SOURCE: Champ Clark, My Quarter Century of American Politics (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1920), II, 45.
T.R. ON KETTLE HILL
If there is one thing that everybody knows about the Spanish-American War and the Battle of Santiago, it is that Teddy Roosevelt led the Rough Riders in a charge up San Juan Hill. Actually, T.R. and his invincible Rough Riders charged up Kettle Hill, a smaller mound in front of and off to the right of San Juan Hill. From Kettle Hill the Rough Riders fired on the Spaniards, and the regular infantry started up San Juan Hill. T.R. later wrote in his story about the Rough Riders that Kettle Hill afforded him and his troops “a splendid view of the charge on the San Juan Blockhouse.” By the time Roosevelt had descended Kettle Hill and followed the rest of the American army force up San Juan Hill, the Spaniards had long since fled.
SOURCE: Charles H. Brown, The Correspondent’s War (New York: Scribner’s, 1967), p. 358n.
“ALONE IN CUBIA” BY T.R.
At the turn of the century Finley Peter Dunne was one of America’s leading satirists. One of his favorite targets was Theodore Roosevelt. In one article he has “Mr. Dooley,” the man whom he speaks through, tell “Mr. Hinnissy” about a book on the Spanish-American War written (“Mr. Dooley” says) by T.R. “Mr. Dooley” has the Rough Rider “tell th’ story in his own wurruds”:
“‘“We had no sooner landed in Cubia than it become nicessry f’r me to take command iv th’ ar-rmy which I did at wanst. A number of days was spint be me in reconnoitring, attinded on’y be me brave an’ fluent body guard, Richard Harding Davis. I discovered that th’ inimy was heavily inthrenched on th’ top iv San Joon hill immejiately iv front iv me. At this time it become apparent that I was handicapped be th’ prisence iv th’ ar-rmy,” he says. “Wan day whin I was about to charge a block house sturdily definded be an ar-rmy corps undher Gin’ral Tamale, th’ brave Castile that I aftherwards killed with a small ink-eraser that I always carry, I r-ran into th’ entire military force iv th’ United States lying on its stomach. ‘If yet won’t fight,’ says I, ‘let me go through,’ I says. ‘Who ar-re ye?’ says they. ‘Colonel Rosenfelt,’ says I. ‘Oh, excuse me,’ says the gin’ral in command (if me mimry serves me thrue it was Miles) r-risin’ to his knees an’ salutin’. This showed me ’twud be impossible f’r to carry th’ war to a successful con-clusion unless I was free, so I sint th’ ar-rmy home an’ attackted San Joon hill. Ar-rmed on’y with a small thirty-two which I used in th’ West to shoot th’ fleet prairie dog, I climbed that precipitous ascent in th’ face iv th’ most gallin’ fire I iver knew or heerd iv. But I had a few r-rounds iv gall mesilf an’ what cared I? I dashed madly on cheerin’ as I wint. Th’ Spanish throops was dhrawn up in a long line in th’ formation known among military men as a long line. I fired at th’ man nearest to me an’ I knew be th’ expression iv his face that th’ trusty bullet wint home. It passed through his frame, he fell, an’ wan little home in far-off Catalonia was made happy by th’ thought that their riprisintative had been kilt be th’ future governor iv New York. Th’ bullet sped on its mad flight an’ passed through th’ intire line fin’lly imbeddin’ itself in th’ abdomen iv th’ Ar-rch-bishop iv Santiago eight miles away. This ended th’ war.”’ . . .
“‘I have thried, Hinnissy,’ Mr. Dooley continued, ‘to give you a fair idee iv th’ contints iv this remarkable book, but what I’ve tol’ ye is on’y what Hogan calls an outline iv th’ principal pints. Ye’ll have to r-read th’ book ye’ersilf to get a thrue conciption. I haven’t time f’r to tell ye th’ wurruk Tiddy did in ar-rmin’ an’ equippin’ himself, how he fed himsilf, how he steadied himsilf in battle an’ encouraged himsilf with a few well-chosen wurruds whin th’ sky was darkest. Ye’ll have to take a squint into th’ book ye’ersilf to l’arn thim things.’
“‘I won’t do it,’ said Mr. Hennessy. ‘I think Tiddy Rosenfelt is all r-right an’ if he wants to blow his hor-rn lave him do it.’
“‘Thrue f’r ye,’ said Mr. Dooley, ‘an’ if his valliant deeds didn’t get into this book ’twud be a long time befure they appeared in Shafter’s histhry iv th’ war. No man that bears a gredge again’ himsilf ’ll iver be governor iv a state. An’ if Tiddy done it all he ought to say so an’ relieve th’ suspinse. But if I was him I’d call th’ book “Alone in Cubia.”’”
SOURCE: Finley Peter Dunne, Mr. Dooley’s Philosophy (New York: R. H. Russell, 1900), pp. 13–18.
REMARKS BY “MR. DOOLEY”
• “A man that’l expict to thrain lobsters to fly in a year is called a loonytic; but a man that thinks men can be tur-rned into angels by an iliction is called a rayformer an’ remains at large.”
• “Thrust ivrybody—but cut th’ ca-ards.”
T.R. LEADS THE VOTERS TO SLAUGHTER
Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders were American heroes. So when T.R. ran for governor of New York in 1898 (immediately after the Spanish-American War), he had seven of his former soldiers campaign for him. New Yorkers turned out in droves to see the famed war heroes, but sometimes were disturbed by what the men had to say. At Port Jervis, New York, ex-sergeant Buck Taylor told the crowd:
“I want to talk to you about mah Colonel. He kept ev’y promise he made to us and he will to you. When he took us to Cuba he told us . . . we would have to lie out in the trenches with the rifle bullets climbing over us, and we done it. . . . He told us we might meet wounds and death and we done it, but he was thar in the midst of us, and when it came to the great day he led us up San Juan Hill like sheep to the slaughter and so he will lead you.”
It is not known whether Buck was ever asked again to address a crowd, but Roosevelt was elected governor on November 5, and two years later became William McKinley’s vice president.
SOURCE: William Henry Harbaugh, Power and Responsibility: The Life and Times of Theodore Roosevelt (New York: Farrar, Straus & Cudahy, 1961), p. 111.
MCKINLEY SEEKS POLITICAL HELP FROM UP ABOVE
William McKinley may not be remembered as the Moses of his generation, but he was like Moses in one respect: he professed to receive instructions on how to govern his people directly from God. In 1899 he confided to a group of Methodist clergymen that his decision to annex the Philippines came after God had advised him to do it. “I walked the floor of the White House night after night until midnight,” he said, “and I am not ashamed to tell you gentlemen, that I went down on my knees and prayed Almighty God for light and guidance more than one night.” Finally, McKinley revealed, God heard his prayers and told him to take the islands as a gift from heaven.
SOURCE: Charles S. Olcott, The Life of William McKinley (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1916), II, 109–11.
SPEAKER REED SAYS TO BRING IN THE WASH
Speaker of the House of Representatives Thomas B. Reed was a brilliant parliamentarian, an incisive debater, and an extremely able party leader. But for none of these things was he famous. His reputation rested, rather, on his lightning-fast retorts and entertaining witticisms.
• “Once the House was making an effort to secure a quorum, and, as is usually done in such cases, telegrams were sent to members who were absent. One man, who was delayed by a flood on the railroad, telegraphed Reed, saying, ‘Washout on line. Can’t come.’ Reed telegraphed back, ‘Buy another shirt and come on next train.’”
• “[Reed] was bitterly opposed to our war with the Philippines, and he expressed his idea of the glory of the war in a concrete case in the following fashion. One morning, when the newspapers had printed a report that our army had captured Aguinaldo’s young son, Reed came to his office and found his law partner at work at his desk. Reed affected surprise and said: ‘What, are you working today? I should think you would be celebrating. I see by the papers that the American Army has captured the infant son of Aguinaldo and at last accounts was in hot pursuit of the mother.’”
• In the middle of one debate the note of impartiality was struck. Mr. Springer of Illinois was declaring with great solemnity that, in the words of
Henry Clay, he would rather be right than be president. “The gentleman need not be disturbed,” interrupted Reed, “he will never be either.”
• When an irate Democrat came storming toward the podium of the Speaker of the House and demanded to know, “What becomes of the rights of the minority?” Reed casually glanced up and replied, “The right of the minority is to draw its salaries, and its function is to make a quorum.”
• Speaker Reed: “A statesman is a successful politician who is dead.”
SOURCES: Champ Clark, My Quarter Century of American Politics (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1920), I, pp. 290–91; Henry Cabot Lodge, The Democracy of the Constitution (1915; rpt. Freeport, N.Y.: Books for Libraries, 1969), p. 199; Edward Boykin, ed., The Wit and Wisdom of Congress (New York: Funk & Wagnalls, 1961), p. 165.
FOUR U.S. REPORTERS START BOXER REBELLION
In 1899 a reporter from each of the major Denver, Colorado, newspapers, the Republican, the Times, the Post, and the Rocky Mountain News, met while covering a “slow” assignment in south Denver. Rather than return to their editors with simply another mundane and mediocre news item, the reporters decided to invent a truly newsworthy story.
Their first idea, to write that a Boston kidnapping victim was being held for ransom in Denver, was rejected because a quick phone call to the Boston police would expose the hoax too easily. Their story, they reasoned, must deal with foreign affairs. Only then would verification be difficult enough to ensure the story’s acceptance. Finally the reporters agreed upon a story concerning the Great Wall of China. A party of engineers, they would report, had arrived in Denver from Wall Street en route to China. The engineers’ company had negotiated with the Chinese government, which had decided to destroy the ancient boundary as a demonstration of its commitment to increased world trade. The engineers were traveling to the Far East to inspect the wall and to determine the costs of its demolition.
The next step was preparation. At the swank Windsor Hotel the four reporters signed fictitious names to the register and exacted a promise from the clerk to state, if anyone asked, that four “visitors” from the east coast had stayed at the hotel. These “visitors,” the clerk was further instructed to say, had talked with the press, paid their bills, and gone west.
The reporters then returned to their respective newspapers and filed the “scoop.” The sensational story ran page-one in all four of the Denver papers the next morning. By the end of the week east-coast newspapers had picked up the item. One of these papers even quoted a Chinese mandarin visiting New York City who confirmed the story. Being of such international interest, the story was cabled without comment to Europe and eventually to China itself.
In China the political situation was extremely unstable. Many Chinese, especially those affiliated with the “Boxer” athletic clubs, thought the government had bowed enough to the European imperialists. Now, they read, the government had contracted with a Western firm to destroy the Great Wall, monument to past Chinese glory. “It was the last straw,” wrote missionary Bishop Henry W. Warren of the Methodist Episcopal Church, “and hell broke loose to the horror of the world.”
Official denials of the story were ineffective. Xenophobia ran wild, missionaries were forced to flee, and foreign legations came under violent attack for weeks. The rebellion, which had been partly encouraged by the Chinese authorities to help curb the ambitions of foreigners, was now out of control. Even Emperor Kwang-su and his empress had to leave. Within a month, however, after a great loss of life and property, the Boxer Rebellion had been quashed and order restored.
SOURCE: Harry Lee Wilber, “A Fake That Rocked the World,” North American Review (March, 1939), passim.
ADMIRAL DEWEY CATCHES POTOMAC FEVER
Admiral George Dewey had no experience in politics, but that did not matter. Because he was a military hero—he had won a great victory over the Spanish fleet in the Spanish-American War—he was automatically considered presidential material. Dewey said he was not interested in the office. “I am unfitted for it,” he declared, “having neither the education nor the training.” But his name kept being mentioned, particularly by Democrats who wanted him to wrest the nomination from William Jennings Bryan.
During the early months of 1900 reporters, eager for a big story, tried to get Dewey to declare for the presidency. But the admiral wouldn’t.
Then one day in April, New York World reporter Horace J. Mock went by Dewey’s house around six-thirty in the evening and asked the admiral the familiar question: Would he be a candidate? Without hesitating, Dewey answered, “Yes, I have decided to become a candidate.”
The reasons? First, said Dewey, “If the American people want me for this high office, I shall be only too willing to serve them.” And second, “Since studying this subject, I am convinced that the office of the president is not such a very difficult one to fill.”
Many Americans had hoped for months that Dewey would declare he was in the race. Now he finally had, but because of his comment “that the office of the president is not such a very difficult one to fill,” no one wanted him anymore. Dewey had punctured his own rising balloon. The people didn’t want a president who admitted he was up to the job only because the job was pretty low. Newspaper headlines read: “Leaders Laugh at Poor Dewey” and “The Entire Capital Is Laughing at the Former Hero.”
SOURCE: Mark Sullivan, Our Times (New York: Scribner’s, 1926), I, 309–38.
MCKINLEY ASSASSINATED INSTEAD OF A PRIEST
But for a few words spoken in an obscure Chicago tailor shop, William McKinley would never have been assassinated. In 1901 the man who would kill the President walked into the tailor shop of a friend and announced that after mature reflection on the state of society, he had decided to kill a priest. “Why kill a priest?” asked the friend. “There are so many priests; they are like flies—a hundred will come to his funeral.”
The man reconsidered his decision and decided it would be better to assassinate a president. On September 6, 1901, Leon Czolgosz went to Buffalo, New York, and killed the President of the United States.
SOURCE: Mark Sullivan, Our Times (New York: Scribner’s, 1930–36), II, 370–71.
MCKINLEY’S MURDER PROPHESIED
The assassination of President William McKinley at the Pan-American Exposition shocked the world, but did not come as a complete surprise to George B. Cortelyou. Cortelyou, the President’s secretary, had worried that the trip to Buffalo might be dangerous. There would be, he felt, so many opportunities to attack the President. So, on his own authority, the secretary quietly removed from the agenda one of the trip’s riskiest events: a reception for the public in which McKinley would shake hands with anyone who approached. Unfortunately, McKinley somehow learned about the cancellation and ordered that the reception be restored to the schedule.
Sometime before the event Cortelyou made one last attempt to persuade the President to cancel it. “Why should I?” McKinley asked him. “No one would want to hurt me.” Cortelyou pointed out that the reception would not do the President much good. He would have only ten minutes to shake hands and could not possibly greet more than a small number of people. Thousands would be disappointed. But McKinley told Cortelyou: “Well, they’ll know I tried, anyhow.”
Cortelyou resigned himself to the decision. McKinley would have his shaking no matter what. The President loved handshaking and was quite expert at it. Reaching for a hand, he would grab it, give it one swift jerk, turn the visitor to the right, and then let go, ready for the next shake, all the while smiling broadly.
On September 5, President’s Day, McKinley gave a speech and then engaged in fifteen minutes of unscheduled handshaking. Czolgosz was in the crowd, but that day didn’t act.
Friday, September 6, began uneventfully. The President took a quiet trip up to Niagara Falls, had lunch at the International Hotel, and returned to Buffalo in midafternoon. At about three-thirty he proceeded to the Temple of Music for the handshaking reception that Cortelyou had trie
d to prevent.
At precisely four o’clock the doors of the temple were swung open and the public filed in. The handshaking started immediately. One by one the people stepped up to the President, extended their hand, and received the machine-gun McKinley grip. Forty-five people a minute shook the President’s hand. After five or six minutes Cortelyou, anxious and cautious, ordered the door of the temple closed. A comely woman with a baby approached the President, followed by several other people. At about seven minutes past four Czolgosz, his right hand bandaged to conceal a gun, appeared before McKinley.
Two shots rang out, one deflected by a button, the other penetrating the President’s abdomen.
It had gone off exactly according to script—a script written by Czolgosz, a madman, and prophesied by Cortelyou, the President’s secretary. On October 23, Leon Czolgosz was electrocuted for the murder of William McKinley.
SOURCE: Walter Lord, The Good Years (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1960), pp. 41–51.
HOW TO MAKE $36 MILLION WITHOUT REALLY TRYING
Everyone knows that the great magnates of the Gilded Age fleeced the public. Yet in many cases the public literally jumped at the chance to be cheated by a Rockefeller or a Gould. Henry Rogers and William Rockefeller once earned $36 million without investing a dime, simply because the public was willing to buy anything the men’s names were associated with, regardless of its value. The fortune was made by “purchasing” the Anaconda Copper Company.
Rogers and Rockefeller gave a $39 million check to Marcus Daly for Anaconda, with the understanding that Daly would hold the check and not cash it in for a short time. Next, with their own clerks as dummy directors, the two robber barons founded the Amalgamated Copper Company. Amalgamated’s first move? The new company, with no assets, printed up stock and randomly valued it at $75 million. With this paper the company “bought” Anaconda from Rogers and Rockefeller. The two “entrepreneurs” then went to the bank and borrowed $39 million to cover their original check to Daly. The bank gladly agreed to use the Amalgamated stock as collateral. Next, of course, Rogers and Rockefeller sold the Amalgamated stock to the hungry public for $75 million cash. The bank loan was paid off with $39 million, leaving $36 million for the two partners. They also gained one copper company.
One-Night Stands with American History Page 18