A. Lincoln

by Ronald C. White, Jr.

  The Republican convention met in the Wigwam, a tentlike structure built to hold upward of ten thousand people.

  On May 12, 1860, David Davis arrived in Chicago to find that all the major candidates had established headquarters except Lincoln. He promptly rented two rooms at the Tremont House, paid the bill from his own pocket, and went to work around the clock. He drew together an inner circle of managers: lawyers from the old Eighth Circuit such as Leonard Swett, Stephen Logan, and Henry C. Whitney; several of Lincoln’s political colleagues, including Norman Judd, Jesse Fell, Jesse Dubois, and Ozias Hatch; and newspapermen Joseph Medill and Charles Ray. Davis gave each man specific assignments. Almost everyone in Illinois was from somewhere else, so Davis dispatched his associates to visit the delegations of their home states: Richard Yates and Stephen Logan to work on delegates from Kentucky; Swett to speak with delegates from Maine; and Ward Hill Lamon, an old lawyer friend, to lobby the Virginia delegation. Orville Browning had told Lincoln in February he was supporting Bates, but he had a change of heart and proved invaluable in speaking with delegates leaning toward the St. Louisian.

  The massive Davis sat behind a large table receiving reports from his lieutenants. From time to time, he would speak with an arriving state delegation. A critical delegation was Indiana, with twenty-six votes, which arrived with a majority for Bates. Davis understood that Lincoln, aside from being simply a favorite son, needed to garner votes from some other states on the first ballot if he was to make a move on the second and third ballots. It was Davis’s policy not to put other candidates down, but to lift Lincoln up. His purpose was to secure pledges that Lincoln would be a delegation’s second choice to which they would turn if their first choice faltered.

  In Springfield, Lincoln was biding his time between his law office and the telegraph office on the north side of the public square. The accepted protocol was that candidates not appear at conventions. Lincoln told Swett, “He was almost too much of a candidate to go, and not quite enough to stay home.” Lincoln’s team in Chicago was a good deal more confident than the candidate himself. On May 13, 1860, Dubois wired Lincoln, “We are here in great confusion things this evening look as favorable as we had any right to expect.”

  On Tuesday, May 14, 1860, one day before the convention opened, the Chicago Press & Tribune ran a huge headline: “The Winning Man—Abraham Lincoln.” Lincoln received numerous telegrams from friends and advisers in Chicago. Nathan M. Knapp, chairman of the Scott County Republican Committee, who had long believed that Lincoln did not fully appreciate “his own power,” sent a telegram after conversations with the Indiana delegation. “Things are working; keep a good nerve—be not surprised at any result.” He told Lincoln, “We are laboring to make you the second choice of all the Delegations we can where we cannot make you first choice.”

  On this tumultuous Tuesday, some of Lincoln’s friends were signaling him that it might help if he were present in Chicago to make his case and answer questions, but Davis and Dubois were adamant: “Dont come unless we send for you.” Editor Ray of the Chicago Tribune sent what Lincoln must have received as a mixed message. “Don’t be too sanguine. Matters now look well and as things stand to-day I had rather have your chances than those of any other man. But don’t get excited.”

  The convention opened at noon on Wednesday, May 16, 1860. As the proceedings began in the Wigwam, twice as many watched outside as could fit inside. The first afternoon was devoted to organization and the appointment of committees.

  Thursday, May 17, 1860, a warm, balmy day, was devoted to the adoption of the platform, which tempered the tone but not the basic conviction of the 1856 convention’s condemnation of the extension of slavery. The platform also contained planks that Lincoln had long supported: a protective tariff, dear to the hearts of Pennsylvania and New Jersey delegates; federal support for rivers and harbors, important for Chicago and Detroit; a homestead act for free land, which was imperative for farmers in the West and for German-Americans; and building a railroad to the Pacific Ocean, supported by delegates from Iowa, Missouri, Oregon, and California.

  The Illinois delegation took little part in the public platform debates because they were trolling for votes in private meetings with key delegations. The Lincoln camp knew that Seward was strongest in the northern tier of states where Republicans could expect to win in 1860—Maine, Massachusetts, New York, Michigan, Wisconsin, and Mnnesota. The most intense attention was focused on the four crucial states that Buchanan had won in 1856—Illinois, Indiana, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey.

  On the same day, Edward L. Baker, editor of the Illinois State Journal, arrived in Chicago. He brought with him a copy of the Missouri Democrat, which he handed to Davis. Lincoln had written in pencil on the edge of the paper: “Make no contracts that will bind me.” It has long been debated how Davis did or did not act upon this message. At the time, he was negotiating with Pennsylvania and its rich harvest of fifty-four votes. If Senator Simon Cameron of Pennsylvania could be offered a cabinet post, it might make the difference, but Lincoln was signaling that he would have none of it. Davis may have offered a position to Cameron, but it is more likely he said that certainly Pennsylvania would deserve a place in a Lincoln cabinet. Lincoln’s terse instruction revealed his earliest thought on the way he intended to govern.

  IN CHICAGO, balloting commenced on Friday, May 18, 1860, at 10 a.m. Davis may have been the campaign manager, but no one had prepared for this day longer than Judd. As the one who had secured the convention for Chicago, he took charge of seating arrangements, placing the New York and Pennsylvania delegations at opposite ends of the Wigwam where they would have great difficulty conversing. As a railroad lawyer, he arranged for special excursion fares to bring Lincoln supporters from all over the state. Finally, Judd had extra tickets printed, so that on Friday morning additional Lincoln supporters arrived at the Wigwam early, thereby denying places to Seward supporters. Once inside, the Lincoln “shouters” drowned out the outnumbered Seward backers.

  In Springfield, Lincoln braced himself for rebuff once again. At eight-thirty he walked over to James Conkling’s law office located over Chatterton’s jewelry store. Lincoln had learned that Conkling, who had been at the Republican convention, had unexpectedly returned from Chicago. Conkling was out, but later in the morning Lincoln found his friend in. Stretching his long frame on an old settee by the front window, Lincoln asked Conkling what he expected to happen that day at the convention. Conkling answered that he believed Lincoln would be nominated because there was so much opposition to Seward. Lincoln replied that “he hardly thought this possible,” and that if Seward was blocked, the nomination would go to Bates or Chase. Lincoln presently declared, “Well, Conkling, I believe I will go back to my office and practice law. ”

  In Chicago, Seward’s name was the first to be placed in nomination by the renowned lawyer William M. Evarts. Judd stood second to nominate Lincoln. Caleb B. Smith of Indiana, who had served in Congress with Lincoln, seconded the nomination.

  The clerk began the balloting, not by alphabetical order, as is the custom today, but by geographical order. The clerk shouted, “Maine.” Maine gave ten votes to Seward and six votes to Lincoln: surprise. But Maine’s split vote was no surprise to Davis and his lieutenants. New York cast its seventy votes for Seward. No surprise.

  In Springfield, just before noon, editor Baker burst into Lincoln’s office with the results of the first ballot: Seward 173½; Lincoln 102; Cameron 50½; Chase 49; Bates 48; and McLean 12. Lincoln and his advisers believed that Seward had arrived in Chicago with at least 150 votes. Lincoln knew that Seward’s vote total had to include all 70 votes from New York, the largest state. This meant Seward had barely more than 100 votes from the other delegations. The most heartening news was that Indiana cast all of its 26 votes for Lincoln. Lincoln had told Browning that Bates could well be the benefactor of the stop-Seward movement, but no state gave the majority of its votes to Bates. Two hundred thirty-three votes were neede
d for the nomination.

  In Chicago, delegates cried out, “Call the Roll,” eager for the second ballot to begin. Vermont. The Green Mountain state, which had given its ten votes on the first ballot to favorite son Senator Jacob Col-lamer, called out, “Ten votes for Lincoln.” Lincoln garnered five new votes from Rhode Island and Connecticut, where he had spoken so effectively not more than two months earlier. The Keystone state, Pennsylvania, which every delegate knew was critical to a Republican victory in 1860, after some delay, called out “Forty-eight votes for Lincoln.” A gain of forty-four votes. The vast army of Lincoln supporters inside and outside the Wigwam shouted and cheered. Delaware changed all six of its votes from Bates to Lincoln. The clerk continued, with Lincoln picking up a few votes here and there as the roll call moved west.

  William H. Seward, senator from New York, arrived in Chicago as the leading candidate.

  The results of the second balloting were announced: Seward 184½; Lincoln 181; Chase 42½; Bates 35; Dayton 10; McLean 8; Cameron 2; and Clay 2. Lincoln had picked up seventy-nine votes while Seward gained only eleven. Instantly, everyone knew Lincoln was gaining.

  In Springfield, Lincoln was fidgety. He decided to walk over to the Illinois and Mississippi telegraph office to see if there were any new telegrams. Finding none, he proceeded to the offices of the Illinois State Journal. On the way over he stopped to talk with some young men with whom he had played the game of “fives,” an early form of handball, on the previous day. After a few minutes, a telegram arrived with the surprising results of the second ballot.

  In Chicago, the third ballot began immediately amid tremendous excitement inside and outside the Wigwam. Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont: no changes. Massachusetts took four votes from Seward and gave them to Lincoln. Lincoln also gained in Rhode Island, Connecticut, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Kentucky. The clerk called Ohio. Lincoln had spoken in Ohio and earned friends there. Medill, who had lived in Ohio for more than twenty years before moving to Chicago, had been sitting in and working on the Ohio delegation. The Wigwam gasped when Ohio awarded Lincoln twenty-nine votes, a pickup of fifteen.

  As the roll call moved west, hundreds of pencils scratched everywhere, keeping a running tally. Lincoln had now reached 231½. He needed only one and a half more votes to be nominated. David Cartter, chairman of the Ohio delegation, a Cleveland lawyer, rose to speak in a Wigwam suddenly silent. “I-I a-a-rise, Mr. Chairman, to a-a-nounce”—Cartter stuttered, as he always did—“the c-c-change of f-four votes, from Mr. Chase to Abraham Lincoln.”

  In Springfield, where Lincoln sat in a large armchair in the offices of the Journal, a telegram was run in telling him he was nominated on the third ballot. Another telegram, moments later, told him that the New York delegation moved to make the nomination unanimous. More and more telegrams poured in, including one from Nathan Knapp: “We did it—glory to God.” Lincoln accepted congratulations all around. Presently he told the growing throng of friends, “Well gentlemen there is a little woman at our house who is probably more interested in this dispatch than I am.”

  Shortly after Lincoln’s nomination as the Republican candidate, he sat for this photograph in Springfield at the suggestion of campaign biographer Joseph H. Barrett.

  CHAPTER 15

  Justice and Fairness to All May 1860–November 1860

  LINCOLN BEARS HIS HONORS MEEKLY

  ORVILLE BROWNING

  Diary entry, June 12, 1860

  N THE EVENING OF MAY 18, 1860, A LARGE RALLY ASSEMBLED AT THE statehouse in Springfield. Picking up the symbol of the Rail Splitter, several hundred men arrived with rails, which they stacked at the statehouse doors like muskets. Afterward, a large parade wound its way to the Lincoln home. After a serenade, Lincoln told the cheering crowd he “did not suppose the honor of such a visit was intended particularly for himself, as a private citizen, but rather the representative of a great party.” That evening, across the Midwest and the East, Republicans gathered in small and large communities for “ratification rallies.” In the stacks of telegrams Lincoln received on May 18, David Davis, his campaign manager, counseled, “Write no letters & make no promises till You see me write me at Bloomington when to see you I must see you soon.”

  Lincoln had learned in the early evening the convention had nominated Hannibal Hamlin of Maine for vice president. Hamlin, born the same year as Lincoln, 1809, taught school and published a Democratic newspaper before being admitted to the bar in 1833. A strong-willed Mainer, he sought to abolish the death penalty and was hostile to the extension of slavery. He was elected to Congress in 1843 and entered the Senate in 1848. His nomination balanced Lincoln, a former Whig from the West, with a former Democrat from the East. In the practice of mid-nineteenth-century politics it was not unusual that Lincoln would not be consulted about the choice of a vice presidential running mate.

  The next day, George Ashmun of Massachusetts, president of the convention, and various chairmen of state delegations—almost all of whom had originally supported other candidates—traveled to Springfield to bring the official notification of Lincoln’s nomination. Carl Schurz, German-American leader from Wisconsin who was a strong supporter of Seward, recalled that Lincoln received the delegation in the north parlor of “his modest frame house.” Most had never even seen Lincoln and looked at him “with surprised curiosity.” Lincoln stood “tall and ungainly in his black suit of apparently new but ill-fitting clothes.” Abraham and Mary had disagreed over whether to serve liquor or not. Lincoln, with great respect for the temperance movement, prevailed, and ice water was served. He also broke the demeanor of the stuffy notification ceremony when he asked a surprised Governor Edwin D. Morgan of New York what his height was. Walking out of the house, Judge William D. Kelley told Schurz, “Well, we might have done a more brilliant thing, but we could hardly have done a better thing.”

  AN IRONY OF THE 1860 campaign was that Lincoln stayed home in Springfield more than he ever had before, as was the custom of nineteenth-century politics. Lincoln believed his record to be in plain sight in his speeches, many of which were now being bundled together in campaign pamphlets. He told everyone he would be home for the summer.

  Lincoln did pledge that, if elected president, he would govern by the motto “Justice and fairness to all.” By “all,” he meant a widening set of concentric circles of his constituencies. He would not distinguish among Republicans who did or did not support him. He had always worked with Democrats and intended to do so again. Most important, he would make no distinction between North and South.

  In this spirit, Lincoln’s first initiative in his campaign was to reach out to his Republican opponents. On Monday, May 21, 1860, David Davis expressed his concern about New York and how the disaffection of Seward supporters could play into the hands of Douglas. On May 24, Thurlow Weed, Seward’s shrewd campaign manager, arrived in Springfield for what Lincoln and Davis hoped would be the beginning of a rapprochement with his chief rival. Weed wrote later of that initial visit that he sensed from the first that Lincoln revealed “such intuitive knowledge of human nature, and such familiarity with the virtues and infirmities of politicians, that I became impressed very favorably with his fitness for the duties which he was not unlikely to be called upon to discharge.” On the same day, Orville Browning, dispatched by Lincoln and Davis to St. Louis, met with Edward Bates, his second rival, to try to bring him on board. Bates told Browning that he would write a public letter endorsing Lincoln.

  Lincoln himself wrote to Salmon P. Chase, his third rival. “Holding myself the humblest of all whose names were before the convention, I feel in especial need of the assistance of all.” To Schuyler Colfax, who had supported Bates, Lincoln wrote, “You distinguish between yourself and my original friends—a distinction which, by your leave, I propose to forget.”

  WHILE THE REPUBLICANS were uniting, Lincoln watched from Springfield as the Democrats and others were dividing. From late April through June, five nominating conventions produced three more pre
sidential candidates. A week before the Republican convention, former Whigs and Know-Nothings who could back neither the Republicans nor the Democrats, and were hoping to avoid disunion, met in Baltimore to found the Constitutional Union Party with the promise to save “the Union as it is.” They nominated John Bell, a former Whig who had opposed the Kansas-Nebraska Act, and Edward Everett, former president of Harvard and secretary of state under President Fillmore.

  The Democrats, after the disaster at Charleston, reconvened on June 18, 1860, in Baltimore. One hundred and ten “fire-eaters” walked out when once again the convention would not agree to a resolution recognizing slavery in the territories. Following marathon balloting, the convention nominated Stephen Douglas for president and Herschel V. Johnson of Georgia for vice president.

  The Southern Democrats, convening in another location in Baltimore after their walkout, reconvened in Richmond on June 28, 1860, and nominated Buchanan’s incumbent vice president, John C. Breckin-ridge of Kentucky, for president, and Joseph Lane of Oregon for vice president, on a pro-slavery platform.