There is a phrase, attributed to Napoleon, to the effect that God
fights on the side of the big battalions. There is a truth in the
saying that applies to big men, just as well as to big armies.
Fate seemed to battle on the side of Theodore Roosevelt through every
step of his political career, though a study of the man shows that by
his superhuman energy he himself was almost always the creator and
molder of the circumstances that seemed to advance him.
When Roosevelt, at twenty-three, determined to enter politics, the
political cards were stacked against him.
When, moved by a desire to belong to the governing class instead of to
the governed, he told his folks that he wanted to join the Republican
Club as his first step in politics, he relates that they told him that
he would meet the groom and the saloonkeeper there; that in addition
politics were low and that for this reason no gentleman could afford
to join with such men in ward affairs.
Roosevelt was as ready then with an answer as he was in later life. “If
that is so,” he replied, according to his close friend, Jacob Riis,
“the groom and the saloonkeeper are the governing class and you confess
weakness. You have all the chances, the education, the position,
and you let them rule you. They must be better men!” He went to the
Republican Club, leaving his would-be advisers dolefully shaking their
heads.
This opposition overcome, Roosevelt found another obstacle in his way.
He had transferred his citizenship from Oyster Bay, where he cast his
first vote, to the fashionable Murray Hill district. He therefore was
handicapped by a “silk stocking” reputation. Immediately he went to
work to show the politicians that, while he had associated with wearers
of silk hose, he knew how to wear a slouch hat and how to get down to
a shirt-sleeves basis if by doing so he could make those with whom he
mingled feel easier. Joe Murray, Roosevelt’s first political sponsor,
was won to him by the genuine spirit of democracy he saw in the young
aspirant.
Murray was in need of friends just at that time. He had rebelled
against the rule of “Jake” Hess, the Republican boss of the district.
Jake had his own special candidate for the next Assemblyman from the
21st District. Murray had become the leader of the anti-Hess faction,
but had no worth-while candidate for the Legislature. He observed that
Roosevelt was popular with the crowd.
“Look here men,” Murray said to his adherents, “what this district
wants is a swell candidate who can go as a guest to the drawing room
and at the same time be man enough to shake hands with the butler.
Teddy Roosevelt is the one!”
He asked Roosevelt to become a candidate. Roosevelt refused. Instead
he suggested the names of several men; but Murray kept on persuading,
until at last he drew from Roosevelt a promise to be his candidate if
he could not secure a better one. Joe at once stopped searching.
“I can’t find any better nor as good!” was his verdict. The matter
ended in the nomination of the youthful-looking collegiate “Teddy,”
now thoroughly warm to the campaign. He plunged into the battle with
an intensity that was earnest of the ardor with which he went into his
later and more important political conflicts.
The next barrier that rose before the candidate was high license.
A trip to the saloons was said by his political sponsors to be a
necessary part of the campaign. At Valentine Young’s saloon on Sixth
Avenue, Roosevelt opened his campaign. Mr. Young was against high
license. He expressed the hope that Roosevelt was also opposed to it.
Roosevelt promptly replied that he was for it, and would advocate
it as hard as he could. The argument became hot; the saloon-keeper
made personal remarks. Then and there Roosevelt quitted the saloon
canvass. Murray and his friends were dismayed, but Roosevelt appealed
to his neighbors. The silk-stocking vote joined that of the footmen
and shopkeepers, who had become enthusiastic over the scrappy and
democratic young candidate. Roosevelt was elected and became the
youngest member of the Legislature.