Oscar S. Straus

The Progressive spirit is kindled and shaped into a cause—My speech at the banquet of the New York Chamber of Commerce in 1910—Roosevelt's hostility to boss rule—Liberals impatient with Taft Administration—Governors demand Roosevelt—He advocates recall of judicial decisions—This stand believed to have caused his defeat—New York State Progressive Convention is deadlocked—"Suspender Jack" nominates me for Governor and stampedes convention—I decline to consider Republican nomination—Sulzer's "non-Jewish but pro-Jewish" slogan—I stump the State—Bainbridge Colby "impersonates" me—Roosevelt, shot by a lunatic, heroically addresses Milwaukee mass meeting—I am needed in national campaign—The dramatic Roosevelt speech in Madison Square Garden—His tribute to me—Election returns—Progressives poorly organized—Their cause a crusade.

In the torrential flood of American politics, two main currents are continuously perceptible. There are, of course, innumerable permanent and temporary cross-currents, eddies, and other variations, but the two main currents are ever present. One may be generally described as professional, mechanical, and ruled by the accomplished and consummate selfishness of invisible forces. The other, while more genuine in spirit, is often amateurish in effort; it is more spontaneous; it is kindled by emotions of revolt; it sees mankind not as masses to be exploited, and profited by, but as individuals to be set freer to express themselves socially and economically. It strives to restate the better aspirations of men generally, and to mitigate some of the pressure that civilization imposes upon them.

It is not the province of the historian to moralize. It is his business to trace the changing currents of human thought and to produce accurate pictures of men in action. And so, in touching on the Progressives, I shall endeavor to give some indication of the mental processes that shaped their cause, and to depict some of the dramatic scenes that carried their cause into action. Many of these scenes I was able to observe closely. In a sense, I may have figured more definitely than I realized at the time, in kindling their cause into smoke and flame.

On November 17, 1910, the New York Chamber of Commerce held its one hundred and forty-second annual banquet at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. The speakers were Senator Henry Cabot Lodge, of Massachusetts; Governor Horace White, of New York; Mayor William J. Gaynor, of New York City; and myself. The president of the Chamber, the late A. Barton Hepburn, presided. My subject was "American Prestige," and I could not refrain from referring to the great extent to which American influence and prestige had been advanced by Roosevelt, both as President and during his tour through Europe. There was instant and prolonged applause at the mention of Roosevelt's name, clearly showing that his political influence was not dead, contrary to the ideas of many who thought so because the election of a few days before had shown sweeping Democratic gains and the defeat of Roosevelt's candidate for Governor, Henry L. Stimson. When the banquet was over, Senator Lodge said to me that if the political opponents of Roosevelt could have seen the enthusiasm with which his name was applauded, they would realize that even in New York he was as much alive as ever.

When I had met Roosevelt in Cairo on his way back from Africa, we had talked frequently about politics at home. It was clear to me from his conversation that he did not propose to be enticed or forced into accepting any nomination, although there was talk, yes, I may say a demand, that he reËnter public life as either Governor of New York or United States Senator.

Roosevelt was so loyal a Republican that his opponents constantly chided him for going along with the bosses, like Senator Platt, for instance, and at the same time advocating reforms. He used to reply that he did and would continue to coÖperate with the bosses so long as they went his way. His aim from the time he entered public life as a member of the New York State Assembly was to make the party always more responsive to its highest ideals; and from the beginning he worked against the "invisible powers" or boss rule. By word and deed all through his life he showed an independence and moral courage that careless observers might often have mistaken for headlong impetuosity. No one could know him without recognizing that he was broad-minded, liberal, and inherently progressive.

When he arrived home from abroad in June, 1910, he found the Republican Party disrupted. The dissatisfaction and impatience of the liberals was distinctly evident. By 1912 Taft had allowed himself to become so thoroughly identified with the reactionaries that the large independent element had not only become unenthusiastic, but decidedly hostile to the Administration. In his Winona speech President Taft had ranked himself on the side of those leaders in the party who opposed real tariff reform. In his famous Norton letter he had even gone so far as to imply, if not to expressly admit, that federal Patronage had been used against the Progressives in Congress.

The Progressive element both in and out of Congress was therefore casting about for a candidate who represented the liberal wing of the party, for nomination at the National Republican Convention at Chicago in June. Roosevelt's office at "The Outlook" was daily crowded with liberal leaders who had come to consult with him and to urge him to "throw his hat in the ring," to use one of Roosevelt's own picturesque expressions. This demand grew and spread until finally came the following appeal from the Governors of the States of Kansas, Michigan, Missouri, Nebraska, New Hampshire, West Virginia, and Wyoming:

We feel that you will be unresponsive to a plain public duty if you decline to accept the nomination coming as the voluntary expression of the wishes of a majority of the Republican voters of the United States through the action of their delegates in the next National Convention.

To this message Roosevelt replied:

One of the chief principles for which I have stood and for which I now stand, and which I have always endeavoured and always shall endeavour to reduce to action, is the genuine rule of the people; and, therefore, I hope that so far as possible the people may be given the chance, through direct primaries, to express their preference as to who shall be the nominee of the Republican Presidential Convention.

During this period I called on Roosevelt one day at the offices of "The Outlook," and he handed me the galley-proof of a speech he was to make before the Constitutional Convention at Columbus, Ohio. He called it "The Charter of Democracy." His room was full of callers, so I went into Dr. Abbott's office and there carefully read the speech. In it Roosevelt advocated, among other reforms such as the short ballot and the initiative and referendum, the recall of judicial decisions. When I came to that subject I confess I was shocked, and so expressed myself to one of the editors of "The Outlook"; as I remember it, it was Dr. Abbott himself. Compelled to keep another appointment, I left the office when I had finished reading the speech, saying that I should return later.

Upon my return I met Roosevelt just as he was going out to keep an engagement.

"I hear you don't like my speech," he said to me.

"I like your speech; I think it is fine; all but that portion of it which refers to the recall of judicial decisions," I answered. I started to give my reasons, but seeing that he was pressed for time, I said: "I should like to discuss that matter with you, provided your mind is open on the subject." To my great surprise he said that he had thought the subject over very carefully, and frankly told me that he had come to a definite decision on it.

That was so unlike the Roosevelt I knew in the many discussions I had had with him, when invariably I found his mind responsive, that I was quite disappointed and somewhat taken back. But I did not want him to feel that I had joined the ranks of the many who had parted political company with him because he had made it known that he would accept another nomination for President, and so, on reaching my office, I wrote him a letter, briefly explaining why I objected to his statements regarding the recall of judicial decisions. I assured him that on that account I did not part from him politically, for after all I agreed with him more than with any other candidate who might possibly be named.

The birth and development of the Progressive Party is, of course, an element of national history that has often been detailed. William Draper Lewis, in his "Life of Theodore Roosevelt," and Lawrence F. Abbott, in his "Impressions of Theodore Roosevelt," both give clear accounts of it. Roosevelt's candidacy and defeat have been variously analyzed, but I believe now, as I believed in 1912, that but for this unfortunate statement regarding judicial decisions, Roosevelt would have been re-elected President in 1912. It is true that he afterwards clarified the meaning of his use of the word "recall"; that its application was limited to such decisions as held legislative acts unconstitutional, and that such decisions might at the following election be submitted to popular vote, in accordance with the method employed by a State for the adoption of its constitution. But his clarification never overcame the effects of the Columbus speech. William Draper Lewis, who was one of Roosevelt's closest advisers at the time, says in his biography:

Looking back now over the events leading up to the Republican National Convention of 1912, it would appear almost certain that had he, in his address before the Ohio Convention, either refrained from making the proposal or had he called it a new method of amending the constitution, and carefully explained it so that it could not have been misunderstood, it is most probable that he would have been nominated at Chicago, and that the whole course of the recent history of the United States would have been other than it has been.

Shortly after the Columbus speech, Roosevelt delivered, on March 20, 1912, at Carnegie Hall, New York, what was in many respects the most forceful and eloquent address I ever heard him make. He graphically described his dedication to his ideals of democracy:

Our task as Americans is to strive for social and industrial justice, achieved through the genuine rule of the people. This is our end, our purpose. The methods for achieving the end are merely expedients, to be finally accepted or rejected according as actual experience shows that they work well or ill. But in our hearts we must have this lofty purpose, and we must strive for it in all earnestness and sincerity, or our work will come to nothing. In order to succeed, we need leaders of inspired idealism, leaders to whom are granted great visions, who dream greatly and strive to make their dreams come true; who can kindle the people with the fire from their own burning souls.The leader for the time being, whoever he may be, is but an instrument, to be used until broken and then to be cast aside; and if he is worth his salt, he will care no more when he is broken than a soldier cares when he is sent where his life is forfeit in order that the victory may be won.

If on this new continent we merely build another country of great but unjustly divided material prosperity, we shall have done nothing; and we shall do as little if we merely set the greed of envy against the greed of arrogance, and thereby destroy the material well-being of all of us. To turn this government into government by plutocracy or government by a mob would be to repeat on a larger scale the lamentable failures of the world that is dead. We stand against all tyranny, by the few or by the many. We stand for the rule of the many in the interest of all of us, for the rule of the many in the spirit of courage, of common sense, of high purpose, above all, in a spirit of kindly justice towards every man and every woman.

A month after the meeting of the National Convention of the Progressive Party, popularly called the "Bull Moose Convention," which nominated Theodore Roosevelt for President and Hiram W. Johnson for Vice-President, the New York State Convention of the Progressive Party met at Syracuse, in the Arena. The convention met on September 5th.

All during the first day and night, amid lively discussion as to the selection of candidates for Governor, committees urged me for permission to present my name as a candidate; but I steadfastly declined, since the governorship, being so largely a political office, did not appeal to me. I was neither by training nor by temperament a politician, although I had taken active part in campaigns for many years, both local and national. The next day I was asked to take the permanent chairmanship of the convention. This I was willing and glad to do; I wanted to be of service to the party; also it was a foregone conclusion that acceptance of the chairmanship would preclude my being considered a candidate for the nomination for Governor.

The Arena was filled with about seven thousand delegates and members of the new Progressive Party. The air was surcharged with the spirit of the new movement—the genuine enthusiasm of men and women of character and standing from every county in the State, and among them a great many ministers, professors, reformers, and leaders of benevolent and charitable movements. There was a conspicuous absence of the professional politician. Indeed, that convention had more the character of a town meeting than of a cut-and-dried political convention. Instead of having decisions made for them, this great body of enthusiasts were called upon to make their own. The candidates had not even been agreed upon.

On September 6th I took my gavel in hand and called the meeting to order. The first business before the convention was the nomination of a candidate for Governor. The secretary called the counties of the State in alphabetical order, and the chairman of each delegation made his nomination. The outstanding candidates for nomination were William H. Hotchkiss, one of the organizers of the Progressive Party and chairman of the National Committee, and William A. Prendergast, comptroller of the City of New York, who had made the speech nominating Roosevelt for President at the Chicago Convention. A deadlock between these two candidates ensued.

After Yates County had been heard from, a tall, gaunt young man towered to his feet and asked to be heard; he was from the Fifteenth Manhattan District, and he had a nomination to make. It was not quite in order, though the spirit of the convention was to give each man a chance. While I was hesitating about recognizing him, there seemed to be a general desire that he be given an opportunity to speak, so I gave him five minutes.

He looked fantastic as he strode to the platform and faced the audience. His manner was somewhat bizarre. He burst forth in dramatic fashion as follows:

Fellow citizens, ladies and gentlemen: I have just come down from Vermont. I ask you people at this convention to make no mistake.

We want to put a man up for Governor that no man will be afraid to cast his vote for, against whom there can be no charge leveled of misconduct of any kind, one who can sweep the State from Montauk Point to Lake Erie, and carry every man of every race, religion, and creed; a man whose name is known throughout the civilized world; a man the mention of whose name brings a tear of sympathy to the eye of almost every man and woman in the civilized land; a man whose name, wherever men are found with red blood in their veins, irrespective of race, religion, and creed, will be carried thundering throughout the State to victory.

There is no chance for defeat with this man at the head of the ticket—

"Who is your candidate?" cried impatient listeners.

"What's his name?"

"Name your candidate!"

In sudden answer to these cries from the convention, the speaker exclaimed:

I nominate the illustrious and honorable Oscar S. Straus.

During the long, terrific applause that followed, the delegate stood awkwardly waiting for a chance to finish. Finally he went on:

We should take no chances in this fight. I could not say one undeserved word if I used the entire dictionary in praise of the other nominees, Mr. Hotchkiss and Mr. Prendergast; but, gentlemen, Mr. Prendergast or Mr. Hotchkiss would cause friction in the State. We want no friction in this election. We want success and victory.Gentlemen, there is not a newspaper editor in the State of New York that would any more assassinate the character of Oscar S. Straus than he would assassinate the character of his own mother.

Gentlemen, remember! Remember that Rome was saved by the cackle of geese. I have no political prestige, but I warn and charge you, put up a man for candidate for governor who cannot and will not be defeated.

Gentlemen, gentlemen, heed me! Make no mistake about Oscar S. Straus. You will make no mistake in putting him up as your candidate, and you will capture victory and success. No man has had better distinction at home and abroad than Mr. Straus. I ask you to vote for him.

The moment he finished, a stampede started. The entire hall assumed the aspect of a good-natured bedlam. There was cheering and applause, and many of the delegates began marching round that big auditorium, brandishing the banners of their counties, singing "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" and "Onward, Christian Soldiers," and breaking out in the end with "Straus! Straus! We want Straus!"

I pounded the desk with the gavel, I shook my head in the negative, but to no avail. The noise lasted fully twenty minutes.

The picturesque young man who had precipitated this scene was John G. McGee, known among his colleagues as "Suspender Jack." He had been a member of the mounted police of New York City.

Meanwhile Mr. Hotchkiss and several other leaders came to the platform and insisted upon my accepting. They even brought Mrs. Straus up with the hope of getting her to exert her persuasive powers. There was no alternative; I had to accept.

Mr. Hotchkiss announced my acceptance, and immediately former Lieutenant-Governor Timothy L. Woodruff announced the withdrawal of Mr. Prendergast and moved to make the nomination unanimous by acclamation. That produced more shouting and cheering, accompanied by much applause and the waving of banners. It was a touching manifestation and an unexpected honor. I made a brief speech of acceptance, during which I found it difficult to hide the effect of all this demonstration. And with more applause and cheering, the session closed with the singing of "The Star-Spangled Banner."

The next morning the convention named for Lieutenant-Governor Frederick M. Davenport, who was Professor of Law and Politics at Hamilton College and had made an admirable record in the State Legislature. The ticket was then quickly completed and the convention closed.

The nominations were received with great favor all through the State and in the press. Roosevelt at the time was in the Far West conducting his own campaign, and wrote me from Spokane as follows:

The Spokane
Spokane, Washington
September 8, 1912

Dear Straus:

When I left New York I had expected Prendergast to be nominated and there were certain reasons, which I think you know, why I felt that, as a matter of principle, his nomination should be made.

But there was a still further principle involved, and that was that in this Convention the people should have their own way; and, upon my word, I am inclined to think that it was a new illustration of the fact that the wisdom of all of us is better than the wisdom of any of us. Having in view the effect, not only in New York but the country at large, I think that your nomination stands second only to that of Hiram Johnson as Vice-President, from the standpoint of strengthening the ticket. If the only result of the next election were to place you in as Governor of New York, I should be inclined to think that the Progressive Party had justified itself.

My dear fellow, I am overjoyed; I congratulate you with all my heart. Give my love to dear Mrs. Straus and to Roger and your two daughters and all the grandchildren.

Ever yours

Theodore Roosevelt

A few days thereafter he gave out the following interview:

Next in importance to the nomination of the Vice-President is the nomination for Governor of New York. And it seems to me that Hiram Johnson and Oscar Straus symbolize what this movement stands for. One is an ex-Republican, the other an ex-Democrat; they both stand for what is highest in American citizenship.

Mr. Straus is not merely a high-minded and able man, a man of incorruptible integrity and great ability, but also a man who has kept abreast of the great movement from which sprang the Progressive Party. He is eminently fitted to be one of the leaders in this movement. On every point of our platform he represents an intense earnestness of conviction for all the things for which we stand. His attitude toward business, his attitude toward the complicated, and the vitally important social and economic problems which are dealt with in our plank concerning social and industrial justice; in short, his whole position on governmental matters has been such as to warrant our saying that he is already in practice applying the very principles which we preach.

New York State has a right to be proud of the fact that in this first State Convention of the people themselves Mr. Straus's nomination was, in the most emphatic sense, a nomination by the people themselves, a nomination representing the desire of the people to have the very best man take the office, although that man was himself sincerely desirous to escape having to take it.

I have known Mr. Straus intimately ever since I was Governor of New York. When he was in my Cabinet I leaned much upon him, and a more loyal and disinterested friend no man could have, and, what is more important, no man could have a more loyal, disinterested, and sanely zealous supporter. As head of the Department of Commerce and Labor Mr. Straus himself, by study and administration of the law, was one of those who reached conclusions as to the needs of our handling of the anti-trust and interstate commerce and similar laws, which I set forth in message after message to Congress, and which were substantially embodied in the Progressive platform; and in his attitude toward labor, toward immigration, toward the duty both of public and private employees, he foreshadowed that part of the Progressive platform which has dealt with these same matters.

Moreover, by his disinterestedness, his unselfish devotion to the cause of good government and of sound progressive doctrine for economic and social reform, and by his willingness personally to sacrifice his own interests to those of the cause he espouses, he is, I am happy to say, typical of all men who are in the new movement.

Exactly as it is a real sacrifice for Hiram Johnson to accept the nomination for Vice-President, so it is a real sacrifice for Oscar Straus to accept the nomination for Governor of New York. Each has accepted because he is not thinking of himself. He is thinking of his duty to the people as a whole; of his duty to the great Nation to which he belongs. Oscar Straus's nomination is not only a most fortunate thing for the New York Progressives, but it is also a piece of real good fortune for the Progressive movement throughout this Nation.

When the Republicans had their convention at Saratoga a short while after my nomination at Syracuse, several of their prominent State leaders telegraphed me to inquire whether I would accept the Republican nomination. They feared that with three candidates in the field the State would go Democratic. One of my managers favored my acceptance, which would without doubt have meant election. But my chief adviser, Chairman Hotchkiss, agreed with me that my accepting the Republican nomination, without the endorsement by the Republicans of the Progressive platform, would destroy the Progressive Party in the State, if not throughout the country. I therefore sent an immediate reply that while I should welcome the support of any group or party that chose to give it, I could not accept a nomination that did not mean an endorsement and acceptance of the platform on which I stood. On hearing of this, Roosevelt telegraphed me from Memphis: "Three cheers for you. You are a perfect trump and you always do the right thing."

The Republican candidate was Job E. Hedges, a brilliant member of the New York Bar. The Democrats nominated William Sulzer, and Tammany Hall sanctioned the selection because he was considered a good opponent who would attract the Jewish vote. But our politicians make no greater mistake than to believe that there is such a thing as a Jewish group vote. Of course, a candidate who by word or action has shown prejudice against or hostility toward the Jews could not expect their suffrage; but beyond that the Jews are not controllable as a group at the polls. However, as chairman of the Committee on Foreign Affairs of the House, Sulzer had taken a prominent part in the abrogation of our treaty with Russia, and during the campaign the slogan, "non-Jewish but pro-Jewish," was designed to bring him the support of the mass of Jewish voters in addition to the regular Democratic vote.

On the whole the campaign was conducted with dignity on all sides. There was a noticeable absence of vilification of candidates and general mud-slinging between the camps, as is too often the case in keenly contested elections. My campaign managers arranged for me to make addresses in every county and almost every city throughout the State. I had a special car in which traveled, besides Mr. Davenport, my wife and me, and several other speakers, a dozen or more reporters from the leading papers.

I made my first speech in Getty Square, Yonkers, and from there I traveled for seven weeks, making ten to fifteen speeches every day except Sundays, including short talks at stations and from the rear platform of my car. Sometimes I made speeches before breakfast, to crowds that had gathered at the station, and there were always two or three, and often more, formal addresses a day in some public hall, to which I would be escorted from the train with a band of music, and sometimes with a fife and drum corps, invariably playing "Onward, Christian Soldiers." So many clergymen took part in the campaign that frequently the meetings were opened with a prayer. Many of the meetings were spontaneous, emphasizing the crusading spirit which was so characteristic of the campaign.

One of my slogans was that I was the "unbossed candidate of the unbossed people." One day up in the northern part of the State I was speaking on a raised platform in the open, and, as usual, my time was limited by the train schedule. A member of the committee told my wife, who was sitting behind me, that the train would leave in a few minutes, and that it was time for me to stop, and just as I got to the middle of the phrase, "unbossed candidate—" she pulled my coat-tail as a signal for me to stop. At that moment I was quite evidently not the "unbossed candidate" that I professed to be, and the audience laughed and cheered with amusement. I think that bit of bossing, however, did not cost me any votes.

Mr. Davenport proved himself a most effective campaign speaker. Another effective orator in our party for a short time was Bainbridge Colby, who discharged with great distinction the important duties of Secretary of State during the last year of the Wilson Administration. At Oneonta and at one or two other places, while I was taking a much-needed rest, the crowds had gathered and were calling for me. Mr. Colby, without being introduced, responded for me, and the audiences were left with the impression that they had listened to me. My cause certainly did not suffer by my being so admirably represented, or perhaps I should say advantageously misrepresented.

Roosevelt in the meantime had flung himself into the campaign with all the force of his tremendous vigor and energy, and gave to it a dynamic impulse that grew in intensity as he progressed through the country. He went out to the Pacific Coast, returned through the Southern States to New York City, speaking at every important center. In September he went through New England. In October he started on his final tour through the Middle West, and it was while on this trip that he was shot by a lunatic just as he was leaving his hotel to make a speech in the Auditorium in Milwaukee. The incident, tragic in itself, was made dramatic by his heroism. With the bullet in his breast and his clothes soaked with blood, disregarding the entreaties of his companions, he went on to the Auditorium and spoke for more than an hour. To him nothing counted except the triumph of the principles for which he was fighting.

In consequence of this accident the national managers had me leave the State of New York and take up the national campaign, which I did cheerfully. No one, of course, could fill Roosevelt's engagements, but the plan was to rescue the cause so far as possible, and I spoke in several of the larger cities where meetings had been scheduled for Roosevelt, principally Chicago, Cincinnati, and Cleveland. My intense anxiety regarding the condition of my chief during this time was greatly relieved by assuring telegrams from Mrs. Roosevelt and his nephew, George Emlen Roosevelt, who were both at his side.

Two final rallies were arranged in Madison Square Garden, New York—one on Wednesday, October 30th, for the national ticket, and the second on Friday, November 1st, for the State ticket. Roosevelt, though not well, considered himself sufficiently recovered to appear. His physicians, Doctors Lambert and Brewer, had prescribed no more campaign speeches, in fact, did not want him to go to these meetings; but he brushed aside their injunctions and left Oyster Bay for Madison Square.

His presence at the national rally was his first public appearance since the shooting, and keyed-up the meeting to a high dramatic pitch. Fully eighteen thousand persons were in the auditorium and a few thousand more were outside clamoring for admission. When Roosevelt appeared on the platform, a roar of applause broke loose and continued for forty-five minutes.

Roosevelt's speech, characteristically, was confined to a plea for the Progressive cause and for the State ticket; no word for himself. He appeared in good form and to possess his usual vigor, although it was observed that he did not use his right arm. His speech was earnest, calm, and exalted, closing with what he called his political creed:

I am glad beyond measure that I am one of the many who in this fight have stood ready to spend and be spent, pledged to fight while life lasts the great fight for righteousness and for brotherhood and for the welfare of mankind.

At the rally for the State ticket two nights later the crowd inside the Garden was as large as at the national rally, though there were fewer people outside. The enthusiasm was at the same high pitch. When I arose to speak, the cheering began and lasted twenty-seven minutes before it could be checked. Roosevelt was expected during the evening. His physicians had reminded him when he started from home that he had promised not to speak any more in the campaign, to which he humorously replied that he had promised not to speak for himself, but that this time he would talk for Oscar Straus and Fred Davenport and the candidates on the judiciary ticket!

At the close of my thirty-minute address, Roosevelt appeared. The crowd went wild, and stopped cheering only when Mr. Hotchkiss, who was presiding, besought them to stop out of consideration for the Colonel. Roosevelt spoke for an hour and held that vast audience in rapt attention. He devoted the first half of his speech to outlining the Progressive cause, its meaning and purpose, and the second half to advocating the State ticket. He referred to my public career in terms of unmeasured praise, beginning with my first mission to Turkey. He told the crowd that everywhere he spoke, from the Great Lakes to the Gulf and from the Atlantic to the Pacific, he had "found that the name of Oscar Straus was a name with which to conjure," and that it "helped the Progressive cause in California and in New Mexico, in Illinois and in Kansas, that we here in New York had named such a man as our candidate for Governor." He then gave accounts of the personal services and qualifications of the other members of the ticket, and with this meeting the Progressive campaign of 1912 closed with a blaze of unforgettable enthusiasm.

On election day I received the following letter from Roosevelt:

Oyster Bay
November 5, 1912

Dear Oscar:

I count myself fortunate in having run upon the same ticket with you and in having had the privilege of supporting you. You are the kind of American who makes one proud of being an American; and I wish also to say that I feel just the same way about all your family, your dear wife, your two daughters and son. It is just such a family, and just such a family life, as I like to think of as typical of our citizenship at its best.

With affectionate regard and esteem

Faithfully yours

Theodore Roosevelt

The Progressives, as might have been expected, had been poorly organized. The time had been too short for intensive development of our forces. We had no machine, and in a number of the counties there was scarcely a skeleton of an organization. It was, in fact, not a party in the ordinary sense of the word at all, but rather a crusade, and what we lacked in organization we made up by an abundance of spontaneous ardor. We did not really expect victory, although Roosevelt several times said that while he knew he would be defeated, he thought I would be elected. As a matter of fact, I believe I was the only candidate of the Progressive cause for Governor in any State who ran ahead of Roosevelt. In New York State he got 389,000 votes, in round numbers, while I had 393,000.

I knew from observations during my campaign from one end of the State to the other, how poorly, from a political standpoint, the Progressives were organized, and I confess I did not see the slightest chance of being elected. I was not disappointed, and I think that the men generally who ran for offices on the Progressive ticket were not disappointed. They realized that their contest was waged for a cause and not for office, and from an educational point of view the campaign was eminently successful.

Considering the vastness of the undertaking and the shortness of the time, we did as well as any of us could have anticipated, if not better. We were confident that the cause would triumph, in a degree at least, no matter what party was in power, and I think the facts amply justify our belief that the Progressive ideals made a definite impression upon the country, and have given strength, if not dominant influence, to Progressive principles in both of the old parties.