Pap was developing a successful law practice, but this was not
enough to satisfy his extrovert nature. He decided to go into
politics. And it became a long-term commitment. Between 1913 and
1951, Pap attended every session of the Indiana Legislature,
either as a member or a lobbyist. He was elected to the House in
1913 and 1915, following with two six-year terms in the Senate.
In 1927, he was Minority Floor Speaker for the Senate. He was
never defeated in any of his races for the Legislature, which
spoke well for a Democrat running in a predominantly Republican
district. Pap's bipartisan equanimity as well as his developing
sense of humor was reflected in a letter of recommendation on
behalf of a young Republican who had the good sense to vote
Democratic.
Public speaking goes with politicking, and Pap developed a flair
for this too. He was much in demand as a speaker before service
clubs and other organizations, and his light-hearted, homespun
populist style was even compared to that of the great Will
Rogers. Anecdotes of life in small-town Russellville figured
large in his material. The letter titled, "Hazards of Trying a
Comeback" is an example--this lengthy epistle was by way of an
apology for not being able to appear in person before a group,
but a version of it was undoubtedly spun from a podium or two on
other occasions.
Pap's sense of humor, generously tinged with irony, found other
outlets as well, including a gibe at a company that was making a
big deal over a small bill. But he could also be serious, such as
when he wrote advice to the jailed son of an old friend.
As the years went by, Pap found politics and public speaking more
time-consuming and less-rewarding, particularly when faced with
the obligations--financial and otherwise--of raising a growing
family. He did not choose to seek re-election upon the expiration
of his second Senatorial term, in 1929.
PROOF OF FITNESS
Greencastle, Indiana
March 29, 1915
Honorable John W. Kern
Washington, D.C.
My dear Senator Kern:
In behalf of Joseph R. Lloyd, of this city, who informs me you
suggested that he get his Representative (among others) to
address you concerning his desires, I am taking this opportunity
to make a plea that you recommend him for admittance to the U.S.
Military School at West Point.
You know, Senator Kern, I sometimes wonder if a letter of
recommendation is a knock or a boost in these days of wholesale
recommendations, they have become so easy to obtain. . .
However that may be, there arise occasions where it is a real
pleasure to recommend deserving young men . . .
As proof conclusive he cannot go far wrong after setting himself
right this early in life in the face of adverse precept and
precedent, I can only say Mr. Lloyd comes from one of the largest
and most influential Republican families in Putnam County, and
yet, last Fall (his first vote), he voted the straight Democratic
ticket from top to bottom.
I am sure you will agree with me: If all the above be true, and
our young friend is unable to meet the full requirements of West
Point for admission .. . . the Academy should be abolished.
WHO'S WASTEFUL NOW?
August 13, 1917
My dear Mr. Sawyer:
. . . I am very much obliged for the invitation out, but I can't
get away. We will have a special Session of the Legislature, it
now seems almost certain. . . The coal situation is acute in this
State, and it is for relieving that situation the reason is given
for calling a special session. . . I'll venture a guess, it won't
be for the purpose of coal legislation, but on the other hand we
will have to fight out again Governor Goodrich's pet Excise Tax
Bill, and for additional appropriations for state institutions.
The former I'm opposed to; the latter I am not. Only the latter
comes with ill grace. Goodrich, in his opening campaign speech,
which was delivered in Greencastle, charged the Democrats with
criminal wastefulness of the state's money, especially in the
maintenance of the state institutions. And he made his whole
campaign on that one issue--Economy. Now I learn from Dr.
Edenharter, Superintendent of Central Hospital for Insane, that
for the first time in his experience as Superintendent during a
period of 26 years, there is a deficit--and a large one--in his
maintenance fund for that institution. The real reason is
obvious: things have advanced so in price. I forgot to say too,
that our appropriation this time for The Central Hospital was
larger than it ever was. All in all, our General Appropriation
Bill was $1,250,000 larger than it was two years ago, and our
Specific Appropriation was $250,000 larger. I know, because I was
on the Ways and Means Committee both years. It all goes to show
that what a fellow uses to get in on don't always turn out to be
just as he would have you believe. . .
SENATORIAL ASPIRANT
June 20, 1918
Mr. Sam D
Wingate, Ind.
Dear Sam:
Along with a vast concourse of other office seekers, I attended
the Democratic State Convention at Indianapolis yesterday, and
got my hide again saturated with Jeffersonian and Jacksonian
doctrine. . .
Of course, I called around on the Montgomery County Delegation to
allow them a chance to give the "once over" on what they were
reasonably expected to cast their franchises for State Senator
for this Fall. As I told you some time ago, I'm a candidate for
State Senator from Montgomery and Putnam Counties, and the Lord
knows I want it and need it. Want it even more than Noah T--
wanted to be J.P. at Veedersburg.
Some time when I'm over in your bailiwick, I want to look you up
and get a little advice if you won't mind giving it to me. Don't
suppose you'd mind doing that.
Every once in a while I make an inquiry about "Red" Purnell and
they all say he's doing fine. He sure is a mighty loyal friend.
His job never swelled him even so much as a urine ant bite would.
I want to go over to see him one of these times, and see just how
long it would take me to find the Capitol building.
He and I took our first trip to New York City together. We got
the roofs of our mouths sun burned. . .
As ever,
EMBARRASSING MOMENT
April 16, 1921
Chicago Tribune
Chicago, Illinois
Gentlemen:
It happened only recently during the warm spell. I was in St.
Louis, and by chance, met an old school friend who I had not seen
since we were boys in Military School together. With him were the
female members of his family, and a large part of their feminine
acquaintances it would seem. After introductions and
felicitations all around, it so happened another former cadet of
the same Correctional Institution was passing in an auto when my
friend hailed him and called my attention to the fact that a
brother Shriner whom I ought to know was approaching. Imbued with
the spirit of the Order, I stepped to the curb at the point of
highest visibility to my pedestrian party, and started a most
elaborate and obsequious salaam--when suddenly and without
warning, the posterior warp and woof of my trousers gave way into
a jagged 14-inch Maltese Cross with the suddenness of the dam at
the Johnstown Flood.
If the remuneration for submitting this is in proportion to the
humiliation and mental pain and anguish suffered, the Tribune
Corporation will pass its next quarterly dividend.
Respectfully,
THE 75 CENT MYSTERY BILL
March 3, 1922
The W. H. Anderson Co.
524 Main Street
Cincinnati, Ohio
Gentlemen:
I am just in receipt from you of a statement for 75 cents
prefixed with "Balance as per Last Statement", and underneath and
to one side of the figures is a sort of Odd Fellows hand with
thumb extended parallel to the open fingers, and "if you please"
inscribed on the palm thereof.
For the life of me I don't know what that balance is for. The
only thing I can remember having bought from you was away back
there about the first time Bryan ran, it seems to me. I ordered,
and paid cash at the time of purchase, a set of Watson's Works
Practice and Forms. Part of the set was to be delivered at once
(and it was) and the balance in a short time thereafter. Well,
time wore on, the horse was supplanted by the automobile,
congress shoes were relegated to the attic. . . Sometime during
this time, which we will call the "Elizabethan Period" of this
transaction, to my utter consternation, I received another volume
of this important Work. I was delighted, as the clear and fresh
blue of the volume brightened up the general drab of those other
volumes that had come to me long before. . .
Again, time wore on. Grover Cleveland and his Memorial Day
fishing trips were discussed less and less by adverse
politicians, . . . telephones came into universal use, Cole
Younger was released from the Stillwater Prison; . . . George
Blake, one of our local inventive geniuses, set in motion in his
downtown basement his perpetual motion machine, that when once
got in motion was only stilled when it disintegrated and tore out
his east brick wall and scattered cogs, wheels and shafts over a
radius of two blocks; . . . when, lo!--another and last volume
made its appearance, making my set . . . complete. What more
could I ask, except to fervently regret that they all did not get
here before mine eyes were dimmed, mine step halting, and my hand
palsied?
But, I see I have become reminiscent, as old men will. . .
What I wanted to ask in this letter is for information about what
this bill is for? If it had been a REMITTANCE OF 75 CENTS, I
would presume it was accumulated interest at 2 cents per decade
on my original investment in the set paid years ago, and that you
had relented and were quietly paying me off in a depreciated
currency, with the hope I would accept it and say nothing.
But it is a demand, and I am therefore at complete loss to
account for it. It might be for the postage on that set extending
through all these years. On the other hand I do not believe it is
that for two reasons: I dimly recall when I bought the set, and
paid cash in advance, that covered all charges; and second, if it
were for postage, the accumulated interest I would owe you by
lapse of time would be in an amount far in excess of the 75 cents
demanded.
Please enlighten me.
Respectfully,
TO THE COMMITTEE ON SKY LIGHTS?
December 6, 1922
Honorable Emmett E. Branch
Lieutenant Governor
Martinsville, Indiana
My dear Governor,
I have your "epistle to the Corinthians" of recent date
concerning committee assignments for the coming session of the
Legislature, and desire to thank you for the opportunity of
suggesting my preference.
I had read in the Indianapolis paper where the Messrs. C--, H--
and C-- had met with you for the palpable purpose of putting us
down-trodden and foot-sore Democrats where we could do a minimum
of harm, and so I went over yesterday--the State Committee was
scheduled to meet--for the purpose of interviewing those
delectable gentlemen to see if I were not scheduled as the
ranking Democrat of the Committee on Sky Lights and Ventilation.
The sessions I was a member of the House, I was on the Ways and
Means, Railroad and Banking Committees. . . My fitness for the
above committees is striking. The expenditure of money always
appealed to me, as I have had little of my own to expend, and
naturally those of us in that class like to see the other
fellow's go. As an authority on railroads, I met the 5 o'clock
p.m. train at Russellville regularly for years and years; not
that I expected guests, but it was the custom of the town, so I
have an intimate knowledge of the stopping and starting of
trains. I was "connected" with the Russellville Bank from the
ages of 8 to about 18 ("Connected" has a variety of meanings.
"Red" Purnell, now in Congress from the 9th District, and I
roomed together during a part of our college careers at I.U. I
heard much of his "girl" back at Veedersburg, whose father, Red
freely confessed, was "connected" with the Cloverleaf Railroad.
Some years later, I learned the good man was Section Boss at that
point). My "connection" with Russellville Bank was spent
principally in a janitorial capacity, and the balancing of pass
books.
And so, in the full knowledge there are 33 of you and one of me,
but that I have truth and justice on my side, and my trust is in
the Lieutenant Governor, I must stay where you place me and be
content, except that I do hope the Committee on Swamp Lands is
full to overflowing . . .
Very respectfully,
WAXING POETIC OVER FIRST LOVE
November 24, 1925
Ithaca Gun Company
Ithica, New York
Gentlemen,
I am sending you by parcel post the barrels of an Ithica
hammerless shot gun, No. 29438, I must have bought 30 years ago
or more when a very small boy. . .
It was the pride of my younger life. I have slept with it in
sheer delight, and for fear it would be stolen. For years not a
pin point of rust marred its gloriously shining barrels; the
stock shone as does the throne of Allah from being gone over
hundreds of times lovingly and tenderly with silk and wool, oil
and polish. Its shooting prowess--it made the fur fly out of
unsuspecting rabbits before Bryan built his crown of thorns and
cross of gold; it sought the tender spots in ambitious fox
squirrels when automobiles were as scarce as we Democrats are
now; it has shot at everything from a beer bottle to a chicken-
thief, and never failed or refused to respond.
The number of this gun was burned in my memory so unforgettably
that today it came to me as doth the lamb the ewe. And while I do
not know when the Magna Charta was wrung from King John, yet this
numeral remains with me--yesterday, today and to the ages.
But evil days are come. The unrelenting grip of time has forced a
fingerhold. Disintegration shows, for the first time, its hydra-
head. When it happened, or how, I do not know, but only today, in
removing it from its case preparatory to a hunt on the morrow, I
found the rib split at the muzzle--and so, I must forego my
biennial hunt.
Look it over and fix it up. You will probably have a bill for
services. Send it on and if I haven't gone into bankruptcy
keeping kool with Coolidge during these most damnably hard times,
I'll try to splice enough money together to meet your demands. . .
Respectfully,
ADVICE IN A CUSTODY BATTLE
May 19, 1926
Mr. J----,
Hot Springs, Arkansas
Dear Sir,
I have given the matter of the custody and control of your boy
some thought. . . In Indiana the general rule of law is that the
father of a minor is entitled to the custody of his child or
children . . . even as against the child's legal guardian--which
happens to be the fact in your case. As I understand it, Mr. A--
was appointed guardian of your boy in this court. Your letter
pretty positively asserts that you never at any time, either
verbally or in writing, released such right.
I find that the courts have pretty generally taken the view that
the welfare of the child is the paramount matter. If it can be
shown that the father is not a fit or suitable person or not able
financially to support such child, then the courts will step in.
As I understand the situation, neither of these affect you
adversely. . . To me it seems, under the circumstances, most
deplorable, or rather unfortunate that the A--s have taken such a
fancy to the boy, and are unwilling now to give him up. He is a
very fine boy, I am told, and will make a fine man. But I cannot
see their position, and fail to get their angle.
In the event that you determine to bring a writ of habeas corpus
proceeding for your boy, you must make good preparations in
advance. You must be prepared to show the court most forcibly
that you are a fit person to keep him; that your wife is anxious
to have him, that you are amply able to support and school him;
that you are not financially cramped, and all that sort of thing.
It will take witnesses, and good ones. . . As a tip I might say
that Mr. H-- of this city is somewhere in Hot Springs now, in one
of the hotels or sanitariums, I presume. I would say absolutely
nothing to him about the trouble over the boy, but I would make a
special effort to have him out to the house and let it get to him
that your people are good people and financially able, and that
you have a good home, and favorable surroundings, etc. Make a
friend of him, and later we might use him advantageously. The B--
s go down there in Arkansas somewhere. Keep an eye for the
Greencastle people, and if convenient let them all see how you
are fixed. You know what I mean.
I sympathize with you in your trouble. If such a condition came
to me I would be fighting mad. But we must absolutely refrain
from showing any anger. That weakens a man's case.
Respectfully,
NO CHARGE
Greencastle, Indiana
March 16, 1927
Honorable E. Harold Van Orman
Lieutenant Governor of Indiana Evansville, Indiana
My dear Van:
I am just in receipt of a copy of your "epistle". . .
I want to move that the latter part of your fifth paragraph be
made more specific--that part pertaining to the extension of the
hospitality of your hotel. Does that mean with or without
remuneration? And whether or not it means the invitee's family? A
favorable construction on your part might lead to the culmination
of our going en masse next Summer on a pilgrimage . . .
Finally, I would advise you that we are safely ensconced at 309
E. Seminary Street, this city, and in your seeking the Primary
suffrages of the Putnam County and Greencastle constituency for
Gubernatorial preferences, we would urgently convey the knowledge
that our palatial home is in the exact center of the City and a
house to house canvass can be most advantageously made, using our
manse as a radius--with our compliments (Meaning, in the
vernacular, "no charge").
As ever,
THE COSTS OF PUBLIC OFFICE
December 21, 1927
Mr. James D. Wilson
New Richmond, Indiana
My dear Mr. Wilson:
I am in receipt of your very considerate letter. . .
It is a satisfaction to hear now and then that one has the
approval and support of the people who gave him his job--
especially in a legislative way. . . It is so much harder to
oppose money spending than it is to support it--so much more
difficult to fight the creation of new boards, commissions and
bureaus than it is to aid in bringing them into existence. And
the crowd or lobby or whatever you call it who are fostering
these expenditures always on hand during the Session to make it
hot and unpleasant for anyone who opposes them, while the people
who have to pay most of the bill are back home so busily engaged
fighting clods, weather and pests, in order to get enough money
ahead to pay these additional taxes, they haven't time to be
loafing around a Legislative Session. . .
As to my being a candidate for re-election again, I doubt it,
although I most sincerely appreciate your offer of support. That
is what elected me--Republican support. But the truth is, as much
as I like Legislative work .. . . if I continue in politics, I
ought to try for an office that pays more money. I am in very
moderate circumstances, financially; have a family of six
children, five of them girls, and the oldest a girl ready for
college next year, and you probably know what that means. Some
think I was grandstanding and getting ready to run again, when I
sent that $292 back to the State. But it wasn't at all. I sent it
back simply because it was absolutely and unqualifiedly un-
Constitutional, regardless of what our State Supreme Court says;
and for the further reasons that I was elected knowing my salary
would be $6 per day, that I had opposed salary increases during
the term of office all my legislative career and could see no
good excuse for exempting myself from that rule, and for the
further reason that our agricultural interests were in such a
deplorable condition they couldn't be asked to stand any salary
increase--however much I needed, or would have liked to have it
myself. And I hear that by reason of my having sent the excess
salary back I have incurred the displeasure of a considerable
number of my Democratic colleagues, who expect to try to see to
it that I am not re-elected Dem. Floor Leader next Session. And
so it goes. . .
Most Respectfully,
HIS OPINIONS CARRY WEIGHT
(Excerpt from a letter sent by Indiana State Forester R. F.
Wilcox to Charles Barnaby, of Greencastle, March 11, 1929)
The Senate passed our LaFuze Bill which appropriates $100,000 a
year to this Department for our nursery program and acquiring
land for state forests. This means great things for the future
lumber industries of the state, and of course all of the citizens
of Indiana. . .
During the discussion, when the boys were getting away off the
track, pro and con, Senator Durham demanded the floor and made a
statement which carried more weight than all the other arguments
put together. He said that Charlie Barnaby had been in the lumber
business for 40 years and probably knew more about hardwood trees
than anyone else in the country. . . He said you wrote him that
this positively was a good bill and they had better take your
advice and pass it. Senator Durham discriminates very closely, I
have noticed, in the matter of legislation. . . and I have
noticed that the other members of the Senate give his opinions
serious consideration. You are to be congratulated on having such
a splendid man to represent you.
AS GOOD AS WILL ROGERS
(Excerpt from the Service Club Grenade, newsletter of the Service
Club of Indianapolis, Feb. 16, 1929)
We confess our inability to make even a pretense of reporting the
talk given the club last Monday by Senator Durham. It was
understood that the senator hailed from Greencastle, but this was
an error. His home is in Russellville, where according to his own
admission, there "ain't a golf ball or a pair of pajamas in the
whole damn town."
Senator Durham is one of "God's Chosen Minority," as he himself
admits. Invitations to speak before this club and that led him to
believe for a while that he was an orator, but he finally came to
the conclusion that demands for his public appearance were made
because, as a Democrat, he was quite a curiosity.
Give Senator Durham a wad of gum and a rope, and he would be as
good as his fellow Democrat, Will Rogers. He entertained the
club, had everybody in an uproar, for a full half hour with his
tales about the characters in his home town.
Those who stayed away Monday missed one of the most enjoyable
meetings we have had in a long time, even if the Lincoln Hotel
lost no money on the lunch.
THE HAZARDS OF TRYING A COME-BACK
Greencastle, Indiana
July 2, 1930
Mr. Claud E. Fix
Shelbyville, Indiana
My dear Mr. Fix:
I received your very kind letter of May 30th, relative to a
proposed oratorical "come back" on my part before a Shelbyville
audience. I say "come back" because I was the alleged speaker of
the evening with the Shelbyville Rotary Club in May of this year.
It may happen you have heard of that disaster, and are charitably
giving me an opportunity to redeem myself in the eyes of
Shelbyville people. Your surname indicates such. . .
Experience has taught me a repetition is generally more dangerous
even than a first offense. It is in law, and it generally is in
other things. Let me illustrate from my own experience.
Years ago, my home town, Russellville, Indiana, had a home talent
company. In fact, we have had many of them. The town and
community was surfeited with them. The epidemic would break out,
die down, and then break out afresh. Warner Kinkead was the cause
of most of it. Warner was our self-imposed "leading man" on all
and every occasion. For one thing, he was a bit older, but his
principal claim to "stardom" was due to the fact he had spent two
years away from Russellville, and was therefore more
sophisticated and worldly-wise. The rest of us had ventured no
farther than an annual pilgrimage to Crawfordsville for the
County Fair. . .
Warner's parents had emigrated to Kansas. The second year the
grasshoppers "took them," with the result they all came back to
Russellville, and along with Warner came a "make-up" box which he
had in some manner acquired, together with a yearning for a
theatrical career. Therefore, he was an actor, none could
successfully dispute. He had the evidence. Warner put on many
home talents, advertised under the auspices of the Rathbon's
Sisters, the Mt. Pisgah Aid Society or other neighborhood
organizations.
From a comparatively modest beginning, we aspired to greater
things--harder plays and more cast. Warner soon learned the more
there were in the cast, the more doting fathers and mothers,
aunts and uncles, would turn out in the audience to see and
admire his uncanny histrionic abilities.
Eventually, we assayed a tragedy--an unavailing struggle against
fate. "Sea Drift" was the name of our first--and last--tragedy.
The climax was to come in the 8th or 9th Scene of the 10th or
12th Act, when in point of actual time it would be after midnight
and our remaining audience (those who, of necessity, had to stay
to take 95% of the cast home in time to help with breakfast or
the milking) either somnolent or clear "gone."
The script went like this: The heroine is stranded on a bit of
driftwood far out on the storm-tossed sea. From the lighthouse
the startling cry rings out: "A fair maiden in dire peril in the
sea beyond the breakers! Oh, Oh! Who will save her?"
"I will save her, or lose my life!" responds the hero (Warner),
who thereupon hurls himself into the angry waves from a beetling
cliff. A fearful struggle ensues between man and watery elements
(ably aided and abetted by several bucketsful of real water from
the wings). The maiden is rescued and brought to shore, but for
some reason known only to the author the effort is too much for
the hero. With a choked and exhausted murmur, "Call her Sea
Drift. She is God's gift from the sea," he then and there expires
from overexertion and exposure.
This called for an ocean scene--a considerable of an ocean scene--
and none of us had ever seen it. But we had read geographies and
seen pictures, and Uncle Bud Nichols had several stereopticon
views of the ocean at its worst. The Clodfelter girls sewed long
strips of sheeting together and Jess Carrington, our local barn
painter, painted the result of their labors to look like what he,
in his artistic mind, thought the sea ought to look like. We
borrowed two hand-power blacksmith's bellows from Fred Fink's
blacksmith shop to put at either wing, and under the loosely-laid
sheeting. The bellows pumped air underneath, thus causing
undulation after undulation, making what we though was a most
realistic semblance of the ocean in active operation. My
particular part, among others, in this theatrical venture, was to
operate one of these bellows, and operate it like "hell," as
Warner said, at the proper time.
A few of our props and effects are worthy of mention: the
lighthouse was built from four round old time banana shipping
crates fastened end to end, with a lantern from the livery stable
hanging cheerily in the top. . . David Henry Burton, local
inventor, hooked up immense quantities of old baling wire to some
sort of wooden structure representing the driftwood the heroine
was to cling to so perilously, in such a way that when Jude
Glover, concealed beneath the ocean, turned the handle of a lop
sided grindstone, the "driftwood" and beautiful maiden clinging
thereon would bob up and down. A hand cornsheller shelling corn
into a tin bucket emitted most of the noises we thought an ocean
would make on an occasion like that.
Shep Wilson, who could bark like a dog, and who, it was said, did
go with a show one whole summer in that capacity, and who,
concealed in the corn field out alongside Hebron School House,
did scare the little girls almost into hysterics one afternoon,
lent us generously of his caninal talents.
Eventually, we eventuated into the Big Scene--the maiden was
adrift, the cry of alarm rang out.
"I will save her or lose my life," quoth Warner, in a voice that
sounded like an auctioneer at a farm sale. Jerking off his coat,
he plunged into the raging sea. Buffeted by the angry waves, he
crawled to the fair maiden. He grasped her tenderly and started
for the shore. Midst the noise of the corn-sheller, the barking
of the dog, the efforts of the bucketeers and bellowsmen, and
encouraging cries from on shore, his foot caught in a seam of the
sheeting, ripping up about two yards of the ocean. The air we had
so industriously pumped in, rushed out at the rent. The sea
collapsed. The corn-sheller ceased shelling. The barking dog and
frenzied shore cries were hushed. A dead silence fell until some
sacrilegious individual in the audience whispered loudly, "It's a
miracle boys; he's walking on the sea." . . . Some good Samaritan
finally got the curtain down.
But what I started out to illustrate was the mistake we made--I
mean the big mistake. We had advertised "Sea Drift" for two
nights, thereby giving our second night's audience an opportunity
to get ready for us--which they did in due and ancient form, as
will be quickly sensed. A shame, since as a whole, the show
probably progressed more smoothly the second night--up to the Big
Scene--which was never finished.
Later on, the male part of the cast met on the bench in front of
Sam Brown's meat market to talk it over, and inquire of Warner
how he was getting along. His talk was short and much to the
point: "Boys, we're not appreciated, and they needn't never ask
me to put on a play in this town again. . . I didn't mind the
tomatoes, or the potatoes much--or even the eggs--could see 'em
coming and dodge 'em. But I would like to know the SOB who threw
that china door knob."
I presume you see my point by this time concerning a second
effort in Shelbyville--oratorically.
Seriously, I . . . shall have to refuse your very kind offer. My
father-in-law has been very low for months. He lives in
Pennsylvania. My wife was called to Pennsylvania by the family,
who thought the end was about come. . .and I shall have to hold
myself in readiness to go at any time.
Respectfully,
SWAMPED
Greencastle, Indiana
Oct. 2, 1929
Mr. D. Ray Higgins
937 Illinois Building
Indianapolis, Indiana
Dear Sir,
I have your very kind letter inviting me to make the talk before
the Shrine Club. . . I should be delighted to make whatever talk
I could, but the truth is I am sort of swamped in a small way
with things of that nature. I am having some important cases
tried this month, and I just must get ready for them. . . There
must be an epidemic of Masonic meetings, or rather dinners, just
at this time. I had a call yesterday from Terre Haute for a
similar purpose, and last Saturday one from Logansport.
Now the truth is, and I told the other parties this same thing, I
am more than rusty on Masonry. . . What talks I make are nearly
always directed toward the Legislature, or some sort of politics,
and are more in the nature of fun along those lines than serious
stuff.
Mr. Cooper, whom you know, has very kindly put me on the program
at a National Meeting of Insurance Men for the 10th, and the Lord
knows I don't know anything about insurance, except to pay the
premiums when I can get the money scraped together.
And so if you will kindly excuse me for the present, and then,
after consulting . . . on my real inability to make an
interesting Shrine talk, if you all still want me, perhaps we can
get together at some other time.
Respectfully,
ADVICE TO A YOUNG PRISONER
Greencastle, Indiana
Oct. 1, 1929
Mr. Harold M--, #6347
Washington State Reformatory
Monroe, Washington
My dear Harold,
The writer of this letter may be unknown to you, although the
chances are you know, or have heard of me. Anyway, your mother
and I grew up together, girl and boy. I knew your grandfather and
grandmother--fine, fine, old pioneer folks. . .
I am not only the boyhood friend of your mother, but have also
probably done all her legal work here. And so, in view of all of
this, and for other reasons, I am quite naturally interested in
you and your welfare. . . I have tried to find out the facts in
your case, and probably have them fairly straight. . .
Now, Harold, of course we both realize you have done wrong--very
wrong in fact--and you are paying the penalty to society for that
wrong doing. But do it like a good sport--like a good loser--and
not be a whiner or welcher. . . Do not imagine that I am a
maudlin and mouldy old lawyer, or that I am magnifying the error
you made, because such is not the case. I come in contact with
this sort of condition all the time. I realize that what you did
will be done again and again in the future by others. What I
insist is that it shall never again happen to you. I know there
are those associated with you now who are fools enough to
maintain an air of bravado about them, and pretend they have been
wronged by society . . . and they go about here and there telling
what they are going to do when they get out, and how they're
never going to get caught again. That type is hopeless and
utterly worthless, but their greatest trouble is that they lack
brains. They prate about this and that rich man breaking the law
and getting by with it; or this and that bootlegger or what not,
has a pull, or has the authorities bought and paid for, or is too
smooth to get caught. All of which is 90% bosh. Confirmed crooks
are never smart. They invariably . . . get caught. Why? Because
there are smarter and shrewder men after them than they are, and
so, the smarter man wins.
And all the time, the crook is a restless and furtive fugitive,
never feeling safe and secure . . . and never knowing what the
next hour will bring; never having any peace of mind; and never
having any respect for himself.
I am not talking about the boy who, due to youth and
inexperience, or stress of circumstances, or in a spirit of half
excitement, picks a pocket, or sells some hooch, or steals a
watch. . . You come of the right stock. The big thing for you, or
anyone else who has made a mistake, is to get the right mental
attitude toward that mistake. When a fellow finds he is wrong,
reverse then and there. Don't wait and don't try to "bull it
through". . . and make friends, not enemies, of the reformatory
authorities. You will be surprised, yes, amazed, to learn how
badly they want to be friendly with you. . . Show by your actions
and attitude that you realize your mistake, study hard to fit
yourself for life after you get out, don't whine or complain,
don't sulk or slight your work. Brighten and cheer up. And for
God's sake, prove you're a man and not a coward, because all
confirmed criminals are cowards, without exception. . .
For your information, and to play square with you, I think within
the year I shall write your warden or someone, asking how you are
getting along and what sort of young fellow you are, because he
will know, and I hope and trust my good opinion of you will be
verified.
And so, why is it, Harold, that I am taking my time away from my
business, and writing you this long and rather rambling letter?
Surely, I can have no motive of personal profit in it. No, it is
to let you know that not only me but thousands of people all over
this big, free country are interested in you and anxious for you
and those others of you who have made a slip, all of us hoping
and trusting and many praying for your welfare. So don't think
you are friendless or forgotten, or ostracized. And each day and
every hour and conscious moment, never lose sight of the fact
that your coming away from there with the right attitude, the
correct vision, and firm determination of rectitude of future
conduct, depends solely on you.
Write me sometime.
Sincerely,
A LONG WAY FROM HOME
July 17, 1930
Hon. Harry N. Quigley, General Counsel
C.C.C. & St. L. Railway Co.
230 E. 9th St.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Dear Sir:
I was in Houston, Texas, about two months ago on some business
with the Humble Oil Co. An old Chicago lawyer named Hait or Haut
or something like that had business with the same company. . . It
was the time Houston was celebrating the fact they had come to be
the second city in size in the South--a gain of over 100% in ten
years. Parades. Newspaper head lines. Everybody talking "Houston,
Houston." We outsiders got a bit tired and bored with all the
talk. One of the vice presidents of the company took us riding
and to see his country home, all the way out talking up Houston,
and occasionally giving the old man a little peck about Chicago
lawlessness, racketeers and gunmen.
We saw the house and flower gardens and then went to see his bird
collection. Our host took us to a big cage and pointed out a
long-necked bird of brilliant plumage, and said: "That is a Bird
of Paradise. What do you think of him?"
The old lawyer replied: "Well, I think he's a hell of a long ways
from home."
It was a knockout.
Respectfully,
THE DEMOCRATIC 'STRIKE' OF 1925
One of the most colorful escapades in the political history of
the Hoosier State took place in 1925. Pap, who represented Putnam
and Montgomery Counties in the Indiana State Senate, was an
enthusiastic and imaginative participant.
The spark was the proposed "Penrod Bill" (named for the Senator
who introduced it) which, not unlike legislation offered from
time to time even today, contained a hidden provision.
The bill (S.B. 300) proposed the transfer of a central Indiana
county (Lawrence) from the Third U.S. Congressional District to
the Second. The invention was to make sure there would be
sufficient Republicans in that district--Senator Penrod's--to
insure his election to Congress. Naturally, his good fortune
would have come at the expense of the Democrats.
The Indiana State Senate in 1925 was almost totally controlled by
the Republicans, but there was one small hitch. Unless a quorum
was present, no votes could be taken and no legislation could be
passed--not just the offending Penrod bill, but any business at
all. And there were just enough Democrats to threaten such a
"political blockade." As expected, the Republicans presented the
Penrod Bill of Feb. 25.
The Democrats were prepared. Hastily, all fifteen of them who
were present (two others were ill and absent) "bolted" their
legal confines and took refuge in the neighboring state of Ohio.
Most of the "bolters" made the trip in a bus rented ahead of
time. They wound up in Dayton, where they took up residence in a
hotel owned, curiously, by Hoosier Lieut. Gov. Van Orman, a
Republican. In a "spirit of bipartisanship," the latter
telegraphed the runaways to "be my guest."
Another Democrat, Senator Harrison, left the next day secluded in
an Overland Moving Van. Pap's transit was courtesy of his
railroad pass. The train deposited him in Cincinnati, and he went
on to Dayton from there.
The Minority Leader, Senator Joseph M. Cravens of Madison,
Indiana, halted the escape bus briefly on its way to Ohio to
order a barrel of apples to be forwarded to the Indiana Senate,
accompanied by a note--"Compliments of the Minority Members." The
erudite Senator Cravens (known informally as "Uncle Joe") was the
bachelor scion of perhaps the most distinguished and aristocratic
families in Indiana at that time.
The Indianapolis Star and other newspapers had a field day
covering the Democratic "bolt," which brought official
undertakings to a complete halt. Photos of all the "strikers"
were printed side by side almost as if they were fugitives in a
rogues' gallery.
A poignant victim of the escapade was the official "Doorkeeper"
of the Senate, one Jerome K. Brown, who was ordered by the Senate
leadership to go to Ohio and serve warrants for the arrest and
return of the vagrants. Poor Doorkeeper Brown protested against
going it alone, but to no avail. He arrived in Dayton 11:45 PM on
the 25th and served his warrants on the "bolters" in their rooms
at the Gibbons Hotel. The warrants were ignored, but Brown was
invited to join a poker game in progress.
The Ohio governor and attorney-general pronounced that Indiana
arrest warrants were without official standing in Ohio (which
coincidentally was under a Democrat administration at the time.)
The governor furthermore invited the Hoosier "strikers" to stay
on in Ohio "without being molested" as long as they wished.
Senator Cravens accepted the invitation "with great pleasure--
until the Penrod Bill is withdrawn."
Senator Penrod countered firmly that nothing of that sort would
take place.
Thereafter the shenanigans increased as the plot thickened.
The Republican Majority in the Indiana Senate set about trying to
find a hale and hearty Democrat on Hoosier soil who could be
legally compelled to resume his seat. Pap's eldest daughter was
accosted on her way home from school in Greencastle by a friendly
pair of men she had never seen before. She thought it a bit
strange, but all Hoosiers were unrestrictedly friendlier those
days. They got around to inquiring of Pap's whereabouts. When the
fifteen-year-old reported the conversation later at home, her
mother explained that Pap was "just hiding out somewhere with his
Democratic friends."
Senator Cravens' adroit public comments expressed regret for the
legislative drought, but noted, "The Democratic Minority in the
Senate has from the beginning done its best to aid in the passage
of every constructive and economic measure brought before that
body. . . in the hope of benefitting the overburdened taxpayers
of the state. Our only regret is that there have not been more
measures of economic and constructive character to vote for. . ."
He took the opportunity to expound on party grievances.
The Republicans threatened to call out the state militia and
place the matter before the Marion County Grand Jury, which they
said might fine the runaways $1,000 and imprison them. Such
threats and the clumsy attempts to serve warrants or "kidnap" a
Democrat backfired, however, and became targets of public
hilarity.
The papers made light of the fact that the Marion County Horse
Thief Detective Association was sworn in "to watch for Senators
who might attempt to sneak back home to Indiana without being
detected."
Faced with becoming a legislative laughing stock, the Republican
Majority capitulated to the Democratic Minority, making a prophet
out of Pap, who had predicated in a letter home that a "truce"
would be arranged in a day or two.
The Indianapolis Times carried the banner headline: D.C.
STEPHENSON BEHIND MOVE WHICH BROUGHT 15 ABSENT SENATORS BACK;
REPUBLICAN POLITICAL BOSS ASSURES DEMOCRATIC FUGITIVES MEASURE
THEY ARE OPPOSED TO WILL BE DROPPED.
The runaways were also given promises of immunity from arrest and
the quashing of any indictments against them. Thus, having
thoroughly enjoyed their rest and recreation, they cheerfully
returned to their seats on the afternoon of Feb 27.
The saga of the "Democrats who bolted" in order to make their
political point perfectly clear (and effective) became an oft-
told tale in Hoosier political circles.
And Pap received his just political reward.
Shortly thereafter, he was chosen as successor to "Uncle Joe"
Cravens as Minority Leader in the Indiana State Senate.