REPORTER OF THE SUPREME COURT--1884-1889
I
At the age of thirty-seven Kern took a survey of his life and an
inventory of his resources and found himself dissatisfied with the
result. He had a local reputation as a young man of unusual promise and
ability as a lawyer, was extraordinarily popular among his Howard county
neighbors, and was known as a forceful and eloquent speaker among the
Democratic leaders of the state. But his worldly stores were not in
keeping with his ability, and he faced the fact that he had not properly
realized on his capacity. Thus it was that in 1884 he decided to be a
candidate for a state office. Actuated partly by the fact that it was in
the line of his profession and partly because it was at that time a
highly remunerative office he concluded to be a candidate for the
nomination for reporter of the supreme court. Already well and favorably
known in his section of the state and among the politicians from every
section his availability was impressed upon the democracy of every
community through the publication in local papers of editorials “made in
Kokomo” in the office of _The Kokomo Despatch_. This publicity factory
was under the management of his friend, Oscar Henderson, afterward
auditor of state. And it did effective work.
It is probable that no Democratic convention in the history of Indiana
has ever been so distinguished in the personnel of its participants as
was that which convened in English’s Opera House in Indianapolis in the
closing days of June, 1884. Although a Democratic president had not
crossed the threshold of the White House since Buchanan, the party in
Indiana had never lost its courage or its militancy, and it had never
been so spirited as during the summer of the year of its first national
triumph in almost a quarter of a century. The national convention had
not yet been held and while the reform governor of New York was being
vigorously pushed for the presidential nomination it was by no means
certain that he would be nominated. At any rate it did not enter into
the plans of the Indiana democracy, which determined to press the claims
of one of her own most distinguished statesmen, Joseph E. McDonald,
formerly a member of the United States senate. While not so sagacious a
politician and party leader as Hendricks nor such a brilliant, dashing,
picturesque figure on the firing line as Voorhees, he was, in many
respects, the intellectual superior of both. He had something of the
dignity, solidity and majesty with which popular imagination clothes the
Roman senator of antiquity.
Thus when Senator McDonald appeared upon the platform of the English
Opera House that June morning in 1884 to call the convention to order he
was hailed as the prospective standard bearer of the democracy in the
national campaign. He presented to the convention, as its chairman,
Senator Daniel W. Voorhees, whose hold upon the affections of the rank
and file had constantly strengthened during his twenty-six years of
public life, and whose genius and eloquence in the presentation of
political issues has never been equaled in the state. After stirring the
delegates to a high pitch of enthusiasm in his “keynote” speech, he
introduced the chairman of the committee on Resolutions, William H.
English, who only four years before had been the party’s nominee for the
vice-presidency on the ticket with Hancock.
The only contests in the convention were over the nominations for
governor and reporter of the supreme court, and the gubernatorial
contest was between two of the greatest figures that ever led the
democracy of the Hoosier state, Isaac P. Gray, afterward Indiana’s
choice for the presidency, who died while ambassador to Mexico, and
David Turpie, who had already served in the United States senate and was
to return to that body a little later. While Turpie was much the abler
man, a statesman of high order, he was not the equal of the astute Gray
as a politician, and the latter was easily nominated on the first
ballot.
McDonald, Voorhees, English, Gray and Turpie--all prominent participants
in one state convention, the only absent leader of the first magnitude
was Hendricks, who was to be nominated for the vice-presidency with
Cleveland in less than a month. It was in such a convention that John W.
Kern made his initial bow to the state democracy.
Seldom has any party put forth a stronger ticket than that on which Kern
was nominated. Gray, one of the best campaigners in the state, was
nominated for governor; Captain W. R. Myers, nominated for secretary of
state, continued for a quarter of a century one of the most powerful
figures on the stump; John J. Cooper, nominated for treasurer, was a
business man of high character whose name is still conjured with;
Francis T. Hord, the nominee for attorney-general, was one of the strong
lawyers of the state; and James H. Rice, popularly known to this day,
though dead for many years, as “Jim” Rice, was one of the cleverest
politicians and most delightful personalities that ever moved across the
political stage.
And this convention, notable in every way, was able to dispose of its
business and adjourn in three hours and a half, having met at 10 A. M.
and adjourned at 1:30 P. M.
II
The campaign of 1884, in which Kern first appeared on the platform as a
party leader, and the two following contests during which he was in
office, were among the most exciting and picturesque in the history of
state politics. It was the day of immense meetings, of torchlight
processions when party papers quarreled over the number of torches
carried in parades, and over the number of men who rode on horseback--a
day of joint debates, and bitter assaults. And it was the day of real
giants. Hendricks in ’84 was to make his last appearance. Voorhees was
sweeping over the state leaving behind a frenzy of enthusiasm, McDonald
was speaking the more sober language of statesmanship to great
assemblies, Turpie was discoursing textbooks on political science from
which less erudite politicians were to learn their lessons. Gray was
meeting Calkins in joint debates from which the amateur debaters of the
country stores, the blacksmith shops and the street corners were to get
their cue; John E. Lamb, just out of his twenties and known from river
to lake as “the blue-eyed boy of destiny,” was setting the woods on fire
by driving his opponents in congressional races from the stump; Benjamin
F. Shively, still in his twenties, was duplicating the trick in the
South Bend district; and a young and exceedingly popular politician was
just beginning to attract attention as a party manager in Marion
county--Tom Taggart.
From the beginning of the campaign Kern was one of the most active and
effective figures on the stump, as is disclosed by a consultation of the
files of _The Indianapolis Sentinel_. This indicates that he confined
his speeches largely to the tariff question and spoke usually for two
hours. In the campaign of ’84 we find him speaking to “a large and
enthusiastic audience for two hours” at Bourbon; addressing “5,000
people on Michigan street,” in Michigan City, where his speech was
“invariably considered to have been the ablest delivered in the present
campaign.” Here, too, he was given “a grand ovation” and reviewed “the
largest procession of the campaign with over 1,000 torches in line.” At
Dekalb he spoke to “a bigger meeting than Voorhees had in the county”
and was given “one of the grand ovations of the season.” The
correspondent at Dekalb in his enthusiasm wrote: “Too much praise can
not be given Mr. Kern for the eloquent, logical and convincing manner in
which he handles the subjects at issue. He is making one of our best
political orators, and in time will have more than a state reputation.”
_The Sentinel’s_ correspondent at Hagerstown assures us that “his speech
was the most effective delivered here during the campaign,” that he
“discussed the tariff in a masterly manner,” and that “his social
manner won for him a host of friends irrespective of party.”
It is evident that he made a fine impression in the campaign of 1884
from the nature of the assignments that were given him in the next
campaign. He had evidently become a favorite on the stump. The columns
of _The Indianapolis Sentinel_ for this campaign indicate that after the
great leaders of the time, Voorhees, Gray, Turpie and McDonald, he was a
favorite with partisan audiences. Thus in the report of his speech at
Logansport this year he is referred to as “John the Eloquent;” the
report from his Greenfield meeting referred to him as “one of Indiana’s
finest orators” and to the “easy and graceful way he showed up General
Harrison;” the Rushville correspondent wrote that “the name of John W.
Kern was sufficient to insure a full house” and “the impression left
behind is highly complimentary to Mr. Kern.” Something of the militant
nature of his partisanship during this period may be gathered from an
incident connected with his meeting at Connersville. Finding that he was
dated to speak the same night that Colonel Charles L. Holstein was to
discuss the issues from the Republican point of view, he immediately
challenged the colonel to meet him on the same platform in a joint
discussion--an invitation that was not considered attractive. Kern then
spoke at his own meeting and the report has it that “his fiery review
of the Republican protective tariff robbery aroused great enthusiasm.”
But the most laudatory account of any of his meetings in this campaign
was sent out, naturally enough, from Kokomo, in which he was described
as “the most eloquent orator of his years in Indiana.” It then went on
to describe his speech--“The young man eloquent was in splendid form and
his speech was admitted on all sides to have been the ablest effort on
either side during the present campaign.... For one and a half hours he
poured hot shot into the rotten hull of the enemies’ craft. Old
Democrats declare they have never heard a more electrical speech in
their lives. Put the Howard county democracy down solid for Kern for
governor bye and bye.”
If any further evidence were necessary to establish the fact that during
the time he was reporter of the supreme court he was looked upon in many
quarters as the future leader of the party, two cards that appeared in
_The Indianapolis Sentinel_ at the time would surely suffice. These
cards are important to our purpose in establishing Kern’s status between
1885 and 1889. An “Indianapolis attorney” wrote:
“If the Democrats intend to push young men to the front for the
governorship and party leadership, what is the matter with John W.
Kern, reporter of the supreme court? He is the man whom the late
Vice-President Hendricks once referred to as ‘one of the rising
Democratic leaders of Indiana.’ At the last election he received a
larger popular vote than any man on the state ticket except Judge
Mitchell, who had the additional support of the Greenbackers, and
he even got a larger majority than the latter. Then there is no man
in the state who comes nearer being the political idol of the young
democracy, and I know of hundreds of young Republicans who would
support him for any position to which he might aspire. No one can
say that John Kern can’t make a speech; there is not a public
talker in the state who can arouse the ‘boys’ in a speech more
completely than he; and then he has brains enough to fill any
position; is shrewd enough for a manager, and no one has more
personal friends.”
The following day another card appeared from “An Old-Style Democrat.”
“Your talk from an Indianapolis attorney made me a little zealous.
While it is true that ‘John W. Kern is the idol of the young
democracy of the state,’ he is no less a favorite of us old
Democrats. He is young, able and progressive, just such a man as we
need. John W. Kern is a born leader. To be sure he is young, but he
has got a mighty old head on him, and it will be seen that he don’t
need much pushing to get to the front.”
I am indebted to Dr. E. E. Quivey of Fort Wayne for some interesting
recollections of the Kern of the eighties. In the campaign of 1884 he
was a member of a Democratic quartette which was sent over the state
with various orators, and for three weeks the quartette accompanied
Kern. Any one knowing him in the latter years of his life will find in
these reminiscences a striking likeness to the man they knew. His charm
of manner, courtesy, thoughtfulness, simplicity and democracy of bearing
are prominently featured in Doctor Quivey’s recollections:
“At this time Mr. Kern was a comparatively young man and not widely
known in Indiana outside the confines of his own district. He was
very slender and in the long frock coat of the period seemed much
taller than when I saw him years afterward. He had an abundance of
hair which was almost black and which he wore rather long, but
always neatly trimmed about the edges. His face was rather pale and
already lines were graven on his forehead and about the eyes,
which, together with heavy eyebrows, gave an expression of
austerity which wholly belied his nature. Although an indefatigable
worker he was not a rugged man, and was therefore very careful of
his physical welfare, using every precaution to forestall some
seemingly ever-impending illness. While I am sure that he had many
hours of physical discomfort, he never even intimated that he was
not in the best of health.
“Wherever he appeared he made a profound impression by his fluent
speech and the compelling force of his logic. He seldom embellished
his thoughts with figurative language, and his speeches were
entirely devoid of verbosity; his power seemed to lie in the
earnest, lucid simplicity of his appeal. He never sought to please
the fancy of his auditors by lofty flights of oratory, nor did he
indulge in any of the tricks that crafty orators employ for
applause. Indeed applause seemed more disconcerting than pleasing
to him.
“He was by far the most approachable public man we had encountered.
The distant, awe-inspiring characteristics of some of the other
speakers were wholly foreign to his nature.
“Mr. Kern’s humanity was made evident on several occasions, but the
following incident will suffice to show that he possessed this
ennobling quality to a very marked degree. It was at Monticello, if
my memory serves me rightly, that one of the boys had an acute
attack of indigestion and he was violently sick for a few hours.
Mr. Kern did not know it until it was time to leave for the
meeting; and when told that Carlston was ill, disappointment and
alarm were expressed on his face as he said, ‘Where is he? Take me
to him.’ He was shown to Carlston’s room, which was indeed a
cheerless one, and after a quick survey of the surroundings he
said, ‘This won’t do; we can not leave him here.’ And he insisted
that he be transferred to a warm and cheerful room, that a
physician be summoned at once, and that some one be secured to stay
with him during our absence. Nor would he go to the meeting,
despite the impatient entreaties of the committee to ‘hurry up,’
until every detail for Carlston’s comfort had been completed.
“An amusing incident happened on the day following which revealed
a phase of Mr. Kern’s character not often brought to the surface.
Under no consideration would he deliberately offer offense to any
one, and he was inclined to let personal incivilities go unrebuked
and apparently unnoticed. Yet when goaded to retaliation he was
equal to any emergency. It seems that some of the Republican papers
were claiming that William H. Calkins had challenged Senator
Voorhees to meet him in a series of joint debates and that Voorhees
would not respond to the challenge. During Kern’s speech, I think
at Crown Point, a man in the audience kept interrupting him with
inquiries as to why Senator Voorhees refused to meet Calkins in
joint debate. At first no attention was paid to the interruptions,
but the man was so persistent that finally Mr. Kern stopped,
pointed his finger at the disturber and said, ‘I am surprised than
any one in Indiana has the hardihood to ask such a question. Sir,
it is evident that you do not know Senator Voorhees and Mr.
Calkins. Why, my friend, you could no more drag William H. Calkins
into a discussion with Senator Voorhees than you could lasso a wild
goose a mile high.’
“One day after Mr. Kern had spoken at an afternoon meeting we drove
to another town some twelve or fifteen miles distant, where he was
scheduled to speak at night. Upon our arrival he went directly to
the hotel to arrange for accommodations for the night. The office,
which was dingy and cheerless, offered anything but encouraging
prospects for the night. It was a typical country town hotel of the
period with three or four of the proverbial loafing cronies of the
landlord in evidence. When Mr. Kern registered the landlord looked
at the name over his spectacles, and then at Mr. Kern, and no doubt
hoping to create a laugh at Kern’s expense, said, ‘So you’re the
feller what’s goin’ to make a Democratic speech here to-night.
Well, you fellers may be Democrats, but I tell ye right now yer
stoppin’ at a Republican hotel.’ Kern in a droll manner that was
ridiculously funny replied, ‘I suspected as much; the Republican
hostelries this fall are very gloomy places.’
“It became our custom before going to bed to gather in Kern’s room
and spend an hour or two in smoking, reviewing the events of the
day, and singing, and those preslumber occasions I shall ever hold
as cherished memories. They were indeed pleasant hours, and I am
sure Mr. Kern enjoyed them as much as did we boys, for the
gatherings were invariably held at his suggestion. He was fond of
sentimental ballads and simple melodies, and I recall two songs
which he often asked us to sing, and to which he always listened
with profound attention. Of one of these songs I can recall but one
verse and the chorus:
“I am longing so sadly, I’m longing
For the days that have vanished and fled,
For the flowers that around us were blooming
That, alas, are all withered and dead.
Tints that of all the rarest
Fade as upon them we gaze
And the hours that are brightest and fairest
Soon are hid with the lost yesterdays.
Flitting, flitting away,
All that we cherished most dear.
There is nothing on earth that will stay;
Roses must die with the year.”
“Another song of which he was especially fond was ‘The Little Old
Church on the Hill.’
“One night in Kern’s room when we finished that song he said:
‘Boys, that song tells a story and paints a picture of simple rural
life that all men should reverence. It is the story of the people
who are the bulwark of the nation’s life.’”
It is on just such occasions as are herein described that the real
character of a man asserts itself. No one who ever knew Mr. Kern at any
period of his life will fail to recognize the fidelity of the portrait
painted from memory by a man who was scarcely more than a boy when he
knew the original.
III
The four years that Mr. Kern was reporter of the supreme court,
1885-1889, have been described by him in an address before the Indiana
Bar Association as “in many respects the most interesting of my life.”
The five judges of the supreme court with whom he was intimately
associated during these years among the greatest lawyers and most
distinguished men who ever sat upon the supreme bench of Indiana at one
time.
Not least among the things that went to make this “the most interesting
period of his career” was his intimate association with the members of
the bench. He did his work well, as the seventeen volumes of the Indiana
Reports bearing his name testify. But in later years it was the amusing
incidents of the period that he largely drew upon in conversation. He
loved his practical joke then as throughout his life, and he frequently
related the following at the expense of Judge Niblack, who was not much
given to frivolity. The judge had decided a case from Pike county in
which some people had been indicted for maltreating a goose under the
statute regarding cruelty to animals. The point at issue was as to
whether a goose was an animal within the meaning of the statute and
Niblack decided that it was. One of the judge’s pet hobbies was a short
syllabi and he cautioned Kern and his deputies against long ones with
such frequency that it made a rather disagreeable impression on the
reporter. In the Pike county case, bearing Niblack’s admonition in mind,
Kern decided to write the syllabus himself. He made the headline,
“Criminal Law,” the subhead, “Cruelty to Animals,” and the text, “A
goose is an animal.” He said nothing about it to Niblack, who read it
for the first time in the proof, and then went to Kern. “I want to talk
to you a little about this syllabus in the Pike county case,” he said.
“You have said to me repeatedly that you wanted these syllabi cut as
short as I could,” Kern replied with simulated heat, “I had an
opportunity here to show you what I could do with this opinion. You have
decided that this goose was an animal, and I have so put it in the
proof.”
The old judge, taking it all seriously, and assuming a conciliatory
tone, replied:
“That is all right, but in this syllabus you stated it too abruptly, and
I wish you would lengthen it out a little.”
This does not imply that Kern merely sought the amusing side of his
work. He took pride in doing his work thoroughly and well. It was in
some respects a post graduate course in the law. And no office in
Indiana aside from that of governor has higher traditions or has been
filled by so many men of distinction in political life. Notable among
these were Benjamin Harrison, afterward president; Michael C. Kerr,
afterward speaker of the National House of Representatives; Albert G.
Porter, afterward governor and ambassador to Italy, and Mr. Kern,
afterwards leader of the United States Senate, was to be succeeded by
John L. Griffiths, one of the most brilliant orators of his time, who
died while Consul-General to London. During the four years of his
incumbency, Kern measured up to the high traditions of the office.
IV
Meanwhile he was extending his acquaintance among the politicians of the
state, who flocked to Indianapolis during this period of party
rejuvenation and renewed hope. When not in his office he was usually to
be found in the hotels or wherever the politicians congregated.
It was a period when the political worker was expected to be given more
or less to conviviality, or as it was expressed to “sociability.” And
never were social animals more in evidence than during this period. The
young reporter of the supreme court, with his glow of humor, his ready
wit, his good fellowship, soon became a prime favorite in the circle of
conviviality, and the continual stream of politicians into the capital
from over the state sought his companionship. The result was disastrous
to his purse and destructive of his health, if not dangerous to his
future. The result was that lucrative though his office was he spent his
money as rapidly as he made it, and when he was renominated by his party
in the campaign of 1888 he entered the contest as poor in purse though
infinitely richer in friends and reputation as politician and speaker as
when he sought his first nomination with the view to accumulating money.
In this campaign the Democrats were greatly handicapped by the fact that
the Republicans had nominated Benjamin Harrison for the presidency and
with crowds of enthusiastic partisans flocking to Indianapolis from all
parts of the country, the element of state pride entered into the
contest. Not satisfied with this advantage the Republican managers
resorted to the notorious “blocks of five” plan of corruption, which was
exposed, however, in the midst of the campaign. The result was the
defeat of the entire Democratic ticket by an astonishingly small margin.
Thus Kern left office as poor as when he entered. Indeed he almost
immediately afterward disposed of his copyright on his seventeen volumes
of reports to the Bowen-Merrill Company for a ridiculously small
consideration.
V
Meanwhile he had definitely fixed his residence in Indianapolis, where
he had no established practice and nothing to draw upon for immediate
returns but his personal popularity and reputation as an orator and
lawyer of ability. Before leaving Kokomo Mrs. Kern had died and in
December, 1885, he had been married to Araminta A. Cooper, daughter of
Dr. William Cooper of Kokomo at the home of her sister in Logansport,
many of his political friends, including Governor Isaac P. Gray, “Jim”
Rice and District-Attorney John E. Lamb, going up from Indianapolis.
Though but nineteen years old at the time of her marriage she became a
real helpmate to her husband, mothering his baby daughter Julia, and
meeting all her responsibilities then and ever afterward in a manner
that increased his admiration for her along with his affection. Devoted
to her home and family, of lively disposition, intensely loyal to her
own, she was to contribute not only to his happiness during the
remainder of his life, but not a little to his success. It was soon
after his marriage that Kern finally put behind him the happy-go-lucky
irresponsibility and convivial tendencies of his youth and entered upon
a new life which was to bring him rich rewards.
On retiring from office, Kern formed a partnership with Leon O. Bailey,
a prominent lawyer who, like himself, had a liking for politics and
became definitely identified with the bar of Indianapolis, then, as now,
notable for its strong men. While the firm engaged in general practice,
it gave special attention to the civil side, and Kern, who had
distinguished himself in his Kokomo days as a criminal lawyer only
occasionally thereafter appeared in criminal cases. It is not the
purpose here to dwell at length on his legal career in Indianapolis.
Even the most noted cases in which he participated regularly during the
remainder of his life or until his election to the senate have no more
than a transitory interest. Quite early he added to his reputation at
the bar as special counsel for the state of Indiana in the famous
railroad tax cases, as special counsel for the government in the equally
famous cases growing out of the failure of the Indianapolis National
Bank, in the “Swamp Land cases,” which involved great sums of money, and
these sufficed to place him toward the head of his profession. With his
character as a lawyer we are interested in that it serves to paint the
portrait of the man, and with this we shall deal in the chapter--“Kern:
A Composite Portrait,” with an analysis of Kern the lawyer, by Mr.
Bailey, who was associated with him for ten years.