THE CLOSING OF A CAREER
The close of the campaign left Senator Kern in such a state of physical
debility that he was fixed in the determination to withdraw from the
duties and responsibilities of the leadership of his party in the senate
with the view to conserving his health. From this he was dissuaded by
party leaders and the opening of the short session of the sixty-fourth
congress in December found him at his post as usual. The session
promised to be a crowded one. In his message at the opening of the
session President Wilson had insisted that the congress proceed to the
immediate enactment of the supplementary legislation to the Eight-Hour
Railroad bill pushed through in the early autumn to prevent the strike,
and there was no certainty that this could be done without a prolonged
contest on several points. The congress in response to popular clamor
had provided for enormously increased expenditures for the army and
navy, and now the problem of raising the revenue correspondingly was
demanding attention. This promised to partake of the nature of a party
contest as all revenue measures do. The historic importance of the
session, however, was not foreshadowed, for on the December day in 1916
when the gavels fell there was little reason to assume that the nation
was rushing toward war.
It is not my purpose to follow Senator Kern in the discharge of his
duties as majority leader. These differed in no wise from those of the
preceding years. But as the days went by and instead of improving in
health he either made no progress toward recovery or seemed to be losing
ground, he compromised with his sense of duty to the extent of spending
less time in the stuffy senate chamber. In the afternoons when the
senate had struck its routine pace he retired more and more frequently
to his room at Congress Hall, or to the seclusion of his committee room
on the gallery floor. His loss of voice immediately after the campaign,
which might have been ascribed to over use, persisted with an ominous
suggestion of a recurrence of the trouble which had driven him to
Asheville ten years before. This, with his loss of weight and unhealthy
color, caused him deep concern, which was not relieved by the necessity
imposed by his lack of fortune of returning to his profession at the age
of sixty-eight. Greatly weakened, he met all the obligations imposed
upon him by his party associates and the administration uncomplainingly
and gladly. While the irony of defeat had sunk deep, the life-long
chivalry asserted itself in the generous praise of his successor, and
if there was any bitterness in his soul it failed to find expression on
his lips. Realizing that his political race was run, he failed to
respond to unfriendly comments of his most virulent political enemies.
Nothing could have been more perfect than his deportment in defeat.
Early in the session grounds for grave apprehension concerning our
relations with Germany developed, and Senator Kern looked upon the
probability of war with dread. Aside from the usual horrors of armed
conflict, he keenly felt the situation in which the hundreds of
thousands of Americans of German decent would find themselves should we
be forced into the war by the mingled stubbornness, stupidity and
perfidy of Berlin. When on that morning in January the word flashed over
the capitol that Vice-President Marshall had received a note from
President Wilson informing him of his desire to address the senate,
Senator Kern was one of many who was depressed at the possibilities of
the message. Contrary to custom, he had not been previously consulted by
the president concerning his intentions, and neither had the chairman of
the committee on Foreign Relations. The president had kept his own
councils and the note to the vice-president but hinted at the general
nature of the communication. That morning senators generally were
prepared for something smacking of a preliminary to a war declaration.
It was a solemn assemblage of senators that witnessed the entrance of
Woodrow Wilson to the chamber, and a breathless audience both on the
floor and in the galleries that listened to the remarkable peace plea,
couched in the president’s characteristically beautiful English, read in
a measured beautifully modulated voice. No one was more delighted than
Senator Kern. But there was to be no peace, neither in Europe or for
America, and as the session drew to a close, with no certainty that the
congress would again meet for nine months, and with Germany persisting
in her mad course with her submarines, the president again appeared,
this time before both branches, with a request for congressional
authorization for the arming of our merchant ships in self-defense. This
request, made on February 26, did not reach the senate for discussion
until March 1st, and the last three days of the session were days of
excitement and bitterness born of the indisposition of some few senators
to arm the president with the power he asked and in the way he asked it.
The debate, which was not, as usually charged a fillibuster in the
ordinary meaning of the term, in that none of the speeches of the
“eleven wilful men” were of great length, was of significant duration to
prevent a vote before the expiration of the congress at noon March 4th.
Senator Kern, who favored the granting of the power, did not
participate in the discussion, taking the position that the friends of
the measure would serve it best by consuming no time in talk.
It was in the midst of this bitter battle, on March 3, that he delivered
a brief valedictorian address which was a heart expression on the pain
of parting from associations that had become dear to him. This, his last
utterance in the senate of which he had been the leader for four years,
called forth at least one tribute that he greatly cherished. He said:
“Mr. President, before taking leave of this body, I desire to take
a very few moments in which to express partially my deep
appreciation of the many kindnesses and courtesies shown me since I
have been a member of the senate. It will be only a partial
expression, for there are no words in which I can tell you fully of
that which is in my mind and heart.
“I have no thought, sir, that my leavetaking is a matter of any
great moment either to the country or the senate, for senators have
come and gone since the foundation of the government, and the
republic has survived the loss of the greatest and the best, but I
feel that it may not be deemed inappropriate for me before leaving
to try to tell you, not how greatly you will miss me, but rather
how I will miss the association and companionship which has so
enriched my life during the last six years.
“Mr. President, it will be with a sense of relief that I lay aside
the burdens and responsibilities incident to the duties of a
senator. My work here may not have been very effective, but for
the last four years it has been hard, continuous and very earnest
work, taxing heavily at times my health and strength, and I shall
lay my armor by in happy anticipation of rest and the enjoyment of
the delights of home life.
“My party associates here have twice conferred upon me the highest
honor in their power to bestow and have given me generous and
constant proofs of their hearty good will, and I can look back over
the last four years and through the heated debates and exciting
contests without being able to call to mind a single word or act on
the part of any Republican senator indicating the slightest ill
will.
“So, Mr. President, my chief, if not my only regret, in leaving
this distinguished company is because it involves a separation from
friends who have grown very dear to me. These friends, thank God,
are on both sides of the center aisle; and the memory of these
friendships will cheer and comfort me during the remaining years of
my life.
“Mr. President, every man who engages in political or other
contests hopes for success, and defeat under any circumstances is
usually attended by feelings of disappointment if not humiliation;
but the man who is not prepared to accept defeat with apparent
cheerfulness and in a manly way would do well to avoid the arenas
of political conflict.
“In my case the sting of defeat in the late election was greatly
mitigated by the fact that my successful opponent is my neighbor,
and more than a third of a century has been my warm personal
friend; so that my pride in his promotion largely compensates for
the natural regret at my own defeat. I stated after the election
and repeat it in this presence, that if I had been permitted or
required to choose a Republican successor I would, without
hesitation, have named the Hon. Harry S. New. He is a splendid
gentleman, a high-minded, patriotic American citizen who will wear
the robes of office with modesty and dignity. It is a matter of
very great satisfaction to me to know that the splendid
commonwealth of Indiana will be represented by two of her native
sons, who, I am sure, will serve their state and country with honor
and distinction.
“In conclusion permit me to repeat that I shall leave here happy
that I shall be free from burdens often onerous and oppressive,
rich in the friendship of my fellow senators, which I shall always
cherish as among my dearest possessions, sorrowing only because the
companionships which have given me so much delight and so many
hours of happiness must be severed.
“May God bless you, every one.”
Because of the sincerity with which he spoke, and the personal affection
felt for him by the majority of senators of both parties he struck a
chord which responded instantly when Senator Henry Cabot Lodge of
Massachusetts rose on the Republican side of the center aisle. Nothing
could have given greater pleasure to Senator Kern. While differing
widely on most public questions of a political nature, the Massachusetts
senator being a conservative Republican and Kern a radical Democrat,
there was much in the character and career of the brilliant historian,
orator and statesman that made a strong appeal to the Indiana senator.
Aside from a personal fondness for the Republican leader, a profound
admiration for his gifts, the career of Lodge in its continuity and
security appealed to Kern as the ideal one for a public man. It was
precisely the career he would have liked. This, a little side-light on
Kern’s real nature: in the summer of 1915, after reading the last page
of Lodge’s “Early Memories,” and expressing the hope that the author
would continue his recollections through his congressional career, he
laid the book down with the comment:
“I know of no man in public life whose career I envy more than that of
Lodge.”
Senator Lodge said:
“Mr. President, among the trials, the cares, the labors, and
sometimes the bitterness that public life brings there are rewards.
They are neither so many nor so delightful as the outside world may
suppose, but there are some very real rewards. One of them, the
chiefest, perhaps, is to be found in the friendships and
associations which men closely associated together as we are in
this chamber are certain to form, but like most happinesses and
rewards in this world, they have their inevitable penalty connected
with them. The penalty comes in the severance of the friendships,
by the partings that must occur. These partings come to us here
every two years. They bring sorrow, not the ‘sweet sorrow’ of
Shakespeare’s immortal lovers, but a very real sorrow which grows
more serious and more grim as the years pass by and age advances.
“It is with a feeling of great sorrow that I--and I am sure that I
express the sentiments of all other senators--find myself compelled
to part with the senator from Indiana. He has been the official
leader of his party during four years, a position which has put him
in the front of conflict. I can only say that he has borne himself
with fairness, with courtesy, with unvarying good temper to those
opposed to him, and, Mr. President, wholly apart from that, I am
sure that the feeling I am about to express is shared by all. We
are losing a friend. He has been to me not only a very valued
friend, but a very good friend, and it is sad for me to think that
he is about to withdraw from the interests and activities we have
so long shared together. His kindness, his good temper, and the
generosity he has just shown in his cordial words with regard to
his successor have endeared him to us all. It is hard to say ‘good
bye,’ and I will not say it, but I will say that he goes back to
private life carrying with him the affectionate regard of all those
who have been associated with him here, quite as much of those who
sit on this side of the aisle as of those who sit on the other
side. He carries with him every good wish that we can give for his
health, his happiness, and his peace of mind in the years to come.”
As soon as Senator Lodge resumed his seat Senator Hoke Smith of Georgia,
secretary of the interior during the second Cleveland administration,
rose on the Democratic side of the chamber.
“Mr. President,” he said, “it is not necessary for Democratic
senators to tell Senator Kern, the senate and the country how much
we esteem him and how much we will miss him.
“Just two years after he came here he was elected by his Democratic
associates their leader. Two years later he was again unanimously
elected their leader.
“He has with great ability, with marked tact, with perfect
fairness, and with uniform courtesy, served them as their leader
and served with his associates as senator.
“We all honor him; yes, and he will always have our warmest love.”
Meanwhile Senator James E. Watson, the Republican senator from Indiana,
who was out of the chamber at the time Senator Kern made his remarks,
was notified by one of his colleagues and returned immediately to the
chamber and, upon being recognized, spoke on behalf of the citizenship
of Indiana, regardless of party affiliations. He said:
“Mr. President, I was out of the chamber when the news was brought
to me that my distinguished colleague had uttered an address of
farewell to the members of this body, with which he has been so
long associated, and I felt that I could not let the opportunity
pass without paying my tribute of respect to him as a man and as a
citizen and as a neighbor.
“It is indeed a characteristic of the American people, and a most
fortunate one, that in the midst of a great emergency like that
which confronts us at this time, and an agitation almost
international that seems to be centered here for the moment, we can
even temporarily lay it aside to pay a tribute of respect to one
who is about to depart from our midst. This shows, Mr. President,
that after all, behind all political divisions, we are one in
sentiment and one in aspirations, and one in patriotic purpose.
“Of the service of my colleague here I shall not speak, because you
are more familiar with that than I am; and I only rise for the
purpose of expressing the feeling of the people of Indiana for this
distinguished Hoosier who is about to return to the body of her
citizenship. As a senator, as reporter of the supreme court, as the
candidate of his party twice for the governorship, as the candidate
of his party for the vice-presidency, he has ever displayed those
characteristics that have endeared him to the people of the state;
and as you say farewell to him here, the people of Indiana bid him
hail and welcome, because there he will be loved by many and
admired by all.”
Senator Stone followed with a tribute to Kern’s “fine qualities of mind
and heart, his manliness, his courtesy, his gentleness, his wisdom,” and
added that “during my service here there has been no man who has gone
out of the senate more beloved or whose absence will be more sincerely
regretted.” And Senator Thomas of Colorado referred to the “testimonial
of affection and esteem” which had been drawn up by the Democratic
senators as “an earnest although an entirely inadequate expression of
their love and affection.”
This testimonial was drawn up in the chamber of Vice-President Marshall
on the vice-presidential stationery. This paper, bearing the signatures
of fifty-two senators, and drawn up and signed in the midst of the
excitement and acrimonies of the fight on the armed ship measure,
follows:
THE VICE-PRESIDENT’S CHAMBER
WASHINGTON
March 3, 1917.
“We hereby desire to express to our good friend and Democratic
colleague from Indiana,
Hon. John W. Kern,
our appreciation of his uniform courtesy, fairness and
consideration for each and all of us during the whole time he has
filled the position of leader of the Democratic majority in the
senate and the affectionate regard we hold him, as well as our
admiration for his ability, kindliness and attainments.”
On the same day his personal friend, Vice-President Marshall, sent
Senator Kern a personal note which was all the more appreciated because
of the genuineness of the friendship behind it:
THE VICE-PRESIDENT’S CHAMBER
WASHINGTON
3rd March, 1917.
“DEAR JOHN KERN: It is not as lawyer, statesman, senate leader that
we say farewell. That were easy. But to say it as friend to friend,
that is hard. May we say hail again to you often.
“THOS. R. MARSHALL.”
These tributes of affection and respect were all the more remarkable
because of the conditions under which they were paid. The capitol was in
a state of considerable excitement because of the bitterness of the
fight being waged over the bill granting the president power to arm our
merchant ships. The country was in ferment over the measure and little
else was thought of in the senate. Many, indeed the great majority of
senators, had taken their departure in peaceful days without comment
from their colleagues from the floor. The exception in the case of Kern
was due not only to the important part he had played during four years
of remarkable legislative activity, and the even-tempered and
conscientious manner in which he had met the onerous duties of
leadership, but quite as much to personal qualities which had, through
life, endeared him to those who knew him best. He was deeply moved by
these impressive manifestations of regard, and particularly pleased with
the generous and kindly attitude of the men he had politically opposed.
This was accentuated a few days later by a personal letter from Senator
Lodge saying that “in the midst of the excitement of that closing day I
felt very strongly how unfinished and imperfect all that I said in
regard to your leaving the senate necessarily was,” and reiterating his
expression of regret.
Thus after forty-seven years of constant political activity, and many
years of public service, Senator Kern passed to private life rarely
honored by his colleagues in the senate, respected by his political
opponents, regretted by the president and his cabinet, and trusted by
the dominate political party of the nation of which he had been a
potential leader in victory and defeat.