The most striking victim of the American propensity for
exaggeration is the senior Senator from Pennsylvania, Boies
Penrose. He has a personality and contour that lend themselves to
caricature. Only a few deft strokes are needed to make his
ponderous figure and heavy jowl the counterpart of a typical boss,
an institution for which the American people have a pardonable
affection in these days of political quackery. For, when the worst
is said of the imposing array of bosses from Tweed down to the
present time, they could be forgiven much because they were what
they were. That is why, perhaps, the altogether fanciful picture of
Penrose, propped on his pillows with his telephone at his bedside
directing the embattled delegates at Chicago, who in sheer
desperation turned to Warren G. Harding, is dwelt upon fondly by a
deluded public.
Penrose does not despise the appurtenances of bossism. If the truth
were told he probably likes the idea of being represented as the
hard-fisted master of party destinies. He knows that such a
reputation inspires awe if not respect, on the part of the rank and
file, from the humble precinct worker to the gentleman of large
affairs who provides the necessary campaign funds. It has its
value, sentimental as well as practical, for the American people
likes to set up its own political idols. The politicians who for
the moment guide the destinies of the nation are so misdrawn, so
illuminated with virtues and endowed with vices quite foreign to
them, that they frequently achieve a personality quite fictitious,
but which, none the less, passes current in the popular mind as
genuine.
Nothing could be more grotesque, for example, than the picture of
Senator Smoot, who is merely a sublimated messenger boy, as one of
the arbiters of the Republican policies; or of Senator Lodge, by
sheer strength of leadership, restraining the discordant Republican
elements in the Senate from kicking over the traces. This is
journalist "copy" written for a popular imagination which finds the
truth too tepid.
Boies Penrose serves the purpose of appeasing national appetite for
what the magazine editors call "dynamic stuff."
But the real Boies Penrose is not all as he is pictured. At a
cursory glance he might appear to be a physiological, psychological,
and political anachronism. At least he is sufficiently different
from his colleagues to be, if not actually mysterious, not easily
understandable. There is something fundamental about him. He
inspires a certain awe which may not be magnetic but has the same
effect upon those who surround him; where he sits is the head of
the table.
I doubt if Lodge or Knox or Hughes could ever fathom the secret of
his power; they are not cast in the same mould. His colleagues
smile at his idiosyncracies--behind his back--but they approach him
with the respect due to a master. Many of them admire him, not a
few hate him, but all of them fear him. It is rather a singular
thing that Senator La Follette, himself at the pinnacle of his
championship of the Wisconsin progressive idea, was probably on
friendlier terms with the senior Senator from Pennsylvania than any
of the other leaders of those reactionary forces with whom he was
tilting. He knew where Penrose stood and it is not at all
improbable that behind the Penrose reticence there was a modicum of
admiration for the methods of the redoubtable little colleague, who
in his way, was a more inexorable boss than Penrose himself ever
dreamed of being. The mutual understanding was there, even if it
never became articulate.
Penrose has peculiarities which put him in a niche quite his own.
He eschews conversation as an idle affectation. He dislikes to
shake hands, preferring the Chinese fashion of holding his on his
own expansive paunch. When he finds it necessary to talk at all he
speaks the precise truth as he sees it without consideration for
the feelings of those he happens to be addressing. The results are
frequently so ludicrous, particularly when he enters a colloquy on
the Senate floor, that he is given credit for a much more
pronounced sense of humor than he actually possesses. I doubt that
he is always conscious of the element of humor and I suspect that
if he realized that his observations were to evoke laughter he
would deliberately choose a less satirical or flippant method of
expression.
This temperamental characteristic was illustrated by an episode in
the Senate chamber not long ago. Penrose, entering, found his chair
occupied by a Democratic colleague who had overestimated his
capacity for the doubtful stuff that is purveyed in these days of
Volsteadism and whose condition was apparent to everyone on the
floor and in the galleries. Penrose is, perhaps, the most widely
known personage in the Senate. His towering figure makes him
conspicuous. But the most of the myriads of trippers who visit the
Capitol do not know one senator from another. They rely for
identification upon little charts showing the arrangements of the
seats on the floor each one of which is labeled with a senator's
name.
Now Penrose, might or might not have suspected that these trippers
following their charts, would pick out the snoring recumbent figure
as his own. He decided to remove all possibility of error and
addressing the chair with usual solemnity said, "Mr. President, I
desire the chair to record the fact that the seat of the senior
Senator from Pennsylvania has not been occupied by himself at the
present session. It is occupied by another." The galleries roared;
the somnolent Senator shambled over to his own side of the aisle
and Senator Penrose was given credit, by the unwise, for humor
quite unintended.
Life with Mr. Penrose is a much more serious business than most
people imagine. And it became even more serious a little while ago
when illness laid hold of him and his brother, a physician,
prescribed dietary rules restricting the freedom that he had once
exercised without restraint. There was something lion-like in the
gaunt figure in the rolling chair which he occupied when he
returned to the Senate from his sick bed. It was amazing that he
recovered; it was even more amazing that he should have submitted
to the rigorous rules laid down by his doctor, even if that doctor
was his own brother. The bated breath with which Pennsylvania
politicians awaited bulletins from his bedside was a striking
acknowledgment of the power he wields.
The evolution of Boies Penrose is an amusing commentary upon
American politics in more ways than one. Three years after he was
graduated from Harvard College he was elected to the Pennsylvania
State Legislature on a reform ticket. His election was made the
occasion for great rejoicing on the part of the good people of
Philadelphia. And well might they rejoice. They had at last driven
a wedge into the sinister political machine that had brought the
city of brotherly love into disrepute as a boss-ridden municipality.
Their young leader had wealth, which has its advantages, and social
position, which to a Philadelphian is as dear as life itself.
Moreover he had ability and all that makes for success. His fame as
a reform leader spread throughout the land and across the seas.
James Bryce, in his first edition of his American Commonwealth
cited him as an example of the sterling type of young Americans who
were arousing themselves at that time to rescue the municipal and
state governments from the grip of the vicious boss system.
In the subsequent editions of the American Commonwealth you will
find no reference to Mr. Penrose. Something had happened to him and
to the reform movement. Whether he was struck by a bolt from the
heavens or a bolt from Matthew Stanley Quay is immaterial. The fact
is that after a few years' residence in Harrisburg, the seat of the
government of the commonwealth of Pennsylvania, he counseled with
himself and solemnly decided that Providence had never selected him
to be the apostle of the political millenium.
Most men are born radicals and die conservatives. The development
is gradual and represents the result of years of experience. But
Penrose repented while there was time to make amends for his error.
He sought a very short cut. He went directly from the legislature
to the Republican organization of Philadelphia and stood as its
candidate for mayor. But his late friends, the reformers, happened
to be in the ascendency that year and he was defeated.
The story told of him at that time, whether true or not, that he
announced his willingness to take as his bride any estimable young
lady the organization might select, since the fact that he was a
bachelor was given by his henchmen as the reason of his defeat, is
typical of him. The "organization," the Republican Party,
constitutes his political creed and philosophy. He has devoted his
life to it. The "party" is his life, his religion, his family, his
hobby. Down in his soul he believes that the destiny of the
American people is so inextricably interwoven with its fortunes
that its destruction would be nothing less than national hari kari.
He does not believe that the Republican Party is perfect, but he
believes that it is as perfect as any political organization is
ever likely to be. He has no illusions concerning the men it
chooses for high places. He is never disturbed by stories of
political corruption or graft unless they are serious enough to
jeopardize forthcoming elections. Otherwise they are merely
unpleasant incidents that arise in the life of every business
organization.
If he were supreme he would not tolerate political corruption, any
more than he would tolerate murder; but since he is not supreme and
cannot dictate to all men, he accepts their efforts in the interest
of the organization even though their hands may be slightly soiled.
Like the wise general who raises a volunteer army he is not
meticulous in the choice of his privates, providing they are
capable of performing the tasks assigned to them. No seeker after
souls ever believed the end justifies the means more sincerely than
Boies Penrose believes his vote-seekers are justified in stretching
the code a bit for the benefit of the organization--particularly if
it is actually endangered.
Just as he believes in the Republican Party he believes in a high
tariff--the higher the better. Prosperity without protection is
inconceivable. During a Washington career of more than twenty years
he has been constantly caricatured as the tool of the interests--the
man upon whom they could rely to raise the tariff wall an inch
or two for their personal benefit.
He has raised it whenever he has had the opportunity to do so, but
not for the reason assigned. He is no man's tool. The suggestion
that Boies Penrose personally has ever profited financially through
politics is too absurd to be entertained for a moment. Of course,
he expects the interests, whom the party serves with tariff
protection, to save the party at the polls and they usually do so.
But that in the opinion of the senior Senator from Pennsylvania is
the essence of sound politics.
Unbelievable as it may sound in these days, Senator Penrose
actually thinks that most men are dependent for their daily bread
upon the success of a very small group of financiers, magnates, or
whatever you care to call the great leaders of the world of
business.
Years of experience has convinced him that the human race is
composed, for the most part, of hopelessly improvident people and
that a great part of the globe would be depopulated through
starvation and disease if it were not for the foresight, ability,
and thrift of the handful of leaders whom Divine Providence has
provided. He looks upon himself as one of the instruments of
Providence and he sincerely believes that the policies which he has
supported since his early experience with the reformers are
responsible for the happiness and prosperity of many a family. He
would consider it the height of absurdity for any of these poor,
worthy, but ignorant people to expect the comforts which they have
enjoyed without the protection afforded their employers by the
Republican Party.
By this somewhat unpopular method of reasoning, he believes that he
of all the men in public life has made the most persistent and
consistent fight for the masses. It is undoubtedly this calm faith
and sincere belief in his own rectitude which has enabled him to
hold the tremendous power he has exerted since Nelson Aldrich
retired from the Senate.
I have presented his political philosophy in some detail because he
is probably the most misjudged man in Washington. People are
inclined to look upon him as a glorified boss who deals in politics
as other men deal in commodities;--it is hardly a fair estimate of
the man. He considers himself the chosen leader of the most
intelligent people of a great commonwealth who is rendering
tremendous service to the country. I do not agree with that
estimate either. But taken all and all it seems to me that the
country owes him a debt of gratitude for having been sincere when
another course would have been more profitable. It is a relief to
find one at least who has never been called a hypocrite.
Senator Penrose does not hate Democrats; he does not consider them
important enough for that; he merely despises them. They are to his
mind an inferior class of human beings who should not be intrusted
with the affairs of the nation. Reformers irritate him. They are
either self-seeking hypocrites or deluded. In neither case has he
the time nor inclination to listen to their suggestions or heed
their maledictions.
He had an abiding hatred for Theodore Roosevelt when he was in the
White House, but he supported him loyally so long as he was the
leader of the Party. When Colonel Roosevelt bolted the hatred ran
the last gamut. He was classed as an arch criminal for having
smashed the organization.
Penrose is an enigma to those who know him only casually,
especially those who view life through the rose glasses of culture.
They marvel at the extent to which he has been able to dictate to
men who appear to be his superiors. I have heard him called a cave
man by some, by others a boor; but he is neither. He observes the
amenities of life so far as they are necessary, but only so far. He
is impatient of mediocrity; he will not tolerate stupidity and he
loathes hypocrisy. I would not say that he has bad manners; he has
none at all.
Throughout the recent eclipse of the Republican Party, which began
with the Roosevelt default, no member remained more steadfast than
the Pennsylvania leader. He accepted the inevitable and bided his
time like the politicians of the old school of which he is one of
the few conspicuous surviving examples. Expediency does not enter
into his make-up; he made no effort to keep himself in the
limelight, for he is by the Party, of the Party, and for the Party.
Now that the Party is back again, in power, more than one of his
colleagues suspect that Penrose, if his health permits, will emerge
from the background as the real leader of the Senate majority. His
political past is against him. But he knows men and his tutelage
under Aldrich has not been forgotten.