President McKinley

by Robert W. Merry

  Also in June the president traveled to Nashville to give a speech at the Tennessee Centennial Exposition, and in early July he enjoyed a brief respite at Canton, including attendance with Mother McKinley at services of the First Methodist Episcopal Church. In late July he began a six-week working vacation that took him to Vermont, New York, Pennsylvania, and back to Canton. Along the way he visited the Lake Placid, New York, grave of abolitionist John Brown, a martyr to some and a villain to others; thus did the president demonstrate the strong antislavery sentiments he had absorbed at his mother’s knee. He also spent a few days on Lake Erie aboard Hanna’s luxurious yacht. The McKinleys returned to the White House in mid-September but within ten days were off again on the Massachusetts trip.

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  DESPITE HIS PERIPATETIC ways, the president pressed ahead with his 1897 initiatives, in particular (aside from the tariff) bimetallism and Hawaii. In mid-April he named three envoys to represent the United States in a proposed conference to fashion a mutual commitment of major industrial nations to “a fixity of relative value between Gold and Silver as money,” as John Hay described it in a memo. McKinley demonstrated his seriousness by putting the commission under the leadership of Colorado’s Republican senator Edward Wolcott, a convivial and eloquent orator characterized by the pro-gold Times of London as having “an almost religious view of the relations between gold and silver.” The president also named pro-silver Democrat Adlai Stevenson, former congressman and vice president during Cleveland’s second term, and Charles J. Paine of Massachusetts, a wealthy industrialist and noted yachtsman who was known as a sound-money man but who supported bimetallism when it was embraced by major European powers.

  Wolcott had traveled to Europe the previous fall in a quasi-official capacity to assess interest in bimetallism and had returned with optimistic reports, though London’s Times speculated that he might have “mistaken personal courtesies for evidence of sympathy with [his] object.” The paper expressed skepticism about his “temperament of an enthusiast.” With no plenipotentiary powers to negotiate outcomes, the commission set out to persuade foreign governments to participate in the proposed international monetary conference. The commission would score a success if it got Britain, France, and Germany to embrace a bimetallism conference. A truly big win would be getting Britain to resume silver coinage in the mints of India (which had discontinued silver coinage some time earlier) and persuading the Bank of England to keep a portion of its reserves in silver.

  At McKinley’s urging, the commission stopped first in Paris, where it was expected the French would seek to tie bimetallism to a demand for lower tariffs on French goods. But the president had insisted that the commission’s work must be regarded as “entirely separable and distinct” from tariff policy. That created complications, exacerbated by French desires to hold back until it was clear whether Britain would be on board. But Wolcott persisted, and the result was a conditional understanding by mid-June: the two countries would open their mints to free silver coinage at a ratio with gold of 151/2 to 1 if other nations, particularly Britain and Germany, followed suit and if Congress and the French Parliament approved.

  Next stop was London, where the ever-diligent Hay already was on the case and where the House of Commons previously had expressed an interest in pursuing a multination bimetallism regimen. Hay asked Lord Salisbury, the venerable and compelling prime minister, if that resolution still expressed the government’s sentiments. “He answered,” Hay reported to Washington on May 20, “without hesitation in the affirmative.” Salisbury also said Britain certainly would send delegates to a bimetallism conference if it could be organized. But when asked if Britain would reopen the Indian mints, Salisbury couldn’t offer unbridled encouragement. There was “a considerable division” in Parliament, he said, and even the cabinet was “not entirely of one mind” on the matter. Interviewing other cabinet officials and opposition leaders in Parliament, as well as top journalists, Hay discovered deep feelings on the subject. The editor of the Times said there was “absolutely no possibility of any cooperation of England in the establishment of bi-metallism.”

  But upon the commission’s arrival in early July Hay pressed ahead, buoyed by Wolcott’s congenital optimism. He got the commissioners an audience with Queen Victoria at Windsor Castle and a session with the full British cabinet. At a later high-level meeting, with the French ambassador present, Salisbury asked the Americans and French to collect their thoughts into a memo so he could study them in detail. In a letter to McKinley dated July 16, Hay said the British now seemed to understand that the Americans and French were united on the issue and took it seriously. He anticipated that Britain soon would demonstrate its own seriousness. Hay also reported that Wolcott made “an admirable impression. His whole heart is in the work, but his manner is refined and conciliatory.” In his own back-channel letter to McKinley, Wolcott waxed optimistic. “The whole situation,” he wrote on August 6, “is most promising and marks a distinct advance since my last letter.”

  The next day the British announced an extended delay on the issue while the government consulted with officials in India. And on October 11 Hay got word from Chancellor of the Exchequer Sir Michael Hicks Beach that the Indian government was “dead against” any silver coinage and remained intent on pursuing a strict gold standard. Further, the Bank of England announced its adherence to gold. Hicks Beach told him, Hay reported to McKinley, “that whatever might be the personal wishes of the members of the Government they could do nothing else, in face of the unanimous opposition of the business world and of the Indian government.”

  That killed any prospect for an international bimetallism agreement. Although some pro-silver legislators felt McKinley could have put himself forward more forcefully on the issue, the episode reflected his inclination to nudge events along from behind the scenes. No one close to the issue questioned his commitment to the party’s bimetallism platform pledge. He pulled to the effort serious men with well-known sympathies for the silver cause. He kept himself thoroughly informed on developments through back-channel reports from Hay, Wolcott, and his ambassador to France, Horace Porter. At crucial points he issued directives on how his people should proceed.

  But when the effort fizzled, he wasted no time on laments. Already he had urged Congress to create a commission to tighten the nation’s domestic monetary system, and the House quickly responded with a bill, though it languished in the Senate through the special session. Meanwhile, with the price of silver falling and no prospect for shoring it up with an international agreement, the president moved inexorably toward a commitment to gold. Burgeoning global commerce rendered it imperative that America coordinate its policies with those of other big trading nations, which were moving toward a gold basis. As the president said in Cincinnati on October 30, “It should be our settled purpose to open trade wherever we can” and to “strengthen the weak places in our financial system.” One weak place was the ambiguity on monetary policy, which McKinley now set about to address. He was assisted in the effort by a spike in global gold production, from $205 million in 1896 to an estimated $240 million in 1897—and a further estimated rise to $300 million by 1900, according to the director of the U.S. Mint. That would let McKinley pursue a gold policy without fear of constricting commerce.

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  ALTHOUGH MCKINLEY’S VIEWS on Hawaii congealed early, he sought in typical fashion to shroud his outlook. “Of course I have my ideas about Hawaii,” he told a representative from the islands, “but consider that it is best at the present time not to make known what my policy is.” In fact he agreed with Mahan, Roosevelt, and Lodge that acquisition of Hawaii represented a geopolitical imperative, though their martial tub-thumping left him cold. He intended to reverse Cleveland’s general hands-off policy and bring about the annexation.

  Within a week of his inauguration, he discussed the issue with former secretary of state John Foster, the country’s leading diplomatic “handyman,” as Chauncey Depew c
alled him, and Maine’s Republican senator William P. Frye, a leading annexation advocate. The president expressed sympathy for their views but said he wouldn’t pursue the issue while the tariff bill was pending. Frye reported the conversation to Hawaiian envoy Francis Hatch, whose job was to bring about annexation as quickly as possible. Hatch promptly advised his government, “We ought not to take any chance of antagonizing Pres. McKinley, or giving him any idea that we are arranging a programme for him.”

  But wheels were turning. When Hatch’s wife paid a courtesy call on Ida, McKinley showed up to extend his respects. Shortly thereafter, Hanna appeared at Hatch’s residence to offer assurances that annexation would be pursued in due course. He asked Hatch to visit him after talking to the president, although Hatch had had no hint of any presidential summons. Sure enough, the invitation soon arrived, and McKinley received Hatch, along with his colleague William O. Smith.

  The president seemed totally engaged as he peppered his guests with questions, demonstrating a detailed understanding of the issue and a sympathy toward his visitors’ aims. While emphasizing that domestic matters such as the tariff must come first, he expressed “a great interest” in Hawaii and added, “As soon as some of the pressure is off, I hope to have an opportunity to take this matter up.” The president asked if Honolulu preferred an annexation treaty, which would need a two-thirds vote of the Senate for ratification, or a legislative approach, which would require only a simple majority of both houses. The Hawaiians said it didn’t matter to them, so long as it could be done quickly. The president replied, “I don’t know but what I may come to that.”

  Hatch immediately went to the Arlington Hotel to see Hanna, who reiterated the administration’s interest in annexation and launched into a highly informed discussion of the political intricacies surrounding the issue. Hatch reported to Honolulu that Hanna would be highly valuable when the time came, but “unfortunately, he is going to be the judge of that point.” The envoy equated Hanna’s interest with a strong presidential desire for annexation. He wrote to his government, “Everything is coming along very nicely here.”

  For McKinley, the issue was being handled precisely as he preferred—largely through backroom maneuverings. He knew House Speaker Reed vehemently opposed annexation—and American expansionism in general—and he needed Reed’s parliamentary dexterity on the tariff bill. So why complicate the tariff effort by raising Reed’s ire unnecessarily on annexation? The Hawaiians too, with assurances of McKinley’s ultimate support, felt comfortable with the pace of things.

  But suddenly Japan emerged as a complication. The European Hawaiians had risked bloodshed and their own safety in wresting civic dominance from the native population. Now the islands’ growing Japanese population, under the protective patronage of Tokyo, was threatening to upend their cherished oligarchy, not to mention their dream of U.S. annexation. Japan demanded that Hawaii’s native Japanese be granted voting rights as a protection against governmental and civic abuse. This would overwhelm white dominance, and the threat increased every month as more Japanese were brought in by profit-seeking immigration companies. Japanese voting-age males now numbered 18,156, compared to 17,663 Chinese (who weren’t agitating for the franchise), 13,148 native Hawaiians, and 8,275 whites. In January 1897, Hawaiian president Sanford Dole informed Hatch in Washington that “the Japanese are still piling in.” Hatch concluded, “A stand must be taken somewhere or abandon the country to Japan.”

  That also occupied the mind of Japan’s impetuous foreign minister, Count Okuma Shigenobu, a Meiji politician much in sympathy with his country’s rising wave of jingoist fervor. Okuma felt the Western powers had exploited and slighted Japan long enough, and the country should demonstrate its strength and resolve—particularly, as he saw it, in enforcing the terms of Japan’s 1886 immigration treaty with Hawaii. Tensions mounted between Japan and Hawaii when the Honolulu government rejected hundreds of migrants who arrived on Hawaiian soil, according to Hawaiian officials, without having been appropriately vetted. Japan heightened tensions further by announcing in January that it was sending its biggest warship to Honolulu.

  McKinley’s Navy Department responded by developing a plan for a possible war with Japan. On April 2 Secretary Long ordered the armored cruiser Philadelphia and two smaller warships, under the command of Admiral Lester Beardslee, to Hawaii. News reports, based largely on dispatches from the U.S. consul general at Honolulu, Ellis Mills, informed the American public that Japan’s “peaceful invasion” of Hawaii threatened to pull the islands out of America’s sphere of influence.

  In April Okuma ordered Japan’s ambassador at Washington, Hoshi Toru, to inform Secretary of State Sherman that Japan opposed any U.S. annexation of Hawaii because it would undermine Japanese interests in the islands. This was highly provocative, but Sherman apparently missed its significance and neglected to inform the president. When it finally did sink in that Japan considered its Hawaiian interests superior to American interests, it became clear that the issue had reached a new level of intensity.

  Navy Secretary Long quickly concluded the crisis necessitated quick annexation. Administration officials also concluded they must fortify the U.S. military presence around the islands. Illinois representative Robert Hitt, chairman of the House Foreign Affairs Committee, held hearings that produced a consensus, according to the Chicago Tribune, that the “invasion of the Asiatics can be stopped only by immediate annexation.” And McKinley asked Roosevelt to identify all warships that could be sent quickly to Hawaii. The assistant navy secretary ordered Admiral Beardslee, now at Hawaii with four combat ships, to remain there indefinitely.

  Tensions heated up in late April and into May with three developments. First, Hawaii angered Japan by rejecting more immigrant workers brought in by the immigration agencies. Then McKinley signaled his thinking on Hawaii by filling the post of minister there with Harold M. Sewall, who was quickly slammed by Godkin’s anti-expansionist Nation as “a Jingo and annexationist.” Sewall, son of the Democrats’ 1896 vice presidential candidate, promptly confirmed Godkin’s characterization by revealing that he got the post following “a full avowal to the President of my belief that annexation was the only course for the United States to pursue.” The president asked Sewall for a quick report on the Hawaiian situation upon his arrival there. Finally, aboard the Japanese warship Naniwa, when it arrived at Honolulu, was a special emissary, Akiyama Masanosuke, who declared that Hawaii’s rejection of Japanese immigrant workers violated an 1871 Hawaiian-Japanese treaty. He vowed to investigate the matter and hinted his inquiry could spawn indemnity demands.

  This latter development greatly unsettled Washington. Hawaii predictably would reject any indemnity claims, which could give Japan a cause for coercion. The crisis seemed to be gathering urgency. William Day at State asked John Foster to draft an annexation treaty, which he did quickly by dusting off the 1893 document he had fashioned for President Harrison, later annulled by Cleveland. When he handed Day the proposed agreement, rolled up for easy grasp, Day lifted it aloft and declared, “And that little roll can change the destiny of a nation.” McKinley wasn’t ready yet for altering destiny, but he kept the document within easy reach in anticipation of the right moment for action.

  The president’s measured approach inevitably irritated the feverish Roosevelt, who delivered a speech at the Naval War College on June 2 that included the word war sixty-two times and extolled the virtues of martial zeal. “All the great masterful races have been fighting races,” he declared, “and the minute that a race loses the hard fighting virtues, then . . . it has lost its proud right to stand as the equal of the best.” He said a strong military was necessary to fend off wars that inevitably beset the weak. In a letter to Mahan, Roosevelt dashed off what he would do “if I had my way”: annex Hawaii “tomorrow” or establish a protectorate; build the Nicaraguan Canal “at once”; build a dozen new battleships and send enough of them to Hawaii “to hoist our flag over the island, leaving all detail
s for after action”; and push Spain out of Cuba “tomorrow.”

  McKinley would never embrace Roosevelt’s impetuosity, of course, but he was coming around to the New Yorker’s vision of America in the twentieth century. “I suspect that Roosevelt is right,” he told his friend Lemuel Ely Quigg, a New York congressman, “and the only difference between him and me is that mine is the greater responsibility.”

  His responsibility took on greater urgency on June 7 when the administration received three disturbing dispatches from Honolulu that reported Japanese demands on Hawaii, sent by Okuma in Tokyo: indemnities for the rejected immigrants; guarantees that future immigrants would not be turned away; extensive Japanese rights throughout the islands, including voting rights; and a requirement that Hawaii respond to the demands immediately. On June 8 Sherman forwarded the dispatches to the president with a terse note, reflecting that he hadn’t lost his critical faculties on this one: “Respectfully submitted to the President. This paper and the two enclosed are of extreme importance.”

  Washington developments unfolded rapidly. On June 8, after meeting with Roosevelt and others, McKinley decided to get the treaty signed and sent to the Senate for ratification. On June 10, Long cabled Admiral Beardslee, “Watch carefully the situation. If Japanese openly resort to force, such as military occupation or seizure of public buildings, confer with Minister and authorities, land a suitable force, and announce officially provisional assumption of protectorate pending ratification of treaty of annexation.” On June 16, after McKinley and Sherman returned from their Nashville trip, Sherman and the Hawaiian diplomatic commissioners signed the treaty. In sending the treaty to the Senate, McKinley wrote that annexation, “despite successive denials and postponements, has been merely a question of time.” It was “not a change,” he emphasized. “It is a consummation.” On the same day Sherman told Japan’s minister Hoshi that the annexation language abrogated terms of past treaties between Japan and Hawaii, though he didn’t anticipate any loss of rights for Hawaiian citizens and residents. On June 17, Hoshi recommended to Okuma that Japan send a fleet to Hawaii “for the purpose of occupying the islands by force.” Okuma replied, “It is too late.”