The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt

by Edmund Morris

  Mayor Strong allowed the seven-day deadline to pass without releasing the McMorrow statement, but let it be known that Parker had been asked to resign. The news broke on 28 May, just as Chief Conlin returned from Europe to lead the annual parade of New York’s Finest.70

  ROOSEVELT HAD CANCELED last year’s event, saying that “we will parade again when we have something to boast about.”71 He was not feeling particularly boastful in the spring of 1896 either, yet there was a lot to be said, psychologically speaking, for a show of unity in the ranks. Despite reports of discontent and renewed corruption from various precincts, he was convinced that “the bulk of the men were heartily desirous of being honest.”72 And if Parker was to be fired (as the Mayor kept promising), the department’s moral regeneration would surely continue.

  On the first day of June he found himself gripping the rails of a reviewing stand at Fortieth Street and Fifth Avenue. Magnificent sunshine warmed his tails and top hat, and he enjoyed a rare moment of repose as the drumbeats grew louder downtown.73 His fellow Commissioners were on their best behavior; Mayor Strong beamed kindly upon him; he, in turn, grinned wider and wider at his first sight of the force en masse.

  More than two thousand men came up the avenue in wave after wave of blue serge, their white gloves rising and falling like lines of foam, their helmets and brass buttons coruscating. Chief Conlin led the way on an immense bay horse whose coat was rubbed and curried to the sheen of satin. The crowd gave him a thunderous ovation, but saved its biggest roar for the “bicycle squad”—an innovation of Commissioner Andrews—twenty-four burly patrolmen wobbling determinedly along on wheels.74

  The parade was adjudged a smashing success, and redounded greatly to the credit of “President Roosevelt.”75 At its conclusion he was mobbed by cheering well-wishers, and horses had to be brought in to clear an escape route for him.

  BUT THE SOUND OF marching bands had hardly died away before public attention was drawn to renewed hostility between the Commissioners. Amid rumors that Strong had again demanded Parker’s resignation, and again been refused,76 the Police Board assembled for a regular meeting on Wednesday, 3 June. It proceeded to give the most convincing demonstration yet of its inability to function as an administrative body.

  Roosevelt listened stonily while Commissioner Grant offered as a “treaty of peace” a new set of rules governing promotions. He was willing to approve the rules—anything to get the department moving again—but was in no mood to tolerate any more obstructionism from across the table. Only that morning the Herald had published a humiliating cartoon of himself being crushed by Parker, in the form of a great, smiling weight, while the caption enquired, “Will the ‘Strong’ Man Lift It?”77

  Predictably, Parker waited until both Roosevelt and Andrews had expressed their approval of the rules before subjecting every one to destructive legal analysis. Roosevelt’s face darkened to deep red, and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead as the maddening voice droned on, stinging him with insults that passed too quickly for retort. The two men stared steadily into each other’s eyes, forgetful of other people in the room, obsessed by their struggle for supremacy.78

  When Roosevelt spoke in reply, his voice sounded surprisingly deep and guttural, and every word was bitten into precise syllables—a sure sign of danger to those who knew him. One of the items of agenda awaiting discussion was the new police revolver, a .32-caliber, double-action, four-inch Colt. Reporters watched in fascination as the president of the Board absentmindedly fondled it, then, still talking, picked it up and shook it “slowly and impressively” in Parker’s face.79

  On this occasion it was Roosevelt who controlled himself, and Roosevelt who won. After four hours of relentless pressure, Parker, pale with exhaustion, agreed to the adoption of the rules.80

  BUT HE STILL obstinately refused to confirm the promotions of Brooks and McCullagh, much less resign his commissionership. Mayor Strong, who was prevented by the Power of Removals Act from dismissing him without trial, asked Roosevelt to draw up a list of five formal charges, including “neglected duty, malfeasance, and misfeasance.”81 For some reason the charge of personal corruption was not among them. There was yet another, much more devastating charge, which Roosevelt could have used, had he wanted to. The story, as told by Jacob Riis, sounds apocryphal, but it has been confirmed by two independent sources.82

  I was in his office one day [that June] when a police official of superior rank came in and requested private audience with him. They stepped aside and the policeman spoke in an undertone, urging something strongly. Mr. Roosevelt listened. Suddenly I saw him straighten up as a man recoils from something unclean, and dismiss the other with a sharp: “No, sir! I don’t fight that way.” The policeman went out crestfallen. Roosevelt took two or three turns about the floor, struggling evidently with strong disgust. He told me afterward that the man had come to him with what he said was certain knowledge that his enemy [Parker] could be found that night in a known evil house uptown, which it was his alleged habit to visit. His proposition was to raid it then and so “get square.” To the policeman it must have seemed like throwing a good chance away.83

  If Parker had been caught in flagrante delicto he could doubtless have been persuaded to resign: but Roosevelt “struck no blow below the belt.”84

  And so the five formal charges were served, and public hearings set to begin on 11 June in Mayor Strong’s office. Elihu Root was appointed prosecutor, and General Benjamin F. Tracy, late of the Harrison Administration and now a Platt intimate, announced he would appear for Parker.85

  THE “TRIAL,” which dragged on sporadically until 8 July, proved to be anticlimactic and dull. The weakness of Roosevelt’s charges was apparent from the start,86 and the evidence, droned out to the whir of electric fans, sounded trivial. It consisted largely of lists of meetings which Parker had missed, and lists of documents he had allowed to pile up on his desk. General Tracy effectively proved that Roosevelt was no slouch at missing meetings himself, when there were lucrative offers to speak out of town.87 He also suggested that Parker’s reluctance to promote Brooks and McCullagh might be justified, and got Roosevelt to admit that as president of the Board he had advanced several ill-qualified men in 1895 simply because they “gave promise of being useful”—in some cases, not even bothering to check their records.88 One of the few entertaining moments of the proceedings came when Tracy deflated a Rooseveltian tirade thus:

  ROOSEVELT … It was a long time before I could make up my mind about Mr. Parker. I struggled against it. I recognized his great ability. But at last I was forced to the conclusion that he was guilty of neglected duty; that he was mendacious, treacherous, capable of double dealing and exercising a bad influence …

  TRACY Hasn’t the whole trouble come from the fact that you had to yield to Mr. Parker?

  ROOSEVELT No, sir, I would be glad to yield to him if he was right.

  TRACY (dryly) You enjoy yielding to a man, don’t you?

  ROOSEVELT (with great energy) By George, I do, and that’s a fact!

  “He looked surprised,” reported an onlooker, “when the crowd shrieked with laughter.” Parker, seated not six feet away, joined in the general mirth.89

  Mayor Strong made no secret of his dissatisfaction with the evidence presented by the prosecution. In contrast, that of the defense was impressive. Grant and Conlin testified in Parker’s praise, and Parker himself made a convincing witness. Relaxed, graceful, and articulate, he cited fact after fact which, in the words of the Sun, “made him out as having been exceedingly active in the performance of his duties almost from the hour of his appointment.”90

  Roosevelt’s loyal ally, The New York Times, was tempted to agree, and forecast that if Strong upheld the prosecution, Parker would be vindicated in court. Most other newspapers expected the Mayor to dismiss the charges once the trial came to an end. As one editor pointed out, the real issue could not be legally considered. It was that “irreconcilable” personality differences made it
impossible for Roosevelt and Parker to work democratically together.91 The only way of resolving it was for one of them to resign; and since both were proud men, that day might be long in coming.

  DULL AS THE PARKER trial was, it might have sparked more interest had its first few sessions not coincided with the Republican National Convention in St. Louis. The petty tensions prevailing between prosecution and defense in Mayor Strong’s office were as nothing compared with the huge forces then contending on the banks of the Mississippi; yet in a microscopic way they reflected the party struggle. Here was a quiet, kindly man of bland political persuasion (William L. Strong/William McKinley) seeking to transcend the rivalry of an arrogant individualist (Theodore Roosevelt/Thomas B. Reed) and an organization man (Benjamin F. Tracy/Levi P. Morton).

  Of the participants in the trial, Roosevelt was by far the most adaptable in his candidate loyalty and the quickest to respond to what was going on in St. Louis. Since at least 1892 he had cherished the idea of electing Reed President of the United States.92 But his veneration for the Speaker had begun to abate early in the New Year. Reed, he now believed, was not firm enough on financial issues and not aggressive enough in recommending a larger navy. About the same time Roosevelt had found it expedient to campaign in a few delegate primaries for Governor Morton of New York—Boss Platt’s personal candidate. While doing so, he kept an uneasy eye on the candidacy of William McKinley. After leaving Congress in 1890 McKinley had twice been elected Governor of Ohio, and the country now seemed ready to forgive him for his harsh policies as Majority Leader. Indeed, the financial panic of 1893 was now widely seen as the result of overreaction to McKinley’s wise revisions of the tariff.93 Although Roosevelt had been favorably disposed toward McKinley in the past at least as a person,94 he now felt sudden qualms. “It will be a great misfortune to have McKinley nominated,” he wrote, in one of the indiscretions Henry Cabot Lodge saw fit to delete from their published correspondence. “… If I could tell you all I have learned since his campaign has progressed, you would be as completely alarmed over the prospect of his presidential nomination as I am.”95 That was on 27 February. Less than a month later he had acknowledged “a great wave for McKinley sweeping over the country” and expressed “great disappointment” with Reed. The latter’s overbearing personality had alienated a considerable number of professional politicians. Roosevelt might forgive him that, but he could hardly approve the tone of a letter his friend sent him in late May, when McKinley emerged as the clear favorite for the nomination. “In a word, dear boy, I am tired of this thing … the receding grapes seem to ooze with acid and the whole thing is a farce.”96

  On the eve of the trial, as Lodge prepared to depart for St. Louis, Roosevelt admitted that he was more interested in what happened at the convention than anything else. He told Bamie that he felt “very nervous” about its probable outcome. “McKinley, whose firmness I utterly distrust, will be nominated; and this … I much regret.”97 On 18 June 1896, news of the first ballot at St. Louis flashed over the wires to New York: McKinley had scored 661½ votes to Reed’s 84½ and Governor Morton’s 58.98

  At once Roosevelt’s distrust of the candidate vanished, at least for public purposes. He was due to take the witness box that very day, and used the occasion to make his political sympathies clear:

  Mr. Roosevelt [reported The New York Times] attracted the attention of the whole room by appearing with an ivory-colored button, as large as a silver dollar, bearing the portraits of McKinley and [Vice-Presidential nominee] Hobart. The faces could be distinguished across the room. Mr. Roosevelt was very proud of the emblem, which, he said, was the first of its kind to reach New York. All concerned with the case, excepting Mr. Parker, seemed interested in it. Commissioner Roosevelt submitted it to close inspection with infinite good nature and evident gratification.99

  Only in private did he continue to express reservations. “While I greatly regret the defeat of Reed, who was in every way McKinley’s superior, I am pretty well satisfied with the outcome at St. Louis … McKinley himself is an upright and honorable man, of very considerable ability and good record as a soldier and in Congress; he is not a strong man however; and unless he is well backed I should feel rather uneasy about him in a serious crisis …”100

  MAYOR STRONG ADDED TO Roosevelt’s sense of unease by fleeing New York as soon as the trial was over, saying that he wished to soothe his rheumatism, and consider his verdict, in the mud baths of Richfield Springs. “I will do nothing in the matter for several weeks.”101 Roosevelt was left to ponder the larger implications of McKinley’s nomination. He could also look forward to a resumption of hostilities with Commissioner Parker.

  A CREEPING DISTASTE for the job of Police Commissioner becomes apparent in Roosevelt’s correspondence from the summer of 1896 onward.102 He had never found the work attractive—“grimy” was his most frequent adjective—yet up until his confrontation with Parker he had exulted in its sheer bruising volume, as a strong man exults in shifting tons of rubble. But the collapse of his legal move against Parker, coinciding as it did with the emergence of William McKinley as the likely next President of the United States, made him realize that he had achieved about as much as he ever would in Mulberry Street. He summed up his feelings in an unusually revealing letter to Bamie, written with an air of finality, as if he had already resigned:

  I have been so absorbed by my own special work and its ramifications that I have time to keep very little in touch with anything outside of my own duties; I see but little of the life of the great world; I am but little in touch even with our national politics. The work of the Police Board has … nothing of the purple in it; it is as grimy as all work for municipal reform over here must be for some decades to come; and it is inconceivably arduous, disheartening, and irritating … I have to contend with the hostility of Tammany, and the almost equal hostility of the Republican machine; I have to contend with the folly of the reformers and the indifference of decent citizens; above all I have to contend with the singularly foolish law under which we administer the Department. If I were … a single-headed Commissioner, with absolute power … I could in a couple of years accomplish almost all I could desire; but as it is I am one of four Commissioners, each of whom possesses a veto power in promotions … Add to this a hostile legislature, a bitterly antagonistic press, an unscrupulous scoundrel as Comptroller … However, I have faced it as best I could, and I have accomplished something.103

  His use of the phrase “a couple of years,” while possibly unconscious, is interesting. Projected from his acceptance of the Commissionership in April 1895, it indicates that Roosevelt was looking forward to another offer in April 1897, in other words, about the time the new President would be making appointments.104

  It was useless to hope for a Cabinet post, such as Thomas B. Reed would have given him; but if he ingratiated himself with McKinley now, and worked hard to ensure his election in November, he might count on some fairly high-level job next spring.

  He needed no time to decide which particular appointment to push for. One area of national policy interested him more than any other, in view of what he saw as a gathering threat to American security in the Caribbean and Atlantic.105 Paging at random through his list of extracurricular activities in the months preceding the convention, one finds him dining with Captain Alfred Thayer Mahan in February; criticizing the weakness of Secretary Herbert’s Navy message in March; pumping the German diplomat Speck von Sternburg for “accurate Teutonic information” on world naval affairs in April; and spending “a rather naval week” in May, during which he inspects the Indiana from top to bottom, and lunches on the Montgomery as she lies in the sun off Staten Island. In between times he reads a life of Admiral James, a two-volume British tome on Modern Ironclads, and Lord Brassey’s Naval Annual for 1896. He maintains a running correspondence with his new brother-in-law, Lieutenant Commander William Sheffield Cowles, USN,106 writing in June: “Brassey evidently thinks our battleships inferior to the Bri
tish, because of their 6 inch quick firers … I am not at all sure they are right; though I dislike the superimposed turrets.”107

  Finally, in July, he invites an old friend of William McKinley to visit him at Sagamore Hill. She arrives on the first day of August. Although the weather is very hot, he insists on rowing her across the glaring waters of Oyster Bay. As his oars spasmodically rise and fall, he tells her, “I should like to be Assistant Secretary of the Navy.”108

  “The work of the Police Board has … nothing of the purple in it.”

  New York City Police Commissioners Andrews, Parker, Roosevelt, and Grant. (Illustration 20.2)

  CHAPTER 21

  The Glorious Retreat

  Then forth from the chamber in anger he fled

  And the wooden stairway shook with his tread.

  IN ADDRESSING HIMSELF to Mrs. Bellamy Storer rather than Mr. Bellamy Storer, Roosevelt flatteringly acknowledged that lady’s superior political muscle. He had known her since his early Washington days,1 and had plenty of opportunity to see her in action as a lobbyist for the Roman Catholic Church. Mrs. Storer was a wealthy and formidable matron whose eyes burned with religious fervor, and whose jaw brooked no opposition from anybody—least of all William McKinley, whom she considered to be in her debt. The Presidential candidate had gratefully accepted $10,000 of Storer funds in 1893, when threatened with financial and political ruin. Mrs. Storer was now, three years later, expecting to recoup this investment in the form of various appointments for her near and dear.2

  Roosevelt knew that she was fond of him, in an amused, motherly sort of way. She tended (like Edith) to treat him as if he were one of her own children. Years later, when events had conspired to embitter her toward him, she wrote that the “peculiar attraction and fascination” of the young Theodore Roosevelt “lay in the fact that he was like a child; with a child’s spontaneous outbursts of affection, of fun, and of anger; and with the brilliant brain and fancy of a child.”3