by Robert Sobel
As the election neared, the thought of a Roosevelt presidency, and what it would mean to the state Republican Party, led a large number of GOP voters to conclude that they would be better served by a Wilson victory than another Roosevelt term. With no little disgust, they intended to vote Democratic, many for the first time in their lives. The split gave Wilson the Massachusetts electoral votes. Wilson received 174,000 votes, Taft 156,000, and Roosevelt 142,000. Weeks won the Senate seat against Democrat Sherman Whipple, with the support of Crane—and Coolidge. As expected, Foss won reelection with 193,000 votes to Walker’s 144,000 and Bird’s 123,000. The split vote thus gave him a rare third term. The state legislature remained Republican.
Coolidge easily won reelection to the state senate by a vote of 6,211 against Democrat Herbert Joyner’s 4,222. The Progressives had intended to run a candidate in this race, but, perhaps because the party realized they couldn’t defeat Coolidge, none appeared. Writing to his father after the election, Coolidge said he was “gratified” by the vote. “I was sorry that Taft could not win but am glad TR made so poor a showing. I doubt if Wilson will be a man the Democrats like. A large number of Democrats voted for Taft here. It was the Republicans voting for Wilson to kill TR that brought about the result.” Even so, on the basis of his record and statements, during this period Coolidge was closer to Roosevelt than Taft; he had supported labor legislation, wages and hours laws, medical care for the indigent and chronic sufferers, factory legislation, higher wages for teachers, and even unionization. These were the Progressive programs of 1912, and Coolidge was clearly in line with these thoughts.
Coolidge was a party regular. There never was a possibility of him bolting the GOP. He might be a reformer on the stump and in his votes, but only so long as his constituents and political supporters were interested in reform and change. This was the way it had been while TR was president. He remained progressive during the Taft years, because Taft was not the conservative he was painted to be in the 1912 canvass. But as the Republican Party shifted ground, so did Coolidge—but slowly, cautiously, and not completely until he felt it absolutely necessary, and never as fast or as far as the true conservatives would have liked. It was a Coolidge trait, on display throughout his political life.
Coolidge was one of the big winners in that election, not so much for the large vote he received, but for the perch he had achieved within the party and the legislature. “I have been placed in a position of great influence this year,” he told his father, “being one of the three leaders and not the least of them.” In his Autobiography he indicated that this was not an idle boast to a parent. “It was in my second term in the senate that I began to be a force in the Massachusetts legislature.” He became chairman of the important Committee on Railroads and took a seat on the still more important Committee on Rules. Coolidge was a coming man within the party. While not a member of the inner circle of distinguished and powerful GOP stalwarts, he was admitted to the fringe, where he was recognized by and conversed with the likes of Senators Lodge and Weeks, party boss Guy Currier, Justice Walter Perley Hall, and his distant cousin, Louis A. Coolidge—and, of course, Crane.
His path to the top was now clear. Coolidge would next attempt to become president of the senate, and from there would seek the lieutenant governorship, which was directly in line for the State House. In 1912, at the age of forty, Coolidge could aspire to so high a position. After that, he could have a greatly enhanced law practice, membership on the boards of corporations, and a comfortable life, freed at last from needing those checks from his father. This, however, was probably the limit of Coolidge’s ambition at the time. But who can tell? He told Dwight Morrow, “One should never trouble about getting a better job. But one should do one’s present job in such a manner as to qualify for a better job when it comes along.”
The way Coolidge became president of the Massachusetts senate was yet another example of the uncanny good fortune that marked his entire political career. Of course good fortune, or luck if you will, wasn’t the only ingredient, for without shrewd calculations and the help of friends, Coolidge probably would have returned to Northampton and obscurity.
First, Coolidge had to run for a third term as state senator, which defied tradition—the two-term rule also applied there. Were it not for the possibility of the senate presidency, he might not have considered another term. But he knew that senate president Levi Greenwood, an extremely conservative politician, was interested in the lieutenant governorship, which would create the vacancy. On this possibility, the GOP organization in Northampton was willing to give Coolidge the third chance, undoubtedly expecting patronage rewards if he did become senate president. He set about meeting with senate colleagues in an attempt to line up votes. Then Greenwood decided to abandon the race for lieutenant governor, and instead sought another senate term.
Greenwood did not take into account the extent of the lingering effects of the 1912 party split. He must have believed that while 1913 would be a Democratic year, his district was safe. If so, he was only partially right. Amid the rancor, Democrat David Walsh was elected governor, becoming the first Irish–Catholic to win a statewide race in Massachusetts; moreover, the entire Democratic slate was carried into office. In addition, the flamboyant James Curley, the Irish–Catholic son of a hod carrier, was elected mayor of Boston. Greenwood, who was an active opponent of women’s suffrage, lost his reelection bid when his opponents—led by suffragette Margaret Foley—united around a single candidate. As for Coolidge, he won reelection to the senate by a larger margin than before, with 5,140 votes against Democrat Joseph Malony’s 3,721 and Progressive George Pettee’s 927.
Coolidge has often been portrayed as slow and reluctant to act. True enough, but when the odds were in his favor and swift action was needed, he could be decisive and even bold, as he was in this case. The next day, Wednesday, Coolidge went to Boston, first to meet with Crane, and then to renew his lobbying campaign for the senate presidency. By Monday, with Crane’s help and the support of the business interests whom Crane represented, Coolidge was able to line up more than enough supporters for the nomination, which he received with a unanimous vote. The Springfield Republican wrote of the selection, “It was nothing short of wonderful the way he walked right into the ring and took the prize before the public could realize there was a contest.” Remarking on the election in his Autobiography, Coolidge said:The senate showed the effects of the division in our party. It had twenty-one Republicans, seventeen Democrats and two Progressives. When the vote was cast for president on the opening day of the General Court, Senator Cox the Progressive had two votes, Senator Horgan the Democrat had seven votes, and I had thirty-one votes. I had not only become an officer of the whole commonwealth, but I had come into possession of an influence reaching beyond the confines of my own party which I was to retain so long as I remained in public life.
These lines, written after Coolidge’s successful tenure as president of the United States, indicate the pride he continued to feel about that day in the Massachusetts senate. He did not directly mention that ten Democrats had voted for him. While senate president, Coolidge would occasionally hand the gavel to a ranking Democrat when he had to leave for other business. This may have been nothing more than a gesture—it extracted no real price. But it paid dividends in the form of Democratic support for several of his key programs.1
His was a popular choice. The following Sunday a Boston Sunday Globe writer said, “Coolidge will make a good presiding officer. He doesn’t need to consult a specialist when anything bobs up that requires nerve. He can state a humorous legislative proposition without smiling.”
Coolidge assumed the senate presidency on January 7, 1914. John Coolidge was present to see and hear his son take office, and was both proud and apprehensive: “You would be surprised to see the power Calvin seems to have,” he wrote to his wife. “Everyone seems ready to carry out his wishes when he makes them known, he receives letters of congratulation from all quart
ers. I hope he makes no mistakes….”
On this occasion he delivered an acceptance speech that came to be known as “Have Faith in Massachusetts.” It was short, really a series of simple, declarative sentences, and Coolidge clearly selected his words with care. If the ideas are unremarkable, they also are crystal-clear, and presented in typical Coolidge style.
Hereafter Coolidge would deliver two kinds of speeches. The first type was filled with facts, programs, recommendations, and concrete suggestions—his State of the State and State of the Union addresses often followed this format. The second, which he preferred, was marked by generalities and revealed his political and social philosophy as derived from Garman. Both were terse, but some of the more graceful were among the latter. Moreover, they offer insight into this reticent figure.
In this speech before the state senate, after the obligatory salute, Coolidge said:This commonwealth is one. We are all members of one body. The welfare of the weakest and the welfare of the most powerful are inseparably bound together. Industry cannot flourish if labor languish. Transportation cannot prosper if manufactures decline. The general welfare cannot be provided for in any one act, but it is well to remember that the benefit of one is the benefit of all, and the neglect of one is the neglect of all. The suspension of one man’s dividends is the suspension of another man’s pay envelope.
Men do not make laws. They do but discover them. Laws must be justified by something more than the will of the majority. They must rest on the eternal foundation of righteousness. That state is most fortunate in its form of government which has the aptest instruments for the discovery of laws. The latest, most modern and nearest perfect system that statesmanship has devised is representative government. Its weakness is the weakness of us imperfect human beings who administer it. Its strength is that even such administration secures to the people more blessings than any other system ever produced. No nation has discarded it and retained liberty. Representative government must be preserved.
Coolidge spoke of the courts as guardians of liberty, and of the limitations of government:The people cannot look to legislation generally for success. Industry, thrift, character, are not conferred by act or resolve. Government cannot relieve from toil. It can provide no substitute for the rewards of service. It can, of course, care for the defective and recognize distinguished merit. The normal must care for themselves. Self-government means self-support.
In these words we see the Coolidge whom Ronald Reagan admired—the Coolidge who has been lost to the caricature of “Silent Cal.” What followed was the most often quoted statement in the address:Do the day’s work. If it be to protect the rights of the weak, whoever objects, do it. If it is to help a powerful corporation, do that. Expect to be called a stand-patter, but don’t be a stand-patter. Expect to be called a demagogue, but don’t be a demagogue. Don’t hesitate to be as revolutionary as science. Don’t hesitate to be as reactionary as the multiplication table. Don’t expect to build up the weak by pulling down the strong. Don’t hurry to legislate. Give administration a chance to catch up with legislation.
We need a broader, firmer, deeper faith in the people—a faith that men desire to do right, that the commonwealth is founded upon a righteousness which will endure, a reconstructed faith that the final approval of the people is given not to demagogues, slavishly pandering to their selfishness, merchandising with the clamor of the hour, but to statesmen, ministering to their welfare, representing their deep, silent, abiding convictions.
Coolidge concluded, typically, with an appeal to the spiritual. Though this is a common technique, Coolidge was more graceful than most in his peroration:Statutes must appeal to more than material welfare. Wages won’t satisfy, be they ever so large. Nor houses; nor lands; nor coupons, though they fall thick as the leaves of autumn. Man has a spiritual nature. Touch it, and it must respond as the magnet responds to the pole. To that, not to selfishness, let the laws of the commonwealth appeal. Recognize the immortal worth and dignity of man. Let the laws of Massachusetts proclaim to her humblest citizen, performing the most menial task, the recognition of his manhood, the recognition that all men are peers, the humblest with the most exalted, the recognition that all work is glorified. Such is the path to equality before the law. Such is the foundation of liberty under the law. Such is the sublime revelation of man’s relation to man—Democracy.
The legislature had been treated to the kind of speech Coolidge would often deliver, in his own distinctive style. In 1923, for instance, Vice President Coolidge delivered a speech at Wheaton College entitled “The Things That Are Unseen,” which echoed the cadences of “Have Faith in Massachusetts”: We do not need more material development, we need more spiritual development. We do not need more intellectual power, we need more moral power. We do not need more knowledge, we need more character. We do not need more government, we need more culture. We do not need more law, we need more religion. We do not need more of the things that are seen, we need more of the things that are unseen. It is on that side of life that it is desirable to put the emphasis at the present time. If that side be strengthened, the other side will take care of itself. It is that side which is the foundation of all else. If the foundation be firm, the superstructure will stand. The success or failure of liberal education, the justification of its protection and encouragement by the government, and of its support by society, will be measured by its ability to minister to this great cause, to perform the necessary services, to make the required redeeming sacrifices.
The next day’s newspapers praised the new senate president highly for the speech. Reporters singled out several phrases for special attention, in particular Coolidge’s call for slowing down legislation: “Give administration a chance to catch up with legislation.” Coolidge, who was deliberate in selecting his words, probably meant that there was sufficient legislation on the books, and implementation was now needed. While running for lieutenant governor in 1915 he said as much: “We do not need more legislation. Repeal is even unnecessary. What Massachusetts needs—what the nation needs—is wise administration of the law. Look not to the legislature for relief; look to the executive.”
Throughout his political career, Coolidge believed strongly in the separation of powers between the two branches, believed that the chief duty of the executive was to carry out the laws passed by the legislature, and that in Massachusetts this was a prime necessity. He would return to this thought on numerous occasions. In his second inaugural as governor in 1920, Coolidge said, “In general, it is time to conserve, to retrench rather than to reform; a time to stabilize the administration of the present laws rather than to seek new legislation.” Of course, the nation would witness the concept on the larger scale of federal government in the 1920s.
Coolidge was pleased at the reception of the “Have Faith in Massachusetts” speech. Writing to his stepmother, he somewhat boastfully noted, “My speech has come back to me from many places and some of the best papers in the state have printed it in their editorial columns.” Within days, the Massachusetts press was busily musing about Coolidge’s gubernatorial possibilities. In part this was due to his record and the speech, but even more to the way he had managed his election to the presidency. Also, all senate presidents were considered likely lieutenant governor nominees—and the path to the governorship lay in that direction. In 1914 Coolidge seemed on the way to the next two steps up the political ladder in a normally Republican state. His prospects were pleasing, his future apparently assured.
Letters of congratulation poured in, and in order to capitalize upon the reception, Coolidge sent copies to many people on the national scene as well as the local. Former President Taft congratulated Coolidge, thanking him for “sending it to me and for giving me an opportunity to read it.” There was a long, gracious letter from Senator Lodge. Lodge knew Coolidge was a Crane man, but did not as yet see him as a threat. At the time the two men had not yet met. The Lodge letter indicates that the senator considered Coolidge a consequen
tial figure in state politics, and one to be courted, if only in a minor way. But Lodge’s eye was ever on the national scene, and Coolidge could have no place there.
I am much obliged to you for sending me the Journal of the Senate for January 7th, because it has given me the opportunity to read again your speech which I had already read in the newspapers. I am more struck with it on the second reading even than I was with it on the first. It is not only able but you have put the propositions with epigrammatic force and often in a very original way. That is saying much, for you are stating what you and I believe to be fundamental truths.
What I like best of all is the courage with which you state those fundamental truths which it is the fashion just now to put aside and hide. For some years past political leaders, great and small, have been talking to the people as though these truths did not exist. For example, directly and indirectly it has been continually declared that everybody would be made happy and successful by legislation, a most pernicious doctrine. Then again, the whole trend of the national legislation and the Democratic Party has been toward the destruction of property, entirely forgetting the fact that the rights of property—and property as such possesses not rights in this country—and the human right to have property which are two totally different things. As a citizen of Massachusetts I congratulate myself that we have a president of the senate who not only is able but who is ready to make such a speech.