The year 1888 was one of singular experience for me. I was working
very hard in my professional duties and paying no attention to
public affairs.
The district conventions to send delegates to the national
convention at Chicago began electing their delegates and alternates,
and passing resolutions instructing them to vote for me as their
candidate for president.
After several districts had thus acted I was asked to meet in
Whitelaw Reid's office in the Tribune Building Thomas C. Platt,
our State leader, and United States Senator Frank Hiscock. Platt
demanded to know why I was making this canvass without consulting
the organization or informing them. I told him I was doing nothing
whatever by letter, telegram, or interview; that I had seen no one,
and no one had been to see me.
Mr. Platt, who had been all his life accomplishing things through
the organization, was no believer in spontaneous uprisings, and
asked me frankly: "Are you a candidate?" I told him I was not,
because I did not believe I could be nominated with the present
condition of the public mind in regard to railways, and I was
president of one of the largest systems.
Then it was suggested that I permit the Tribune, which was the
party organ, to state that I was not a candidate and did not want
to be. The next morning the Tribune had that fully explained.
The conventions kept on convening and instructing their delegates
the same way.
Another conference was called, and then I was asked to make the
statement that if nominated I would not accept, and if elected
I would decline. I said to my conferees: "Gentlemen, there is
no American living big enough to say that. In the first place,
it is gross egotism to think such a thing might happen." The result
was that the organization accepted the situation.
The only way that I can account for this unanimous action of the
party in its conventions in the congressional districts of the
State is the accumulative result of appreciation of unselfish
work for the party. Every fall, for a quarter of a century, I had
been on the platform in every part of the State, and according
to my means was a contributor to the State and local canvass.
During this period I had asked nothing and would accept nothing.
If I may apply so large a phrase to a matter so comparatively
unimportant, I would deny the often quoted maxim that "republics
are ungrateful."
When the convention met there was an overwhelming sentiment for
Mr. Blaine, but his refusal was positive and absolute. I had
always been a warm supporter and friend of Mr. Blaine, and his
followers were very friendly to me.
What were called "the Granger States," and especially Iowa, had
become very hostile to railway management and railway men. They
were passing laws which were practically confiscatory of railway
securities. The committees from those States visited all other
State delegations and spoke in bitter terms of my candidacy. The
strength of my candidacy was that New York was unanimously for
me, except for one vote from New York City, and no nominee could
hope to be elected unless he could carry New York.
After receiving ninety-nine votes, I found that on the next ballot
my vote would be very largely increased, and decided to retire.
I called together the New York delegation and stated my position,
and the reason for it. A considerable debate took place. The
motion was made and unanimously carried that the four delegates
at large should meet and see if they could agree upon a candidate
who would command the support of the entire delegation of the
State. The object was, of course, to make the State, with its
larger number of delegates than any other commonwealth, a deciding
factor in the selection.
The delegates at large were: Thomas C. Platt, Senator Frank Hiscock,
Warner Miller, and myself. When we met, Platt and Hiscock declared
for Senator Allison of Iowa. Warner Miller with equal warmth
announced that he was for John Sherman.
A heated controversy arose between Mr. Platt and Mr. Miller, during
which Mr. Platt said that neither he nor any of his friends would
vote for Sherman if he was nominated. Senator Hiscock, who was
always a pacifier, interrupted them, saying: "Mr. Depew has said
nothing as yet. I suggest that we hear his views."
Mr. Platt and Mr. Miller responded to this suggestion and I
replied: "Gentlemen, New York has given to me its cordial and
practically unanimous support, and I have felt under the
circumstances that I should follow and not lead. The situation
which has grown out of this discussion here eliminates two
candidates. Without the aid of Senator Platt and his friends,
Mr. Sherman could not carry New York. Iowa has gone to the extreme
of radical legislation which threatens the investment in securities
of her railroads, and New York is such a capitalistic State that
no man identified with that legislation could carry a majority
of the vote of its people, and that makes Allison impossible.
There is one candidate here who at present apparently has no
chance, but who, nevertheless, seems to me to possess more popular
qualifications than any other, and that is General Benjamin Harrison,
of Indiana. I do not know him, never met him, but he rose from
the humblest beginnings until he became the leader of the bar
of his State. He enlisted in the Civil War as a second lieutenant,
and by conspicuous bravery and skill upon the battle-field came
out as brigadier-general. As United States senator he became
informed about federal affairs. His grandfather, President
William H. Harrison, had one of the most picturesque campaigns
in our history. There are enough survivors of that 'hard cider
and log cabin' canvass to make an attractive contribution on
the platform at every meeting, and thus add a certain historic
flavor to General Harrison's candidacy."
After some discussion the other three agreed. We reported our
conclusion to the delegation, which by an overwhelming majority
assented to the conclusions of the four delegates at large. This
decision settled the question in the convention, and after a few
ballots General Harrison was nominated. New York was awarded
the vice-presidency and selected Levi P. Morton.
During Harrison's administration I was absorbed in my duties as
president of the New York Central Railroad, and was seldom in
Washington. But soon after his inauguration he sent to me a
member of Congress from Indiana with a special message. This
congressman said: "I come from President Harrison, and he has
instructed me to offer you a place in his Cabinet. He is anxious
to have you in his official family."
I told him that I was not prepared to enter public life, and while
I was exceedingly gratified by the offer, it was impossible for
me to accept.
The congressman said: "I am a poor man, but cannot understand
how anybody can refuse to be member of the Cabinet of the President
of the United States. If such an offer was made to me, and the
conditions of our overruling Providence were that I and my family
should live in want and poverty for the rest of our lives, I would
accept without hesitation."
I had met Benjamin Harrison as we passed through Indianapolis
on business during the canvass, for the first time. I was much
impressed with him, but his austerity appeared to those who called
upon him while present upon official business. I found him one
of the most genial and agreeable of men, and this impression was
intensified when I met him at the White House. At his own table
and family dinners he was one of the most charming of hosts. He
had, unfortunately, a repellent manner and a harsh voice. In meeting
those who came to him for official favors this made him one of
the most unpopular presidents with senators and members of the
House of Representatives.
On the platform as a public speaker he had few equals. He was
most lucid and convincing, and had what few orators possess, which
was of special use to him in campaigning and touring the country
as president, the ability to make a fresh speech every day and
each a good one. It was a talent of presenting questions from
many angles, each of which illuminated his subject and captivated
his audience. It was said of him by a senator who was his friend,
and the remark is quoted by Senator Hoar, that if he spoke to
an audience of ten thousand people, he would make every one of
them his friend, but if he were introduced to each of them
afterwards, each would depart his enemy. I think that his manner,
which was so unfortunate, came from the fact that his career had been
one of battle, from his early struggles to his triumphant success.
A short time before the national convention met in 1892 Senator
Frank Hiscock came to me and said that President Harrison had
requested him to ask me to lead his forces on the floor in the
convention. I said to him that I was a loyal organization man
and did not want to quarrel with our leader, Senator Platt. Then
he told me that he had seen Platt, who remarked that no one
could help Harrison, and that I would conduct the campaign in
better spirit than any one, and so he had no objection to my
accepting the position. There was one obstacle which I wished
removed. I was devoted to Mr. Blaine and not only was one of
his political supporters but very fond of him personally. Mr. Blaine
happened to be in the city, and I immediately called upon him.
His health was then very bad.
"Mr. Blaine," I said to him, "if you are a candidate, you know
I will support you with the greatest of pleasure, but if not, then
I will accept the invitation of the president."
Mr. Blaine was most cordial. He said that he had no objections
whatever to my taking the commission, but he doubted if the
president could be renominated, and that he could not be re-elected
if nominated. Harrison had made an excellent president, but his
manner of treating people who came to him had filled the country
with bitter and powerful enemies, while his friends were very few.
Then he mentioned several other possible candidates, but evidently
doubted the success of the Republican party in the election. In
regard to himself he said: "If I should accept the nomination I
could not endure the labors of the canvass and its excitements.
It would kill me." That diagnosis of his condition was correct and
was demonstrated by the fact that he died soon after the election,
but long before he could be inaugurated if elected.
All organization leaders of the party were united against the
nomination of President Harrison. The leaders were Platt, Quay,
and Clarkson, who was also chairman of the national committee.
They were the greatest masters of organization and of its management
we ever had in politics, especially Platt and Quay. Their methods
were always secret, so I decided that the only hope of success
for President Harrison was in the greatest publicity.
The position I had accepted soon became known, and I began to
give the fullest interviews, each one an argument for the
renomination of the president. I went to Chicago a few days
in advance of the convention, was met there by correspondents
of the press, some fifty of them, and gave them a talk in a body,
which made a broadside in the morning papers, each correspondent
treating it in his own way, as his own individual interview.
This statement or, rather, argument, was intended to be read
and succeeded in being so by the delegates from everywhere who
were on their way to the convention and had to pass through
Chicago. The convention was held in Minneapolis. I received
from that city an invitation to address a gathering of New Yorkers
who had settled in the West to speak before two patriotic audiences,
and to make the address at the dedication of the great hall where
the convention was to meet.
It was evident that before these engagements had been concluded,
every delegate would have attended some of these meetings, and,
therefore, with the relationship between a speaker and his audience,
I would be practically the only man in the convention who was
personally known to every member. This relationship was an
enormous benefit in conducting the canvass.
The great organization leaders were difficult of access and carried
on their campaign through trusted members of each State delegation.
My rooms were wide open for everybody. On account of the conflicting
statements made by members of the State delegations, it was very
difficult to make an accurate and detailed list of those who were
for the president, and those who were for Mr. Blaine. It occurred
to me that it would help to call a meeting of the Harrison delegates.
Many thought it was hazardous, as it might develop a majority the
other way.
The meeting was attended, however, by every delegate, those opposed
coming out of curiosity. Taking the chair, I asked some member
of each delegation to arise and state how many votes he believed
could be relied upon from his State. Of course the statement of each
delegate was often loudly challenged by others from his State who
were present. When the result was announced it showed a majority
of three for General Harrison. A veteran campaigner begged me
to announce it as fifty, but I refused. "No," I said, "the closeness
of the vote when there is every opportunity for manipulation would
carry conviction."
An old gentleman who stood beside me had a gold-headed ebony
cane. I seized it and rapped it on the table with such force that
it broke in two and announced that the figures showed absolute
certainty of President Harrison's renomination. I doubt if there
was a reliable majority, but the announcement of this result
brought enough of those always anxious to get on the band-wagon
to make it certain.
Soon after arriving home I received a letter from the owner of
the cane. He wrote: "I was very angry when you broke my cane.
It was a valued birthday present from my children. It is now
in a glass case in my library, and on the case is this label: 'This
cane nominated a president of the United States.'"
Mr. McKinley, then Governor of Ohio, presided at the convention.
I stood close beside him when I made my speech for Harrison's
renomination. While thoroughly prepared, the speech was in a
way extemporaneous to meet calls or objections. In the midst
of a sentence McKinley said to me in a loud voice: "You are
making a remarkably fine speech." The remark threw me off my
balance as an opposition would never have done. I lost the
continuity and came near breaking down, but happily the applause
gave me time to get again upon the track.
Among my colleagues in the New York delegation was James W. Husted.
General Husted was very ill and unable to leave his room during
the convention. He sent for me one morning and said: "I have
just had a call from Governor McKinley. He says that you have
the power to nominate him, and that Harrison cannot be nominated.
If you will direct the Harrison forces for him, he will be the next
president."
I told Husted I was enlisted for the war and, while having a great
admiration for McKinley, it was impossible.
Soon after arriving home I received an invitation from the president
to visit him at Washington. I took the night train, arriving there
in the morning. My appointment was to lunch with him.
During the morning Stephen B. Elkins, then secretary of war,
called and asked me to take a walk. While we were walking he
told me that the president was going to offer me the secretaryship
of state, in succession to Mr. Blaine, and that I ought to accept.
He then led me to the State Department and pointed to the portraits
on the walls of the different secretaries, commencing with
Thomas Jefferson. Elkins said that to be in that list was a
greater distinction than to be on the walls of the White House,
because these men are of far greater eminence.
After luncheon the president invited me into the Blue Room, and
with a great deal of emotion said: "You are the only man who
has ever unselfishly befriended me. It was largely through your
efforts that I became president, and I am greatly indebted to you
for my renomination. I have tried my best to show my appreciation
by asking you into my Cabinet and otherwise, but you have refused
everything I have heretofore offered. I now want to give you
the best I have, which is secretary of state. It is broken bread,
because if I am not re-elected it will be only till the 4th of March,
but if I am re-elected it will be for four years more. I personally
want you in my Cabinet."
I told the president it was impossible for me to accept; that even
if I resigned my presidency of the railroad, coming directly
from that position would bring the railroad question, which was
very acute, into the canvass. He said he did not think there
was anything in that, but I realized that if he was defeated his
defeat would be charged to having made that mistake.
He then said: "Well, how about it if I am re-elected?" I told
him that I would regard the appointment the greatest of honors,
and the associations the most pleasurable of a lifetime.
"Very well," he said; "I will appoint Mr. John W. Foster, who
has been doing excellent service for the State Department, until
next 4th of March, and you can prepare to come here upon that date."
The most painful thing that was connected with the canvass at
Minneapolis before the convention was the appearance of Mr. Blaine
as a candidate. He had resigned from the Cabinet and yielded
to the pressure of his friends to become a candidate.
Notwithstanding my interview and what he had said, he sent no
word whatever to me, and personally I had no information and no
notification that his candidacy was authorized by himself. What
gave, however, much authority to the statement that he would accept
the nomination was the appearance of his son, Emmons, among those
who were endeavoring to bring it about.
There has never been a statesman in our public life, except
Henry Clay, who had such devoted friends as Mr. Blaine. While
Henry Clay never reached the presidency and was fairly defeated
in his attempt, there is no doubt that Mr. Blaine was elected in
1884, and that notwithstanding the Burchard misfortune, he would
still have been a victor except for transparent frauds in New York.
General Harrison was by far the ablest and profoundest lawyer
among our presidents. None of them equalled him as an orator.
His State papers were of a very high order. When history sums
up the men who have held the great place of president of the
United States, General Harrison will be among the foremost.
He retired from office, like many of our presidents, a comparatively
poor man. After retirement he entered at once upon the practice
of his profession of the law and almost immediately became
recognized as one of the leaders of the American bar.