Speculation as to Parker’s long-term motives ranged 360 degrees around the political spectrum. The Herald noted that Parker and Conlin were both Democrats, and that in the wake of Counsel’s ruling they had already begun to change the structure of the precincts, with a fine eye for political detail. “Mr. Parker … is calculating the possibilities and probabilities of future elections and future Legislatures … Should there ever be a one-headed Commission, and the Democrats in the ascendancy, his friends say, he may be that Commissioner.”40 The Evening Sun believed that on the contrary Parker was cooperating with Boss Platt, who, unable to kill Roosevelt with legislation, had crossed party lines in order to cripple him. Parker’s reward, presumably, would be some plum job when Greater New York came into being. Other papers speculated that Parker was working for Boss Jimmy O’Brien of the County Democracy, or, alternatively, Boss Richard Croker of Tammany Hall. But Lincoln Steffens, writing in the Evening Post, saw the whole thing as a simple clash of personalities. “It is impossible that two men like Mr. Roosevelt and Mr. Parker should long travel the same road. They run on radically divergent tracks. Mr. Parker fights secretively, by choice, while Roosevelt seeks the open … Parker rushes swiftly to the punishment of any man. Roosevelt seeks ever a chance to reward and praise. Both are able and obstinate men … They were foreordained to disagree, and they did … It is idle to say that there is even a semblance of peace in Mulberry Street. There is war and nothing but war in prospect.”41
ROOSEVELT WOULD HAVE WELCOMED a war of any sort during those early months of 1896. His preference, he confessed to Bamie, ran to the foreign variety.42 The nation was caught up in great excitement over President Cleveland’s Venezuela Message, and pressures were mounting for Congress to recognize the rebellion in Cuba. Roosevelt vigorously championed both causes. He sent a letter of congratulation to the President, and received a long, grateful response. Cleveland, however, seemed unwilling to venture into the Caribbean, much to Roosevelt’s disgust. “We ought to drive the Spaniards out of Cuba … it would be a good thing, in more ways than one, to do it.”43
His frustrations over the Police Board deadlock vented themselves in a series of speeches, articles, and open letters aimed at “the peace-at-any-price men,” or, more specifically, “beings whose cult is non-virility.”44 The editors of the Harvard Crimson were assailed for their “spirit of eager servility toward England,” and sternly reminded that John Quincy Adams, the real formulator of the Monroe Doctrine, had been a Harvard man. Students at the University of Chicago were warned that the adult world was “rough and bloody … but if you have enough of the lust of battle in you, you will have a pretty good time after all.” Elsewhere in the Windy City, in a major address to mark Washington’s birthday, he thundered his gospel, “Life is strife,” against a backdrop of Stars and Stripes. “There is an unhappy tendency among certain of our cultivated people,” Roosevelt went on, “to lose the great manly virtues, the power to strive and fight and conquer.” He urged his audience, in the name of Washington, to be ready for the day when America had to uphold its honor “by an appeal to the supreme arbitrament of the sword.”45
The nonvirile, in reply, made amused reference to his failure to conquer anyone at Police Headquarters. “When a man of marked ability is obviously uncomfortable where he is,” wrote a correspondent of the Evening Post, “it is a satisfaction to find some place where his energies will have unchecked swing.” The writer suggested that Roosevelt should leave immediately for South Africa, where the Boers—“Dutchmen pure and simple”—were fighting a losing battle for control of the Transvaal. “Let him shake from his feet the dust of ungrateful Manhattan … let him offer himself as General-in-Chief to President Kruger, and head the staunch conservatives who hold the fort from the Vaal to the Limpopo; perhaps he may succeed in rolling back the British aggressor.”46
E. L. Godkin, editor of the Post, agreed that this was an excellent idea. “Speaking for the American public, we say that, much as we esteem Mr. Roosevelt as a Police Commissioner we think his value to the community would be greatly increased if somehow he could somewhere have his fill of fighting.” After two or three campaigns for Kruger, he would be purged, and would be able to resume the life of a dedicated public servant. In barbed sentences that seem to have embedded themselves in Roosevelt’s hide, Godkin went on:
Now, in our opinion, no man—and especially no man of Mr. Roosevelt’s bellicose temperament—is qualified to give advice about war who has not seen war … The sight of a battlefield is one of the most awful lessons in international ethics which a civilized man can receive … Before Mr. Roosevelt sends round the fiery cross among the young men of the country any more, he ought, therefore, to have some personal experience of his own nostrum. Fighting grizzly bears, we can tell him, is child’s play compared to facing a battery, or storming a fortification … That he would fight like a demon under Kruger, we have no doubt, but he ought to fight somewhere before he recommends fighting so glibly to our youth.47
ROOSEVELT ADMITTED TO hours of deep depression in his job, together with much nervous fatigue as he struggled to break the deadlock at Mulberry Street. “What can I have done? What can I have done? That any man should imagine I could succumb to this hell-born lure?” Commissioners Grant and Andrews were also anxious to promote the two acting inspectors, but Parker continued to object, and Chief Conlin continued to side with him. The deadlock began to look like permanent paralysis. There was no hope of getting remedial legislation through Boss Platt. Grant went to beg his aid, and was politely refused. “I would like to please you, Colonel Grant, but I don’t care nearly as much to please you as I do to worry Roosevelt.”48 The old man was obviously looking forward to Roosevelt’s early resignation. Grant angrily declared that he would vote for no further promotions until Brooks and McCullagh were confirmed. This only worsened the strain on the president of the Board. “Though I have the constitution of a bull moose,” he wrote on 30 March, “it is beginning to wear on me a little.”49
Later that same day he, Grant, and Andrews made a sudden move to bypass Boss Platt. They jointly petitioned the New York State Legislature to scrap the Bipartisan Act. In its place, the Commissioners proposed a bill that would first, enable a majority of three to override a minority of two, and, second, restore to the Board the independent rights of assignment now enjoyed by Chief Conlin. Roosevelt still had plenty of contacts in Albany, and the new Police Bill came up for consideration within forty-eight hours. Machine Republicans were too slow to organize against it, and a favorable vote was recorded in the Assembly.50
Parker moved at once to work up opposition in the Senate. He wrote to warn Boss Platt that Roosevelt was an incorrigible promoter of Democratic policemen. To give the president of the Police Board more power, therefore, would actually reduce Platt’s chances of patronage in the upper ranks. Parker went on to say that he himself was just the opposite: a Democratic Commissioner who happened to recommend Republican officers. In proof of this statement he enclosed a list of recent promotions, showing that Roosevelt had favored every Democratic candidate to date.51
The list was forwarded to Albany, and Platt’s faithful lieutenant, “Smooth Ed” Lauterbach, circulated it among Republican members of the Senate. Roosevelt did not see a copy until 9 April, when he arrived to testify on behalf of his bill before the Senate Committee on Cities. He boggled at the neatly typed document: it was “unqualifiedly false” in almost every particular. Worse still was Parker’s insinuation that politics played a part in the advancement process at Mulberry Street. Roosevelt neither knew nor cared which party any policeman he liked belonged to; he conceived of promotion strictly in terms of merit.52
Pouncing upon Lauterbach in the Senate corridor, he began to tick off the list’s falsehoods, one by one, whereupon Parker (who had also been invited to testify) joined them and insisted they were all true. Both Commissioners were quivering with anger when they adjourned to the nearby hearing room.53
In their respe
ctive testimonies for and against the Police Bill, they made a study of opposites: Roosevelt barking like a nervous bulldog, Parker feline and purringly sarcastic. The effect of some of his remarks was such that Roosevelt several times leaped up and paced around the room in a vain effort to stay calm. “Of course,” Parker drawled after quoting a newspaper attack on himself, given out by some unidentified source at Mulberry Street, “I don’t attribute that part of the article to Mr. Roosevelt.” “Oh, you may, you may,” Roosevelt shot back.54
His truculence at Albany cost him dear. Although he sent Senate Republicans a convincing rebuttal of Parker’s charges, signed by both Andrews and Grant, the Police Bill was reported unfavorably. To add insult to injury, another letter-bomb was waiting for Roosevelt when he got back to headquarters. Had it not been intercepted and defused by detectives, its charge of fine black Chinese gunpowder might have blown his face off.55
NOW THAT ROOSEVELT and Parker had made a public spectacle of their hatred for each other, they no longer attempted to conceal it from their colleagues, nor from the force, nor from the reporters who twice weekly attended open sessions of the Police Board. Consequently “the Mulberry Street Affair” became something of a running entertainment for New Yorkers. The popular press treated it as a circulation-boosting suspense serial, and described every new flare-up at headquarters with shrewd attention to dramatic detail. The Sun warned its readers to “LOOK OUT FOR EPITHETS—the Row in the Police Board Approaches the Danger Point,” while the Evening News wondered when “Montague Parker” and “Capulet Teddy” would stop biting their thumbs at each other and engage in armed combat.56
The former was too agile an adversary, however, to allow himself to be directly challenged. Whenever Roosevelt seemed to be on the point of exploding, Parker would unfold a deft compliment, or make some unexpected conciliatory gesture, which suddenly relieved the pressure. A case in point occurred on 1 May, when Parker interrupted a regular meeting to announce that it was time for the “annual election” of the president of the Board. There was an amazed silence. Roosevelt said that he “did not understand.” Avery Andrews challenged the legality of such a step. Surely a president, once elected, remained so for the duration of the Board? Parker suggested that somebody consult the statute-book. Tension mounted while a clerk flicked the pages over: Parker had never yet been proved wrong on any point of law. Not until the moment of confirmation did Parker propose, with a smile, that Theodore Roosevelt be renominated.57
“What are you doing it for?” Lincoln Steffens asked. “Oh, just for ducks,” said Parker, “just to see the big bomb splutter, the boss leader of men blow up.”58
HE CONTINUED TO EVADE Roosevelt so successfully that when the long-threatened explosion came, its victim was not himself but City Comptroller Ashbel P. Fitch. The latter was a waspish, bearded Democrat whose habit of rejecting the Police Department’s more questionable bills—such as payment for children reporting Sunday Excise Law violations—was a constant irritation to Roosevelt.
On 5 May the president of the Police Board arrived at City Hall for a meeting of the Board of Estimate, attired in a new tweed suit whose checks, according to the World, were “distinctly audible at twenty paces.”59 He was seen to admire himself in a looking-glass before sitting down and facing Fitch across the Mayor’s table.
The Comptroller listened impassively while Roosevelt requested that $11,000 of surplus construction funds be transferred to finance his second annual campaign against the saloons, just then beginning. “I doubt that we can do it legally,” Fitch replied, and launched into a speech about the “impropriety” of taxpayers’ money being used to bribe stool-pigeons on a Sunday.
Roosevelt, his choler visibly rising, explained that policemen could not arrest saloonkeepers for selling liquor illegally without buying it themselves, or paying somebody to buy it for them. The money came out of their own pockets, and they were entitled to be reimbursed. “Yes, yes,” Fitch interrupted, “the same old story, we’ve heard it before.”
“If we are brought to a standstill,” Roosevelt hissed with clenched fists, “if we have to shut down in our work it is your fault!”
“Oh, stop scolding,” said Fitch. He suggested that Roosevelt ask a court for the money. The dialogue, which was transcribed by several eyewitnesses, continued as follows:
ROOSEVELT (white with rage, jumping to his feet) You are the one to blame!
FITCH (lolling back in his chair) Tush! Tush! I won’t discuss the matter with you in this fashion. You’re always looking for a fight.
ROOSEVELT I fight when I am attacked!
FITCH (idly) Oh, go on, I don’t want to fight with you. (Toys with pencil.)
ROOSEVELT (snapping his teeth) I know you won’t fight. You’ll run away.
FITCH Well, I wouldn’t run away from you, at all events.
ROOSEVELT (shouting) You dare not fight!
FITCH Oh, I don’t, hey? Just name your weapons. What do you want—pistols?
ROOSEVELT Pistols or anything else! (Dancing with rage.)
“At this point,” wrote the World correspondent, “two reporters who were in the line of fire dropped their notes and dodged under the table.” Fitch was no man to challenge lightly, being the unscarred winner of some thirty sword fights at the University of Heidelberg.60 Fortunately Mayor Strong, who had been listening to the whole exchange with trembling eyelids, made one of the few decisive gestures of his administration. He raised a rheumatic fist and brought it down on the table with a crash.
STRONG (wincing) Gentlemen, gentlemen! I warn you right now that if this thing goes on I shall call in the police and have you both arrested.
FITCH Oh, this man Roosevelt is always getting into a row.… He had a row with Parker, now he wants a row with me.61
The matter was referred to Corporation Counsel, and Roosevelt stalked out in a towering rage. Later he calmed down and told reporters that there would be no duel. But it was too late to avoid headlines, and for days afterward press and public rejoiced in the story. The Tribune bet on Roosevelt, who was “always in condition to whip his weight in wildcats,” while the yellow press came out strongly for Fitch. The Evening Post, anxious as ever to avoid bloodshed, suggested “a meeting in the City Hall plaza with Fire Department hoses at 30 paces,” but popular opinion was in favor of a real duel. Offers of seconds—and executors—came in from as far away as Philadelphia, and Fitch was reported to have collected “a small arsenal” of gift weapons.62 One enormous horse-pistol, adapted to fire peas, putty, and spitballs, was sent to the Mayor by a citizen concerned for his safety. Strong was immensely tickled. “I shall use this at all future Board meetings,” he declared.63
Actually William Strong had begun to sympathize with his beleaguered Police Commissioner. However much he might regret Roosevelt’s hot-headedness, he liked the man, and admired his decency. As for Parker (who had been seen gleefully slapping Fitch on the back after the Board of Estimate meeting),64 the Mayor regretted ever having appointed him. He had done so in response to intense pressure by the County Democracy, which supported his reform ticket in 1894; and now the taste of that particular compromise was bitter in his mouth. Parker’s obstructionism, absenteeism, and indolence had all but halted the work of the Police Department. Morale was sinking steadily, and the crime rate was climbing in proportion. Chief Conlin had become so depressed (while still doggedly supporting Parker) as to request sick leave in Europe. The fifty-five-year-old officer was said to be ready to quit, and wanted only to lead his men in a final parade up Fifth Avenue before handing in his badge.65
The worst news, as far as Strong was concerned, was that Parker, casting around for a new ally, had managed to ensnare Commissioner Grant. Both men were now boycotting Police Board meetings,66 leaving Avery Andrews as Roosevelt’s only faithful supporter—and even Andrews was beginning to show signs of polite impatience with the dead-lock.
The final straw came when Roosevelt approached the Mayor with evidence showing that Parker
was corrupt. A patrolman named McMorrow had signed an affidavit, dated 20 April 1896, stating that he had bought his appointment for $400, the understanding being that “it was to be done through Commissioner Parker.”67
Roosevelt was reluctant to publicize this affidavit, since it would seriously damage his Board’s reputation for personal honesty, and he could not be entirely sure of the evidence. He asked Strong to intervene. On 20 May, therefore, the Mayor wrote Parker a private letter saying that “the honor of the city” required that he step down, and intimating that certain “sensational” facts would be released to the press if he did not resign within seven days. Parker replied with cold indifference: “I shall serve out my term regardless.”68
He followed up with an open attack on Roosevelt, for the benefit of a Recorder interviewer. “Ever since his appointment as a Police Commissioner … he has assumed that he is the Alpha and Omega of the Department … For eleven months I have patiently endured this arbitrary assumption of authority … Colonel Grant and myself finally decided that, unless Mr. Roosevelt recognized us as possessing equal authority to himself, we would take steps for protecting ourselves.”69
The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt Page 60