Legion. It was archtypical.
Major Hamilton Fish of New York called attention to the fact that the
navy was unrepresented in the offices of the caucus and moved that a
second vice-chairman should be appointed from that branch of the
service. A delegate from Missouri seconded the motion and amended it
to read that a third vice-chairman should be appointed from the marine
corps.
During the election of these officers enthusiasm reached a high pitch
and in no more striking manner did the new American reveal his new
character.
"Gentlemen," said one dignified delegate (I don't know who let him in,
because just from the way he said "gentlemen" we all knew that once in
his life he had practiced oratory before the bureau mirror), "I want
to place in nomination the name of a man who is true blue--"
"Name him," shouted the crowd.
"He is not only true blue but he is thoroughly everything he ought to
be in addition--" continued the orator, coldly trying to squelch the
crowd.
"Name him." "Shut up." "Aw, sit down." "Who wants to listen to such
'bull' as that?"
Each of those sentences was roared by a different man.
"This gentleman is one of whom I am sure you will be proud--"
persisted the orator, but at this direct violation of its edict the
crowd began to scream its maledictions and Captain Boyce could not
have stopped them with all his Tigers if the gentleman orator hadn't
taken his seat in a most dignified manner, never to rise
again--doubtless as a rebuke for the gang, but one which was
thoroughly appreciated.
Thus the way of orators in the caucus!
The navy men who were nominated consisted of Goerke of New York;
Goldberg, Illinois; Chenoweth, Alabama; Almon, Montana; Humphrey, New
Mexico; McGrath, New Jersey; and Evans of Kentucky. The secretary took
the vote by delegations. When Goerke got a vote the New York crowd
yelled itself hoarse; New Mexico did the same for Humphrey; Alabama
cheered like mad for Chenoweth and it wasn't long before everybody
picked out his candidate and yelled furiously every time he got a
vote. The New Mexico delegation occupied a proscenium box but Humphrey
wasn't prominent enough there to suit his delegation. Before anyone
thoroughly realized what was happening, Seaman Humphrey appeared on
the stage, borne on the shoulders of two colonels! Two men who had
eagles on their shoulders, U.S. on their collars, and gold chevrons on
their left sleeves carried on their shoulders a "gob," a sailorman, a
deck-swabbing bluejacket, as he called himself.
It was the beginning of a cavalcade of noise that fairly made ear
drums ache, and, incidentally, proved a signal for the backers of
other candidates. Goerke soon was lifted aloft by a half dozen New
Yorkers; Chenoweth was exhibited to the general view from the section
of the orchestra occupied by his delegation, while Illinois paraded
up and down the aisles with Goldberg. Colonel Lindsley hammered the
speaker's table almost to pieces in an attempt to get order and then
gave it up for a few minutes as a bad job. Captain Boyce succeeded in
getting a semblance of it, when everybody got tired of carrying the
candidates and of shouting. Then the secretary again started taking
the vote by delegations. No one of the candidates received a majority
of the votes which was necessary under the procedure adopted at the
beginning of the caucus. Then began the withdrawals. This State
withdrew its vote from Goerke and cast it for Humphrey; Chenoweth
withdrew from the race and his vote went to Goerke, et cetera. A
similar situation resulted on the second count and finally Goerke
withdrew in favor of Humphrey. When Evans took the same action,
Humphrey (first name Fred), described as the "rough-riding sailor from
New Mexico," was elected.
Humphrey's speech of acceptance delighted the hearts of those who had
forced the would-be orator to sit down at the beginning of the
nominations.
"Mr. Chairman, gobs, soldiers, and marines," Humphrey said: "I am most
glad and gracious to accept this honorary position and I will do
everything that a deck-swabbing sailorman can do to fill it."
The first day's session closed with the appointment by the various
States of representatives on the following committees: Executive
Committee; Credentials; Temporary Name of Organization; Organization;
Resolutions; Constitution and By-Laws and Declaration of Principles;
Next Meeting Place and Time; Publication; Emblem; Permanent
Headquarters, and Finance.
The personnel of these committees will be found elsewhere.
Thursday evening and Friday morning were devoted largely to committee
meetings and different sections of the country came together to
discuss matters of particular interest to special localities. For
instance, the Western delegations discussed the question of
Bolshevism, because the symptoms of this mad disease had been more
apparent in that section of the country than in any other. The
question of color was practically decided in a meeting of the
Executive Committee and was ratified later by various delegations
representing the Southern States. Everybody was pleased. An attempt
was made by the leaders of each delegation to keep such questions as
might be "_loaded with dynamite_" off the actual floor of the caucus
so that those lacking in discretion might not have the opportunity to
throw the caucus into an uproar.
In fact it was this spirit--the desire on everybody's part to give in
to a certain extent on any mooted question for the sake of general
harmony that was a marked feature of the gathering. In the committee
meetings were found delegates with radically different opinions on
almost every question. It was not an uncommon thing, however, to see a
delegate very heatedly advocate a certain side of an issue; listen to
the opposing side, rise, and with equal heat and fervency advocate the
opposite point of view.
This spirit is highly significant. It will be one of the Legion's
greatest powers. It was and is due to the fact that these new
Americans are not cursed with fixed ideas. They have seen too much,
lived through too much in their comparatively short lives to be
narrow-minded. Over in the A.E.F. the former hod-carrier often turned
out to be too good as a construction manager for any officer to
despise his opinions. One noticeable characteristic of the American
Legion delegate was the respect which he had for the other man's views
and his willingness to admit outright that he was wrong in a thing or
to go at least halfway with the opponent of his particular ideas. This
was the saving grace of the caucus and this will be the saving grace
of the Legion for the spirit which was manifested there is the spirit
which will prevail at Minneapolis, and for always, because the
American sailor and soldier will not change.
It was interesting to see these modern American soldiers side by side
with the veterans of the Civil War. The Grand Army of the Republic
Post, the local Bivouac of the United Confederate Veterans, and the
Spanish War Veterans gave a joint reception for the delegates at the
Missouri Athletic Club which included a smoker and a vaudeville
entertainment furnished by the War Camp Community Service.