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EALFRED E. SMITH
A® Critical Sema

by
Henry F. Pringle

 

with a portrait frontispiece

by WILFRED JONES

 

 

MeACY-WLASIIS : PUBLISHERS

1927PUBLISHED, SEPTEMBER 22, 1927
SECOND PRINTING, SEPTEMBER, 1927

Manufactured in the United States of America
and Copyright, 1927, by
Macy-Masius, Inc.DEDICATED
WITH AFFECTION
AND GRATITUDE

LO
MY MOTHERTable of Contents

 

Book 1, Outgrowing the Brown Derby, page 11
Book 2, A City Boy Begins a Career, page 75
Book 3, Sent Up the River, page 125

Book 4, A Prisoner at Albany, page 203

Book 5, Presidential Yearnings, page 288In Explanation

 

 

 

IT WOULD BE INDISCREET, NOT TO SAY CRUEL, FOR
the writer to express publicly his gratitude to cer-
tain of the gentlemen who have assisted in the
preparation of this critique of the career of Alfred
E. Smith. Being politicians, they will understand,
for it is the custom of their profession to talk
frankly when they are confident that their names
will not be used. They will gladly forego any im-
mortality which might result from prefatory
recognition.

It is possible, however, to acknowledge herewith
gratitude to the following: The New York World@’s
Biographical Department staff for furnishing news-
paper clippings dating back to rgo4; George Graves
and James J. Mahoney of Governor Smith’s execu-
tive staff, who gladly let me see public and private
papers because it is their unshakeable belief that
nothing their chief has said or done can do other
than redound to his credit.

Also to Julian Harris, editor of the Columbus
(Ga.) Enguirer-Sun, for invaluable assistance in
learning the viewpoint of the South toward Smith.

9In Explanation

To Henry Collins Brown, whose volumes, “The
Last Fifty Years in New York” and “New York
in the Elegant Eighties”, have been constantly
drawn upon. To the Atlantic Monthly and to
Charles C. Marshall for permission to use the
Smith-Marshall correspondence. To Mrs. Henry
Moskowitz, who, if she does not approve of some of
the conclusions I have drawn, will, I hope, believe

that the purpose was honest.

And lastly, and more than to a
to Helena Huntington Smith, my
by reading the manuscript

11 the others com-
bined, wife, who
risked domestic strife
page by page. H. f. BF

New York, August 1, 1927-BOOK ONE

Outgrowing the Brown DerbyChapter One

A FEW DAYS AFTER JUNE I, 1923, AT WHICH TIME
the nation had been theoretically dry for some four
years, the white-coated host of a speakeasy down
near the Manhattan end of the Brooklyn Bridge
hung, with due ceremony, a large portrait of Al-
fred E. Smith behind his bar. Over the smiling
photograph of the Governor of the State of New
York he draped an American flag in rigidly artistic
folds and under it tacked a neat card bearing the
words:
HE MADE Goop!

It was a tribute from the heart. For on June 1
the Governor, after untold mental anguish, unani-
mous advice to the contrary from recently acquired
unofficial advisers with their eyes on the Democratic
National Convention, and frenzied affirmative
pressure from Tammany Hall, had finally signed
a law which invalidated the State’s liquor enforce-
ment act. Approving this repealer was a duty that
Al Smith would have evaded, had it been possible,
with the greatest of pleasure. Already a candidate
for the Democratic presidential nomination, he

13Alfred E. Smith

knew that the moistness of his past was causing dele-
gates in the Jand of corn whiskey and mint julep to
favor the arid McAdoo. But there was, unhappily,
no alternative; so, after protesting for almost a
month that he had an open mind, he signed the bill.
In a lengthy and carefully worded memorandum
‘ssued simultaneously, he genuflected toward the
s and said that “there will still rest upon the
5 State the sacred responsibility of
stead Act with as much force and
“any State law or local ordi-

dry
peace officers of th
sustaining the Vol
as much vigor” as

nance”’.
““__warning to that effect,” he added solemnly,

(Gs herein contained as coming from the Chief Ex-
ecutive of the State of New York.”

This, of course, was what Al himself, in the by-
gone days when he was more careless in his public
utterances, would have branded “boloney and apple-
sauce”. It was exactly the sort of perfectly futile
gesture less able politicians are always making.
Certainly it did not fool the militant and well-paid
leaders of the Methodist-Prohibition army. Nor
did a single police chief, sheriff or other peace ofh-
cer anywhere in the State have apprehension of a
rebuke from Albany for failing to be diligent in
“the sacred responsibility of sustaining the Volstead
Act”. And down in lower Manhattan the speak-
easy owner rejoiced that no longer would the pre-
cinct police captain or special patrolmen from head-

14Outgrowing the Brown Derby

quarters clatter up his rickety staircase in the name
of prohibition. Invalidation of the State enforce-
ment act meant a delightful drop in the cost of do-
ing business, since in the future financial arrange-
ments of a protective nature would be limited to
federal agents.

But now, although only four years have passed,
the portrait of Al Smith no longer grins down on
the bar-flies. In its place is one of the Tammany
Hall leader of the district, a scowling gentleman
with a neck like a boa-constrictor. And the bar-
keep, shaking his head more in sorrow than in an-
ger, is willing to explain why the substitution has
been made.

““Fle’s made two very serious mistakes, Al has,”
he mourns. “He moved away from Oliver Street
and he made Jimmy Walker appoint that guy Mc-
Laughlin police commissioner. Well, McLaugh-
lin’s out. But the boys haven’t forgot him!”

It must not be assumed from this episode of the
speakeasy that the shift in local sentiment has any-
thing to do with prohibition. The Governor may
be inclined to reiterate his devotion to law enforce-
ment and may carefully refrain from sighing, as he
once did, for the pungent days of brass rails and
foaming beer schooners. "Tammany does not resent
surface changes as long as it has faith that Al is at
heart as moist as ever. He would again approve a
repeal of State enforcement, though the task would

T fe
a)Alfred E. Smith

be even more bitter than in 1923. The turning of .
his picture to the wall, so to speak, is the result of
a growing political inferiority complex among the
boys of the organization. A suspicion long current
has become a conviction: that Al Smith not only
privately thinks himself bigger than Tammany but
wishes word to that effect to reach the remote cor-
ners of the land.

The boys are now recalling that in 1918, having
been elected Governor for the first time, Al was
asked whether in his new magnificence he would
give up his home at No. 25 Oliver Street on the
East Side of Manhattan. Give it up? Live else-
where than in the Fourth Ward, to whose people he
owed everything? He denied it vigorously. “My
home in Oliver Street,” he said, “will remain my
New York home no matter where my work shall
take me, and when I come to the city at any time it
is there I shall live.” But in 1924 he admitted,
unable quite to conceal a guilty feeling, that he had
permitted his lease to lapse. Being at Albany most
of the year, he could not afford to keep up the old
homestead. Besides, the house was needed for a
nuns’ home by the neighborhood church. He would
continue to live at the Hotel Biltmore when in the
city, as he had been doing recently. “Tammany ac-
cepted the explanation with misgivings and waited.
A year passed, but the sisters’ home did not mate-
rialize. And when finally an undertaker moved

16Outgrowing the Brown Derby

into No. 25 Oliver Street and parked his hearse in
front of the door, remarks were made on the gloomy
fitness of life’s plan.

Nor is it merely that the Fourth Ward boy has
moved uptown, has discarded the incredible brown
derby he wore for so long, and now rubs elbows
with swells from Park Avenue. An outstanding
grievance, as the speakeasy philosopher pointed out,
was that after Smith had enthroned the gay Jimmy
Walker in the Mayor’s seat at the City Hall he
forced the appointment of George V. McLaughlin
as police commissioner. This McLaughlin was a
man without the slightest appreciation of the prob-
lems that daily perplex a district leader. He
seemed to have no use for Tammany and refused to
promote patrolmen, no matter how many votes they
controlled, unless they had something besides bone
in their heads. It was a happy day for many a dis-
trict leader last March when McLaughlin an-
nounced that he had resigned to take a high execu-
tive post with the Postal Telegraph Company.
During the fifteen months he was in office, Smith
had been deaf to appeals that he interfere, and so
was damned in countless clubhouses.

There are other factors in the unhappy situation.
The Governor, Tammany Hall is learning, is turn- *
ing to an increasing degree to advisers who are not
practical politicians, who are not members of the
organization, who cannot—so the regulars insist—

17Alfred E. Smith

produce a single vote. In recent years his appoint-
ments have been almost treasonable, for he has given
theoretical Republicans—“A1 Smith Republicans”
they have been called—some of the most lucrative
plums on his tree. The boys of the Wigwam are
jeering because he permits the grammar and phras-
ing of his speeches to be edited, and particularly
because this is done by a woman. They resent the
fact that when he travels it is in the private car of
a wealthy friend, that he week-ends on a yacht with
another friend, that he has silk-stocking folk up at
the Executive Mansion. It is even being whispered
that he is in cahoots with the traction trust in New
York and “has sold out to the higher fare crowd”
in return for financial assistance in the event that he
runs for President.

On at least one occasion Al was indiscreet enough
to blurt out confirmation of one of the horrid fears
that troubled the sleep of the lads of Tammany. It
was as the Democratic National Convention gasped
to its close at the old Madison Square Garden. A
nomination had finally been achieved and Smith
stepped forward to promise that the long battle be-
tween McAdoo and himself would not divide the
party, that it would work with all vigor to achieve
the election of John W. Davis. This he pledged
in the name of the Democrats of the State.

‘For I,” he boasted, “am the leader of the
Democracy of New York.”

18Outgrowing the Brown Derby

A year later he demonstrated his leadership by
forcing a hesitant Tammany Hall to reject Mayor
Hylan for a third term.

All of this was hard for the organization to
swallow. George Olvany, nominal boss of the Wig-
wam, declared formally that “neither the Governor
nor the Mayor is the leader of Tammany Hall”.
The fact is, it must be obvious, that Al Smith has
risen to such eminence that he is no longer forced
to obey the commands of Tammany. Olvany, for
all his protests, is negligible in comparison. He is
the commander of a collection of peanut politicians
whose strength lies in their number and in the well-
oiled perfection of their machine. It is almost
solely due to Al Smith that recently a new vision of
Tammany Hall has arisen, an organization freed of
the memory of Tweed, purged of the taint of Cro-
ker and the others, and declared worthy the sup-
port of independent voters.

Such a state of affairs is contrary to the concep-
tion of politics in New York. No mere candidate,
particularly one who had started in the lowly office
of Assemblyman, as did Smith, has the right to
dictate to an organization of the age and might of
Tammany Hall. It is a situation filled with peril,
for a figure with so large a personal following is
certain to become overbearing and arrogant. The
boys cannot forget that Al, and no other, is to-day
the boss of a State convention and that he plays the

19Alfred E. Smith

role for all that it is worth. They will continue to
work for him, of course, for the victories that he
alone can win are their meal tickets. They rush to
slap him on the back and proclaim their loyalty.
Behind his back, though, they sneer at those with
whom he associates most intimately and whom he
often names for high office. These are persons of «
education; highbrows and reformers. If Al has,
been playing politics with his eye on the White
House, it has been largely by the novel method of
improving the government of the State of New
York.

Such being the metamorphosis, when did it be-
gin? When did Al begin to look slightly askance
at the practical leaders of Tammany and turn in-
stead to other minds, keen, clever and frequently
Jewish? I offer the theory that it would never have
happened at all had not a newspaper owner called
him a “baby killer” and so inflamed the Irish senti-
mentality that is part of him. It was William Ran-
dolph Hearst who aroused his emotions to the point
where he forgot both expediency and practical polli-
tics—and thereby was practical beyond the dim-
mest dream of his party or himself. It must be a
depressing thought to Mr. Hearst, as he sits in the
sunshine of his California ranch and reflects that
his name no longer is of political consequence in
New York, to know that partial credit is his for the
ascendancy of Alfred E. Smith.

20Chapter Two

 

POLITICIANS OF THE SAME FAITH, PERSPIRING IN
the heat of a primary contest, are permitted to hurl
epithets, make accusations and broadcast charges
that would breed lifelong enmities among more
sensitive men in other callings. But at the end of
the campaign, a nomination having at last been
made, it is the first rule in the Code of Ethics of the
Practical Politician that bitterness shall promptly be
forgotten. All must be tranquillity, harmony, cor-
diality and love within the ranks. For political vic-
tories hang only on the banners of united parties;
and without at least occasional victories dismal
death looms for any organization.

Al Smith, a graduate of the Tammany Hall sys-
tem where the Code is law, is as aware of all this
as any man in the dubious trade of politics. It has
been part of the background which made him, until
1915 or so, the brilliant henchman at Albany of the
organization housed in the ornate and shabby build-
ing on Fourteenth Street. Yet in the fall of 1922
he barricaded himself in a hotel room at Syracuse
and declined with heat and profanity either to for-
give or forget when he was ordered to run on a
21Alfred E. Smith

ticket with William Randolph Hearst, then still a
more or less hardy perennial in the politics of the
State. It was the first definite and lasting proof «
that the personal code of Smith 1s a higher one than
that of the system. It was merely a happy coinci-
dence, one detracting but little from the credit due
him, that Al was then enjoying an excellent income
in private life and was in a position to be inde-
pendent.

Smith, in common with most other men, had
‘ small reason to like Hearst, whose desire for public
office had long been one of the mysteries of the
American drama. Legend has it that friction be-
tween the two was, on Smith’s part, originally a
heritage. In 1907 Thomas F. Foley, the leader of
Al’s home district in the Fourth Ward, was a candi-
date for Sheriff of New York County. He was a
type of politician, now vanished, who knew inti-
mately nearly every man, woman and child on the
lower East Side, and was universally loved as “Big
Tom” Foley. His death two years ago was to Man-
hattan as the passing of some kindly squire in a
small town. ‘To young Al Smith he had been a po-
litical godfather; more, even, than that. For back
in the ?80’s, when the Brooklyn Bridge was not yet
a gossamer web against the sky, the small boys of
the neighborhood had received an occasional nickel
by hanging around the front of the saloon on Cen-
ter Street which Foley owned. Smith cannot re-
22.Outgrowing the Brown Derby

member the time when he did not revere “Big
Mom?”

“Tt was as though I were his own son,” he said
when word of Foley’s death was brought to him in
1925. ‘I was born one block away from where he
kept his saloon. He was responsible in 1903 for my
first nomination.”

Hearst, so the story of the origin of the enmity
goes, decided to enter a candidate against Foley in
the campaign for Sheriff. It was a characteristically
stupid political venture and nothing came of it ex-
cept hard feeling. ‘Tammany Hall then, as now,
had Manhattan in its grip. But the Hearst papers
attacked Foley’s character and the old man resented
it with all the bitterness of a rugged, religious na-
ture. Al Smith, over beer glasses at the clubhouse
on Madison Street, often heard the newspaper
owner damned and denounced. Being a loyal pro-
tégé of Foley, he joined heartily in the denuncia-
tions. Foley, it is true, was primarily a politician
and did not permit his sense of injury to interfere
in mere practical matters. Nor did Smith. In
1917 both supported the woefully unfit John F.
Hylan for Mayor of New York, although Al might
himself have had the nomination but for Hearst’s
insistence upon the former Brooklyn motorman.
So it went for the next year or so, with the bitterness
usually just under the surface. In 1918 the better
elements of the Democratic Party united in a de-

23Alfred E. Smith

mand that Smith be the gubernatorial nominee.
Hearst debated for some weeks a contest in the pri-
maries. Finally, in a rare burst of discretion, he
abandoned the idea and supported Al.

At one time, if gossip is to be credited, relations
between Smith and the publisher-who-thought-he-
was-a-politician became almost cordial. It is said
that Al’s children were frequently entertained at
Hearst’s Riverside Drive home. Smith, then,
seemed willing enough to forget the past. Such
was the situation when he went to Albany for his
first term as Governor on January 1, 1919. But
before many months had passed the break occurred
which Al has never been able to ignore. It was the
reason for his defiance at Syracuse in 1922 and
really marked the beginning of Hearst’s elimina-
tion as a factor in New York politics.

Smith may have been deficient in many respects
when he started a period of service as Chief Execu-
tive of New York destined to run into four terms,
a record in the history of the State, but lack of
knowledge of the machinery of the government was
not among them. His long record as legislator,
continuous from 1904 to 1915, had made him fa-
miliar with the most hidden of the cogs. Thus, in
his first message to the legislature he urged the ap-
pointment of a commission to study the problem of
milk distribution in New York, for he knew that
this was growing increasingly acute. He also knew

24Outgrowing the Brown Derby

that he was without power to do much himself, be-
cause in 1917 the Republican majority in the ieee
lature had placed regulatory control of the milk
supply in the hands of a board responsible only to
the lawmakers. ‘The Governor could not remove
the members from office, no matter how flagrant
their offenses.

“‘The present high cost of milk is a public men-
ace,” the Governor said upon taking office. “It is
unnecessary to describe the misery, disease and
death that follow an inadequate milk supply.
Thousands of poor people, and especially children,
are deprived of sufficient nourishment.”

For months he continued to urge action, always
facing opposition from a legislature fearful of the
political effect of interference with the dairy indus-
try. It was a grave problem, and one that any Gov-
ernor must have attacked vigorously. To Smith it
was one peculiarly personal. He is the father of
five children. He was born, if not in the slums, as
is often mistakenly stated, at least close enough to
the obscenities of poverty to know that children
bred in its midst have slight enough chance at best
to survive with bodies that are whole and sound.
And the strain of Irish blood in his veins, not pro-
nounced enough to make him muddle-headed, is
ample to bring him half-way between tears and pro-
fanity when it is charged that he has neglected the
welfare of boys and girls.
25Alfred E. Smith

Which explains the anger, at first smoldering
and then flaring to a white heat, which finally
caused him to brush aside expediency when the
Hearst papers began publishing in the summer and
fall of 1919 charges that “Governor Smith is
whimpering and whining, but babies in New York
are dying for lack of milk”. It did not matter to
Hearst that Smith was without authority to act. His
editorial writers continued to insinuate that he was
in league with the “milk trust”, that he had be-
trayed the people, that he had the power to fix the
price of milk but did not do so, that he had once
kept food adulterers from going to jail. They were
cruel accusations, malicious and false. With them,
in the New York Evening Journal particularly, ap-
peared dreadful pictures of emaciated children and
pleading mothers—cartoons that only a Hearst pa-
per or the lowest type of tabloid would print.

Being cartooned was nothing new to Al Smith.
Nor was being vilified. But he had never known
anything comparable to the violence of this. One
afternoon, it is related, the youngest son of the
Governor chanced to find a copy of the Journal in
the street. The issue contained an unusually nasty
drawing in which a dog was labeled “Al Smith”.
The boy, puzzled and worried, took it in to his
mother. ‘Why do they call father a dog?” he
asked. Meanwhile, the Governor’s elderly mother,
who had been ill for weeks at her home in Brook-

26Outgrowing the Brown Derby

lyn, became worse. She, too, had heard of the
Hearst attacks.

“My son did not kill the babies,” those at her
bedside reported hearing her murmur in delirium.

Incredibly, in the face of it all, Smith had re-
mained silent. The politician, apparently, was
stronger still than the man. But when at last he
spoke it was with vigor and coarseness but a step
away from the unprintable. He denounced the
“foul, dirty pen” of his accuser; his “slimy ink”.
He dared Hearst to debate the issue in public and
boasted that it was fear “that keeps his filthy sheets
strangely silent about my challenge”. The Journal
was “like a cuttlefish that emits black ink”. Hearst
was the “greatest living enemy of the people whose
cause he pretends to espouse”, the “greatest auto-
crat the country has ever known”’.

Then the challenge to debate was made formal,
with a date and place named. But Hearst declined.
So Smith stepped alone to the platform of Carnegie
Hall on the night of October 29. He has never
appeared to better advantage. Angry and hurt,
knowing that the charges against him were false, he
was a man stripped of formalities. All that was
savage in him and all that was crude were close to
the surface. He fidgeted in his seat as the usual
introduction was made. Then his words came in
a gushing stream, a torrent so mad that grammar
and phrasing and the niceties of syntax were swept

27Alfred E. Smith

aside. ‘This was no speech prepared in advance and
carefully edited by his advisory staff. The steno-
graphic record, from which I quote, gives an excel-
lent idea of its extemporaneous nature and twisted

 

force:

“J am going to ask,” he said, “for your absolute silence
and attention. I feel that I am here to-night upon a mis-
sion as important not only to myself but to this city, this
State and this country, as I could possibly perform. Of
course, I am alone.—I know the man to whom I issued
the challenge, and I know that he has not got a drop of
good, clean, pure, red blood in his whole body. And I
know the color of his liver, and it is whiter, if that could
be, than the driven snow.

“In his morning edition he has a picture of me with a
laboring man cartooned on one side, and a mother and
her children on the other. The heading of it is: ‘Answer
these people, Governor Smith’. I want to say to this
audience that I was anxious to bring him on this platform
so that he could answer to these people. They need no
answer from me. They need it from him. They need
it from the man that is exploiting them. They need it
from the man that is sowing in their minds and in their
hearts the seeds of disorder and discontent to suit his own

selfish purpose.”

Al Smith’s face is always reddish. In the heat
of a vehement address it becomes crimson. He
does not perspire. He sweats. Increasingly, as the.
years of his experience have accumulated, his poise
and dignity have increased. At the average public
hearing over which he presides at Albany he is all
28Outgrowing the Brown Derby

that could be desired of a Governor, even by the
most correct of critics. But during an important
address, for all that his tailoring is immaculate,
there is about him just a trace of his trucking days.
He knows nothing of public speaking as a fine art,
of the nuances of phrasing. He has one or two sim-
ple gestures; a fist crashing on the stand in front of
him, a finger pointed in accusation. His voice,
with its nasal twang of the East Side, bellows and
roars and cracks and penetrates to the last row of
seats. He is discordant, often awkward, lacking in
versatility. And he is tremendously effective.

So he appeared as he ripped into Hearst and then
gave his explanation of the reasons that were back
of the attacks made upon him. The publisher, he
said, had as early as the previous March made an
indirect request for the appointment of a friend to
a State commission. It had been denied, and ten
days later the Avmerican had published an editorial
criticizing the Governor. This was merely a warn-
ing; as yet the full venom of Hearst had not been
aroused. The next demand from Hearst was for
the selection of a certain man for the Appellate Di-
vision of the Supreme Court. Smith named his
own choice, with the result that in a few days the
editorial barrage opened in full force, first with the
specification that the Governor was in conspiracy
with wealthy men to prevent the building of homes
for the poor. Inthe end, Al told the Carnegie Hall
20Alfred E. Smith

audience, the milk issue was chosen because all the
others had failed. He was “responsible for the
starvation of the children in New York because he
refused to reduce the price of milk”. The recol-
lection of this baseless accusation again brought the

flood of words:

“Farly in my remarks,” he said, “I said something about
misleading the poor. I cannot think of a more contempt-
ible man—my power of imagination fails me to bring into
my mind’s eye a more despicable man—than the man that
exploits the poor. Any man that . . . conjures up for you
a fancied grievance against your government or against the
man at the head of it, to help himself, is breeding the seeds
of anarchy and dissatisfaction more disastrous to the wel-
fare of the community . . . than any other teaching I can
think of because, at least, the wildest Anarchist, the most
extreme Socialist, the wildest radical that you can think of
may at least be sincere in his own heart. He may think
that it is right when he preaches it. But the man that
preaches to the poor of this or of any other community
discontent and dissatisfaction to help himself and to de-
stroy, as he said he would, the Governor of the State, 1s
a man as low and as mean as I can picture him . . . it was
attempted to fix in the minds of the people that there ex-
isted some place in the statute law of this State the power
on the part of the Governor to fix the price of milk... he
knows that it is not so. His lawyers know that it is not so,
and I defy him—and he has the best legal advice in the
city, because he never utters a word until it is scrutinized
by an array of lawyers to keep him away from libel suits
—I defy him or his lawyers to challenge that cold,
straightforward statement of mine that no power exists
30Outgrowing the Brown Derby

in my hands or in the hands of any other agency of this
government to fix the price at which anybody can sell any-
thing in this State, whether it is milk or shoes or houses
or anything else.”

It was a speech filled with tortuous involved sen-
tences that would keep an ordinary man gasping
for breath. Al, however, has stout lungs. Item by
item he demolished the allegations of the Hearst
papers. It was a lie that he had appointed a rep-
resentative of the milk trust to office, another lie
that he had interfered with the prosecution of the
milk trust. In the last analysis, he said, there was
nothing very remarkable about the Hearst attacks;
his newspapers taught that “there has never been a
man elected to office yet that has not been tainted
in some way”, that ‘no man has enough of Chris-
tian charity to do the right thing; that no man that
ever held great public office had enough of respect
and regard for his mother and his wife and his chil-
dren and his friends to be right in office”.

“Nobody that ever went up to the Governor’s office
went there with a graver sense of the responsibility of that
office than I did,” said Smith in conclusion. ‘What could
there possibly be about me that I should be assailed in this
reckless manner by this man? I have more reason, prob-
ably, than any man I will meet here to-night to have a
strong love and a strong devotion for this country, for
this State and for this city.

“Took at what I have received at its hands: I left school
and went to work when I was fifteen years of age. I

a1Alfred E. Smith

worked hard, night and day; I worked honestly and con-
scientiously at every job that I was ever put at, until I
went to the Governor’s chair at Albany. What can it be?
It has got to be jealousy, it has got to be envy, it has got
to be hatred, or it has to be something that nobody under-
stands, that forces me to come down here, into the city
of New York before this audience, and urge them to or-
ganize in this city to stay the danger that comes from
these papers, to the end that the health, the welfare and
the comfort of this people, of the people of this State,
may be promoted and we may be rid of this pestilence that
walks in the dark.”

   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
  
 

Whereupon the citizenry assembled, invited to at-
tend the meeting by a committee organized several
weeks previous and including many Republicans as
well as Democrats, unanimously adopted a resolu-
tion urging “sound public opinion directed against
the insidious and disintegrating opinions” of the
journals owned by Mr. Hearst.Chapter Three

 

A FRIENDLY BIOGRAPHER OF AL SMITH, RECALL-
ing the courageous anger that had marked the Car-
negie Hall speech in October of 1919, would find
great satisfaction in reporting that from then on he
had never faltered in outspoken scorn of the influ-
ence he had branded “‘a pestilence that walks in the
dark”, of the man he had declared “‘without a drop
of good, clean, pure, red blood in his body”. But
this would be too much to expect of even the best
American politicians. Many an otherwise upright
man, having endangered his soul by public life, has
had bedfellows who in later years peer forth like
skeletons from closets he would prefer ever closed.
Eventually, as I have indicated, Smith’s better na-
ture convinced him that it did not pay to compro-
mise for long with decency. And there is this, at
least, to be said for him: that from 1919 on he did
not a single thing to win support for himself from
the millionaire publisher. In public he was tem-
porarily silent on the subject of Hearst. But in
private he was as profanely bitter as ever and was
deaf to suggestions from his more flexible Tammany

979
JoAlfred E. Smith

confréres that the general good would be served by
a few favors for his enemy.

Most difficult of all to defend, if Smith is to be
judged by standards higher than those of practical
politics, was his part in 1921 in bringing about the
reélection of Hylan as Mayor of New York. He
knew perfectly well that Hylan was Hearst’s prop-
erty. He had seen him held up to ridicule by every
responsible newspaper in New York and was aware
that no injustice had been done. Four years later,
having finally screwed up his courage and forced
Tammany to reject Hylan for a third term, Al
pointed out instance after instance of the Mayor’s
incompetency. All of this he had known since
1917. In that year he had run on the Hylan
ticket for Aldermanic President and after the elec-
tion had enjoyed ample opportunity to observe the
Mayor in action. Both were members of the Board
of Estimate and Apportionment, the city’s most im-
portant governing body.

The offices at the City Hall in New York are so
arranged that the Mayor and the Aldermanic
President labor at opposite ends of the main corri-
dor. Soon after Hylan was inaugurated his
strangely suspicious nature caused him to decline to
give interviews except to the newspaper men on the
payroll of Mr. Hearst. The other reporters as-
signed to the City Hall soon became disgusted with
him, with his personality as well as his lack of abil-

34Outgrowing the Brown Derby

ity. Al Smith, of course, was an old friend and very
popular. Often they would drift into his inner
sanctum for consolation in the shape of a funny
story. Often, also, they would air their grievance
against the Mayor.

“Al,” one of them declared on such an occasion,
“that man Hylan is a fathead.”

Smith chewed the end of his cigar, expectorated
neatly and amended the descriptive phrase. In
print, however, his characterization of his former
running mate could appear only as a line of as-
terisks.

But another time, a few weeks later, he went out
of his way to shield Hylan from the consequences
of an uttered absurdity. It is one of Al’s endearing
traits that he frequently does this. A mind as keen
as his, enlivened by a sparkling wit and a small-boy
sense of humor, might easily give in to the tempta-
tion of making less agile men ridiculous. Smith’s
outbreak of chivalry toward Hylan occurred dur-
ing a long session of the Board of Estimate, called
to decide whether a bridge or a tunnel should be
built to connect Manhattan with New Jersey. Va-
rious engineers, slightly patronizing, as is their
custom when addressing men who do not know
a logarithm from a tadpole, appeared before the
board to give their views. They talked of invest-
ment costs, depreciation, operating expenses, main-
tenance and vehicle capacity. Several grew quite

5Alfred E. Smith

heated in their learned arguments on the virtues of
tunnels as opposed to bridges. Mayor Hylan, listen-
ing to their long and technical dissertations, grew
restless. He had little conception of what they
were talking about, but resented their superior at-
titude and the tendency of one or two to ignore him,
the Chief Executive of the city. At a particularly
warm place in the debate he took off his glasses,
tapped them on the table and broke in.

“This tunnel, now,” he said with bland pro-
fundity, “is it your plan to build it by the open cut
or by the bore method?”

The face of Al Smith was a study. Then he saw
two of the reporters covering the meeting slip out
of the room.

“Say,” he said, following them into the corridor,
“have a heart. The Mayor wasn’t thinking when
he pulled that! A tunnel built under a river by
open cut; you’d have to hire fish to build it! Sit
you print anything about that he’ll be the laugh of
the town. Can’t you forget it?”

And such was Smith’s popularity that the report-
ers, although they would have relished a chance to
get back at Hylan for repeated incivilities, agreed
to pass up the story. Smith has never mentioned
the incident, even in private. He said nothing
about it during the bitter primary fight in 1925,
when he assisted James J. Walker to defeat Hylan
for the Democratic mayoralty nomination.

36Outgrowing the Brown Derby

It was in the fall of 1921 that Tammany again
bowed its neck to Hearst and nominated Hylan to
succeed himself. For the first time since he had
gone to the State legislature in 1904, Smith had re-
tired to private life. In 1920, due to the Harding
landslide, he had been defeated by Nathan L. Mil-
ler, the Republican candidate. He was enjoying
his period of freedom as chairman of the board of
the United States Trucking Corporation and insist-
ing, from time to time, that he had no intention of
going back into politics. He consented, however, to
make the principal oration at exercises on October 5
held to notify Hylan officially of his nomination. In
those remote days Al still wore his brown derby and
for the ceremonies at the City Hall he was a sym-
phony in brown; suit, shoes, necktie and hat. In
his mouth was a large and, as always, rather man-
gled cigar. Although he appeared cheerful enough,
there are indications that he did not relish this task
too much. For one thing, a very unusual precau-
tion on his part, he read his speech from a manu-
script prepared in advance. Possibly he feared that
without this guide he might chance to speak sin-
cerely and thereby plunge Tammany into a dreadful
hole. As it turned out he got through the affair
very well, paying tribute to the Mayor as follows:

“We congratulate you upon your unanimous nomina-

tion by the great party of progress in the city that by its
nomination recognizes your untiring efforts for, and un-

ne
7Alfred E. Smith

selfish devotion to, the best interests of the rank and file
of our people and we pledge you our earnest and faithful
support. You have been Mayor of New York during
four of the most difficult years in all her history. When
you assumed office the country was at war—ordinary
municipal business was subordinated to the great issue con-
fronting the country. You have made a strong and vigor-
ous fight for the right of the municipality to regulate its
internal affairs. In that fight you have received the
hearty support of our citizenry without regard to party
affiliations.”

 

A few days later, at the Wigwam on Fourteenth
Street, Smith again spoke in behalf of Hylan. This
time memory of some of Hylan’s eccentricities of
administration seems to have been too strong. In
concluding, Al said:

‘Whatever mistakes Hylan has made during the past
four years were mistakes which he made with the best
impulses, trying with all his heart and soul to do his best.”

Hylan was elected and four years passed. Then
Smith, campaigning for the nomination of Walker
in 1925, at last had the opportunity to say what he
really believed.

“I supported him the two times he was a candidate,”
he admitted honestly. “I left my private business to go
to the steps of the City Hall to place him in nomination
the second time—and if I say it myself, I made more
intelligent speeches for his election than he was able to
make himself.”

 

38Outgrowing the Brown Derby

“Everything the Mayor ever came to Albany to fight
for he went away leaving in a more hopeless form than
‘t was before he arrived. If he has helped the Albany
situation in the slightest degree, he has helped it by going
to Palm Beach for a month every winter.”

‘Why, everybody knows that he cannot make any de-
cision until he hears from California. That is where his
big boss is.”

“Of course, a little thing like a Democratic Platform
does not mean anything to the Mayor, for he does not
understand it.”Chapter Four

 
 
 
 
   
   
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 

 

, FOR SOME TIME AFTER OCTOBER OF 191Q, IT Is
obvious, Smith was either unaware of his strength
or did not care to exert it. He played the old game
he had played at Albany for years, and the slow,
gentle voice of Charles F. Murphy continued in
his ears to be the voice of God. Despite himself,.
though, his influence was growing. Others remem-
bered his Carnegie Hall attack on Hearst even if
Al was himself content for the moment to remain
passive. And all the time, even during the two.
years he was out of office, his reputation as an up-
right man with a quick, intelligent mind in-
creased. The newspapers of the period from late,
1919 to 1922 show that he was becoming known in
distant places where Oliver Street and the Fourth
Ward have no meaning.

In February, 1920—he was then starting his sec-
ond year as Governor—a minor boom started to
make him a favorite-son candidate at the Demo-
cratic National Convention to be held that year in
San Francisco. He was elected a delegate-at-large ,
by his party and a few weeks later the up-State
Democrats, always enthusiastic in his support andOutgrowing the Brown Derby

destined to be loyal later on when Tammany was
ready to betray him, began to demand serious con-
sideration of the proposal to put forward the name
of Al Smith for President. By April and May
the political writers were conceding that he was a
possible dark horse and from Chicago came word
that the Illinois Democratic Boss, George Brennan,
was favorably inclined. Al was outspokenly anti-
prohibition in 1920 and benefited from the opposi-
tion of the New York delegates and other wets to
William Gibbs McAdoo, seeking the nomination
for the first time. On June 17 a special train filled
with Tammany delegates and liquor started for the
Coast. Smith, said Boss Murphy, was New York’s
only candidate.

In due time Bourke Cockran, whose silver-
tongued and tear-squeezing orations Al Smith had
as a boy carefully clipped from the newspapers,
placed his name in nomination with all the proper
Aourishes. ‘Two States joined in the demonstration
that followed. The band played “Tammany” and
even attempted “The Sidewalks of New York”.
But this song had as yet none of the significance it
was to have at the Madison Square Garden in New
York four years later. And the enthusiasm was a
whisper compared to the uproar, partially synthetic,
that swept through the Garden on the torrid June
day in 1924 when Franklin D. Roosevelt limped
on crutches to the rostrum, held himself erect with

AIAlfred E. Smith

his strong arms, and called upon the delegates to
cast their votes for “the Happy Warrior of the po-
litical battlefield”’.

The 1920 convention meant nothing. Will
Rogers and Andy Gump have received votes at a
national convention. Smith was smart enough to
know this and later, recalling the sad fate of Charles
S. Whitman, whose presidential yearnings while
Governor of New York were the subject of much
caustic comment, he remarked:

 

“Say! You know what happened to every Governor
who went to Albany and instead of attending strictly to
business sat up in the dome of the Capitol with his eyes
glued to a pair of field glasses trained on the White
House.”

- This wise policy he has steadfastly pursued to the
present day, and there are few more striking indi-
cations of the man’s sanity and good judgment.
Thought of the presidency has, of course, influ-
enced him greatly—notably in that it has caused
him to be cautious about talking on the subject of
prohibition. But it can be stated as an absolute fact
that he has done no overt thing to gratify his presi-
dential ambition. In his inaugural message of
January 1, 1927, and those interested in his growth
will compare the polished diction with the language
of the similar declaration quoted above, he said:

“Now I have no idea what the future has in store for
me. Every one in the United States has some notion

42Outgrowing the Brown Derby

about it except myself. No man could stand before this
intelligent gathering and say that he was not receptive to
the greatest position the world has to give to any one.
“But I can say this, that I will do nothing to achieve it
except to give to the people of the State the kind and
character of service that will make me deserve it.”

In 1922, unquestionably, Smith’s province was
the State of New York. And a great task lay ahead
of him. As the year opened he was happy in his
trucking job and still announcing, as though he
really believed it, that he did not wish to return to
public life. But an ominous shadow was spreading
across the prospects of the Democratic Party.
Hearst, elated over having again forced the election
of Hylan, began to prepare for the gubernatorial
contest in the fall. Governor Miller, an able man,
had demonstrated his belief in government by the
fit, if few, and had made many enemies. There
were signs that it would not be difficult for the
Democrats to return to power and prosperity.
Smith, meanwhile, was rapidly approaching a
crossroads in his life. On every side were demands
that he again run against Miller. But down at
Tammany Hall, it was plain, Murphy was fearful
of the strength of Hearst. He was pondering the
intentions of the publisher and wondering how un-
pleasant Hylan might be regarding city jobs held
by Tammany men in the event that a reasonable re-
quest from his patron was denied.

43Alfred E. Smith

It was Hearst’s last stand. His political history,
with the exception of Hylan, had been largely a
series of defeats. He must have known that if this
time he lost, it would be the end of his influence,
that Hylan would probably be rejected for a third
term in 1925 and that all then remaining would be
retirement to his California estates, there to read in
leisure the daily omniscience of Arthur Brisbane and
news accounts of the increasing glory of a man
named Smith. On January 22, 1922, the New
York World published a prophetic description of
the situation. It disclosed that agents of Hearst
were organizing in up-State communities in prepa-
ration for demanding the nomination either for
Governor or United States Senator. Both offices
were to be filled in November and Hearst wanted
one of them. The World summarized the possi-
bilities as follows:

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  

“With a few notable exceptions, Tammany district
leaders in New York are holding well-paying jobs under
the Hylan administration or enjoying remunerative re-
turns from private business promoted to a large extent by
their political connections. Upon all of these individuals,
loyal though they are to the 14th Street Wigwam, pres-
sure can be brought to bear through the Hylan adminis-
tration.

“If Hearst determines to make himself the candidate
for Senator, is there any likelihood of ex-Governor Al
Smith aspiring to or even accepting the nomination for
Governor? This is a question much discussed. Some

44Outgrowing the Brown Derby

Democrats of consequence, inclined to accept Hearst as a
Senatorial candidate, foresee a contingency where these
two bitter political and personal enemies might run on the
same ticket and brave the Republican threat to placard
the State with the opinion Smith has publicly expressed
of Hearst and the estimate of Smith’s fitness for office
Hearst has time and again published in his newspapers.”

Hearst, who never permitted old wounds to in-
terfere with current problems, neglected to bear
ill will against Smith. His newspapers had al-
ready supported Al in the 1920 campaign for Gov-
ernor. He was able to forget that this man had de-
clared him “‘without a drop of pure, red blood”.
Gradually, as the weeks passed, representatives of
the two wings in the Democratic Party began to
drift to the Canal Street offices of the United States
Trucking Corporation for a word with Smith. One
group, composed of the minority element in Tam-
many Hall, and encouraged by anti-Hearst senti-
ment up-State, pleaded with him to speak out again
against his enemy. ‘The other, consisting of emis-
saries from Boss Murphy and organization leaders,
whispered of the magnificent contributions that
Hearst would make to the campaign chest and told
him he was foolish to let ancient history interfere
with expediency. Besides, did he not believe in
regularity? Surely he was aware that a large num-~-
ber of Tammany men might have to work for a liv-
ing in the event that Hearst was turned down and

45Alfred E. Smith

gave orders to Hylan to be nasty about city jobs held
by the boys!

Smith, listening to these worthies, glanced out of
his office window, nervously chewed his cigar and
reflected, as he saw the lines of trucks parked in the
street, that private life had many virtues. In the
first place, his income was in excess of $30,000 a
year. This was decidedly pleasant, he had been dis-
covering. He was becoming attached to luxuries
he had never known. His two daughters were
growing up and becoming increasingly expensive.
He had, in brief, duties toward his family. And
besides, this obvious intention of Hearst to run for
something-or-other was an unpleasant prospect.
Tammany Hall wanted peace with the publisher.
But for Smith to make peace, in the light of the
past, was craven. So Al continued to debate the
matter with himself. Invariably he came to the
conclusion that it would be better to sit tight and

 

say nothing for the present.

Alfred E. Smith, conceived in the popular imagi-
nation to be an affable man, a glad-hander, one
who never hesitates to express himself and whose
position on all subjects is known at all times, is
actually a politician keenly aware of the virtue of
silence. He finds it possible to say nothing for
many weeks, even when excited demands for a state-
ment come from all sides. In 1925, when he was

46Outgrowing the Brown Derby

being urged to fight in the open against the renomi-
nation of Hylan, he belligerently refused to speak
out. His recent silence on prohibition is rever-
berating throughout the land. Thus, in 1922, he
was reluctant to declare himself when pleaded with
to say that he was ready to accept the nomination
for Governor. But at last he did so.

“T would not be entirely frank,” he said, “if I did not
admit that evidence has been presented to me which would
indicate a desire on the part of the Democratic rank and
file that I again take the post of leadership. If a ma-
jority of the delegates to the State convention desires me
to accept the nomination and lead the party in the State
to what seems to me to be a certain victory, I am entirely
willing to accept this honor from their hands and battle
for them with all the energy I possess.”

By early summer the battle lines were being
formed. On one side were Hearst and Hylan, a
combination with wealth and with all the political

patronage of a great city as weapons to force Tam- *

many Hall into line. On the other were younger
leaders of Tammany with outspoken preferences
for Smith, up-State Democrats and the fervent
hopes of the people of the State. The nominating
convention was scheduled for September at Syra-
cuse. Hearst grew stronger week by week and the
outlook was dark indeed. For Tammany Hall was
showing a yellow streak and it looked as though
Hearst and Hylan might win.

47

.Chapter Five

   
  
 
 
 
    
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
 

 

ON THE MORNING AND IN THE EARLY AFTERNOON
of September 28, 1922, the gaudy lobby of the
Onondaga Hotel at Syracuse, N. Y., began to
swarm with delegates to the Democratic State Con-
vention which, in the name of progress and good
government, was to nominate candidates for Gover-
nor and United States Senator. Ostensibly, the
delegates were free men and women sent to ex-
press the will of the enrolled members of their
party on the floor of the convention the following
night. Actually, of course, everything would be
decided in advance in hotel rooms filled with cigar
smoke, the odor of bad liquor and stout men tn
derby hats.

Nothing in the panorama of American life is
as typical of its political system as a convention.
And few phenomena are more depressing. The
transcendent figure is the Boss. He arrives in time
for vital conferences and is followed by a little
train of self-important men. As he passes through
the corridors of the hotel there are whispers of awe,
fear, admiration and hatred. What will this great
man decide? Who is to be nominated? Will he

48Outgrowing the Brown Derby

remember favors done for the organization? Will
he bear malice because of infrequent gestures of
independence in the past? ‘The Boss goes swiftly
upstairs to rooms reserved for him. The doors are
locked; and down the hallway begins to form a
line of local leaders, each with some petition. They
wait patiently for hours, talking in low tones and
throwing their cigar butts away as they are at last
admitted to The Presence.

Next to the Boss in importance at a convention
are the leaders from various communities. Like
the Boss, they also are convoyed by lieutenants—
mostly job-holders. It is their task to carry out the
decisions of the organization. There are numer-
ous other groups. Always present, for instance, are
representatives of the “reform element”; serious
gentlemen with vague blue eyes who are elbowed
and pushed and shoved aside by the regulars. They
are even more futile than the “rank and file” of
the party or woman political leaders. The former
are common delegates without influence, who
merely await orders. The latter group consists of
determined, middle-aged ladies who are thrilled at
their proximity to what is going on, but carefully
excluded from the inner councils. The rank and
file and the ladies may be glorified in campaign
orations, but at a convention they are less important
than the Japanese vote in California.

Such, in general, was the scene at Syracuse in

49Alfred E. Smith

1922. Charles F. Murphy, whose phrase “the con-
vention will decide” has been one of the ironical
jokes of New York political history, held forth on
the second floor of the hotel. He was not in a
happy frame of mind because he knew that Hearst
was riding high. And, privately, he was doubtful
about the willingness of Al Smith to compromise,
even for the sake of Tammany, with honor. Mayor
Hylan was also at Syracuse. He arrived with Wil-
liam A. De Ford, personal attorney to Hearst. A
later arrival was John H. McCooey, white-haired
and rotund like a butcher, the boss of the Demo-
crats of Brooklyn. Rumored to have promised his
support to Hearst, McCooey was soon in conference
with Murphy. During the day the lesser leaders
drifted in; Democrats from up-state, where the
election of a local candidate is as impossible as that
of a black Republican in South Carolina. Most
of them hated Hearst. But they were dependent
upon the State machine for partonage and knew
that a Murphy-McCooey-Hearst coalition was
more than probable.

Down in the lobby of the hotel, meanwhile, the
boys from Tammany Hall were gathering. Trans-
planted from the Wigwam on Fourteenth Street,
where they congregate on Tuesday afternoons to
ask favors of the Boss, these men would stand out
in any crowd. ‘They wear black derbies, trousers

creased to a knife-like edge and black shoes, highly
5OOutgrowing the Brown Derby

polished. They have the appearance of saloon-
keepers, as many of them once were, of small-time
gamblers, of race-track bookmakers. They stand
around pretending to look wise and talking so cau-
tiously and mysteriously that even the loan of a
match is negotiated in a whisper. At Syracuse they
knew little or nothing of what was going on, and so
were filled with theories and anxieties. Was.
Murphy going to ask Al to run with Hearst?
Would he do it? ‘Their opinion was that Smith
would do as he was told. What the hell! Hadn't
Al always been regular? Hadn’t he supported
Hylan the year before? Trust Al, he’s a good guy.
None of this reformer bunk about Al!

But the afternoon of September 28 wore into
evening and with nightfall the boys were less opti-
mistic. Hearst agents, smug with satisfaction that
the outlook was so bright, spread word that their
principal was being reasonable; he was willing to
be the candidate for Governor and would be de-
lighted to have Smith on the ticket, as the nominee
for United States Senator. The Tammany regulars
nodded their heads; no one could complain against
so fair a proposition. The up-state Democrats were
not as well pleased. Having no New York city
jobs at stake, their hatred of Hearst was more vig-
orous. Then, an hour or so after dinner, rumors
circulated that Al was holding out, that he was sit-_
ting back in a chair up in his suite and damning, »

~

SIAlfred E. Smith

cursing and spitting that never, even if it was the
last act of his life, would he consent to be a running-
mate with Hearst!

Before long the unbelievable rumors were con-
‘Gemed. Al Smith was really defying the Code, was
violating all tradition, was rejecting the law of the
tribe. The boys looked at each other in dismay,
their cigars cold and frayed between their nervous
lips. The party would be wrecked. Disaster
loomed ahead unless somebody did something.
One by one, the more venturesome stole up for an
audience. They urged Al to forget principles, to
run for Senator and let Hearst be Governor. When
had principles ever won an election or really ac-
complished anything? But they found Smith un-
yielding, stubborn, angry and hurt. Irritably he
spat, half rose from his chair and turned on them.

“Pm damned if I will. Um damned if I will!”
He kept repeating it savagely. “I may be licked,
but Pll lick Hearst, too, if I never do anything
again.”

Mournfully, the Tammany men returned to their
friends in the lobby. Al had run out, they reported.
He had a swelled head. He thought he was bigger
than Murphy. He wouldn’t take orders. “How
can we elect local candidates without Hearst:”
they whined. Soon they began to curse the man
who had been the pride of the Wigwam. He was
“throwing us all in a sewer”, merely because of

52Outgrowing the Brown Derby

a personal grudge, an ancient grudge that was three
years old, against Hearst! All the while Murphy
remained in his suite. He knew that Smith was be-
ing crucified on the cowardice of the organization.
He began to send emissaries; first the jovial appear-
ing McCooey.

The Brooklyn leader, his apple-red cheeks more
flushed than usual, knocked on Al’s door. There
was a growled invitation to come in.

“A],” he said, “‘you should help us out. Murphy
is for you, but he’s got to be with Hylan and Hearst.
Dve just left him. Why not take the Senatorship?
You can win hands down. Help us out of a hell
of a hole!”

“Nothing doing. Say, do you think I haven’t
any self-respect? You can tell Murphy I won’t run
with Hearst on the ticket and that goes!”

‘Think it over, Al, think it over,” begged Mc-
Cooey. “It looks like your only chance to stay in
the game. You know what Hylan thinks of you,
and yet he has agreed to support you for Senator.
We’ll have the whole Hearst outfit with us in the
campaign. And anyhow, you’ve been Governor.
We all agree you’ll make the ideal Senator.”

“No bunk,” said Smith, “I’m going to stick.”

McCooey moved his large bulk down the hall
and reported to Murphy. Another conclave of
leaders of “tthe party of progress” took place.
This time Norman E. Mack of Buffalo went up

53Alfred E. Smith

to the sixth’ floor, where the rebel had his rooms.
Aged in the political arena, of great influence in
the national councils of Democracy, Mr. Mack re-
peated the demand that Smith run for Senator.
Mr. Hearst, he pointed out, would give full sup-
port. Al looked up in suspicion.

“Did Murphy send you?”

Mack flushed. ‘He suggested that I convey the
message,” he admitted.

“The answer is NO!” almost yelled Smith.

“All the leaders from New York are waiting
for your answer.”

“The answer is NO! NO! I won’t run with
Hearst. I won’t do it for you, Murphy, McCooey
or all of you together.”

Once more dismay spread among the leaders.
Al was licked, they told each other. But their fear,
by this time, was not that the political career of
Smith seemed about to end. It lay in the convic-
tion held secretly by most of them that without Al
the party could not win in the fall. They felt cer-
tain that the Republicans could defeat Hearst.
And therein, partly, rested the strength of Smith
whether he was aware of it or not. Tammany Hall,
through Murphy; and the Democratic Party in
New York because it had bowed to Murphy, were
really in “a hell of a hole”, as McCooey had said.
But meanwhile a swing to Hearst was in progress.
Even trusted friends of Smith were beginning to

54Outgrowing the Brown Derby
desert him. Some of the leaders told Murphy of

the stampede.

“Go tell him,” said the Boss, “what you’ve told
me. He’s entitled to know. Tell him the truth.”

This time two other messengers, whose names
cannot be revealed, were despatched. One was a
personal friend to Smith. III at ease and slightly
ashamed of his role, he was the spokesman.

“Why hold these feelings against Hearst?” he
asked. ‘‘He’s willing to forget. Why can’t you
do the same?”

This time Al jumped to his feet, tears in his eyes.

“That fellow nearly murdered my mother,” he
burst out, thinking back across three years to the
cartoons that had been printed in the Jowrnal while
his mother was ill. ‘Hearst said I killed the babies
of New York by allowing impure milk to come into
New York City—me, the father of five children.
And he knows it was a damnable lie. Remember
those pictures of the forlorn looking children and
the poverty-stricken mothers? God!”

For a moment all three men were silent. There
seemed to be nothing more for either of the mes-
sengers from Murphy to say. Smith, looking at
them, shrugged his shoulders. Maybe they were
right, he conceded. Maybe the party had gone
over to Hearst.

“Tf what you say about the fellows going is

55Alfred E. Smith

right, I’m through,” he said wearily. “But they’ve
got to show me. I won’t run with Hearst.”

Just outside the door, as the ambassadors left, was
a correspondent of the Associated Press.

“Smith’s through,” one of them said. The re-
porter dashed to a telegraph key and through the
state flashed word that Smith had withdrawn and
had left the field to Hearst. Other newspapermen
rushed to Al’s rooms. Was it true that he had
given up?

Smith was astonished. “Quit?” he asked, his
momentary discouragement forgotten. ‘Quit?
Me? Who said so? Hearst’ll quit, not me!”

“There’s a report you’ve dropped out.”

“P]] have something to say about that,” Al
snapped. “They don’t vote until to-morrow
night.”

It was then after midnight and most of the dele-
gates had gone to their rooms. Again, in the morn-
ing, the air was thick with rumors. Somehow,
during the night, Smith seemed to have gained in
strength. Perhaps it was because of those last
words: “they don’t vote until to-morrow night.”
They were printed in the morning papers, together
with a denial of the Associated Press despatch that
he had withdrawn. Did all this mean that he might
start arump convention? Would he go on the floor,
again damn Hearst in public, say what he really
thought of Hylan, fling the betrayal of Tammany
56
5Outgrowing the Brown Derby
inits facet What would happenif he did? Would

party discipline hold against the magnetism of this
man who was so clearly in the right? Possibly it
was true that Al Smith actually was bigger than the
organization. At all events, balloting was to start
that night and it seemed impossible that Democracy
had a chance without Smith on the ticket. Such
were the meditations of the leaders. Timid men,
hysteria again swept them. The panic which the
night before had sent them running to Hearst now
began to turn them back to Smith. Reports of the
sudden change reached the agents of Hearst and
were telegraphed to the publisher, who was in New
York. Hearst, being no fighter, decided to surren-
der. He sent word to Syracuse that his name was
to be withdrawn.

It was Alfred E. Smith’s greatest victory.

Most of the above, in the case of some of the
quotations, word for word, I have taken from the
despatch that Charles S. Hand wrote to the New
York World that night. The convention swiftly
nominated Smith for Governor and Royal S. Cope-
land for United States Senator. Few newspaper
stories have matched this one in vigor. No other
account of a convention, probably, has equaled it
in the picture that it gave and in the accuracy with
which it reported what went on behind the scenes.
It will long stand as a model of its kind. Begin-
ning his story, Mr. Hand wrote:

o/,Alfred E. Smith

Syracuse, Sept. 29.—Alfred E. Smith not only is the
Democratic nominee for Governor but is undisputed State
leader of his party. He made his fight on a principle
from which he never swerved. Even his foes who saw
his struggle single-handed against Hearst, Hylan,
Murphy and McCooey also admit his supremacy.

The whole anti-Smith combine collapsed this afternoon.
First, Hearst quit cold. He wired his managers to with-
draw his name. Second, Hylan packed up his duds and
beat it to New York on the first train. Third, the whole
Hearst outfit evacuated the town in the wake of Mayor
Hylan, leaving Smith the boss of the works.

By 4 o’clock this afternoon, three hours before the first
nominating speeches, there was not a Hearst boomer left
in Syracuse. The Hearst bubble burst like a child’s bal-
loon that had been touched by a lighted cigarette. Mr.
Hearst himself wrote the final chapter of his defeat. He
sent a message to his personal representative, Mr. William
A. De Ford, which said:

“Please be sure not to allow my name to go before the
convention. I certainly would not go on any ticket which,
being reactionary, would stultify my record and declara-
tion of principles and which would be a betrayal of genuine
Democracy.

“My nomination for public office is not important, but
it is important that the party declare for progressive prin-
ciples and show the sincerity of that declaration by nomi-
nating men who can be trusted to make it effective.”

Thereby ended a fight so bitter that any organiza-
tion but a political party would have been destroyed
by it. It was out of this struggle that the new.
Smith emerged to discard, figuratively speaking,
58Outgrowing the Brown Derby

the brown derby that for so long had adorned the
side of his head. He had proved himself, and he
knew it, bigger than Tammany, bigger than the
organization which even the revered Tom Foley
had acknowledged as master, which from boyhood
had seemed as unyielding as the piers of the Brook-
lyn Bridge in front of his birthplace on South
Street.

Five years have passed and now, it is said, Al
Smith looks back on the Syracuse convention of
1922 and is confident that he then saw the issues
very clearly. He sees himself as the only man in
the party who visualized what would happen in
New York State if Hearst were permitted the nomi-
nation for Governor. He likes to believe that he
saw written the downfall of Murphy and in the
place of Tammany Hall a machine controlled by
Hearst and Hylan with influence throughout the
State. He thinks he then realized that his own des-
tiny was at stake, that he foresaw his own ruin in
the rise of Hearst and that unless the fight were
made at once he never could be hailed as the leader
of Democracy in the State or the nation.

Perhaps all this was so. But in doubting it I give
Smith greater credit. In 1922, it will be remem-
bered, he was a private citizen enjoying an excel-
lent income from the trucking company of which
he was the nominal head and for which he was, to
a certain extent, window dressing. It is my theory
59Alfred E. Smith

that he far preferred risking permanent exile to
a return to public life on the basis of forgiving
Hearst. He hated the man fiercely, and with jus-
tice, for his accusation that milk had been denied
to dying babies. He was in a position to wreak the
vengeance that his Irish blood demanded, and did so.
Surely, if Al Smith had been gazing into the crystal
ball of the political future he could have convinced
Murphy and the rest of the peril of giving in to
Hearst.

But this speculation is unimportant. The signifi-
cant thing is that Al Smith won the contest and
that after defeating Miller in November he was
ready to go back to Albany with obligations to none.
Tammany Hall had forfeited the payment of any
debts that he might have incurred during the years
since 1904 when he first climbed Capitol Hill, an
obscure and homesick Assemblyman from down-
town New York. Only the professional politician
with his conveniently short memory can have the
audacity to complain if now Smith has become
cocky, willing to think of his own future rather than
the welfare of Tammany. Naturally, in the light
of the past, he is cynical about advice from Four-
teenth Street, and gathers about him men and
women whom he can trust.

     
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

®

AaChapter Six

 

VARIOUS FACTORS HAVE BEEN RESPONSIBLE FOR
the growth of Alfred E. Smith from the low es-
tate of Tammany Assemblyman to that of a man
who has been elected four times to the Governorship
and who is admitted by both parties to be of presi-
dential caliber. Some of the influences that shaped
the metamorphosis lie deep in his own character.
Among them are his talent for hard work, an
intelligence which grasps and then makes popular
the complexities of government, his gift for the
histrionic.

But it is highly probable that Al Smith might
never have been more than an unusually able Goy-
ernor, occasionally rising above partisan politics,
had it not been that another woman besides the
Katie Dunn whom he made Mrs. Smith in 1g00
entered his life. I hint at no scandal, I hasten to
add. Although she has grown older and motherly
in the years that have passed, Mrs. Smith is to Al
still the cherished blue-eyed Irish girl whom he
had courted in the gay nineties. The second
woman is Mrs. Henry Moskowitz, councilor ex-
traordinary to his public life, whose dream is that

61Alfred E. Smith

some day he will be President, whose advice on
countless subjects he values above that of all other
persons, and who years ago whispered to him that
loyalty to the State and to himself was a better
thing than loyalty to Tammany. Disliked with
cordiality by most of the Wigwam leaders, for this
and because she is both a woman and an outsider,
Mrs. Moskowitz earned five years ago the obvious
title of “The Colonel House of the Smith Admuinis-
tration”. To-day, with a few others whose minds
also are swift and brilliant in contrast to the dull
mediocrity of the average politician, she is con-
stantly working in his behalf, managing his cam-
paigns, cautioning him and causing him to grow.
Her personal view of him seems to be a mixture of
hero worship and maternal affection. Critical
enough herself, it is difficult for her to fight down
resentment when he is criticized by others.

“He’s growing,” she will volunteer one moment.
“T no longer have to edit his speeches and messages
as carefully as I did.”

“Ts not true,” she will deny somewhat frigidly
the next, “that Al was subservient to Tammany
Hall when he was in the Assembly.”

It was chiefly Mrs. Moskowitz who, early in
1922, prevailed upon him to break his silence, an-
nounce that he would accept the Democratic nomi-
nation for Governor if it was offered and fare forth
to battle with Hearst. It was unthinkable to her
62Outgrowing the Brown Derby

that he should remain in the trucking business.
And during the darkest hours of the Syracuse Con-
vention she remained serene and unshaken in her
conviction that he would eventually be nominated,
and refused to haul down her flag as man after man,
trained in political warfare, announced surrender
and turned toward Hearst. In the campaign
against Miller that followed, she was secretary of
“The Alfred E. Smith Citizens?’ Campaign Com-
mittee”, a modest title in the face of the fact
that she was in almost sole command. Few of
the issues upon which the campaign was made were
born outside of her keen mind. Hardly an impor-
tant address was drafted without her assistance.
She had been influential to a lesser degree during
the contests in 1918 and 1920. And each year
since her power has increased.

So it is that the story of Smith cannot be told
without telling the story of Belle Moskowitz, who
was born Belle Lindner, the dark-eyed and beautiful
daughter of a Harlem watchmaker with Russian
and German and Polish blood in his veins and who
was a Jew. The family was well enough off; at
about the same time that young Al Smith was
working in the office of the City Commissioner of
Jurors, the daughter was graduated from Teachers
College of Columbia University. She had special-
ized in literature, psychology and logic with the
definite purpose of entering social welfare work.

63<

 

Alfred E. Smith

Her first position was with the Educational Alliance
on East Broadway, where she assisted the members
of the Boys’ Club to stage amateur theatricals.
Her settlement work was the basis of her con-
tinued interest in social problems and the experi-
ence of those early years proved invaluable when,
later on, such matters as child labor, the 48-hour
week, mothers’ pensions and the minimum wage
were part of the program of Governor Smith. It
was while she was so occupied that she met Dr.
Henry Moskowitz of the Madison Street Settle-
ment, now her husband. She was first married,
in 1903, to Charles H. Israels, an architect of aristo-
cratic Jewish forebears. He died after eight years,
leaving his widow with two sons and a daughter.
It was in 1912, a year when Smith was leader
of the minority in the State Assembly, that Mrs.
Israels first became actively interested in politics.
She was one of the many attracted by the high
character of Oscar Straus, who had been persuaded
to run for Governor of New York on the Progres-
sive Party ticket by his friend, Theodore Roosevelt.
It was at about this time, also, that she threw her
then nebulous influence to the woman suffrage

‘ movement.

Nor did she, because or her growing interest
in politics, allow her devotion to the solution of
social problems to lapse. She organized a com-
mittee which delved into the causes of delinquency

64Outgrowing the Brown Derby

among working girls and became convinced that
undesirable dance halls were among them. She
appealed to Mayor Gaynor and in planning re-
medial legislation was initiated into the mysteries
of how laws are drafted, lobbied for and passed.
Between 1912 and 1916 she managed the labor
department of the Dress and Waist Manufacturers’
Association and adjusted hundreds of disputes in
the industry. Here, again, her experience was to be
of untold value, for she was to act as the represen-
tative of Governor Smith on many boards of
arbitration. |

In 1914 she was married to Dr. Moskowitz, a
union that had seemed inevitable, since the two had
many tastes in common and had been thrown much
into each other’s society since the death of Mr. Is-
raels. Obscure, perhaps, in comparison to the posi-
tion of great influence that his wife now holds, Dr.
Moskowitz is a man of experience both in social
work and in governmental matters. He has held
several city posts of importance.

Mrs. Moskowitz, it will be seen, is of uncer-
tain political allegiance, another of the reasons for
the distrust of Tammany Hall. A Bull Moose fol-
lower with Roosevelt, she watched with interest the
campaign that Al Smith was making in 1918, his
first for the Governorship. Abram I. Elkus, whose
reputation for progressivism she knew, was manag-
ing the drive to defeat Charles S$. Whitman and it
05Alfred E. Smith

was he who urged Smith to ask Mrs. Moskowitz
to organize the woman voters. He did so, and shes
became chairman of the Women’s Division. Not
for a moment since that day has she ceased her
energetic and untiring labors in his behalf.

Until Al Smith came into contact with Mrs.
Moskowitz his attitude toward women had been the
conventional one of the environment from which
he was beginning to rise: that they were meant to
be wives and mothers and that they graced the
kitchen better than the district club or the cam-
paign headquarters. During his years in the As-
sembly he had seldom been actively cordial toward
woman suffrage, although he had been wise enough
to realize that it was coming and had not been its
enemy. ‘The women of New York State voted for
the first time in 1918 so that Smith, running in
that year for Governor, found himself faced with
the duty of addressing numerous organizations of
new, excited, eager feminine voters. He had de-
cided, privately, not to burden their more or less
pretty heads with heavy stuff, but to speak to them
in a superficial and entertaining way, not bothering
much with facts or with issues.

Probably the first official business between Mrs.
Moskowitz and the candidate was when, being in
charge of the women, she informed him that he
was to speak before the Women’s University Club.
Smith did not take the assignment very seriously,

66Outgrowing the Brown Derby

believing the organization to be a “high-brow”’ one
with members more likely to remain at home drink-
ing tea than turn out at the polls on Election Day.
He indicated that his remarks would be perfunc-
tory: a funny story, perhaps, and some hot air about
how glad he was that the women had received the
vote and how certain he was of the gravity with
which they were accepting their new responsibility
of a voice in the management of the great State of
New York and of the greatest of all nations,
America! Following this, he suggested, he would
shake a few hands and, if it was absolutely neces-
sary, juggle with a cup of tea and a lettuce sand-
wich.

Mrs. Moskowitz, however, told him frankly that
he would win few feminine supporters, at least
among intelligent women, by a talk leveled at
morons. He took her advice this time, as he was to
do fairly consistently from that point on, and spoke
for over an hour on the issues of the campaign.
These he analyzed with the clearness, force and
lucidity which, above almost all other men in pub-
lic life, he can bring to bear on involved subjects.
After the meeting was over many of the women
pressed up to congratulate the candidate and to
promise allegiance. By their remarks they made it
clear, to the astonishment of the unconsciously anti-
feminist Al, that he had by no means spoken over
their heads. Not that Mrs. Moskowitz herself is
67Alfred E. Smith

a feminist as the word is understood to-day, it should
be remarked in passing. No woman who, from the
background, devotes her own career to advancing
that of a man is a feminist. She is despised by the
more thorough of them.

As the campaign wore on Smith leaned more and
more heavily on this placid Jewish woman who dif-
fered from other political advisers in that she pre-
ferred facts to rumors, inferences to hunches. The
average politician is a timid soul. He constantly
trembles at the ghosts in the surrounding fog. He
is eternally afraid of taking one course because he
knows that many will disapprove. He believes in
political platforms that say nothing and candidates
whose personalities stand for less. He is forever
filled with horrid dreads that make him decline to
please any one by attempting to mollify every
one. Are women more realistic as a sex? Mrs.
Moskowitz is, at all events. She had none of these
weaknesses, and the sound logic of her mental proc-
esses made a profound impression on Smith.

The victory accomplished in 1918, Mrs. Mos-
kowitz continued in her réle of councilor. She con-
sented to serve as secretary to Governor Smith’s Re-
construction Commission appointed early in 1919 to
study the complicated social and economic problems
arising fromthe World War. Again in 1920, when
the landslide to Harding elected Miller, she was an
outstanding figure in his campaign, and during the

68Outgrowing the Brown Derby

two years that Smith was with the trucking com-
pany she never faltered in her determination that
he return to the Executive Mansion at Albany
in 1922 and from there eventually to higher
places. Just when she persuaded herself that Al-
fred E. Smith, a Roman Catholic with an anti-pro-
hibition record, could become President of a nation
where the majority is Protestant and professedly
dry is known only to herself. Probably it was after
the San Francisco convention of 1920. Certainly.
she has never lost sight of that objective, and it is
her influence and that of a few others that now
causes him to remain as quiet as possible on the sub-
ject of prohibition. One of the few times when he
has ignored her advice, it is said, was when he con-
sented to the repeal of the State liquor enforcement
actin 1923. She would then have preferred a stand
for prohibition.

Mrs. Moskowitz has had the wisdom to refuse
any office at the hands of Smith, although she might
have had any appointment in his power. She owes
him nothing and therefore is free. Her only offi-
cial position is Director of Publicity for the Demo-
cratic State Committee, which pays the small sum
of $4,000 a year. The duties of this are but a
microscopic part of her activities. Daily she sits
in a tiny office on Madison Avenue, a few hundred
yards northwest of the Grand Central Terminal. To
her desk come high state officials, influential poli-

69Alfred E. Smith

ticians and many others anxious to know how the
Governor feels about various matters. Almost every
Friday night she goes to Albany for long conferences
with Smith. The telephone on her desk is con-
stantly linked with that in the Executive Office.

“This is Mrs. Moskowitz,” she says quietly.
“May I speak to the Governor, please: ”

Always the answer is affirmative. With her in-
variable calm, she tells him of the reaction to some
legislative message, informs him of an invitation it
would be wise to accept, assures him that she has
collected the data needed for an important address.
To her office, also, come numerous magazine writers
seeking information regarding the Governor and his
policies. She makes available to these most of her
records and is patient when they lack understanding,
willing to set them straight if they are critical. In
some instances she personally writes articles that ap-
pear later as the work of others. Infrequent maga-
zine and newspaper articles signed by Smith are
usually, but not always, her work. When they are
she insists that the Governor read and approve them
before they are published.

All great men in public life have some figure
such as Mrs. Moskowitz, whose task it is to prevent
“unfortunate” news stories, to broadcast subtle prop-
aganda, to see that the newspaper correspondents
are given correct impressions. ‘They are, in a sense,
super-public relations counsel, whose first duty is to

7OOutgrowing the Brown Derby

create and then preserve a legend around their prin-
cipals. It must not be thought, in this instance,
that Mrs. Moskowitz is attempting to give the pub-
lic an extravagant conception of Al Smith. It is
more that she wishes him to be known as the man
she would like him to be, one fit in every way to be
President of the United States, interested deeply in
national problems, always independent of partisan
politics. ‘Thus she plays down his weak points and
builds up the many strong ones. Lately, for ex-
ample, she has become convinced that water power
is an excellent issue for the reason that New York’s
problem is similar to that at Boulder Dam in the
West.

“It’s going very well,” she says of water power
with satisfaction. ‘“‘We intend to keep at it.”

Being highly intelligent, Mrs. Moskowitz sees
all too clearly the defects in this man in whose behalf
she has labored for almost a decade. She knows
that his grammar is sometimes unconventional, that
his pronunciation still lives on Oliver Street and
causes “first” to become “foist” and “hospital” to
sound for all the world like “horspital”. Publicly
she professes to admire the verdancy of his speech.
Actually, she is somewhat apprehensive about it, and
once in awhile during a campaign fellow-strategists
have brisk arguments with her when she begins to
edit a speech and is on the verge of deleting most
of its charm in return for what she conceives to be

ekAlfred E. Smith

statesmanlike phrases. It is then that she comes
perilously close to destroying characteristics unique
and valuable in Al Smith, great vote-getting qual-
‘ties for all the shuddering that well-bred people
may do at the thought of such a man in the White
House.

But the chief significance of the entrance of Belle
* Moskowitz in the life of Al Smith is that here was
an intellect his own could meet as an equal. What-
ever his other faults, there is nothing crude about
Smith’s mind. Somewhere in his dim and un-
chronicled past, if heredity means anything, he had
ancestors who thought for themselves, swiftly and
accurately. Despite his Irish blood he has ever been
slightly alien to ward politics, to foggy thinking,
to extreme sentimentality. These, it is true, have
been and are still all in him, now to a lesser degree.
But when he began to meet people of this type he
must have felt quite suddenly that he was at home
for the first time.

Unless it is true that the best type of Jew is, above
all other men, sensitive, keen, alert, there is probably
no such thing as the “Jewish mind”. But for the
lack of a better label it is sometimes said by those
who know him well that Smith has such a mind.
His former Tammany playfellows insult him less
than they think as they sneer that, having moved
uptown and deserted the Fourth Ward, he has sur-
rounded himself with Jews. Certainly, to an in-

72Outgrowing the Brown Derby

creasing degree, his closest advisers have been of
that race. One of the first was Mr. Elkus, who
managed his 1918 campaign. A later one was
Joseph M. Proskauer, now a justice of the Supreme
Court and one of the ablest legal minds in the coun-
try. Among his present close associates, in addition
to Mrs. Moskowitz, are Clarence M. Lewis, an-
other lawyer, and Robert Moses, his Secretary of
State. But Mrs. Moskowitz, whose talent it is that
she can dream the dreams of an idealist and labor
for their realization as a pragmatist, is the most im-
portant of them all.

In 1906 or 1907, when Smith was beginning to:

feel his oats as a young and bright Assemblyman,
he would have laughed at these people as “high-
brows, reformers and crack-pots,” whose approba-
tion meant nothing because they could produce no
votes. Over many an Albany bar, in those days, he
made smart cracks about such folk, to the enthusastic
applause of his fellow legislators in both the Demo-
cratic and Republican parties.

.BOOK TWO

A City Boy Begins a CareerChapter One

 

In 1873 NEW YORK WAS A COLLECTION OF
scraggly villages and thought itself a city. About
I,000,000 people made up its population, the great
majority living south of 59th Street and the rest
traveling to their suburban homes in Yorkville, Har-
lem and the Bronx by stage, horse-car, river steamer
or the new and somewhat Maneorons elevated rail-
road on top of which. wheezed steam locomotives
that belched smoke and ashes. Visitors from the
country, awed by the noise and confusion and har-
assed by transportation facilities almost as bad as
they are now , thought the town a magnificent if be-
wildering place. Visitors from abroad shuddered
at the filth in the streets, at buil dings either gro-
tesque or hideous that fined them and at the inhabi-
tants who expectorated freely. They sailed for home
to report that America was still barbarian.

Their criticism was not inaccurate. The Post
Office just below the City Hall, now the object of
lamentation, had just been Baile and was widely
admired. Tieleoeane poles heavy with wires lined
the principal streets. Few of the avenues were de-
cently paved and the din of iron-rimmed wheels,

TET,Alfred E. Smith

the clanging of horse-car gongs and the cursing of
stage drivers would send even a modern taxicab
chauffeur to a psychoanalyst for treatment. Polit-
eically, the Irish ruled the city. Promotion for
merit was virtually unheard of in the police depart-
ment. Six years previous, 1867, Tammany Hall
had laid the cornerstone of its new Wigwam on
14th Street, with the reading of an ode written for
the occasion by an editor of the New York World
as a feature of the ceremonies. The building is still
in use, a reminder of the perverted architecture of
the ’70’s, as Tammany itself is a reminder of per-
verted government.

But there was, of course, much that was beauti-
ful and much to fascinate in the New York of those
days. Clipper ships furled their sails along the
wharfs and the inland sea that is the Upper Bay
touched softly the walls of the Battery. If there
was not yet the startling outline of the Woolworth
Building against the sky nor the cubistic block of
the Telephone Building further west, there were
istas of flagstone walks and gardens seen

frequent v
Below

through the iron gates of Old Chelsea.
Canal Street all was noise, dust and confusion. But
a few blocks to the north leisurely houses slumbered
behind trees and men had homes with wide porches
instead of grandiose apartments on Park Avenue.
There was poverty in the 70's, but no slums as
they are known to-day. The Bowery was really the
78A City Boy Begins a Career

Bowery, a place to be shunned at night and not a
midway for rubberneck guides to show the gullible
at a dollar a head. And at dusk throughout the city
small boys and girls pressed their noses against win-
dowpanes to watch the lamplighter shuffle along
leaving in his wake the cheerful glow of gas-lamps
to dispel the gloom.

The newspapers of December 31, 1873 are, for
the purpose of this natrative, not without interest.
There does not seem to have been a great deal of
vitally absorbing news. The New York Herald of
that date, for instance, devoted several columns to
a despatch from a correspondent at Havana. In-
dignation was being expressed in some circles over
slavery conditions in Cuba and the Herald man de-
scribed a futile movement toward independence.
Another story in this issue reported that army men,
veterans of the Civil War, were being used as sery-
ants at the White House in Washington.  Presi-
dent Grant was taking steps to end this abuse of the
military. At Gloucester, Mass., an obscure item
stated, memorial services had been held for the 174
fishermen lost off the banks during the year.

Advertisements describing what the town afforded
in the line of amusement were plentiful. Mr.
Augustin Daly was the star of “The Parricide” at
Daly’s Fifth Avenue Theater. At both the Bowery
Theater and Wallach’s the attractions were billed,
simply, “A Galaxy of Stars”. Two Shakespearian

79Alfred E. Smith

were going on: “The Merchant of
Venice” at Wood’s Museum at 13th Street and
Broadway, and “Much Ado About Nothing” at the
elegant Academy of Music. At Niblo’s Garden,
near Houston Street, the offering was “A Grand
Fairy Spectacle”, obviously a bid for Christmas

productions

)
vacation children’s parties. The famous Gus Wil-

liams was causing side-aches at Tony Pastor’s on the
Bowery.

But nowhere in the paper, such being not infre-
quently the unnoticed premiére of the great, was
there mention of the fact that on the day previous
a male child had been born on the third floor of a
tenement at No. 174 South Street. The parents of
the boy were Alfred Emanuel Smith, an unsuccess-
ful truckman, and the former Catherine Mulvehill,
a lady of Irish ancestry. Both were native New
Yorkers, both Roman Catholics. They named the
child after his father. ‘Two years later to a day,
on December 30, 1875, 2 girl arrived. There were
no other children.

Smith, the truckman, is now a vague fizure. “He
died while comparatively young, and not a great
deal about him is remembered. His wife, it 1s
known, was Irish-American. But the genesis of
the blood that flowed in his own veins is not known.
It is now recalled by the family that he had dark
hair and eyes, as well as a dark complexion. They
think it possible that far back there may have been

80A City Boy Begins a Career

Italian forebears. It is asserted with emphasis by
the Smiths, however, that he was not partly Ger-
man. ‘There is still in existence a certificate show-
ing membership in a volunteer fire company. Dated
1857, it is made out in the name of Alfred E.
Smith. In this way is refuted a canard published
by the Gaelic-American last year, which set forth
that the father of the Governor of the State of New
York was really a Teuton named Schmidt who had
later called himself Smith. This cruel charge
caused terrific excitement among the Irish members
of Tammany Hall. Al, himself, thought it rather
funny.

Both parents of the boy destined to typify city.
streets as other Americans in public life have typified
log cabins, farms and sap buckets, were born in
the immediate vicinity of South Street. They were
childhood sweethearts and were married in 1871.
The truckman’s father was also named Alfred
Emanuel Smith and died in New York. And be-
yond these sparse facts nothing is available about
Al Smith’s family tree. The trail to the past is
easier to follow in rural districts, where landmarks
remain and memories are longer. In New York
the scene changes swiftly and there are no village
sages to sit in the sun and spin the recollections from
which histories are fashioned. In 1873 the house
on South Street where Al Smith was born was a
presentable dwelling, although the neighborhood
81Alfred E. Smith

was looked down upon by the more prosperous resi-
dents of Cherry Street and Chatham Square. The
piers of the Brooklyn Bridge were just beginning to
rise. ‘To-day No. 174 South Street, having passed
from tenement to warehouse to decay, has been
transformed into a filling station. But over it is
the bridge that grows old gracefully and is still the
most beautiful of all the four structures that rise

above the river.Chapter Two

 

THERE CAN HAVE BEEN FEW DULL MOMENTS IN
the life of a boy whose home was on South Street
in the late ?70’s._ Alfred Smith—he was not called
Al until he was well into manhood and had
dabbled with politics—suffered none of the boredom
that settles like a pall over most small boys when
the weather is gloomy and orders for a day indoors
are issued. He had only to go to a window and look
out upon a scene that changed from minute to min-
ute and was continually exciting. Directly across
from the house at No. 174 South Street were the
wharfs of the East River. Tied to them were the
clipper ships, their bowsprits extending ten yards
or more across the street. Queer tattooed sailors
climbed high into the rigging of these vessels, and
nearly every day a fussy tug would pull one of them
out into the river and start it on a journey to Tim-
buctoo or the Canary Islands. And always in the
air on South Street were the odors of spices and tar
and turpentine.

The clipper ships were beginning to vanish as
Alfred Smith grew older. Possibly they had gone
before he could appreciate their beauty or their fas-

4
ByAlfred E. Smith

cination. At all events the sea never called to him,
and far places or dim horizons had no more allure
for the boy than since they have had for the man.
Now over fifty, Smith has never been abroad nor
has been anxious to go. He rarely travels except
between Albany and New York City. The boy pre-
ferred the fire headquarters near his home and the
man is satisfied with the boundaries of New York
State for his intellectual outlook as well as for his
dwelling place. Rather than to the ships at his
feet, the boy turned toward a city miracle—the
Brooklyn Bridge—which was to rise almost directly
above his home.

“The Brooklyn Bridge and I grew up together,”
he remarked many years later. “It attracted my
infantile attention and I spent a lot of time superin-
tending the job in my boyhood. I have never lost
the sense of admiration and envy I felt for the men
who swarmed like flies stringing the cables and put-
ting in the roadways as the bridge took shape. Ten
years after I was born, and nine years after the New
York tower was finished, they opened the bridge.”

In his informative book, ‘“New York in the Ele-
gant Eighties”, Mr. Henry Collins Brown recalls
that this historic event took place on May 24, 1883.
This happened to be the birthday of Queen Victoria
and the unhappy coincidence, Mr. Brown writes,
brought strenuous objections from the Irish popula-
84A City Boy Begins a Career

tion. They were afraid that the bridge opening
might be construed as a subtle tribute to the British,
a race responsible for most of the evils of mankind.
It is remarkable that their protests went unheeded.

During the weeks before the bridge was declared
officially finished every one was eager to walk
across it. Only a few had been able to obtain per-
mission, or had the nerve, to make the journey by
the dizzy footpath which swayed in the wind and
had been used by the workmen. Despite the as-
surances of the engineers there was wide distrust
of the firmness of the structure. The thread-like
cables, it was said, ought first to be tested by a
weight comparable to that of Jumbo the Elephant,
Mr. P.T. Barnum’s most famous exhibit at the time.
These apprehensions, together with the belief that
vast crowds would be on hand, made the opening
day rather a fizzle. But on May 30, Decoration
Day, it seemed as though the whole town had
turned out.

The promenade of the bridge was jammed with
beauty and fashion, as well as with the less decora-
tive common people. Gentlemen in top hats, known
as plugs, adjusted their manly stride to the mincing
steps of the ladies on their arms, ladies wearing
bustles and long skirts that fluffed out from me-
chanically slim waists. They walked in the warm
spring sunshine and turned back to look at Manhat-

85Alfred E. Smith

tan and marvel at the swift growth of the city to-
ward the north. The tallest object on the island
was the slender spire of Trinity Church; for the
golden dome of the Pulitzer Building, later to be
visible for miles, had not yet risen. Toward the
south were the waters of the Bay, but no Statue of
Liberty, and further still the green slopes of Staten
Island.

Allin all, the trip across the Brooklyn Bridge was
well worth making, as the crowds on Decoration
Day in 1883 discovered. ‘The structure seemed
safe enough, too, despite the early gloomy predic-
tions that it might collapse. It was these, however,
that were suddenly remembered when late in the
afternoon some one slipped on a flight of steps on
the promenade and screamed. A panicky idiot,
hearing the scream, yelled that the bridge was fall-
ing. In the stampede those on the bridge rushed
to the Manhattan end and into a crowd just start-
ing out. A dozen people were killed and many
others hurt. Word of the disaster spread along
South Street and boys and men from the district
hurried to Park Row. Among the boys was Alfred
Smith.

“They were taking away bodies of wounded peo-
ple,” he remembers. “Policemen were piling up
great quantities of clothing and hats that had been
torn from the victims. That was my first view of
a great calamity. I didn’t sleep well for nights.”

86A City Boy Begins a Career

Before he was ten years old Alfred was debating
whether the career of a postman or a fireman offered
the maximum in excitement and interest. He soon
decided that the fireman’s was a vastly higher call-
ing, and in preparation for it he began to hang
around the engine house on John Street and to
ingratiate himself with the firemen by running er-
rands. Nearly all the other small boys of the neigh-
borhood were doing the same thing, of course.
Competition for favor from On High was keen.
But Alfred won out because he was bright and talk-
ative. His talents as a parlor entertainer were bud-
ding even at that tender age and he would dance a
jig or sing—if asked. The secret of his success, un-
doubtedly, was that he did not do so when he was
not asked.

If the sea and clipper ships did not attract the boy
Smith, the river did. It was cleaner in those days,
and as soon as the weather was moderately warm
the wharfs along South Street swarmed with small
boys who had learned to swim and dive almost as
soon as they had learned to walk. The boy of the
80’s, and for decades afterwards, was glorious in
the consciousness of the superiority of the male.
His was the privilege of swimming without clothes,
of going barefoot, of running in gangs, of holding
mysterious secret rites in vacant lot shanties. No
small girl was feminist enough to join him. Had

87Alfred E. Smith

she done so, and perhaps it is as true to-day, she
would promptly have been chased by irate conserva-
tives and probably paddled by her shocked mother.
Woman’s place was on the front stoop playing jack-
straws, or with her dolls.Chapter Three

 

BoyHOOD POVERTY IS ALWAYS AN ASSET TO THE
American in public life. This is because the United
States, being a young country, takes its Democracy
very seriously and cultivates the snobbery of poverty.
Many an able man, having been born to wealth and
refinement and lacking the vote-getting background
of adolescent deprivation, has been ruled out as un-
available for high office. The politician who will
boast from the stump that in his youth he carried
a handkerchief, enjoyed bathing and wore a clean
shirt every day has yet to appear in this enlight-
ened Republic. All this accounts, in part, for the
number of log cabins once sheltering rising states-
men. It accounts for the fact that the popular con-
ception of Alfred E. Smith’s boyhood is that he was
a lad out of a Horatio Alger tale, who roamed the
streets at night for a place to sleep, and who worked.
feverishly during his waking hours. His honesty,
it is the theory, was equaled only by his industry
in sorting fish at the Fulton Market and his sole
recreation was dancing to the bleat of a hurdy-gurdy
on the sidewalks of New York.

Not that Smith, himself, has encouraged this fan-

89Alfred E. Smith

tastic conception; it has been the inevitable out-
growth of a grain of truth, years in the political
arena and the romanticizing of campaign press
agents. The truthful part is that as a boy he worked
as hard as any youth; at least after the death of his
father. To acertain extent he really has risen from

    
 
  
 
  

the pavements of the bewildering city. His lan- «

guage and pronunciation to-day, his complete lack
of interest in books or the cultural things of life,
are the best indications of the nature of his youthful
environment. But if his home was barren in this
respect, it was an excellent one insofar as necessary
material things of life were concerned. So now,
in 1927, the Executive Mansion at Albany has a
private motion picture machine and virtually no
books. Young Alfred Smith’s education may have
been woefully neglected, but his mother always con-
trived to provide enough food. Rigid training in
the Roman Catholic Church instilled in him prin-
ciples of honesty and also the unquestioning obe-
dience to authority which made it possible for him
to be subservient for many years to the mandates
of Tammany Hall. It is not true that his home was
of the slums, of the type where everything is drab
and there is no hope of better days to come. It was
respectable, moderately comfortable, decent—and
common.

South Street and the lower East Side of the ’80’s,
before the tide of immigration reached its flood and

go

?A City Boy Begins a Career

carried in a dozen different races, were far differ-
ent from now. On many of the streets in the dis-
trict grew shade trees. There was hardly a tene-
ment of the type that Smith, as Governor, has been
trying to abolish by means of forward-looking State
assistance. [he wharfs on the river had not yet
been roofed over, and it was the custom of the Irish
mothers of the neighborhood to gather there to en-
joy the evening breezes; not infrequently flavored
with the scent of fish from the Fulton Market.
They were joined, in time, by their husbands who
had stopped off at a saloon for a mixture of beer and
Tammany Hall political gossip. On Saturday after-
noons entire families took horse-car excursions to
Harlem.

Very little, as I have said, is remembered about
Alfred E. Smith, the truckman. He is reported to
have been politically inclined, but his activities must
have been either feeble or slight, or Tammany Hall
would have rewarded him with either contracts or a
job. He was not very successful in his business in .
late years because of poor health, and when he died
his widow faced life with two children, almost des-
titute. Smith Sr. was a truckman in the old-time
sense, and would have been astonished could he have
known that some day his son would hold the re-
sounding title of Chairman of the Board of the
United States Trucking Corporation, a vast affair
with whole fleets of trucks. Probably he would

gIAlfred E. Smith

have predicted that business on so large a scale would
never pay. He was content, himself, with one or
two teams which he drove personally through the
streets of the city. He saw little of his son and
daughter except on Sundays, for he started his labors
at 6 o’clock in the morning and did not return until
dusk. ‘Then he was so weary that he went to bed
almost immediately.

It was the mother rather than the father who
was the dominating influence in the lives of the
* children. Mrs. Smith was an unusual woman for
her time and place; not one of the ample, comfort-
able, rather stupid Irish women who gossiped over
back fences until, in New York, these vanished and
the dumbwaiter took their place as a means of con-
versational exchanges. She was small, intelligent,
active. It is not to be wondered that her son, in
the years of his greatness, literally worshiped her
and devoted nearly every Sunday morning to visit-
ing her on Brooklyn Heights, where she then lived.
Quite naturally, too, her viewpoint toward him was
that he could not do a mean or dishonest thing, that
he was good beyond all men. Her faith in him
was comparable only to her faith in the Catholic
Church.

But if the closing years of Mrs. Smith’s life were
tranquil, many of the early ones had been all too
turbulent. In 1886 her husband died. He had

not been well for several years and his earnings,

g2A City Boy Begins a Career

never large, had steadily dwindled. It was neces-
sary for both young Alfred, only thirteen, and his
mother to become providers. Mrs. Smith was not
unprepared. Unusual among women of that day,
she had already been a wage-earner, having been a
maker of hoopskirts some years before her marriage.
These had now gone out of fashion, but she adapted
her skill to covering umbrellas. This she carried
on at home, doing the housework at the same time.

Alfred had been working, but only after school
hours, for two or three years before his father’s
death. He had contributed several dollars a week
by selling newspapers. And he did not shirk his
new responsibility upon becoming masculine head
of the family. He did not greatly mind, it is prob-
able, giving up his studies at the parochial school
connected with the neighborhood church, St. James’.
He was in the 8th grade but only a fair student,
and far more interested in the discovery of talents
as an elocutionist and actor than in his books. There
were other sacrifices that really mattered. No
longer was there time to spend hours at the engine
house and provide coffee and sandwiches for his
firemen friends. He had to forego the refreshing
sport of swimming in the river. And, having ar-
rived at his new dignity, he could not tease and an-
noy his younger sister as is the privilege of brothers.
Instead he had to treat her with dignity and reserve;

oS

7.Alfred E. Smith

at least the sister herself, Mrs. John Glynn, recalls
that this change took place.

On the whole, there seems to be slight doubt,
Alfred Smith was an attractive youngster. One
family photograph, taken when he was about seven
years old, shows that he had a slim but sturdy build,
a rather sober face and a sweet mouth. Perhaps
it was the ordeal of being photographed that made
him look solemn. He rarely was involved in the
usual boy fights because of his talent for talking him-
self out of difficulties. Before she died, his mother
testified that for the most part he was a model small
boy. He never had to be spanked, and this in an age
when the hairbrush was more used than the tooth
brush. Most remarkable of all, he did not object to
wearing his rubbers when the weather was wet. A
child of the slums? The theory is untenable in the
face of the facts. Alfred Smith was well dressed,
even if his shirts were fashioned from those cast off
by his father and even if his first suit was tailored
by his mother. This was no street arab bred in vice,
running with East Side gangs, dodging the law,
lucky if he had enough to eat. Had the inclination
been in the boy he could have found time for self-
education after it became necessary for him to leave
school. Poorer youths with less leisure have delved
deep into the written word.

“I never read books,” he admitted in later life.
“TI never have read books. In all my life I have

94A City Boy Begins a Career

never read for amusement or to pass away the time.
Life furnishes me with all the thrills.”

But he was a man of responsibilities from the time »
he was thirteen years old, a support and prop to his
mother, a youth in whom sudden reverses dimmed
but did not extinguish impulses to laughter and
loquaciousness. The only legacy left by his father
was the creaking trucking business and a horse or
two. Fora time Alfred attempted to keep it going,
and even managed to get some new business. But
he soon decided that no money would be made that
way and gave it up for a job with the oil supply
house of Clarkson & Ford on Front Street. Then
came the famous post at the Fulton Fish Market
where he worked as a checker and where he became
so familiar with the various members of the fish
family that he was able, when in the legislature, to
confound his rustic colleagues by his knowledge
when some debate on conservation of fish in state
waters was in progress.

Out of this job, too, grew the story which has
been the delight of so many toastmasters and has
been told and printed so many times that Smith must
often regret that he ever made the wise-crack. One
evening, when the State legislature was in session
at Albany, a young Assemblyman burst into the
chamber delirious with joy over the news that
Cornell had just won another boat race. He de-
manded that this important event be entered on the

95Alfred E. Smith

record and even intimated that a long yell for old
Cornell would not be out of place. Al Smith, sit-
ting back and grinning, listened. Then he stood up.

“T hold a degree, too,” he said.

The collegiate Assemblyman was all courtesy.

“And what, if I may ask, is your alma mater! ”

“Pm an EF. F. M.,” said Al. “Fulton Fish
Market.”

Smith has changed since those days. It is not,
likely that he would now make good-humored jokes
about his educational shortcomings. During his
early years in politics these were not conspicuous.
His first associates were not, in the main, better edu-
cated; nor had they Al’s saving grace of an aggres-
sive mind. But to-day his intimates in his official
life are usually university trained. He cannot but
sense his limitations and so, when occasionally he
cannot ignore them, he becomes sardonic rather
than witty and falls back on the defense of over-
statement.

Once, for instance, a lady interviewer persisted in
asking him about his disinclination toward reading.
Already this subject, although Smith would even
to-day deny that this is so, had become highly irrl-
tating; as much so as his stand on the Volstead Act
was to be later on. He was not overcordial.

“Is it true, Governor,” asked the interviewer,
“that you have never read a book through in your
Inet 2?

 

96“No indeed,” he replied, without the shadow of

a smile.

A City Boy Begins a Career

“That is a lie.

Pve read ‘The Life and

Battles of John L. Sullivan’ through from cover to

cover.”

More recently, the presidential bee having set-
tled under his brown derby and started its work,
Smith began to face the criticism that his outlook
did not extend beyond the limits of New York State,
that he was, in the unkind words of William Allen
White, “fa town-lot Sir Galahad who never fared
Numerous solemn people started to de-
mand his views, if he had any, on the tariff, the
League of Nations, international debts. 'There were
two reasons why Al did not look with favor on these
queries: the first was that he was still Governor and
had promised that he would devote all his time to
the job instead of seeking the presidency. The
second reason was that he had really not thought
about these weighty matters at all.

So, again he was bland and suave with an under-
note of hostility when a serious soul journeyed to
Albany with a questionnaire in his brief case. One
by one Al evaded the questions on national issues.
Finally, exasperated, the visitor lost his temper.

“But, Governor,” he demanded, “tell me just one
subject you think is important to people living in
states west of the Mississippi.”

“What states are west of the Mississippi?” asked
Smith, as if for information.

afield.”

O7

    
  
    
  
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   

eAlfred E. Smith

But to return to the story of the boy, now labor-
ing from 4 o’clock in the morning until 5 o’clock
‘n the evening at the fish stalls. Fulton Market on
the East River was a busy spot in the New York of
the day. It served most of lower Manhattan and a
large part of Brooklyn’s population as well. The
stalls where Smith worked were its most pungent
section. His task was to stand on the wharf and
check the cargoes deposited by fishermen and when
he returned home at night he was tired, dirty, and
smelled to Heaven. But it paid $15 a week, which
was almost enough, in the 780s, to support a family.
He stayed at the market for seven years. Then,
having grown stronger as well as older, he left it to
work as a laborer in a Brooklyn pumping station.Chapter Four

 

 

 

Our elegant era was lavish in that curious biped known
as a “parlor entertainer”.

—New York in the Elegant Eighties.

AND SO THE TOWN GREW OLDER AND STEVE BRODIE
jumped lightly from the Brooklyn Bridge, opened
a saloon, died and became a myth. And the boy
Smith, working at his malodorous trade in the fish-
market, found time to cultivate in the evening the
black art of parlor entertainer. He was, in fact,
more than the average indoor elocutionist of the day
all agog to recite “Cohen on the Telephone” or
“The Face on the Bar-room Floor’’, although these
two, and a third now forgotten, were his specialties.
His talents included great histrionic skill, as they
still do, and he was the villain or the hero of many
a piece played in front of sputtering gas footlights
at local halls.

A flair for the dramatic, the ability to put life
and vigor for night after night into old issues, as
an actor can vitalize a moth-eaten drama, are happy
assets to the American publicist. "Theodore Roose-
velt had them; and William Jennings Bryan, whose
“terrible drum”, wrote Thomas Beer, “sounded

DY)Alfred E. Smith

from city to city, and his beauty towered in the flare
of torches while bands played (Bl Gapitany ce. el
Smith, the politician, has been outlined against far
more spotlights than ever he was as a youth down
‘nthe Fourth Ward, and always his old talents have
been there to give him grace. And this is why, ar-
tistically, his nomination is imperative.

Lately even a song has become his own; a /ezt-
motiv to mark his emergence from the wings and
destined, if he is nominated, to be sung in distant
places and by men who had viewed with suspicion
everything connected with the sidewalks of New
York. There will be many, if this man runs for
the presidency, who will bristle at the thought of
his Catholicism. Spellbinders of the Republican
Party will view with alarm for hours on end the

‘ perils of Rum and Romanism. It may be that the
ludicrous hobgoblins of the Ku Klux Klan will dust

. off their robes and hold solemn rallies under the ban-
ners of intolerance. But vast throngs will crowd
into the halls where he speaks, to laugh at his jokes
and be won by the first real personality in politics
since Roosevelt. And the melody of a city song will
sweep the prairies.

The first public appearance of Alfred Smith was
when he was ten years old and still a student at St.
James’ Parochial School. A scrapbook started by
his mother and later carried on by Alfred—but
which gives little information of his youth except

100A City Boy Begins a Career

with respect to his social and dramatic triumphs—
contains a newspaper clipping showing that on the
program of the school’s closing exercises on June
26, 1883, was “Recitation—Master Alfred E.
Smith”. No one recalls, though, whether this was
“The Curfew Shall Not Ring To-night” or some
other of the favorites rendered noisily and moistly
by nervous small boys and girls in front of proud
parents.

Young Smith was not nervous—quite the con-
trary. Recitations soon became small-time stuff, al-
though they continued to be his offerings at neigh-
borhood jollifications. One of his favorites, and
it must have been strangely impressive when flavored
with an East Side pronunciation, was Edgar Allan
Poe’s clanging classic, “The Bells”. It was while
his father was still alive that Alfred delved into the
dramatic by organizing a little theater movement
among the members of the youngest set. From this
he graduated to more pretentious performances held
at the church.

Many a ham actor, it has been profoundly re-
marked, might have become nationally famous had
he been able to win his way to Congress where his
art would be most useful and appreciated to the
greatest degree. Alfred Smith, however, would have
been more than a third rate trouper had he decided
to go on the professional stage. Until long after he
had started his climb to the political Olympus he was
IOIAlfred E. Smith

the star of the St. James’ Players, as the amateur

stock company of the church was called. He played

such tear-jerking réles as “Corry Kinchella” in

The Shaughraun, “Bardwell Slote” in The Mighty

Dollar and “Jim Dalton” in The Ticket o Leave

Man. So vivid were his impersonations that he

had at least one tentative offer which would have

meant the end of his amateur standing. He was
saved from a career on Broadway, though, by the
opposition of a young Irish girl whom he wanted to
marry and whose family thought actors to be worth-
less creatures. His love for the stage has never
died, however. Almost twenty years afterwards,
when he was Sheriff of New York, he played in a
revival of The Shaughraun. There was to have
been a second revival as recently as the spring of
1927, but it had to be abandoned for the reason that
no hall large enough to accommodate the crowds
could be found. Al was to have been in his old role,
while Mayor Jimmy Walker and other celebrities
were to have had lesser parts in a performance for
the benefit of St. James’.

It has for many years been the custom of the polit-
ical writers in New York City, as well as of the
legislative correspondents at Albany, to give annual
dinners similar to the more widely known Gridiron
Dinner at Washington. Sketches reflecting the
political events of the past year are the chief attrac-

102A City Boy Begins a Career

tions at these affairs. In 1926 the Albany writers <«
offered to put on a stunt at the dinner in New York
and were welcomed with enthusiasm. This part of
the program, when the night of the dinner arrived,
was surrounded with mystery. When the number
was called the stage setting proved to be that of the
outer room of the executive offices at the Capitol.
Two or three reporters were standing about, ob-
viously waiting for something. ‘Their conversation
revealed that in his private office Governor Smith
was in conference with the Republican legislative
leaders.

The reporters were disconsolate. They pointed
out that for years Al had been able to force the
G. O. P. into line by appealing to the people, only
to have the Republicans attempt to take credit for
his program with the boast that they had co-
operated with the Governor. Could Al lick them
again? The reporters seemed dubious. At this
point in the skit loud crashes off-stage were heard.

“TLooks as though Al’s having a bad time,” said
one. ‘‘Maybe we’d better go in and help.”

“Oh, let him alone,” replied a second.

The sound of rioting continued, however, and
the reporters lit cigarettes nervously. As they did
so, the door to the Governor’s office burst open and
the Republican leaders, extremely bedraggled,
catapulted out. No, they said with emphasis, they
had nothing to say. As they slumped off the door
103Alfred E. Smith

opened again. This time Al Smith appeared, in
person. He had assisted the Albany men in getting
up the act and now he was having a huge time play-
ing the part of himself. His hair was rumpled.
His coat was off, his collar over one ear and his
sleeves were rolled up. He grinned his gold-
toothed grin at the men on the stage and at the
diners out in front.

“The Republicans have agreed to codperate,” he
reported.

Very occasionally this flair of Smith’s for the
dramatic has led him in the heat of a campaign to
conduct which in the light of retrospect seems to
have been hardly fair to his opponent. Such an in-
stance occurred toward the close of the bitter fight
against Ogden L. Mills in the fall of 1926. To
everyone’s surprise Congressman Mills had been
making an energetic and effective campaign; effec-
tive because it was based on the old and false Hearst
issue that the milk supply in New York was below
standard and that the Governor was responsible.
Until the charges blew up a few days before the elec-
tion it had seemed not impossible that Smith might
be defeated. Irritated by this and knowing that his
presidential chances were gone if he could not win
his own state, the Democratic gubernatorial can-
didate lost a measure of his customary poise. Then,
one afternoon, he was shown a newspaper containing
a statement attributed to Mills.

104A City Boy Begins a Career

“He (Smith) cannot be trusted either in public
or private life,”’ the quotation said.

Smith was scheduled to speak that night in the
Bronx. As he appeared at the rally he was a pic-
ture of outraged virtue. Brandishing a copy of the
newspaper in his hand, he charged to the front of
the platform and read the quotation to the audience.
Red of face and with his voice even harsher than
usual, Al said that he had read the statement several
times, unwilling to believe that his first impression
was correct. He demanded a retraction and inti-
mated that if Mills did not apologize forthwith he
would take legal action.

“For five solid weeks,” he said, “I have been obliged to
put great pressure on the men and women of my organiza-
tion to keep them from speaking about the private life of
Ogden L. Mills. If he has anything against my public or
private life, I defy him to produce it.

“Twenty-seven years ago I knelt beside the altar in St.
Augustine’s Church and in the presence of God Almighty
promised to care for, honor and protect the woman of
my choice. And if I suddenly was ushered to-night be-
fore the Great White Throne I would be prepared to
establish that I had kept that promise. Let the Congress-
man lay his own private life beside my own.”

It was, of course, very effective indeed. The
audience screamed its approval and Mills seemed not
only a villain but an ass, for the fact that Smith’s
private life is above reproach is as much of an es-
105

=Alfred E. Smith

tablished truth in New York as that there is some-
thing funny about living in Flatbush. I do not
question that, once on the platform, Al was just as
sincere as he appeared to be. His acting was con-
summate art, for he lived and breathed the part of
the outraged husband. His unfairness lay in per-
mitting his emotions to run away with him when, if
he had really taken the time to read the statement
carefully, he must have seen that Mills cast no such
aspersion. he Republican candidate had been talk-
ing about Smith’s record and together with other
denunciations, had said:

   
 
  
   
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
    
  
  
  

“There is no truth in him and men who cannot tell the
truth are not to be trusted in public or private life.”

The next day he apologized, protesting that he
had not had the remotest intention of reflecting upon
Smith’s family life. This would have been clear,
he said, had Al read the whole statement instead of
a single sentence from it. Well, the statement in
whole or in part was a silly one and an untrue one,
it might be added. Perhaps Mills deserved, in part,
the tongue lashing he had received and to lose the
votes that the incident must have cost him.Chapter Five

 

A MIDDLE-AGED HOUSEWIFE WHO ONCE LIVED
on Oliver Street but who moved years ago to an
up-State city has devoted her spare time, in recent
years, to booming Al Smith for President. In the
interval between lunch and dinner she hustles around
among the neighbors of the countryside and dwells
at length on his virtues. She has assisted in three
of his campaigns for Governor. And occasionally
she grows reminiscent of the old Fourth Ward and
the Smith who was growing to maturity.

“He used to wear,” she recalls, “fancy vests, a
red necktie and tight trousers. I can’t remember
whether he wore a brown derby or not. Probably
he did; one of those funny ones with a narrow brim
and a high crown that you see now only on the
vaudeville stage. But I do remember that when he
was nineteen or twenty, maybe a little older, he was
quite pleased with himself. He was talking all the
time, at parties, or reciting or dancing. He was
quite a boy at jigs and he thought he could sing, too.
One day some of us girls were making plans for a
picnic. For some reason we hadn’t invited Alfred
—no one called him Al in those days—but while we

107Alfred E. Smith

were talking it over he happened along and chimed

 

in.
“You haven’t been asked to go,’ one of us said.

“¢‘Oh, you’ll ask me,’ he answered. ‘You won’t
be able to get along without the talent.’ ”

The Fourth Ward and particularly the section of
it that worshipped at St. James’, this lady remem-
bers, was very much like a small village as the cen-
tury drew toaclose. Oliver Street, which runs due
west from Chatham Square to the river, was then
considered one of the most desirable streets in the
district. Its first block, between Henry and Madison
Streets, where Smith was to reside at No. 25, was
particularly select. It was not until long after he
was married that Al could afford to live there.

“Every one knew nearly every one else in those
days,” his up-State booster also recalls. “On sum-
mer evenings the boys and girls would sit on the
stoops of the houses until Father Curry rapped on
the window of St. James’ Parish House as a signal
for them to go to bed. Looking back, life seems to
have been simpler then and, maybe, happier than
now. You didn’t hear so much about intolerance.
Why I remember that we never thought about
whether a family was Catholic or Protestant, and it
wasn’t because we were all Catholics together either.
Several Lutheran families lived near where I did
and if there had been any feeling against non-
108A City Boy Begins a Career

Catholics I’?d have known about it. All we asked
was that people go regularly to some church.”

It would seem to have been inevitable, if all this
evidence is accepted, that Alfred Smith would drift
into politics. He was, primarily, a sociable sort who
preferred people to books, and whose most notice-
able early characteristic was a gift for gab. Liv-
ing where he did, it was impossible for him to en-
list with any hope of success under any banner other
than the stained one of Tammany Hall, a flag not
infrequently lowered to the mandates of dignitaries
of the Catholic Church. Should this accusation
arouse indignation among Tammany men IJ ask them
only to recall the action of the local police depart-
ment some years ago in suppressing, quite without
legal authority, a birth control meeting.

&

If the history of Tammany Hall is not entirely -

honorable it is at least lengthy. Originally it was
known as the Society of St. Tammany or Columbian
Order, and was a patriotic organization to which
members of all political parties were welcome. In
a vague way it sought to agitate against the desires
of the Federalists to centralize the national govern-
ment at the expense of the States. Its first meeting
was held in May of 1789 at the City Tavern on
Bowling Green.

It was founded, then, with a high purpose; and
had it continued along its original path most of its
members would now be listed in the Social Register

109Alfred E. Smith

and wear white braid on their vests. For a time,

at its inception, Tammany had branches in a num-

ber of other cities, but these dropped off when the «
organization turned from patriotism to politics. The

fiction is still maintained, though, that the Society

of St. Tammany lives, and as such 14th Street holds

a rally each year on Independence Day, at which the

sachems indulge in old-fashioned oratory and ex-

plain the virtues of the Democratic Party.

Some incautious member recently made the sug-
gestion that it would be well, particularly since Al
Smith might be a presidential candidate, to revive
the once flourishing branch wigwams. These, it
was tacitly understood by those who were present
at the birth of this idea, could do valuable mission-
ary work. But the plan was vetoed by general agree-
ment after several editorial writers had jeered at
the idea that Tammany, wise as it is, could teach
anything in the line of practical politics to such Re-
publican machines as those which dominate Phil-
adelphia and Chicago. ‘Tammany will, in short,
remain the Democratic machine of Manhattan;
sometimes better, as at present, than its reputation,
and often worse. The latter may be the case again,
if Al Smith goes into retirement and none arises to
take his place. No one remembers, now, and no one
cares, that its name is that of a somewhat nebulous
Indian, Chief Tammany, who was unofficially sanc-
tified because he was a jewel among red men. He
110A City Boy Begins a Career

is supposed to have signed a treaty with William
Penn in 1681 which gave large grants of land to
the whites.

The continued power of Tammany lies in its de- -
votion to service. Once it was so inartistic as to buy
votes. Now it earns them. It provides jobs for
men out of work and city contracts for those likely
to contribute to campaign chests. Distress among
the poor is relieved through gifts of money and
food. From the Boss himself to the lowest district
captain its workers are continually on the job and
on Election Day it reaps its reward, to the annual
distress of the local Republican organization.

“I will give any Republican ladies some advice,”
said Miss Elisabeth Marbury, one of the few women
politicians close to the seats of the mighty, not long
ago. “Do not be afraid to know the voters. We
Democrats get as close to them as possible. For
instance, if Jim comes to one of our clubs and says
he is in danger of losing his job we try to help him
out. We don’t ask Jim whether he is a Democrat
or not. If he isn’t, and we help him along, the
chances are good that he henceforth will be. It’s
just a clever way we have.”

Smith, beginning at the bottom, was among those
who did the odd jobs always done by the privates in
the political army. He was a watcher at the polls,
addressed postcards to be mailed to voters or scurried
around with a bag of coal for the family of some
IIIAlfred E. Smith

local supporter temporarily detained in jail. Tam-
many does not desert its own when they run afoul
of the law. If their offense is not too heinous, the
organization is sometimes able to whisper in the ear
of a friendly magistrate and in a twinkling justice
becomes undiluted mercy.

The entrance of Smith into politics, I have said,
‘was natural. By the time he was eighteen or nine-
teen he began to realize that he would not go far
working with his hands. Having labored for seven
years in the fish market, and for some months in
the Brooklyn pumping station, he decided to realize
on his gift for loquacity and tried real estate. He
dabbled in this for a number of years and had an
office on Center Street. But probably it was too dull
a trade to hold his interest to the exclusion of other
things. To an increasing degree he devoted his time .
to politics, becoming a regular at the Democratic
clubhouse on Madison Street where Tom Foley was
beginning to rise in power. At no time, although
his knowledge of the laws of New York State might
indicate it, did he delve into Blackstone. What he
knows of this subject is chiefly the result of his ex-
perience at Albany as an Assemblyman.

Smith was, in those days, a good-looking youth.
His nose was not the prominent feature that it 1s
now. His mouth was softer and his smile did not
have the touch of cynicism that developed from the
decades spent among the disillusionments of politics.
112A City Boy Begins a Career

His novitiate in Tammany was served in a day when «
few voices were raised in its defense. The Tweed
scandal was still fresh in the minds of the public.
Richard Croker was the Boss. Charles F. Murphy
was becoming influential. But the men who rule
to-day were insignificant. Olvany, for example,
was never heard. James J. Walker was a boy in
Greenwich Village and up in Harlem a young Ger-
man named Robert F. Wagner was debating whether
the profession of teaching offered any real rewards.
Nor had Hearst, giving New York its first taste of
the queer sort of journalism he was later to perfect,
any political power.

Tammany soon learned that the youth named
Smith was worth watching. Already popular in his
district, famous for his talents as an elocutionist and
actor, he developed rapidly as a campaign spell-
binder. He could be counted upon to take orders
and to make fervid pleas for the candidates of the
organization, whether he knew anything about the
capabilities of these gentlemen or not. He was safe,
sane and regular; so his political star began to rise,
along with his general popularity in the Fourth
Ward. From time to time he pasted clippings in-
dictative of this in his scrapbook. A few of them
are:

A number of prominent young Democrats of the Sec-

ond Assembly District will spend Saturday and Sunday
at the Lenox Hotel, Far Rockaway. They will be under

ih 3Alfred E. Smith

the leadership of Alfred E. Smith, one of the most
prominent Democrats in the district. Mr. Smith is an
amateur actor of no mean ability and is the leading man
of the St. James Company.

Alfred E. Smith, the orator of the Seymour Club of
the Second Assembly District, was a hard worker during
the last two campaigns. He is ambitious to become a
member of the legislature and is looking for the nomi-
nation in his district. He has announced that he will
take the stump for Timothy J. Campbell next year
if he is not engaged in a personal canvass.

Coasting is now the proper thing among the cyclists.
The New York Athletic Club set the fashion a few weeks
ago when it held its coasting contest among the hills of
Weschester. New York clubs are taking an interest in
the sport and the chances are that before the season is over
this new phase of wheeling will be as popular as cycling
itself. The metropolis has already many crack coasters.
Among them is Mr. Alfred E. Smith, an active member
of St. James Union and the president of the St. James
Wheelmen.

Friends of Alfred E. Smith, secretary of the Seymour
Club of the Second Assembly District, are quietly nursing
his boom for the nomination for the Assembly.Chapter Six

 

THE PATH TO POLITICAL GLORY IS DEVIOUS AND =
long. By 1895, twenty-two years old and growing
familiar with the problems of the city and the dis-
trict in which he lived, Smith was amply qualified
to go to the lower house of the State legislature, a
body where even a limited intelligence stands out like
a clean neck in a primary grade classroom. But the
fact that a young man is qualified is not an important
consideration to Tammany or to any other political
organization. No place was available at the time
and Tom Foley, whose man Smith was generally
known to be, had not yet attained the height of his
influence. Consequently Smith had to smother his
Albany ambitions for the time being. He was, how-
ever, entitled to some reward for the work that he
was doing in the Second Assembly District, and so
Was appointed an investigator in the office of the
Commissioner of Jurors.

The job paid only about $800 a year, but as in
most political posts the work was not arduous and
the hours were short. Certainly it was the easiest
thing that had come Al’s way since the day his
father died and it had been necessary for him to

msAlfred E. Smith

leave school. He entered into it with considerable
zest and scurried around the town chasing jury
shirkers with a diligence exceptional in men holding
public offices. He seems, in fact, to have been
singularly hard-boiled in listening to excuses.

The present Commissioner of Jurors, Frederick
O’Byrne, was Al’s immediate superior in those re-
mote days. And now, like every one else who knew
Smith then, he is fond of telling what a promising
youth he was. His exceptional intelligence caused
him to be placed in charge of other investigators.
But despite this responsibility he was the life of the
office, Mr. O’Byrne recalls. He was devoting many
hours at night to his work at the district clubhouse,
to acting with the St. James Players and to courting
a girl whom he was anxious to marry. He would
frequently stagger in to work with his eyes heavy
from lack of sleep. But even under these circum-
stances he found energy to stick a feather-duster in
his hat and bellow, in some back room of the offices,
the “Toreador Song” from Carmen.

Mr. O’Byrne has preserved some of the notes
kept by Smith in connection with his jury work.
On one occasion a member of the New York Stock
Exchange, called as a talesman, submitted a doc-
tor’s certificate as evidence that he was deaf and
therefore unfit for service. Al, assigned to check
on this, went to the Stock Exchange and located his
man. Explaining that he had a cold, he spoke in a

116A City Boy Begins a Career

whisper and asked some questions relative to the pur-
chase of securities. To his delight the supposedly
deaf man heard him without difficulty. In the end,
though, the broker won out, as the report in Smith’s
handwriting shows:

“Called on him in the Stock Exchange and found his
claim was of no use and put him back in the wheel. His
attorney called and threatened to mandamus myself and
O’Byrne to show cause why we should go behind a doctor’s
certificate. The Commissioner allowed the exemption
—that put the boots to us.”

Regarding another artful dodger, with whom he
had greater success, Al reported:

“Swore he was not worth $250. Investigated at house
and found a swell apartment furnished in luxury. His
wife admitted she was the owner of everything in there
and when I showed her the affidavit her husband swore to
she said they were all wedding presents to her and he had
nothing to do with them. They must of talked it over
that night as he appeared a little later and brought a judge
of the District Court and asked as a favor of O’Byrne the
return of the affidavit. We put him on the District
Gourt list.

It was while thus employed, growing stronger
in political influence and with increasing reason to
hope that in time he would be sent to the State legis-
lature, that Smith plunged into his first, and quite
definitely his only, love affair. Katherine Dunn, the
ample and motherly Katie who has lived at the

ay 7Alfred E. Smith

Executive Mansion at Albany for seven years as
though it were a house on Oliver Street, had form-
erly resided in the Fourth Ward, but had moved
when she was ten years old to the wilderness of the
Bronx. The Miss Dunn of the ’go’s, it is recalled,
was a dark-haired, slender girl with blue eyes; a
character out of one of the magazine stories in which
Kathleen Norris has detailed the lives of honest
Irish families. Fairly well educated, at all events
better than the youth who was to be her husband,
marriage was the only career open to one of her
environment and generation. And she has devoted
her life to this alone, despite the growing activities
of suffragists, feminists and militant workers for
equal rights and equal liabilities. Unlike the wives
of some other public men, she has played no part in
his rise to eminence but that of a wife and mother
within the walls of her home. Like Al, she reads
very little and cares nothing for society. She shares
his pleasure in motion pictures and the simpler forms
of the drama.

Alfred Smith, despite his neighborhood popular-
ity, was no all-conquering male when he set out to
woo the charming Katie. In the first place her
family were slightly above his own on the social
scale, a distinction due to their comparative pros-
perity. They were not too cordial toward his ad-
vances for several reasons. Their chief objection
was that when he started to call he was still working

118

    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  

«A City Boy Begins a Career

in the fish market. But they viewed him with sus-
picion, also, because he had tendencies toward the
stage which, as any good Irish family knew, was
the hotbed of licentiousness and vice. For this rea-
son, although Al soon told Katie herself that he
intended to marry her, the subject was not mentioned
to her parents immediately. But after a year or so,
having been rewarded with political appointment,
he felt confident enough to call several times a week
and his honorable intentions soon became obvious.
The labors of love were not light, for transportation
between the Fourth Ward and the Bronx was bad
enough to daunt any but a stout heart bound to win
afairlady. The first part of the journey was made
on the smoky Third Avenue Elevated, and a trolley
was the only alternative to walking the rest of the
way. Often it was 2 o’clock in the morning before
Al got back to the lower East Side. It was fortunate
that during most of the courtship he had a political
job and was bossed by Irishmen, of all races most
sentimental about lovers.

Katie Dunn, in addition to her personal charms,
had other social assets which caused her to be some-
thing of a Bronx belle and to have many beaus who
made competition rather keen. She could sing most
of the mushy ballads which were popular in the
’*90’s. Among these must have been numbered, my
source of information is again the reminiscent Mr.
Henry Collins Brown, such favorites as ‘Sweet

119Alfred E. Smith

Violets”, “Only a Pansy Blossom’, “Say au Revoir
but Not Goodbye”, “After the Ball” and “Let Me
Dream Again”. Other selections probably included
“Tittle Annie Rooney” and “The Sidewalks of
New York”. But this last was a new song when
Al Smith, resplendent in his best suit, called with a
bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand.

Eventually the obstacles consisting of wealthier
suitors and parental objection were overcome and
Katie became Mrs. Alfred E. Smith. The wedding
was held on May 6, 1900, at St. Augustine’s Roman
Catholic Church at 167th Street and Franklin Ave-
nue, the Bronx. Al would not listen to suggestions
that he live in the Bronx with his bride, being aware
that it would be political suicide for him to leave the
Fourth Ward at that time. So he turned down offers
of three or four rent-free months held out by the
landlords of some of the newer tenements and took
a flat on Madison Street. Life did not prove too
difficult, for the cost of living was low and Mrs.
Smith was a gifted cook and an excellent manager.
Their first child, Alfred E. Smith, Jr., was born
a year after their marriage. A daughter, Emily,
was also born on Madison Street, but before the ar-
rival of Catherine a larger apartment on Peck Slip
was taken. Arthur and Walter, the other two of the
brood of five, were born in the famous house at No.
25 Oliver Street. Thus all began their lives in the
Fourth Ward, as had their father and mother.

I20A City Boy Begins a Career

The Smith children were happy in their selection
of a father. He is good-natured, tolerant and easy-
going. When they were small he entertained them
with such songs and recitations as he remembered
from his parlor-trick days, and during their younger
years the bond was very close. Now, it is said,
Emily is closer to her father than any of the others.
Her picture is on his desk at the Executive Office
in the Capitol at Albany. A dark-haired girl, she
is attractive despite the handicap of her father’s
nose. Her mind is unusually keen.* Some years ago
she went to Europe and when she returned her
father, then the Governor of New York, went down
the harbor on a tug to meet the steamer. After he
had clambered aboard they embraced and Emily,
confident of the reply, asked her father whether
she had been missed.

sMissed! Not by me;?? ‘eninned Al) “Saye
haven’t had such a rest from arguing in years.”

Back of this joking remark, intimates of the
Smith family say, stood a singularly close relation-
ship between father and daughter. It has included
long and heated disputes on politics and on the wis-
dom of courses of action that the Governor was con-
sidering. Smith likes to play jokes on his family
and Emily has had more than her share; another
indication, perhaps, of the cordiality of their friend-
ship. During one of the State conventions at Syra-
cuse the family had a suite at the hotel. Early one
121Alfred E. Smith

morning, while Smith was out, the telephone rang
and a masculine voice asked for Miss Emily Smith.
Going to the phone, the girl heard the voice identify
itself as that of a news-reel camera man.

“We’re very anxious to have some shots of the
pretty daughter of the Governor,” he said. ‘Won’t
you come downstairs and let us take a few?”

Delighted and flattered, Emily hurried to get into
her best dress. But as she turned to go into her own
room her father appeared. The snicker which
escaped him as he looked at her flushed cheek be-
trayed him. It had been he who had telephoned
from the lobby.

Until Smith became Governor in 1918 and dur-
ing all the years that he was in the state legislature,
his family continued to live on Oliver Street. Mov-
ing to the Executive Mansion at Albany made very
little difference in their mode of living, although
the butler was long regarded with a mixture of awe
and ridicule by the Smith offspring. Despite urgent
recommendations by some of his advisers, who
thought that it would be well to permit them a
broader vision, the children attended parochial
schools.

Smith was momentarily disappointed in the mar-
riages of his two older sons, for they startled the
family with elopements. But he was frankly de-
lighted when Emily announced her choice of Major
John Adams Warner, Superintendent of the State
I22A City Boy Begins a Career

Police. He is a young man of background, has a
moderate income and is connected with the State
Police more because the work fascinates him than
for any other reason. ‘The Governor had never
heard of Warner when, some years before, a head
for the department had to be appointed and recom-
mendations from both Republicans and Democrats
suggested that he was best qualified.

The wedding took place on June 5, 1926, and
was an affair out of one of the twisted dream-plays
that have been popular on Broadway in recent years.
The ceremony was held at the Cathedral of the Im-
maculate Conception at Albany with Cardinal Hayes
officiating. Fifteen hundred guests were invited;
ranging from Owen D. Young, chairman of the
General Electric Company, to Louis Fook, the
“Mayor of Chinatown”. The boys of Tammany
were all present, stiff and red in their top hats and
cutaways. The gifts were appalling in their pro-
fusion: a truckload of silver, many gold dishes,
twenty clocks, desk sets, candlesticks, pictures, ash
trays, vases, jewelry and $20 gold pieces. There
were scores of books, among them such serious ones
as Amy Lowell’s “Keats”, Boswell’s “Life of John-
son” and Carl Sandburg’s “Lincoln”, for Emily
does not share her parents’ distaste for reading. On
the day of the wedding a railroad car crammed with
gifts was still to be unloaded. The whole affair
could be compared only to that other famous wed-
123Alfred E. Smith

ding when Alice Roosevelt became the bride of
Nicholas Longworth at the White House years ago.
Through it all Al Smith was not too happy and
at times his smile was forced. Even though he
highly approved of the match, particularly as he
watched the poise and bearing of the young bride
and groom, he knew that the closest of all his chil-
dren was leaving him. But he grinned with de-
termination, danced at the reception and was red
and perspired in his usual fashion. After the cere-
mony was over he looked at the department store
collection of gifts and swore under his breath.
“Guess I’ll have to run again in the fall,” he
muttered. ‘‘Emily’s going to live in a four-room
house. She’ll have to have the basement of the
Executive Mansion to store this junk in.”BOOK THREE

Sent Up the RiverChapter One

 

ON THE MORNING OF OCTOBER I7, IQII, WITH
Election Day near enough so that the time was op-
portune for a warning, the New York World pub~
lished an editorial listing a number of Democratic
Assemblymen and called upon the Best People of
the city to hurl them forthwith into the lasting dark-
ness of political oblivion. Of them it said:

“These Democratic members of the present Assembly
from New York who have been renominated should be
defeated at the polls.

“Every man in this list voted for the Murphy charter
for New York City despite and in defiance of the most
positive and manifest opposition of his constituents.
These men preferred the commands of a boss to the wel-
fare and the interests of the people. They cannot com-
plain if the people in turn prefer new men to those who
have been tried and proved faithless.”

Among the legislators on this blacklist was Alfred
FE. Smith, the member from the Second Assembly
District in lower Manhattan and by now the leader
of the Democratic majority in the lower house of the
State legislature. Another was a dark-haired youth
named James J. Walker, who enjoyed wide popular-
127Alfred E. Smith

ity as a song writer and whose home district was
in Greenwich Village. If, in 1911, their careers
were in peril because of the Worlds indignant de-
mand for their heads, there is no record of that
fact. ‘The warning, as such warnings usually are,
was futile. Al and Jimmy were overwhelmingly
reélected and preserved for happier days; the former
to become in 1924 the World’s candidate for the
Democratic presidential nomination, the latter to
rise to eminence as the most charming Mayor in
the history of New York City.

It would be pleasant to think that the electorate
in New York had pre-vision and realized that the
sins of Smith and Walker were but temporary; that
before a decade had passed they would be hailed
as outstanding members of the “new Tammany
Hall”. The truth is, of course, that Tammany in
1911 was mightier than the editorial pen. It could
win in the face of unified newspaper opposition. It
can, if necessary, do so again to-day, for the citizen
who cares enough about government to follow the
advice of his favorite journal is vastly outnumbered
by the voters who do not read at all or who are con-
trolled by the machine. Tammany holds no mo-
nopoly in this; it is characteristic of the politics of
the American municipality.

By 1911 Alfred E. Smith, elected for the first
time in the fall of 1903, was a veteran at Albany.
For eight years he had climbed the hill leading to
128Sent Up the River

the building that houses the State government. It
is one of the peculiarities of the men who build
State capitols that often they choose a command-
ing site on a hillside and nearly always erect a build-
ing that is an architectural monstrosity. Such is
the Capitol at Albany. It has a really magnificent
location, with the city sprawled before it and with
the dim outline of the banks of the Hudson River
in the distance. ‘The structure cost millions of dol-
lars and is a jumble of renaissance turrets and jim-
cracks that must cause a young legislator of artistic
bent to meditate on the mysteries of democracies, if
not on suicide. Fortunately the death rate among
legislators is kept down by the fact that almost
none is a gentleman of sensibilities. ‘There is noth-
ing, at all events, to indicate that Al Smith had
ever been depressed by his physical surroundings.
During the first year or so at Albany, it is true, he
was homesick and fearful that he would never
amount to much. But by 1gr11 he was a cocksure,
hard-boiled, practical politician whose blind regular-
ity was an insult to a native intelligence of which he
was only partially aware.

It has been said of Smith, again I quote Dr.
White, the Kansas sage, that he “took orders until
he could give them.” ‘This leads, possibly, to the
impression that early in his career Smith was aware
that Tammany was less than perfect, that he was
even then intellectually independent and was wait-

129

eAlfred E. Smith

unless, for a time, he was regular.

from several of the law-makers.

130

   
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

ing for the day to come when he could break away
and yet survive the wrath of the organization. [
cannot believe, though, that in 1911 he was this
type of idealistic Machiavelli, willing to play the
organization game so that in the future he could
listen to persistent inner voices and battle for good
government. It is axiomatic, though, that any man
starting a political career and brimming with the
most lofty purposes would accomplish very little

This is a lesson e

which the reform element never learns.

In 1911 Al Smith had already been rewarded
for his services to Tammany. The Democrats, that
year, had the remarkable luck to win control in
both houses of the legislature and Smith was made
the leader of the Assembly. It was a long and
weary session filled with diableries, many of them
guided by Smith. In supreme command, but usually
out of sight, was Charles F. Murphy. The New
York World, aware of this fact, had asked the Tam-
many boss for his position on a pending law and
had been told that he was “not a member of the
legislature” and therefore had nothing to say. This
tickled the funnybone of some editor who tel-
egraphed to Albany for comments on this statement
Was it true that
Murphy played no part in their deliberations? Some
of the answers that came back were:Sent Up the River

Robert F. Wagner, then Democratic leader in
the Senate and now United States Senator from New
York:—“Adhering closely to his long-established
policy, Mr. Murphy has not attempted to influence
the legislature in any way.”

Alfred E. Smith:— “Mr. Murphy is quite cor-
rect in his statement. I do not believe he is any
more concerned in the deliberations of the legisla-
ture than any other good Democrat.”

Franklin D. Roosevelt; in 1911 an insurgent
Democratic State Senator, in 1924 manager of ,
Smith’s campaign for the presidential nomina-
tion:— “Mr. Murphy’s declaration is very interest-
ing. I thought he was said to be without a sense
of humor.”

The legislative system in New York, whether
Democrats or Republicans are in the ascendancy, 1s
both cumbersome and unwieldy. ‘The massed in-
telligence of almost any group of law-makers is
pitiful to view. Smith, as Governor, has ma-
terially lightened the burdens by accomplishing the
consolidation of State departments and by forcing
through a more liberal grant of home rule for the
cities of the State. It ought now to be possible for
the legislature to function without being entirely
absurd. But even Al Smith seems to be growing
discouraged and lately he has been recommending
sessions every two years instead of annually as is
at present the case. He has not, of course, allied

gyAlfred E. Smith

himself with less friendly critics who have sug-
gested permanent adjournment as of the greatest
benefit to the commonwealth.

The forty-eight State legislatures in the nation
grind out an appalling number of laws each year,
a high proportion of them utterly silly. Legal en-
actment has become the American cure-all. Gov-
ernor Smith has quoted statistics to show that in a
single year in this great land of independence 49,141
new laws were proposed by its busy legislative
bodies and 16,298 of them actually passed. In
New York during five years 3,469 bills became law.
The time is ripe for the organization of a “Fewer
and Better Law” society. Some of the enlightened
measures under consideration recently in the so-
called Empire State were: An amendment to the
game laws making it legal for an extra hook to be
used on fishlines dipped into Keuka Lake, a law to
enumerate and pension couples who have celebrated
their golden wedding, a law authorizing the compi-
lation of lists of bee and dog owners in Nassau
County, one to collect a doctor’s bill on an Indian
reservation, another to punish a fraud in letting seats
in theaters, and a mysterious statute to regulate the
puzzling practices of cosmetology, astrology and
bandagery.

Recent delegation of additional legislative powers
to the cities, I have said, has improved the situa-
tion at Albany slightly. Not long ago the legisla-

32Sent Up the River

ture was annually flooded with bills providing re-
instatement for New York City policemen fired by
the commissioner for intoxication, assault, robbery
and other high crimes, but later found innocent by
juries under the spell of a hypnotic defense counsel.
Law-makers from Horseheads, N. Y., and other
rustic centers were required to pass on garbage
disposal regulations in cities they rarely visited,
and then only to see the latest leg shows.
Similarly, members from Harlem or the Bowery
were given opportunity to debate on the neces-
sity for a bridge over some creek near Wap-
pinger’s Falls. What all this led to, naturally, was
a system of bargaining. The hayseed Assemblyman
agreed to reinstate a New York cop if, in turn, his
village mudhole was drained at the expense of the
State. A vast amount of this still goes on. On
really important matters the average legislator takes
orders from the floor leader of his party. He drifts
through the session in a mental fog, not infrequently
thickened by liquor. During the closing hours,
with the hands of the clock halted to preserve the
fiction of adjournment at the previously specified
hour, he votes, parrot-like, as he is told. The only
check on the possible deviltry is the vigil of the
newspaper correspondents who take turns at sentry
duty and prevent many raw deals.

Occasionally, of course, there is a member with
brains. He may follow instructions from the Boss

133Alfred E. Smith

and probably does. But he knows the reasons that
lie behind what is done and may even, in private,
protest once in awhile against the commands of the
party dictators. He understands the meaning of
bills under consideration. He has at least a work-
ing knowledge of the State government. And being
intelligent he is likely, in time, to be promoted from
the Moronia that is the State legislature of New
York.

Alfred E. Smith was one of these exceptions.Chapter Two

 

IN 1903, MY READERS HAVE NOW DOUBTLESS
forgotten, Al Smith was by day an investigator in
the office of the Commissioner of Jurors and by
night both an amateur actor and a zealous worker
under Leader Tom Foley at the Madison Street
clubhouse. He had been married for three years,
was fatuously proud of his two-year old son and
lived in a flat a few doors away from the club.
Thirty years old, he looked younger and the cares
of life seemed to dissolve in the laughter with which
he appreciated his own jokes and his singing of
funny songs.

Tammany Hall, tipped off by Foley, did not per-
mit so gifted a man to decay ina city bureau. The
leader is dead now and his own opinion of Al in
those days is a matter for conjecture; it was not his
custom to talk a great deal. His friends, though,
have advanced the theory that Foley had moments
when he was more than merely an organization
leader, when he craftily suggested for nomination
a man in whom he saw the seeds of greater things
than medium intelligence, a gift for spell-binding
and the quality of obedience. It is a warming

35Alfred E. Smith

thought, quite without evidence in substantiation,
that Foley, old himself, gazed deep into this new-
comer and hoped that young Al Smith might do
the things that he himself had never been big enough
todo. If he did, and if the ghosts of politicians re-
tain their interest in legislative matters, the spirit
of Big Tom must now and then give a grunt of
satisfaction.

But this is metaphysical. One day, late in the
summer of 1903, as he was about to quit work at
the Commissioner of Jurors’ office, Smith was ap-
proached by a minor dignitary from 14th Street.

“That the only suit you got?” he is said to have
asked.

Al nodded, a little surprised at the notion that
he would have many suits.

“Well, hurry home and get it pressed. To-night
youw’re going to be nominated for the Assembly.”

Such is the legend. The truth is that Al had
long been angling for the nomination to the State
legislature and the designation was not unexpected.
For several years he had been advancing the notion
that he was well qualified; modestly when among
the elders at the clubhouse, but with considerable
confidence when talking to men of his own age.
He could boast with convincing force that there
were few more widely known politicians in the
Fourth Ward, that his long and successful career
as an actor would give added publicity value to his

136Sent Up the River

candidacy. His regularity, he could say, was not
| open to question. Nor could it be declared that any
other youthful member of Tammany had worked
more laboriously doing odd jobs for the machine.
All of this Foley had acknowledged to be true, and
the leader’s opinion that Smith should be given the
nomination was shared by Henry Campbell, a Vesey
Street grocer, who was one of the organization’s un-
official advisers and a frequent contributor to cam-
paign chests.

Newspaper clippings are not always entirely re-
liable sources of information, since there is always
an outside chance that a reporter has done his sub-
ject the injustice of imagining just a little of the
story that he writes. But with this reservation, an
article that appeared in the New York Morning
Telegraph may be offered in evidence to show that
Al Smith, having defeated a gentleman named Paul
Kamisky for Assemblyman from the Second District
in Manhattan, was jubilant about this, his first vic-
tory. The swagger behind the words is obvious:

“You see it?s this way,” Al is quoted in the interview.
“Acting is a lot harder work than helping make the laws.
That’s why I’m booked for Albany for the season.
The footlights for your Irvings and your Mansfields, but
the comfortable and cozy seats of the State Capitol for
mine.

“The fact is, politics pays better than the wig-paste

profession, and, if I’m not exactly a star in the House as
yet, this is my first venture, I guess [ll get the center

137Alfred E. Smith

of the stage and bask in the political limelight before I
get through.

“Yes, I’m dead stuck on acting. Always have been, and
my friends say that I’m a corker at the game. ‘There are
lots of comedy men with big names now acting who might
not be able to hold a candle to me, and if I hadn’t been
elected to a seat in the Assembly, some of the top-liners
in the Broadway bills might have been occupying a back
seat. But it’s all over now.

“Tm a politician now, and it would not be good form
to brag, but you can just mention in that respect that
I defeated Kamisky, my opponent, by 3,500 votes—more
than twice as many as he got. It was like rolling off
a log. I could have sat at home and been elected, but
I took the stump a bit and did a bit of talking. I like
it yOu see:

    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 

This effervescence soon subsided, though, when
Al got to Albany, on a cold winter day in the first
week of January, 1904. Icy winds sweep down from
Capitol Hill to the Union Station at the river. But
their breath is no more chilly than the reception
accorded verdant legislators by the veteran mem-
bers. The first term Assemblyman is made to feel
more unsophisticated-than a college freshman, more
insignificant than a second lieutenant at a staff ofh-
, more unkempt than a husband who has
been cleaning the furnace and blunders into a tea
being given by his wife upstairs. He searches, if
he is from a large city, the newspapers for months
in the vain hope that he has been mentioned in an
Albany despatch. He very nearly swoons from

138

cers’ messSent Up the River

gratitude when, for the first time, a legislative cor-
respondent greets him in the cloakroom.

Al Smith arrived at Albany toward dusk with
Tommy Caughlan, another Tammany novitiate who
came as the honorable representative of the First As-
sembly District. They felt lonely and woe-begone
and turned up their coat collars as they trudged on
foot to a cheap hotel. They found that their room
was heated only by a wood stove and the hotel so
ramshackle that a fire seemed more than possible.
Terrified, the two Assemblymen decided to take
turns keeping watch during the night and this they
did, each telling himself as he sat huddled in a
chair that never again would he consent to run for
the legislature.

During the years that have passed since then the
usual stories have been told of that first night in
Albany. One favorite is that as Al and his friend
began their walk to the hotel a magnificent sleigh
swept to the front of the station, impressive with its
prancing horses, bells, lap-robes and footman. Into
it was tucked, as the two Assemblymen and other
travelers gaped, an important looking gentleman
who had arrived on the same train. Some one ex-
plained that the opulent figure was Benjamin B.
Odell, Governor of the State. Alturned to Tommy.

“*?At’s the job for me,” he is supposed to have
sald.

It is an artistic story and Smith has been artist

139Alfred E. Smith

enough to tell it occasionally, with variations that
harmonized more definitely with the particular
function at which he was speaking. He was among
those on the dais at the Gridiron Dinner at Wash-
ington in 1924 when the opportunity presented
itself. President Coolidge had just been elected by
a tremendous majority over John W. Davis, whose
intelligence on all matters except politics had been
considered a menace by the people. Al had never
before been present at one of these famous affairs
of the Washington correspondents, so he adopted an
air of modesty.

“Tt’s pleasant to have a seat at the head table,”
he said in the brief address that guests of honor
at Gridiron Dinners make. ‘I remember when I
first went up to Albany and the newspaper cor-
respondents had their legislative dinner. A friend
of mine got me in, but I had a seat way over on one
side of the room, under the gallery. After awhile
Governor Odell came in, accompanied by a staff
all trimmed out in gold lace, and was taken up to
the best table. ‘That’s the way,’ I told my friend
who was with me, ‘to come to these dinners.’ ”

At this point Smith revealed that he is capable of
subtleties.

““And there’s the way,” he concluded with a grin
in the direction of Cal Coolidge, “to attend a
Gridiron Dinner.”

Just what the youthful Smith did during the
140Sent Up the River

1904 session of the legislature must remain unknown
since, unhappily, no record is kept of the delibera-
tions of that body. In 1915, when a member of the
Constitutional Convention, Al debated in favor of
preserving for posterity the orations of the Assembly
and the Senate. Forgetting, apparently, the bilge
that appears in the Congressional Record, he re-
marked:

“—it will be a kind of automatic valve on the hot air,
and if there is anything needed in this room (the As-
sembly Chamber) it is said valve. There is a good deal
said here that when it gets into print won’t look very
good, and this may restrain some people from saying it.”

In the absence of a record it is safe to say that
Al did very little at the inception of his Albany
career and that little under party commands. He
held no important committee posts and was seldom,
if ever, consulted. His name did not appear in the
daily despatches of the correspondents. He was,
however, reélected in the fall and found life at the
Capitol rather more pleasant during 1905. This
was largely because Robert F. Wagner had been sent
to the Assembly from a Tammany district on the
upper East Side of New York City. A German by
birth, Bob Wagner was inclined to be slow and
thorough in his mental processes where Al was
swift. A law school graduate, he was well educated
in comparison to Smith’s grammar grade training.
He is a Lutheran whereas Al, of course, is a devout

I4IAlfred E. Smith

Catholic. But the two became fast friends despite
all these differences and later did battle together
in behalf of Boss Murphy. Smith became Demo-
cratic leader of the lower house and Wagner served
in the same capacity in the Senate. In 1905
Wagner, Smith and Caughlan roomed together in
a third-rate tavern on State Street.

But if Albany in that year was socially bearable,
Smith felt that professionally y he was standing still.
The salary of a legislator is $1,500 a year and he
was finding that rhe months spent at Albany made
it difficult to earn an adequate living for his family.
The rules permitted him to draw $70 of his allow-
ance each week until $250 remained to his credit.
This he could not have until the end of the session
and long before that day, his early associates recall,
Smith was invariably broke. Financial worries and
the fear that he might never master the complicated
legislative processes dampened, for probably the
first time in his life, his usual optimism. He often
discussed with Bob Wagner the advisability of re-
fusing to run for another term and mourned that
he had no college diploma to assist him along life’s
troubled path.

Before the adjournment of the 1905 session he
had made up his mind that he would not return the
following year, and so informed Tom Foley. Al-
bany, he said, had been too much for him. He had
not been given a single worth-while committee as-

142Sent Up the River

signment. He might as well be a Republican for
all the good he was doing the organization. Besides,
he had his family to think of; the salary of an As-
semblyman was too small to be of much help. Foley,
of course, had heard just such lamentations before.
He pointed out that every new legislator became
discouraged at first; so prevalent was this that it
had become almost a precedent for them to quit after
two years. Smith would not do a thing like that,
would he: Help me out, begged Foley, and try it
for at least one more session. The breaks would
come in time and Tammany would not forget. So
Al ran again and was again reélected.Chapter Three

 

 

 

AMONG THE MEMBERS OF THE LOWER HOUSE IN
the State legislature that convened in January of
1905 was a young man named James W. Wads-
worth. A Republican, he differed from Al Smith
in nearly every respect possible except that he, too,
had brains. Smith came from an environment of
truck horses, Wadsworth from one of saddle horses.
He represented a country district not far from
Rochester and his family was wealthy and cultured.
He had graduated, not long before, from Yale,
where he had been a star baseball player.

Jim Wadsworth was no idle son of the rich, dab-
bling in politics for a thrill. He was a hard worker
with a natural gift for making a profession out of
the calling that remains a trade to most of the men
who are in it. And he was fascinated by the char-
acteristics of the Tammany members with whom
he came into contact. He had never before known
men like these, hard in their city provincialism. His
seat in the Assembly Chamber in 1905, just on the
line that separated the Republicans from the Dem-
ocrats, happened to be next to the chair of Bob
Wagner. Through Wagner he met Al Smith and

144Sent Up the River

before many weeks the three men were eating dinner
together occasionally.

“T learned a lot from Al,?? Wadsworth recalled
more than a decade afterwards. “In fact, I learned
a lot from a number of the city members. They
had a point of view I had never encountered. They
interested me. Even then Al Smith was a man of
great charm, who was soon fraternizing with both
sides of the house. He was a really talented story-
teller and all of us looked forward to hearing the
new jokes he picked up.”

But this side of Smith, as I have said, was sub-
merged for most of 1905, except infrequently when
Wadsworth, Bob Wagner or a few others managed
to make him feel at home. Even in 1906, having
returned at the virtual command of Tom Foley and
assured that better days would come, Al still felt
obscure and unhappy and was well on the road to
what would now be known as an inferiority com-
plex. Meanwhile, although extremely young for
the job, Wadsworth had been made Speaker of the
Assembly. ‘This post carries great power over com-
mittee assignments as well as with regard to pend-
ing legislation. Next to the Governor the Speaker
is usually the most important man at the Capitol.
One afternoon, busy with his new duties, Wadsworth
ran into a rather disconsolate Al Smith.

“Getting any good committee jobs?” he asked

145Alfred E. Smith

Smith replied, sadly, that he certainly was not,
that his name had not been included by the
Democratic leader in the lists that would make up
the minority’s representation. Jim was sympathetic
and said that he might be able to do something.
Later, although a Republican and a theoretical
enemy, he exercised his authority as Speaker and
appointed the Tammany man to the Insurance Com-
mittee. This committee was an outstanding one
that year, for Charles E. Hughes had just com-
pleted his famous investigation and a mass of insur-
ance legislation of a reform nature was to be passed
upon. From that day Al Smith seldom felt lonely
or unimportant at Albany again. Year by year his
activities and his influence increased until he be-
came, in succession, Speaker himself and then Gov-
ernor. Meanwhile Jim Wadsworth had been
elected to the United States Senate where, in 1926,
the good deed that he had done for Al Smith twenty
years before returned, in violation of the Scriptures,
to do him grievous injury. In that year Bob Wag-
ner, having long since left the legislature to become
a judge, was nominated by his party to run for
Senator against Wadsworth, whose term was expir-
ing. Chiefly because of the popularity of Smith,
heading the ticket in his fifth campaign for Gover-
nor, Wagner managed to win, although the election
of the Republican had seemed certain. Wadsworth,
a lame duck, now grins a trifle bitterly as he reflects
146Sent Up the River

on the part that he played in launching Smith on
his career.

Having thus achieved a measure of distinction in
1906, all of Al Smith’s old jubilation swiftly re-
turned. He began to act as host at corned beef and
cabbage dinners at Albany restaurants, dinners that
were featured by good humor and beer. His guests
were other members of the legislature, Republicans
just as often as Democrats, and it was not long be-
fore Al became one of the most popular members.
Looking back, now, on those days, he likes to think
that he absorbed much wisdom from the bucolic
law-makers who attended these feasts. Undoubt-
edly he did gain impressions of country problems
that were to be of value as Governor. But Al pre-
ferred the role of talker to that of listener, and it
is probable that his guests benefited the more. They
must have learned a great deal about city ways and
citymen. Some of the rustic prejudice against New
York and New Yorkers—against the iniquity of
Tammany—must have faded under the spell of
good stories, laughter and liquor.

The chief profit to Al Smith lay in the friends
he made, friends who were willing to pass a par-
ticular bill that Tom Foley desired, who could be
approached to consider a compromise when a legisla-
tive deadlock made it appear that the session might
drag on forever. These friendships were not merely
of the moment; many a Republican to-day, denounc-

147Alfred E. Smith

ing Al Smith in speech or print, is gratified that his
private relationship is most cordial. In 1915 the
amiability of the past nine years brought to Smith
a very concrete return. Tammany Hall, grateful
for the work that he had done at Albany and ap-
preciating that it had been at definite financial sacri-
fice, designated Al for the lucrative post of Sheriff
of New York County. ‘The office then, as 1s still
the case in many parts of the country, was run on
a fee basis and the total that went into the pocket
of the Sheriff was out of all proportion to the work.
In 1915, as this plum was about to fall into Smith’s
lap, he was still a member of the Assembly and
learned to his profound distress that a bill had been
introduced ending the fee system and establishing
a salary of $12,000 a year, as compared with
$60,000 or even more likely to be enjoyed under
the existing law. In this crisis Smith turned to his
friends in both houses of the legislature. He begged
them to have a heart. And although the Repub-
licans controlled each branch, the affection in which
he was held was such that the bill was killed. Two
years later, after Al had harvested the fees for two
years, it was revived and became the law of the
State.

But to return to 1906, the year of Smith’s
emergence from insignificance; there are indica-
tions that it did not take him many weeks to dis-
cover that the other legislators were not the austere

148Sent Up the River

and awesome figures he had supposed. They were
inclined, he found, to appreciate a measure of horse-
play and were not resentful of interference with the
decorum of the proceedings. Thus Al got quite a
hand one day during the session when he sent a
sign decorated with Chinese hieroglyphics to the
Speaker’s desk when an idiotic bill proposing to
regulate Chinese laundries was introduced. Nor
did he confine his fondness for merriment to the As-
sembly Chamber. Toward the end of the session
two young ladies from the Fourth Ward appeared
at the Capitol late one afternoon and asked Al to
get them out of a predicament. They had come to
Albany to make a connection for another part of the
State, they explained, but had missed their train.
The city hotels had refused to jeopardize their
reputations by sheltering unescorted females. Would
Alfred help them out? He did, by vouching for
their respectability to one of the conservative tavern
keepers. Hours afterwards, while the two maidens
were wrapped in slumber, they were rudely awak-
ened by loud thumps just outside the door of their
room. Investigating, they found a collection of old
shoes which had been pitched over the transom. In
the corridor, they swear to this day, they heard a
snicker easily identified as that of the Hon. Alfred
E. Smith, Assemblyman from the Second Manhat-
tan District.

It would be unjust to give the impression that

149Alfred E. Smith

Smith was nothing but a parliamentary playboy.
On the contrary, he worked harder than almost

any one else at Albany. He plodded through tech-
nical bills and managed to glean from their mys-
terious phraseology the problem they were attempt-
ing to solve or, which was more likely, the steal
they were arranged to provide. The annual ap-
propriation bill is a document hundreds of pages in
length and containing thousands of items. It is as
complicated as an income tax return filed by John
D. Rockefeller, the Younger, and as difficult to
understand as a railway time-table in Russia.
Smith mastered even this baffler, in violation of all
tradition in the Assembly. The other boys pre-
ferred to incur headaches by means of liquor and
permitted committee heads and party leaders to
worry about the appropriation bills. Al voted as
he was told, I have said. But he knew what he
was doing and therein differed from the great
majority.

The first year of his new prominence, 1906,
Smith introduced fifteen bills, none of them of
transcendent importance. One provided for lower
telephone rates in New York. His expert knowl-
edge of fish, gained at the Fulton Market, inspired
an obscure measure to amend “the forest, fish and
game law as to sale of wall-eyed and yellow pike.”
He suggested a tax on advertising posters and pro-
vided rehearings for one New York City cop and

150Sent Up the River

one fireman who had, apparently, been in trouble.
He wanted air brakes placed on all the cars of
trains, and suggested that justices of the peace who
had served for five years be admitted to the bar
without attending school. As Governor, in later
years, he vetoed many a bill of this type. The next
year, 1907, Al accomplished the passage of a law
regulating the sale of narcotics. He attempted, re-
membering his old friends and his former job, to
increase the salaries of the members of the Jurors’
Commission. He made a plea for Sunday baseball
and said in a speech that it was better for boys to
be at the ball park than be “driven to places where
they play ‘Waltz Me Around Again, Willie’.”
He fought, with his Tammany colleagues, the en-
deavors of Governor Hughes in 1908 to end gam-
bling at the race-tracks.

But on the whole his record during 1906, 1907
and 1908 was such that even the reform element
looked on him with cautious favor. The Citizens’
Union of New York, which for years has handed
down rulings on the virtues and sins of legislators,
condescended to remark in 1906 that Smith was
““ntelligent and active, somewhat above average of
machine men”. ‘The next year it reported that he
had shown “‘increased ability”? and was “‘one of the

best Democratic representatives from New York”.
In 1908 it said of him:

151Alfred E. Smith

“Increasingly active and aggressive; very much above
average in intelligence, force and usefulness, though still
inclined to follow machine in support of bad measures.”

The Citizens’ Union, it is clear, had hopes that
Smith might be saved. But before an additional
twelve months had passed these dreams were shat-
tered. He had “disappointed the expectations of
those who believed he would make proper use of
his increased influence”. He was one of the “most
dangerous men at Albany because of his experi-
ence”. Off with his head! was the civic organiza-
tion’s appeal to the voters.

That fall Al defeated his Republican opponent
by more than two to one,Chapter Four

 

IT WAS DURING THE NEXT FEW YEARS THAT
Smith aroused the reform element to the highest
frenzies of indignation. Probably there was reason
enough for their continued denunciation of nearly
everything he did. The often futile, but praise-
worthy, organizations which spend money in behalf
of decent government can remain more or less calm
in face of perfidy on the part of the average stupid
officeholder. They expect nothing else. But when
an exceptional man, and Al Smith was such, be-
comes the slave of a machine they shriek with
agony and their demand for his rejection at the polls
is far more heated than in the case of the dumbbells.

The legislature of the State of New York is even
to-day an unhappy place for breathless believers in
the democratic form of government to behold. But
its sins now are more those of stupidity than vicious-
ness. Its internal rows are brisk and bitter, yet not
more so than the clashes between fundamentalists
and liberals at a Presbyterian Assembly over doc-
trines such as the Virgin Birth. Compared to the
sessions of 1909, 1910 and 1911, the meetings are
redolent with brotherly love. Albany has few of

513Alfred E. Smith

the pugilistic outbreaks that have recently caused
members of Congress to wave their arms at each
other, pant heavily and flock to the nearest physio-
therapist. Fifteen years ago these were common.
Nor were the hostile acts confined to combatants;
during one debate on direct primaries in IgII a
statesman fired a book at a colleague and knocked
off the hat of a woman spectator. A man of God
who had come to the Capitol to lobby for race-track
reform was deluged, at about the same time, by
Murphy’s boys with pamphlets, stationery and bulky
appropriation bills.

The Assemblyman of 1910 was often familiar
with that portion of Albany inelegantly known as
“The Gut”. Here were to be found the delights of
cheap saloons and the more damnable charms of the
bawdy house. The Sergeant-at-Arms of the lower
house, and this duty of rounding up the sinners was
enjoyed by the same official in the Senate Chamber,
was a sophisticated cop who knew exactly where to
find the honorable members in case they were needed
for a vote or some other matter of state on the Hill.
When ordered to get his man, he did so. He was
not, fortunately, required to guarantee either so-
briety or state of apparel.

Al Smith, though, had none of these vices.
Women other than his wife were less interesting to
him than the speeches of a prohibitionist. He may
have been similar in appearance to his fellows. He

154Sent Up the River

wore the same sort of clothes and his hat was in-
variably over one ear. His language, too, was their
kind. But the fundamental decency in the man
never permitted him to indulge in red-light
pleasures.

During 1909 Al’s name began to figure fre-
quently in the despatches of the Albany correspond-
ents. He was known as “Smith, the Tammany
man’, and it is rumored that he was directly in line
to be the Democratic leader in the Assembly. He
was criticized for opposing the direct primary law
being sponsored by Governor Hughes, and was
known to be hostile to the dry fanatics who sought
to give to advanced communities, through local
option, the right to bar the sale of liquor. It was,
in fact, in 1909 that one of Smith’s first actions as
a wet took place. ‘This was when he gave his sup-
port to a bill amending the law which forbade a bar
in any building with an entrance less than two hun-
dred feet away fromachurch. This daddy of the
Volstead Act had been planned, obviously, to re-
move temptation from the paths of gentlemen
bound for morning worship. It was particularly
obnoxious to the Gotham Hotel on Fifth Avenue,
located near the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church,
and forced to go to all manner of bootlegging meth-
ods to provide liquor for its guests. Its efforts to
repeal the statute were unavailing, however, de-
spite the assistance of Al Smith, so a warehouse was

155Alfred E. Smith

established down the street to which bellboys were
despatched as the need arose.

But the years that followed hard upon 1909 are
important chiefly for the reason that Smith, in
addition to his support of partisan measures, began
constructive work indicative of the genius along
this line he was to demonstrate in the future. For
this the reformers should have given him credit
and did not. Before 1915 he had assisted in the
passage of the Workmen’s Compensation Law and
in the ratification by the State of the federal income
tax amendment. He was on a committee, unques-
tionably among the most worth-while of the many
on which he served, which investigated the factory
abuses. He worked for equal pay for women
teachers. He was energetic and persistent in de-
mands that the State take proper care of its insane
and provide adequate hospital facilities for these and
for other unfortunates.

The Citizens’ Union cannot be blamed for not
recognizing that these matters were typical of those
in which Smith was fundamentally interested and
that his support of machine legislation was a passing
phase. Perhaps with encouragement instead of
condemnation he might have emerged more swiftly.
I doubt it, though. His activities in behalf of wel-
fare laws were sanctioned by Tammany. The or-
ganization has always been interested in legislation
for the poor and not from any altruistic motive,

156Sent Up the River

either. It is one of the best means of winning
elections.

The full wrath of the many who believed Four-
teenth Street a menace to good government de-
scended upon Al Smith in 1911. It was then that
the New York World demanded that he be retired,
together with the rising Jimmy Walker, who was
serving his second term inthe Assembly. The reason
for the uproar lay in Democratic control of both
houses for the first time in years. Accustomed to
being in the minority, the Democrats had proceeded
to take full advantage of the situation. For a long
time the Republicans had been living in prosperity
under the leadership of Boss William Barnes, whose
political practicality was at least the equal of
Murphy’s. But when word came that Tammany
was to rule the roost many a beer glass was lifted in
joyous anticipation.

With these alluring prospects in view Al Smith
had been named majority leader of the Assembly
and his old roommate, Bob Wagner, the leader of
the Senate. The two became invaluable to the
Wigwam. ‘The first big job was the election of
a United States Senator, those being the days before
the people in their superior wisdom named these
gargantuan figures at the general election. Murphy
gave orders that a gentleman named William F.
Sheehan was to be sent to Washington, so Al and
Bob started to carry out his demand. They ran,

157Alfred E. Smith

however, into unexpected opposition from Franklin
D. Roosevelt and a few other up-State Democrats
and a deadlock lasting almost two months resulted.
Murphy then substituted Judge James O’Gorman.
The World, the following fall, recalled the events
in an editorial calling for the defeat of the Demo-
cratsin the Assembly. It said, in part:

    
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
   
 
 

“Early on the morning of March 31 Murphy took a
milk train for Albany, where he called about him Senate
Leader Wagner, Assembly Leader Smith, Senator Sulli-
van, sub-boss of the lower East Side; McCooey, the
Brooklyn sub-boss; Boss Fitzpatrick of Erie County, and
Senator Frawley. The Federal Constitution says that
Senators from each State shall be ‘chosen by the legislature
thereof’. Since Murphy owned the legislature he saw
no impropriety in announcing in advance to the six states-
men that O’Gorman was to be the man.

“Murphy’s coming cleared the situation. Wagner was
sent to postpone a caucus until orders were given out.
Later O’Gorman’s name was presented and received 63
caucus votes out of ro1. The legislature was immediately
called in joint session and O’Gorman was chosen, only one
Democrat voting against him. Murphy’s choice in the
end prevailed.

“Folding no office in the State, Murphy had laid his
heavy hand upon the deadlocked legislature of 9,000,000
people. When he nodded the deadlock was broken; and
he named the Senator.

“The election of a Democratic Assembly next month
would mean Murphy’s vindication. It would be a vote of
confidence. It would mean another year of Murphy
government.”

158Sent Up the River

It was a long, wearisome session that dragged its
way, with several adjournments, almost to October.
Smith, it would seem, enjoyed thoroughly his réle
of majority leader. Certainly he was efficient at the
job, as even those who demanded his defeat ad-
mitted. He was thirty-eight years old and was
developing a gift for neat phrasing that deserted
him only in times of great emotion and was a con-
stant refutation of his lack of education. Almost
always, speaking in public, he used grammatical
English, although he did not know, probably, how it
was that he did so. He had an innate sense of the
right word, particularly when some other subtly
changed the meaning of a bill. It was often,
though, difficult for him to explain his reasons for
an objection. ‘This got him into a momentary jam
while Democratic leader when he attempted to
correct the grammar of a Buffalo Assemblyman who
had used “or” instead of “and” in the phraseology
of a measure under discussion.

The up-State man, who had been graduated
from high school with honors, resented this peda-
gogical rebuke from the alumnus of the Fulton Fish
Market. Why, he demanded in a voice heavy with
sarcasm, was “‘and” right? What authority had the
gentleman from the Second Manhattan for his as-
sertion? Perhaps he could quote the rule?

For a second Al was baffled. Then he got up

from his seat.

159Alfred E. Smith

“T will refer the gentleman from Buffalo,” he
said nasally, “to the grammatical rule that says

‘When a pluperfect adjective precedes a noun, in-
9)

    
  
 
 
 
   
  
 
  
   
 
   
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  

sert a plus
Murphy may not, as Smith had asserted so
blandly, have been “any more concerned in the de-
liberations of the legislature than any other good
Democrat”. But he was enough interested so that
he was frequently at Albany during 1911 and the
measures he desired to have passed received the
energetic support of Smith, Wagner and the rest.
Some of them are hard to defend and I have a sus-
picion that Al, himself, would now condemn them
as heartily as anyone. The passage of the so-called
“Murphy Charter” for New York City was one of
the worst. This was the outgrowth of an investiga-
tion in which Smith had taken part a year or so
before. The charter finally adopted is declared to
have deprived the members of the Board of Esti-
mate, the city’s principal governing body, of vital
powers. It is said to have weakened the civil service
system and to have made plunder on the part of a
political machine easier in numerous ways. Several
Democrats fought it during the session, among
them Roosevelt, Loring Black, now a Congressman,
and John Godfrey Saxe, who was for years chair-
man of the Law Committee of Tammany Hall.
The Democratic Party in 1911, declared that in-
dustrious critic, the Citizens’? Union, “devoted much
160Sent Up the River

attention to the pursuit of patronage and to bills
legislating out of existence Republican officeholders
and providing for the appointment of their succes-
sors by the Democrats”. Here, I am sures tue
Union was a little fussy. All parties do that, once
they are in power. It added, however, the more
damning indictment that the 1911 session increased
by at least $350,000 annually the payroll of New
York City. This was done in violation of all theo-
ries of home rule, now a sacred precept of Tam-
many Hall.

Nor is the list of the evils done or led by Al
Smith yet complete. He assisted in the repeal of
the Hughes edict against gambling at the race-
tracks. He fought a direct primary law. But in
the light of history, I submit, it is not difficult to
offer a defense of at least the theory of his position
on these matters. Betting on the ponies was not, of
course, halted by legislation. As for the direct pri-
mary, to which Smith has long since been won over
and which has been partially emasculated by the
G.O.P., it is excellent in principle but works very
badly. For the average citizen in New York State
declines to bother with a primary election. The
political machine, at an “unofficial convention”’,
designates or “suggests”? the man who is to receive
the nomination. There is small doubt that he will
win when primary day comes around. If, for in-
stance, Mayor Hylan had received the benediction

161Alfred E. Smith

of Tammany in 1926, and Walker had run as an
independent in the primaries, the former would still
grace the City Hall in New York. The reverse
being the case, Walker won by an overwhelm-
ing vote.Chapter Five

 

EVEN THE MIGHT OF TaMMANY HALL was NOT
powerful enough to overcome the righteous wrath
of the populace that followed the Democratic field
day in the rgr1 session. Smith and most of the
other veterans of the legislature were personally so
popular, and represented such anti-Republican
strongholds, that they were retained in office.
Their party even managed to retain a majority in
the Senate. The 1912 Assembly, however, was Re-
publican by a safe margin and Al Smith became
minority instead of majority leader. Dix, a Demo-
crat, still had a year of his term as Governor to com-
plete. But the transcendent figure at the Capitol
was again Boss Barnes. In the place of Murphy
appeared the cunning, although comparatively
feeble, Samuel S. Koenig, chairman of the Repub-
lican Committee of New York County. He still
holds the job, a local leader who shines in defeat
and feels strange on the rare occasions when his
organization wins a victory in Manhattan.

During the excitement of the previous year, I
have related, the critics of Al Smith ignored the
interest that he was beginning to take in such mat-

163Alfred E. Smith

ters as workmen’s compensation and legislation 1m-
proving the unhappy lot of the State’s insane. They
also neglected to record an even more important
event of 1911: his appointment to the New York
State Factory Investigating Commission. This
seemed, no doubt, insignificant at that time. But
his work on this board and the contacts that he was
to enjoy for the next four years with social in-
stead of political minds were to have a profound
effect on his career. The emergence of Smith as
a man bigger than Tammany, it has been my theory,
dated from his milk row with Hearst in 191g. The
factory commission and its work, however, brought
him his first enthusiastic endorsements outside of
Fourteenth Street circles, and paved the way for
still greater praise after the Constitutional Conven-
tion in 1915. ‘The about-face on the part of those
who had viewed him only with pain and sorrow is
little short of amazing. In 1915, when running
for Sheriff of New York County, his candidacy was
endorsed by both the Citizens’? Union and the New
York Tribune, a Republican journal.

The New York State Factory Investigating Com-
mission came into being because of the Triangle Fire
in New York City on March 25, 1911. This was
one of the worst disasters in the history of the many
caused by the greed and carelessness of employers.
It took place in a shirtwaist manufactory in the
lower part of the city and trapped several hundred

164Sent Up the River

girl workers. More than one hundred and fifty
were killed when, panic-stricken in the face of con-
gested and inadequate exits, they jumped from win-
dows to the street. An ordinarily placid public was
aroused by the negligence which had made this pos-
sible and demands were made that the State
legislature abandon its quarreling and search for
plunder, so that laws preventing similar outrages
could be passed. Smith, as majority leader, gave his
full support to the creation of the commission and
insisted upon being personally a member. It was
given wide powers to make inquiry into all phases
of factory perils as well as to determine the extent
to which women and children were being forced to
work for long hours and small pay. In all the
years since then Al has never abandoned interest
in these problems. He is certain to lose his temper
when it is falsely charged, as by Hearst, that he has
been faithless to this trust.

Senator Wagner was made chairman of the fac-
tory commission and Smith the vice-chairman. Its
members included the late Samuel Gompers of
the American Federation of Labor, and Mary E.
Dreier, president of the Women’s Trade Union
League. Its counsel was Abram I. Elkus, former
Ambassador to Turkey, who became so impressed
with Smith that in 1918 he consented to manage
his campaign for Governor. Bernard L. Shientag,
a thorough student of social problems and later

165Alfred E. Smith
appointed head of the Labor Department by Smith

as Governor, was assistant to Mr. Elkus. The com-
mission was not one of the usual lethargic legislative
boards of inquiry whose members slumber through
public hearings while the counsel does all of the
work. Wagner, too, stepped out from the cloud of
Tammany domination which for years had be-
fogged the very real ability that isin him. As chair-
man he took pains to see that the investigations were
thorough. With Al Smith and the other members
he traveled from one end of the State to the other
inspecting scores of factories. Wagner, even more
than Smith, was responsible for the comprehensive
nature of the reports submitted to the legislature
from time to time. But Smith, as leader of the
Democrats in the Assembly during the next four
years, exerted his growing skill as a floor strategist
to force the passage of curative laws. He resorted,
in doing so, to all of the expedients a practical poli-
tician knows and which he had so often used in
obtaining passage of legislation ordered by Boss
Murphy. He made bargains with the G. O. P.,
traded votes, conspired, cajoled and bluffed.
Among the objectives of the commission were
laws requiring fire drills in factories, adequate stair-
cases and fire escapes and sprinkler systems. The
members had been appalled at conditions discovered
in many plants, and the reports recommended
statutes enforcing sanitation, provision of seats for

166Sent Up the River

woman workers, the abolition of labor by women in
foundries and of factory night work for women.
The inquiry went thoroughly into child labor
abuses, here assisted by an independent investigation
undertaken by the New York World. Manufac-
turing in tenements, where women and children in
advanced stages of tuberculosis worked on clothing,
dolls and artificial flowers, was another line of in-
vestigation. The “one-day-of-rest-in-seven” law
was offered for passage. Bills were introduced re-
organizing the State Labor Department and pro-
viding a larger staff. Heavier penalties were
suggested to reduce violations of the labor code.
Many of these proposals were incorporated, dur-
ing the years from 1911 to 1915, into the law of the
State. But the good was not accomplished without
vigorous opposition from business men; who are
public spirited citizens except when confronted with
the possibility of lowered profits. These organized
powerful lobbies to kill the bills and found in the
Republican Party, which had shown high virtue in
its attempts to end race-track gambling, a cordial
ally. Smith led the debates in favor of the sug-
gested laws. He attended every hearing at which
protests were made against their enactment. He
had long since become a master of debate with a
constantly growing gift for sarcasm. This proved
particularly useful when the employers’ lobbyists
proclaimed that protective legislation was contrary
167Alfred E. Smith

to the constitutional right of a man or woman to
work. The canners, for instance, asked to be ex-
empted from the law requiring one day of rest each
week. They even had the arrogance to despatch
several clergymen to a hearing, and these ecclesiasts
declared piously at a hearing that the men and
women living near the canneries were destitute and
needed seven days’ wages. Smith, who was present,
looked at them in disgust.

“Tf the good Lord were to revise the Decalogue,
which He isn’t going to do,” he said, “I have no
doubt that He would pick a committee from these
gentlemen to do it and that one commandment at
least would be rewritten to read ‘Remember the
Sabbath Day to keep it holy, except in canneries’.”

Obviously, in 1912, Smith had reached a position
where he deserved some reward at the hands of
Tammany. The political gossip of the day was
that he would certainly become Speaker when his
party again controlled the lower house and it is
said that Murphy had given his word that at some
future time he would be permitted to run for Gov-
ernor. Of this there is, however, no confirmation.
For the present he was invaluable in his rdle of
leader in the Assembly. The Boss might have
done far worse, though, than to nominate Al in
1912. Instead he chose and accomplished the
election of the grotesque William Sulzer. Before
many weeks after the inauguration he was regret~-

168Sent Up the River

ting with bitterness and surprise that he had done so.
Certainly no stranger figure than Sulzer has ever
been chief executive of the State. For all that he
is heard of now he might be dead, having vanished
completely from the political picture. As a matter
of fact he is practicing law in New York City.
Like the present Governor of New Mexico who
protested, upon being inducted into his high office,
that he had never worn a dress-suit and did not in-
tend to begin, Sulzer insisted that business clothes
were formal enough for the inaugural ceremonies.
The quality of his democracy was studied. He ex-
pectorated frequently, but without the spontaneity
with which Al Smith does the same thing. One of
his first acts was toinform the newspaper correspond-
ents that they were the most important persons at
Albany and that he would interrupt any conference
totalk with them. He granted one important inter-
view at the Executive Mansion in his nightshirt.
The reporters thought him very much of an ass, but
from the viewpoint of news they could not ignore
him. He landed on the front pages almost daily.
In addition to electing Sulzer the Democrats
gained control of both houses for the legislative
year beginning January 1, 1913. Smith was made
Speaker, according to schedule, and the session
started harmoniously enough. The majority party
trotted out an idea that the eminent Samuel Unter-

169Alfred E. Smith

myer, as counsel to the Pujo money trust investiga-
tion at Washington the year before, had pro-
pounded; regulation by the State of the autocratic
New York Stock Exchange. Al Smith remarked
publicly on the “good sense” of the Governor in
lending his support to this worthy plan and the
members of the Exchange became fearfully excited.
They have long since grown blasé. Countless poli-
ticians have threatened State control, but their bills
have always died in committee. Relations between
Sulzer and Tammany, thus cordial as the year
opened, first became strained when the Governor
was injudicious enough to remark with some accu-
racy that the organization’s direct primary bill was
“a betrayal of the people, a fraud anda sham”. He
offered a primary bill of his own which he said was
far better. But toward this measure the machine
proved extremely unenthusiastic.

It soon became apparent, even to the dullest of
the Democrats, that Sulzer had grown heady on
the wine of publicity and had formed the quaint
notion that he could be independent of Tammany
Hall. By May, Boss Murphy was calling him
“that man at Albany”, while lesser Fourteenth
Street leaders invented terms more picturesque and
unprintable to express their outrage. When the
session ended, on May 3, 1913, the break was com-
plete. ‘Tammany slew the Stock Exchange bill and
170Sent Up the River

the rest of Sulzer’s pet projects, with Al Smith
wielding the snickersnee. The Republican ma-
chine, which had a fellow feeling of hatred for in-
dependence among governors, joined with Tam-
many in making Sulzer impotent. The Governor
retaliated by denying Fourteenth Street the patron-
age it sorely needed.

The moral that lies in what followed—lI offer it
for what it may be worth—is that only men whose
past is unblemished and who are truly great figures
can afford to cross swords with a political organiza-
tion as powerful and vindictive as the Tammany
gang of 1913. Convinced that Sulzer was obstinate
and would take no orders, Tammany began an in-
vestigation. It soon filed charges that Sulzer had
diverted campaign funds to his own use and the
Assembly swiftly voted Articles of Impeachment.
And this was the end of Wild Bill. Since then the
theory has been offered, heartily upheld by Sulzer
himself, that the whole affair was a plot hatched in
Fourteenth Street. This, however logical, is not in
accord with the record. I am, though, convinced
that the evidence of wrong-doing would never have
been made public had it not been that Sulzer
aroused the bitter anger of Murphy and Murphy’s
Albany hired hands. Upon his forced retirement,
Lieutenant-Governor Glynn took his place and Bob
Wagner became Lieutenant-Governor. The 1913
legislature, having spent so much time putting inde-

171Alfred E. Smith

pendence in its proper place, dragged on until De-
cember before its business was completed. It was
one of the longest sessions in history and most of
the members had to borrow carfare in order to get
home.

Sulzer did not yet believe himself crushed. He
ran that fall for the Assembly from the Sixth Man-
hattan District and told so convincing a story of
martyrdom that he was elected. He felt that Smith
had been in large part responsible for his impeach-
ment and announced as he took the stump that a
vital part of his campaign would be a drive against
Al, who was running in the Second. The man did
not lack courage. On November 11 he went down
to the Fourth Ward and started to speak on a bal-
cony a short distance from Tom Foley’s club on
Madison Street. The first interruption was the ap-
pearance of a dozen young women on a nearby fire
escape who laughed and screamed hysterically every
time he opened his mouth. Then a fife and drum
corps in full blast paraded by. After these novel-
ties a false alarm was turned in from a box on the
corner and an assortment of fire apparatus clanged
up. Every Madison Street car that passed disgorged
a number of Tammany roughnecks who booed,
yelled and set off giant firecrackers. But Bill Sulzer
kept on talking throughout the riot.

During 1914, at Albany in the humble rdle of
Assemblyman, he had several engagements of a ver-

172Sent Up the River

bal nature with Al and other Democrats. But his
threats of wholesale investigations of Tammany de-
partments never became more than threats and he
was permitted to fade swiftly into the obscurity of
private life.Chapter Six

 

THE YEAR IQ15 WAS A LEAN ONE FoR DEMOCRACY.

Charles S. Whitman had won the Governorship by

his zeal, while District Attorney of New York

County, in securing the conviction of Police Lieu-

tenant Charles Becker and the four gunmen for the

murder of Herman Rosenthal, gambler and

squealer. His candidacy the previous fall had
been a symbol of righteousness and his strength
brought substantial majorities for the Republican
Party in both the Assembly and the Senate. Virtue,
it was generally agreed, was to have its day at Al-
bany. Bill Barnes, however, was still the Boss of
the G.O.P. and as soon as the legislature convened
the old pastime of enacting laws obnoxious to New
York City began. The two major parties in the
State have become the champions of country and
city, respectively. Rural terror of domination by
New York City, which has a majority of the popu-
lation, led to a constitutional provision still in effect
that the city shall not control either house. Thus,
asionally the Democrats have a majority in

when occ
because of Re-

the Assembly and the Senate, it 1s
publican losses in up-State municipalities.

174Sent Up the River

“The minute we assemble to build a basic law,
one of the first declarations of principle is that the
tule of the majority is right, except when the ma-
jority is in New York City,” said Al Smith in the
Constitutional Convention in the summer of IQI5.
“And yet the commonwealth will look into the tene-
ment for a defense of itself, just as it will look to
the farm, and may receive it more readily from the
city than from the country.”

He had said the same thing, if less effectively,
many times before. But Smith, the Republicans
knew, was a city man and for all the personal affec-
tion with which they regarded him, they paid no
attention to his repeated protests against the appor-
tionment discrimination. In 1915 the Republican
Party, self-proclaimed champions of Good Govern-
ment, exhibited most of the vices that it attributes
to Tammany Hall in campaign effusions. It lost no
time booting Democrats out of office to be replaced
by needy Republicans. It sought legislation in-
creasing taxes in New York City, although the
metropolis was then contributing almost 70 per cent
of the funds of the State. It passed a bill providing
$3,400,000 to be spent by the Republican highway
department, although even its own Governor had
asked for but $2,000,000. It planned a revision
of the Aldermanic district boundaries in New York
by an ingenious arrangement which would have

teed e
4-7)Alfred E. Smith
vastly benefited the Republican minority in that

city.
Al Smith and Bob Wagner, minority leaders in

their respective houses, did work during the year
of acaliber never possible when their own party was
‘n control. It is a phenomenon not unusual in
politics that leaders win their greatest distinction
when they represent a minority. So, in 1915, Al
and Bob devoted their time and their skill to block-
astead of advancing the sim-
‘lar demands of Murphy. Not always successful,
their efforts were masterly. And they found time,
also, to press for passage such of the Factory Com-
mission’s recommendations as still remained to be
enacted into law. For the most part, though, they
hurled invective, scolded, stormed and criticized.
“Tammany Hall,” said Smith in one outburst, “is
a bed of roses compared to the Barren Island (a city
garbage dump) of the Republican Party of New
York. The intellectual giants of politics, law and
business belong to Tammany Hall. The New York
City Republican organization is composed of crack-

ing Republican steals 11

pots and mush-brains.”

The previous year, 1914, the plight of the Demo-
crats had not been as dire. They held the Senate
and had Glynn down in the Executive Offices on
the second floor completing the term of the un-
wept and unlamented Sulzer. Al Smith was again
the Assembly minority leader, having been Speaker

176Sent Up the River

for but one year. It was an unimportant session,
worthy of historical mention only because it wit-
nessed the first break in nearly a decade of hostile
criticism of Al Smith. There were numerous, if
still half-hearted, instances of commendation for his
activities in the passage of welfare laws. Both
major parties were handicapped during 1914; the
Democrats because of their minority and the Re-
publicans because they were constantly annoyed
by a group of Progressive Party Assemblymen.
Smith, running again for the Assembly that fall,
declared emphatically that 1915 was to be his last
year as a member of the legislature. Continuously
since 1904 he had struggled along on the salary
of $1,500 with only an occasional condemnation
proceeding fee, and what he could pick up when
not engaged in politics, to provide the amount nec-
essary for his growing family. By now he had five
children and was living at No. 25 Oliver Street.
He told Murphy and Foley that he had done his
share and was then assured that he would be re-
warded with the glittering job of Sheriff. The
Boss had, naturally, no intention of permitting so
valuable a lieutenant to retire. And the years
from 1915 to 1918 proved pregnant ones for Al.
First, he was to shine with new brilliance in the
Constitutional Convention. In 1917 he was elected
President of the Board of Aldermen in New York.
In 1918, Governor Whitman, running for a third

177Alfred E. Smith

 

term, was to accept with very little grace defeat at
Als hands in a gubernatorial contest.

It must have been a rather incredulous Smith who
read, late in 1915, the verdict of the Citizens’ Union
on his part in the session that marked the close
of his career as a legislator. Having berated him
with monotonous regularity, the civic organization
now proclaimed him an “intelligent and forceful
legislator”, a “strong supporter of desirable indus-
trial and social legislation”. Criticism from the
Citizens’ Union and similar groups had never
bothered Smith a great deal. Year after year he
had seen candidates survive its blasts, while those
who had received its endorsement had been humbled
in defeat. He had probably joked, with his Tam-
many playmates, over the thought that approval
from such crack-pots was a hoodoo certain to bring
a licking.

But he had gained a new dignity in the Constitu-
tional Convention and if such was still his view-
point as he ran for Sheriff he did not permit it to
show when the Union said:

“Alfred E. Smith is endorsed for Sheriff of New York
County. As to his qualifications for this office there can be
no question. The service to the State rendered by Mr.
Smith in the Constitutional Convention this year entitles
him to special consideration.

“Although a party leader, Mr. Smith has in recent years
been instrumental in obtaining much desirable and impor-
tant legislation. We are endorsing Mr. Smith in the ex-

178Sent Up the River

pectation that he will improve conditions in the Sheriff’s
office.”

Notified that he had been thus decorated,
Smith replied very politely:

“Tt is needless to say that it pleased me very much and
I shall, to the best of my ability, endeavor to prove worthy
of the great confidence you have reposed in me by your
endorsement.”

But words even sweeter than those of the Citi-
zens’ Union appeared in the editorial columns of the
New York Tribune:

“The city of New York could well afford to pay Alfred
E. Smith all the prospective emoluments of the Sheriff’s
office as a consideration for his continuing to represent a
local Assembly district at Albany. In the past ten years
there has been no Republican, Progressive or Democrat in
the State Legislature who has rendered as effective, useful,
downright valuable service to this town as ex-Speaker
Smith.”

During his campaign that fall, there are indica-
tions, Al Smith took himself rather more seriously
than had been his usual carefree custom. It was,
perhaps, not too unnatural that he did. As candi-
date for Sheriff his audience included all of Man-
hattan instead of merely the Fourth Ward. For
the first time in his life he was in a contest where
the vote would run into the hundred thousands in-
stead of five or six thousand. And he could not
quite forget the sweet praise from the Best People

179Alfred E. Smith

who had so recently been his critics. His speeches,
those who listened now recall, were marked by a
new reserve. He became, in brief, a more restrained
figure than he had ever been and more stuffy than
at any time since, even during his five campaigns
for Governor and his close approach to winning the
Democratic presidential nomination. He seemed
to believe that, the old careless days of a legislator
being gone forever, his new role demanded the qual-

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
   
   
 
 
 
  
  

ities of a statesman.

One meeting that he addressed with some of his
fellow candidates on the county ticket was held at
a midtown hotel. The campaign managers had
been fearful that the audience would not be large
and so they recruited a flock of East Side residents.
Former Judge Edward Swann, who was running for
District Attorney, preceded Al on the program. A
rather precise gentleman, he viewed with dismay
the hastily assembled crowd. Its hands were grimy.
Its cheeks needed a shave. And in the hands of
each man was clutched a somewhat crumpled Amer-
ican flag. The chairman of the meeting knew his
audience.

“Flere,” he said in presenting the former judge,
“Gs the right sort of a chap to have had on the bench.
He will be right as a District Attorney. Before
passing sentence when he was a judge he was will-
ing to confer with the defendant’s counsel to make
certain that justice was being done.”

180Sent Up the River

“Hurrah!” bellowed the cross-section of Democ-
racy, waving the flags. Swann rose to address
them.

“‘T believe,” he said, “that the judge should have
sympathy for the poor criminal. Ah, yes, for the
poor criminal. And I believe that the District At-
torney should be a prosecutor, but not a persecutor.
Certainly a prosecutor, but not a persecutor.”

Sehurrra hye?

“And the next man who will get you when you
go wrong,” said the cheerful chairman, forgetting
that this official no longer has much to do with
criminals in New York, “is the Sheriff. I present
Al Smith.”

Again the flags fluttered and Al Smith buttons
were hastily pinned on coat lapels. Al got up, very
aloof and a little annoyed over the suggestion that
as Sheriff he would send any Democrat to the hoose-
gow. He cleared his throat and looked at the grimy
faces before him.

“The chairman, I fear,” he began, “has touched
on the most unpleasant part of my duties as Sheriff.
But I give you my word of honor that no personal
act of mine will bring the blush of shame to the
cheek of any one of you.”

It was difficult, however, to keep the campaign
on a really high plane. Als neighbors on Oliver
Street were overjoyed at the prospect that he was
to return to his old home for the entire year instead

181Alfred E. Smith

of merely between battles at Albany. A week be-
fore Election Day they held a mass meeting in front
of the Smith homestead, with red fire and Roman
candles and beer flowing freely in a dozen nearby
saloons. Greeks, Italians and Jews, the newer resi-
dents of the Fourth Ward but as fond of Al as any,
rubbed elbows with Irish first families. It was an
East Side version of Old Home Week, with Al
Smith and his wife sitting on their front stoop and
grinning back as young blades and oldsters called
“You know me, Al!” or “Hello, Katie Dunn!”

“For those of the men whose thirsts returned with
them,” said the Tribune the next day, “the doors of the
Pan-Hellenic cafe swung easily. Displayed in one of its
windows was a portrait of Premier Venizelos and a no-less
austere one of Mr. Smith.”

Smith was elected, of course, by a comfortable
margin. He received 113,791 votes to 72,590 cast
for Frank K. Bowers, his Republican opponent.
Once in office, he kicked out the Republican in-
cumbents and appointed more or less deserving
Democrats, many of them Irish. Two of the best
jobs, paying $6,000 a year each, went to John F.
Gilchrist, a boyhood friend, and George W. Olvany.
Gilchrist became under-Sheriff and the future leader
of Tammany Hall counsel to the Sheriff. Al quickly
recovered from the air of dignity that had slightly

chilled him during the campaign. He took part in
182

aSent Up the River

a revival of The Shaughraun at St. James, again
playing the hiss-producing role of “Corry Kinch-
ella”. Jimmy Walker, already among the brightest
stars at Albany, was also in the cast. Others in-
cluded Assemblyman Peter Hamill, now boss of the
district Al has forsaken in order to live at the Bilt-
more, and Henry McCadden, the jovial mortician
who recently took up the feaee of No. 25 Oliver
Street.

But that he was the same old Al of his legislative
days, fond of his beer and saddened by personal dis-
cords, is best shown by an incident that took place
during the summer of 1916. On the morning of
a hot July day, going to his office, he was scandalized
to hear that during his absence on the previous after-
noon a reporter from a friendly newspaper had been
ejected. There had been a row, a deputy explained,
and made it clear that the reporter had been wholly
at fault. This, Smith pointed out, was irrelevant
in the face of the fact that he had been from a
friendly journal. When the further detail was
added that the city editor had telephoned to demand
an explanation, he clamped his brown derby on his
head and started for the newspaper’s editorial room.

The editor in question had not yet arrived and to
an assistant was brought the card reading “A. E.
SMITH, SHERIFF OF New York County”. Won-
dering whether some creditor had obtained an at-
tachment, the assistant went out to the reception
183Alfred E. Smith

room in some trepidation. He found a red-faced
man, with his coat off and his suspenders slipped
from his shoulders, fanning himself with his hat.
The visitor asked to see the editor and upon being
told that he had not yet come in leaned over con-
fidentially.

“T wanted to explain about yesterday,” said Al.
“They tell me one of your men was kicked out of
my office. Say, will you tell him for me it was a
mistake; tell your boss that. Tell him I wasn’t in
and that I didn’t know anything about it. He called
up, they told me. Say, ask him if he thinks Al
Smith’s crazy! I’m not kicking reporters owt of my
office. I want ’em there.”Chapter Seven

 

BuT BEFORE AL SMITH BECAME Lorp HIGH
Sheriff of the County of New York, and enjoyed a
weekly income almost as large as the annual hono-
rarium of a member of the State legislature, he re-
turned to Albany for the sessions of the Constitu-
tional Convention. ‘These started in April of 1915
and lasted until September. The convention was
called to frame a new draft of the State’s funda-
mental law, which had become so bulky, involved
and antiquated that the few lawyers expert in its
mysteries were uniformly growing wealthy. The
delegates to the sessions included many gentlemen
of education and training, together with a liberal
allowance of organization men despatched by both
parties to see that nothing too radical in the way of
reform was slipped over. The convention, in the
end, accomplished little except to suggest ideas that
Al Smith was to develop and bring to fulfillment
a decade later. Its new constitution was rejected at
the polls in the fall. But this was not, as has been
so often charged, because of the wicked Tammany
delegates. It was because the best minds bowed
to the will of the Republican machine and consented

185Alfred E. Smith

to a draft manifestly unfair to New York City.

Smith was among the men named by Murphy to
keep an eye on the proceedings. His selection was
deplored by some of the high-minded gentlemen
who were viewing the convention as the opportunity
of a lifetime so to improve the constitution that
political parties would disband and the functions of
government left to writers for journals on political
science. Before many days had passed, however,
Smith had demonstrated that facts are superior to
theories. All of the knowledge that a keen mind
and a retentive memory had absorbed and stored
since 1904 was at his disposal. This included not
only the innumerable complexities of the constitu-
tion and the supporting statute law, but the machina-
tions of politicians with respect to these codes. As
a sleight-of-hand artist might reveal his tricks, but
never does, Al stood for hour after hour on the
floor of the convention and told how things are
really done.

“Of all the men in the convention, Alfred E.
Smith was the best informed on the business of the
State of New York,” said Elihu Root, its president,
after the convention had adjourned. A sage of the
Republican Party, Mr. Root is as different in tem-
perament and education from Smith as a man can
well be.

“He was the most useful man in the convention,”
admitted George W. Wickersham, who had been

186Sent Up the River

Republican floor leader and was a former United
States Attorney General.

Perhaps the work of Smith during those months
can be explained only by the hackneyed formula that
two persons were in him as he stood before the con-
vention. One was the legislative leader, wise in the
practical methods whereby laws are made or forced
to die in committee, knowing that party platforms
mean little, aware that governments by men operate
through bargaining with principle. The other side
of him was the Smith whose work with the Factory
Investigating Commission during the four years
that had just passed had given him insight into the
social obligations of governments. He had come to
believe with a sincerity quite devoid of politics that
the State must, in its own interest, exercise its police
powers to protect the weak and the poor. He knew
that wealth and privilege, usually enlisted with the
G.O.P., were ever alert to prevent the use of that
power.

““Take line 12 on page 5,” he would say, in sub-
stance, one moment. “You think that makes the
Governor approve appropriation bills. Well, maybe,
it ought to. But any man who has been at Albany
for more than a couple of years knows that actually
it doesn’t work that way at all.”

Then, with charming lack of reserve, Al would
describe the inner workings of the system, would
187Alfred E. Smith

demonstrate how the amendment must be framed
if it were to have any salutary effect. But the next
time that he was on his feet the politician in Smith
had given way to the sociologist and he was making
an impassioned plea against amendments that sought
to invalidate such legislation as workmen’s compen-
sation, factory safety laws and the fifty-four-hour
week for women.

It was the hard-boiled politician, confident and
assured, who discussed emergency messages at an
early session. ‘These, it must be explained, are au-
thorizations from the Governor permitting the legis-
lature to pass bills without regard to the require-
ment that they must be in printed form for three
days. A time-honored scheme, the emergency mes-
sage makes possible much of the crooked work that
the legislature accomplishes. As Speaker and ma-
jority leader, Smith had often resorted to it in
rushing appropriation bills. But now he declared
himself heartily in favor of its abolition, in the best
interests of the State. He said, in part:

 

“T do not say it has been done by any one party any
more than the other. I was Chairman of the Committee
on Ways and Means for a long and stormy session. I was
the Speaker for another long and stormy session and had
something to say about when appropriation bills were to
pass, and I myself directed that they should wait until the
last moment because it was easier. Now that is the truth
about it. If you do away with the emergency message,
you will compel the majority leader, you will compel the

188Sent Up the River

Committee on Ways and Means, the men that are re-
sponsible for the legislation, to have their program ready
and put it through; and they can do it.

“There is another class of bills that the emergency mes-
sage has been very useful in passing in the last days, and
those are the bills that give rise to disputes between the
two houses. The Senate does not entirely agree with a lit-
tle that the Assembly wants to do, or vice versa, and finally
in the last days of the session, while the flags are flying
from the Capitol and the band is playing and everybody
feels happy over the prospect of the last $250 draw and
a good time for the summer—they will patch up their
differences and say ‘Well, go downstairs and get a message
and put it right through’, and they do it, and the minority
can do the best it can.”

It is impossible, within the limitations of this
book, to do more than mention briefly the part that
Smith played in the Constitutional Convention. I
commend to the attention of scholars the four
ponderous volumes published by the State of New
York and entitled “Revised Record, New York
State Constitutional Convention, 1915”. Buried in
their 4,500 pages will be found an analysis of a
State government as it really operates, purged of
campaign oratory and free from the vaporizings that
so often make the academic worthless. Most of the
gold will be found in the record of the remarks of
Delegate A. E. Smith. I think there is material
for countless theses in the opinions of this man who
had scarcely seen the inside of a schoolhouse and

189Alfred E. Smith

who had never listened to the profundities of a
seminar on political science.

After the convention had been in session for some
weeks, Smith focused his attention on an apparently
innocent amendment which had been offered by the
more reactionary Republican delegates... It sought
to prevent the enactment of laws giving privileges
to certain classes, and on the surface seemed in com-
plete harmony with the American form of govern-
ment. Al realized that it was utterly vicious in
effect and would invalidate such cherished projects
of his own as workmen’s compensation and control
of labor by women and children. The debate on
the subject was long and windy. Orators supporting
it quoted ancient statutes, told of the follies of
paternalistic governments. ‘They described deplor-
able lapses on the part of the Emperor Diocletian
and the mistakes of Edward III and Edward IV of
England. The position taken by Governor Cook of
Rhode Island in 1777 was cited as relevant and even
the Justinian Code was dragged into the argument.
Finally it was Smith’s turn to speak and Mr. Wick-
ersham, who was also aware of the nature of the
amendment, conceded twenty minutes of his own
time to the former ward politician. I quote from
the stenographic record of the Tammany delegate’s
remarks:

“We are getting away from our ideas of government.
Apparently preaching for a return to the American ideal,

190Sent Up the River

we are ourselves, by the force of our arguments, drifting
in the other direction. Now I may be entirely wrong.
The gentlemen around this chamber would lead us to be-
lieve that law in a democracy is the expression of some
Divine or eternal right. I am unable to see it that way.
My idea of law and democracy is the expression of what
is best, what fits the present-day needs of society, what
goes the farthest to do the greatest good for the greatest
number. After all, is not that the reason for the existence
of great political parties?”

He went on to point out the necessity for the
workmen’s compensation enactments, for mothers’
pensions. He cited a decision of the United States
Supreme Court in justification of limiting working
hours for women on the ground of their physical
handicaps and the burdens of motherhood. He
continued:

“That is equally true where labor laws are enacted for
the preservation of the health of the men of the State
because, after all, what is the State? Green fields and
rivers and lakes and mountains and cities? Why, not at
all. It is the people, all the people of the State, and any-
thing that tends to make the members of the State strong
and vigorous in turn helps to make the State so, and every
one of these enactments has been for the general good and
could in no way be described as a privilege.”

The amendment, he said, was offered under the
pretense that it was to stop the granting of privileges
or immunities to certain classes. Was not, he de-
manded, the law which had created the State De-

IQ!Alfred E. Smith

partment of Agriculture one giving special priv-
ileges to the farmers? No Department of Industry
had been brought into being to give similar assist-
ance to business men.

 
  
   
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
    
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
  
 
 

“By the way,” he said, “it might be interesting to know
why the Department of Agriculture was organized. It
was organized for the very same purpose that all these
labor bills have passed and become laws: It was organized
to be a check upon the greed of men that had under their
control the natural resources of the State. Men looked
for too many crops from their land; they did not provide
for the future when it should be in the fullness of its
bloom. As a check on their greed the department was
organized to further a campaign of education, to show
them how to get the greatest possible results out of that
resource that was given to them.

“So it might be said that all the labor laws, that this
(amendment) seeks to prevent the legislature from en-
acting, are nothing more or less than campaigns of indus-
trial education. What about the Excise Law? Written
into every line of it is privilege and immunity. A man
has the privilege of transacting business in this part of
the State (Albany) for half what it costs in the City of
New York. The very definition of a hotel in the Excise
Law spells out privilege. A man with nine rooms in his
hotel cannot sell a drink on Sunday, but a man with ten
rooms can sell it. All he has got to do is to have a sand-
wich with it. This is privilege.

“Now let us get down to business and stop all this con-
stitutional talk, and the talk about the representatives of
the people and all of that, when we do not really believe in
it. Let us get right down to hardpan. The question we

192Sent Up the River

have to deal with here to-night is this: Is this a wise thing
for this convention to put its stamp of approval upon?
No matter what it may prevent, no matter what it may
promote, there is throughout the length and breadth of
this State a general belief that the men that proposed
this thing have in mind the setting of the fundamental
law against—the workmen’s compensation acts; the peo-
ple have in mind that it is proposed to array the constitu-
tion itself against the decisions of the Supreme Court as
to what is a matter of duty on the part of the State; they
have in mind that it proposes to erect a wall around the
representatives of the people to prevent the wholesome,
beneficial change in State policy that came from the enact-
ment of the child welfare bill.

“Whatever may be the final result of it, we are to-
night by our votes to decide whether or not we are to put
our stamp of approval upon a proposition which means
that, so far as the fundamental law is concerned, and
having in mind that the great curse in poverty lies in the
utter helplessness that goes with it, reduces that basic law
to the same level of the caveman’s law, the law of the
sharpest tooth, the angriest brow and the greediest jaw.”

With the assistance of Wickersham and other Re-
publicans the proposal was defeated. Its leading
exponent had been William Barnes, the G.O.P.
Boss.

It was Al’s lack of pretense and refusal to indulge
in subterfuge, combined with his wealth of knowl-
edge, that made him the most impressive of all the
delegates. Never since, probably, has any man in
public life been so free from hokum as was Smith

193Alfred E. Smith

during the months between April and September in
1915. This caused him to be a devastating opponent
in debates. He laughed to scorn the assertions of
the theorists that apportionment of representatives
in the legislature, one of the important matters be-
fore the convention, could be discussed without the

taint of politics.

“Going back as far as you can in political history,” he
said, “apportionments have always spelled politics. We
had a little sample of apportionment in the legislature
that just adjourned (the 1915 session). Without any
precedent for it, the last legislature undertook to appor-
tion the aldermanic districts in New York City. They did
not say it came from any great demand on the part of
the people that there be any change in the lines of the
districts. They were open and frank about it. They
said it was done for the purpose of trying to select a
fusion or anti- Tammany Board of Aldermen in the sec-
ond two years of Mayor Mitchel’s term. And following
the little lessons we have learned from our constitution,
and having uttered our little political prayer, we made
all the Republican districts this way (hands held out a
short distance apart) and then we made the Democratic
districts this way (hands held a very long distance apart).
The Mayor of the city said he would like to sign the bill,
but it was too raw, it was more than he could stand.”

Most of the delegates, half a dozen with justifica-
tion, attempted to portray themselves as in attend-
ance only in the interest of the State; great non-
partisan figures, remote from any thought of polli-

194Sent Up the River

tics. But Smith was not among these. During the
debate on the reorganization of State departments
the friction between the Republicans and the Demo-
crats became more heated than usual. The details
are not significant; the substance of Smith’s con-
tribution to the argument was that a Republican
amendment did not make for fewer State offices but
additional ones. He said so at some length and
thereby aroused the anger of Frederick C. Tanner,
the Republican State Chairman.

“There was a great deal of uneasiness over Sun-
day as to what some of you gentlemen were going to
do,” Tanner declared in a tone out of all harmony
with the usual decorum of the convention. “You
had to go down to New York to find out.”

“Oh, don’t be too thin-skinned about these
things,” said Al soothingly. ‘We men of legisla-
tive experience do not hesitate to call a spade a
spade. When we make a deal for votes we admit it.”

But Bob Wagner, another Tammany delegate,
could not forget Mr. Tanner’s nasty remark about
going down to New York to ask for instructions. It
carried, of course, the insinuation that Boss Murphy
was in command. He demanded that this “very
unfair and insidious reflection cast upon the minority
members of this body” be stricken from the record.
Speaking for himself, Wagner said, he was “inde-
pendent of any other man’s judgment to do whatever
I can to advance the welfare and the government of

195Alfred E. Smith

this State.”” At this point Smith flashed his familiar

    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 

grin:

“T would like to have it said, speaking for myself,” he
remarked cheerfully, “that if there is anything to be ex-
punged from the record, I would like to have it remain on
the record as applying to myself, for this reason: I do go
to New York to find out what they think about things
in New York. This last week I could not go down so
I went to Saratoga. I stayed over Sunday with my family
and just before I left the hotel for church the telephone
bell rang. I was requested to answer a long distance call,
and it was from Tammany Hall.

“Somebody said to me, ‘Is this you, Al??

CT said aves

“¢This is Tammany Hall.

“Tl saids le know? 16.7

“““What is the meaning of the printed matter on the
last four lines of page 3 of that State officers’ bill??

“T answered back, ‘That is a new job, that is another
place.’

“Word came back, ‘Who is proposing that?’

“T said, ‘A gentleman named Tanner.’

“The Republican State Chairman?’

bu ONeSeastire

“Read him page 5 of his Governor’s message.’ ”

Whereupon, while the delegates chuckled with
delight, Smith read the passage in the last message
of Governor Whitman in which that Republican
Chief Executive criticized the “increase on an un-
precedented scale in the number of State offices”.
Little may be remembered, now, of the deliberations

196Sent Up the River

of the Constitutional Convention of 1915. But ask
any of those who attended to recall some of the high
moments and it is not unlikely that he will tell of
this occasion, when Smith punctured another balloon
of dignity and demonstrated that the G.O.P. was
through its Governor pledged against the very thing
that the amendment under discussion sought to ac-
complish,Chapter Eight

   
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 

 

Ir AL SMITH AND HIS TAMMANY COLLEAGUES ARE
to be damned for listening to Murphy, the Repub-
lican machine delegates must admit that their own
guilt was at least as bad. Murphy, as it happened,
was this time on the side of right. In recent years,
due principally to the long enduring hold of Smith
upon the voters, the influence of the Republican
party in New York has waned. Its present leaders
are often ludicrous and nearly always helpless. They
have the urge to be bosses, but nothing more. In
1915, though, Bill Barnes was still alive and cracked
his whip at the silk stocking clad ankles of the dele-
gates he owned. There were, of course, exceptions.
Wickersham was among these and, to a lesser extent,
Jacob Gould Schurman, then president of Cornell
University and now Mr. Coolidge’s representative at
Berlin. But most of the delegates to the Constitu-
tional Convention, having disavowed in dozens of
orations any political motives, did as they were told
when the voting started.

“The steam roller they used,” remarked Al Smith
after it was over, “was the most scientific I ever

198Sent Up the River

experienced. Also the chlorine gas, as they used it,
was admirable.”

At the final session the delegates were required to
cast their vote for or against the proposed constitu-
tionasa whole. ‘It was difficult,” said Smith when
his name was called, “for a man from New York to
support it”, although with much he was “in very
hearty accord”. Asa whole the new draft was out
of the question.

“T believe,” he said, “we have made some substantial
progress in the budget article. I have no particular fault
to find with the State officers article. I believe it is as
near the Democratic declaration as we can expect to have
it, coming from the opposite side.

“But . .. it must be admitted by every man around
this circle that the Senate limitation cannot reasonably ex-
pect approval from the people of New York to-day.
There are men in the State of New York who still believe
that it is probably right that there be some limitation put
upon the Upper House, but some men have learned by ex-
perience that the Assembly apportionment provision oper-
ates in the same direction, although it is not written into
the constitution in so many words.

“We (of New York City) have a right to expect some-
thing better. We have grown in size and influence. That
we have been discriminated against there can be no ques-
tion. . . . It was very interesting to have the Chairman of
the Taxation Committee say we are only paying 68 per
cent. That encourages me to say that if we are only pay-
ing 68 per cent of the direct tax we must be paying about
90 per cent of the indirect tax.

199Alfred E. Smith

“Ag for the charter for New York City, it could easily
be said that when a large majority of the people have de-
cided upon their form of charter they should be permitted
to live under it, whether good, bad, or indifferent. It is
their own and they have the power to change it any time,
but when you say that the men from all over the State
have the last say as to what New York City is to have as
a charter, well, you come down and try to explain that
that is home rule.”

Unquestionably the draft of the constitution as
it was offered to the voters that fall was unfair to
New York City. It was certain to be, with the rural-
minded Republicans controlling a majority of the
delegates. It sought to perpetuate the discord be-
tween town and city which is stronger to-day even
than in 1915 and which, it is not improbable, will
reach new intensity if Al Smith, city man, runs for
the presidency in a nation politically agrarian. The
distrust of New York is profound in the rustic parts
of the State. It is equally profound in more distant
sections of the nation. On the other hand, however,
the supporters of Smith can find encouragement in
the degree to which he has cut in on the up-State
vote. ‘The farmers of the West, the Middle West
and the South may find after all, as I have before
suggested, that the menace of city things has been
unduly magnified.

It was the unfair apportionment article, together
with the discrimination in taxation and the denial
of real home rule to New York City, that led Al
200Sent Up the River

Smith to confide to the Speakers’ Bureau of Tam-
many Hall a month later that the new constitution
was “a gold brick”. Orders went out from 14th
Street that it was to be defeated and on November
2nd the people, 99g per cent of whom had not the
remotest notion of what it was all about, turned it
down at the polls.

In the decade that has passed since the conven-
tion, the part that one man played in its delibera-
tions has done more than anything else to keep mem-
ory of it alive. The bound volumes of the proceed-
ings are rotting to decay on dusty library shelves.
Most of the men who then were leaders are heard
in the council chambers of their parties no longer.
But the principles for which Al Smith fought have
not been forgotten. Least of all did he, himself,
forget them. In behalf of a few of them he still
speaks, in a voice that has become more restrained
but which largely retains its old freshness and flavor.
For others, a simplified government, home rule, re-
vision of the judiciary and a short ballot he no longer
is forced to fight. He has written them into the
State’s basic law.

On December 17, 1926, Al was a guest at a din-
ner at the Hotel Astor. It was in the nature of a
reunion for those who had been members of the
Constitutional Convention. Henry L. Stimson, a
former secretary of war; Charles E. Hughes, and
Mr. Wickersham were among the better known of
201Alfred E. Smith

those present. Smith, about to begin his fourth
term as Governor, heard himself praised by various
speakers for his activities of ten years before. An
enthusiastic Democrat again predicted that he would
be President and members of both parties joined in

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

the applause.

“T am happy,” he replied in a brief address, “that
this reunion has been brought about. It was a great
opportunity for me, that convention. You know,
I never let my campaign manager forget for a
moment what I did in the Constitutional Conven-
tion.”BOOK FOUR

A Prisoner at AlbanyChapter One

 

THE AVERAGE OFFICE HOLDER IN THIS GREAT
democracy is an aloof and austere figure except as
Election Day approaches and expediency demands,
for the moment, sudden hospitality toward the citi-
zenry. During these crises the attendants in the re-
ception room become as cordial as apartment house
hallboys at Christmas time. Visitors are given an
oleaginous welcome and are permitted to see the
Great Man toiling in an inner office in their behalf.
It is more than probable, in fact, that this figure
will interrupt his labors to do some handshaking.
But all of this has been signally absent from the
executive offices on the second floor of the State
Capitol at Albany, particularly during the years that
Al Smith has been Governor. The entrance to these
offices is through heavy oaken doors, always open
unless a meeting of the Governor’s Cabinet happens
to be in progress. The outer room is long and nar-
row, with a red carpet on the floor. At the far
end is a railing and behind this a desk where sits
Willie Lambert, as remarkable a man in his réle as
any at Albany. Dark-haired, his face is cheerful
and hospitable when he asks the visitor’s business.
205Alfred E. Smith

If this chances to be with the Governor he summons
one of the secretarial staff. "The exceptional thing
about Lambert, however, is a memory which would
put any of the mail order course graduates to shame.
If the caller has been in the executive offices before,
even if years previously, the chances are that Willie
will recall his name. One begins one’s business with
Governor Smith with a satisfactory feeling of im-
portance.

A measure of cynicism is not, perhaps, out of
place when it is asserted by the assistants of an
elected official that no one, no matter how eccentric
his appearance or peculiar his request, 1s denied a
hearing. I am entirely convinced, though, that this
has been true with respect to Governor Smith’s ad-
ministrations. I am even prepared to believe that
any person in trouble or perplexity and unwilling to
reveal his problem to an attendant will, in time, be
able to pour his story into the ears of Al himself.
This does not mean, of course, that Smith spends
much of his time listening to crazy stories. He is
blessed with two able and experienced secretaries,
George B. Graves and James J. Mahoney. The
former is a Republican and became Governor
Smith’s first lieutenant because of his abilities and
long service in the executive offices. Mahoney is a
youthful Irishman with a sympathetic nature that
would persuade even a Vermonter to confide the
206A Prisoner at Albany

secrets of his soul. He is usually the first to confer
with those anxious to see Al.

‘No one who has valid business is refused a mo-
ment with the Governor,” he has insisted. ‘“Natu-
rally a lot of cranks come in with impossible stuff.
But George Graves.or I can spot them and we ease
them out. When they insist they can tell only the
Governor their story, it’s a cinch it’s about somebody
in prison; it’s an appeal for clemency of some sort.
Why shouldn’t we be sympathetic? What I do, in
these cases, is to explain how terribly busy Al is
and to point out how much more chance there is of
getting help if the yarn is told to me first. Then
I can outline it to the Governor and put all the
papers on the case before him. It saves time, I say.
But if this doesn’t work I tell the Governor, and I’ve
never known him to turn anybody away unheard.”

There is a definite aura of good cheer, these days,
about the second floor offices at the State Capitol.
As far as the clerks and stenographers are concerned,
this is due to a sincere admiration for the Governor.
Many of them have seen a host of chief executives.
They have never, they say, known one who has
worked as hard as does Al Smith, or who has under-
stood his job half so well. But the cheer is caused
also, I think, by a very distinct note of triumph in
the air. It is an unusual day when Al has not taken
a shot at a hostile legislature and hit the mark; when
some public address or legislative message is not a
207Alfred E. Smith

subject for laudation in the morning’s newspapers.
All of these victories are regarded by the staff as
personal accomplishments. When Smith receives
a setback the gloom is but momentary and predic-
Hons are made that “he’ll show ’em up”. If Als
executive staff had the power to name presidents,
and among them are Democrats and Republicans,
Protestants, Catholics and Jews, he would, it is cer-
tain, be despatched to the White House for life.
Two of the more important events of the execu-
tive day are the conferences at 11 o'clock and 4
o'clock with the Albany newspaper correspondents,
journalists who represent papers in all parts of the
State as well as the press associations. About a dozen
are from New York City. The morning session is
normally the better attended, and for this about
twenty writers report. Those who have been at
Albany for any length of time are personal friends
of the Governor, for Al has not lost his ability to
make friends irrespective of politics. In 1915, it
will be remembered, he blarneyed a Republican
legislature into postponing, until he had enjoyed
two juicy years in the job, its intention of slashing
the compensation of the Sheriff of New York
County. To-day the correspondents from the most
critical Republican papers, even from the Hearst
sheets, are almost always his friends. So it will be
if he is a presidential candidate. Writers on the
campaign trains, whatever their reaction to his poli-
208A Prisoner at Albany

cies, will find pleasure in his company. Inevitably,
in the long run, this will soften intended denuncia-
tions.

The correspondents assemble for the conferences
in a large outer room where executive hearings are
conducted. On the walls are paintings of past Gov-
ernors, several of them aristocratic appearing gentle-
men who look down from their frames with a
supercilious air, as though reflecting that this up-
start is making a tremendous noise, but lacks their
own inimitable administrative talents. Always
present as the newspaper men gather is Bobby Fitz-
maurice, whose title is “Executive Officer” and who
is another figure without whose story that of Al
Smith is incomplete. Actually slightly older than
the Governor, he seems much younger. There is a
note of immaturity about him which makes it in-
evitable that he should be universally addressed as
Bobby. His rdle is that of Man Friday to Smith,
and his duties include the thousand details that must
be attended to when a hearing is scheduled or some
trip is to be made. Whenever the Governor travels
Bobby goes along as a sort of bodyguard. He has
thus served Al for years, ever since the days when
Smith became an officer of the Assembly and was
entitled to a small staff. In his eyes the Governor
is nearly divine.

At one of the recent stunt dinners given annually
by the Albany correspondents a skit had a school-
209Alfred E. Smith

room for its set. A teacher propounded various
questions, most of them ridiculous, regarding
familiar figures at Albany.

“What,” he asked toward the end of the act, “is
loyalty?”

The actors, taking the parts of scholars, did not
grin this time. One of them got up.

“Bobby Fitzmaurice,” he said.

When the Governor is ready for the conference,
Bobby is the one who ushers the correspondents into
the inner office. It is a small room, smaller than
that of Mr. Graves, which it adjoins. The chief
piece of furniture is a large flat-top desk, cluttered
with papers and containing bound copies of State
reports, a legal volume or two and possibly some
newspaper clippings. A photograph of Smith’s
daughter, Emily, and her husband, Major John
Adams Warner of the State Police, is also there.
On the mantelpiece in back of the desk is a framed
copy of an editorial, “The Governor’s Loss”, pub-
lished in a New York newspaper at the time his
mother died in 1924.

It is a very sure, self-confident figure who sits be-
hind the gubernatorial desk these days. Always this
has been characteristic of Smith, save during his
first two years inthe Assembly. But as he has grown
in distinction, particularly as he has developed his
expert knowledge of the post he holds, his confi-
dence has increased vastly. It is pleasant for any
210A Prisoner at Albany

man to be secure in knowledge. The Smith of to-
day, also, seems very fit from a physical point of
view. His skin is pink and clear. His blue eyes
are bright and also are clear. He no longer gnaws
nervously at the ends of his spectacles as he did a
few years ago, and he is less irritable when he is
crossed. The irritability remains, it is true, for all
his good nature. But the nervousness that prompts
it is now revealed in the way he chews his cigar,
which constantly goes out and is constantly relit as
he talks. In this, and in his habit of expectoration,
which continues to the extent that in his private
office, where he feels at home, there is a cuspidor
underneath his desk and another behind it. He
often wears a wing collar and a black tie and his
suits are usually dark. They are well tailored.
Smith’s appearance, I repeat, leaves little to be de-
sired. Even those peculiar creatures, writers on
male fashions, could find no fault with his clothes
now that he has forever abandoned East Side eccen-
tricities.

His personality in the high office that he holds
is far more difficult to picture with accuracy. For
this man, whom thousands call “Al” and believe
they know so intimately, is filled with complexities
and the truth is elusive. As he sits behind his desk
during an interview, though, it is clear that he is no
mere jovial person, anxious to agree. He has none
of the difficulty experienced by his friend, Mayor
211Alfred E. Smith

Jimmy Walker of New York, in sayanie (no. te
plays his cards very close to his face and if he de-
cides that he has nothing to say, the most skilled
reporter on earth will leave with little information.
He has no real newspaper confidants, as do so many
public officials. There is no reporter to-day who
can send daily despatches as the spokesman of Smith.
All this hardness that is part of him is reflected in
the lines of his face, lines that have settled and deep-
ened since the day when he was the delight or the
bane of so many East Side parlors. Yet despite it
the general conception persists that he is a bubbling
spirit, always frank and always open. It is unneces-
sary to point out that his career does not suffer by
a combination which enables him to be taciturn as
an official and talkative enough off duty to counter-
act any resentment that this might cause.

As a source of news the conferences with Smith
are almost without value. ‘The Albany correspond-
ents are always discovering this fact to their surprise
and forgetting it again immediately; for the reason
that the sessions in the Governor’s office are too en-
joyable to be missed. It is now an accepted custom
among politicians to take reporters into their confi-
dence, under the pledge that they will not be quoted.
President Coolidge did this, until recently, through
the fiction of “a spokesman for the President”’.
Smith occasionally uses this device, but not often.

212A Prisoner at Albany

When he does, the news stories relate that “friends
of the Governor” believe that a certain thing will be
done. Other governors have been far better, so far
as news 1s concerned, than Al. Among the best was
Nathan L. Miller, who defeated Smith in 1920 and
was in turn defeated by him in 1922. It was Judge
Muiller’s custom to answer nearly any question, freely
and frankly, with a stenographer present to insure
correct quotations. Whitman’s system was some-
what like that of Smith, but provided more news.
Charles E. Hughes was inclined to be direct in his
answers, but seldom permitted himself to be quoted.

Al Smith tells funny stories.

A typical conference, for example, discloses the
Governor behind his desk with his chair tilted back.
The correspondents are draped over a lounge oppo-
site the desk or perched on the window sills.

“What’s going on?” one will ask.

“Not a thing I know of,” says Al.

Then will begin a series of questions on bills
pending in the legislature, on the particular fight
in which the Governor happens at the moment to
be involved. For the most part he evades or declares
flatly that there have been no developments. The
understanding is that he is never to be quoted with-
out specific permission. But this is sometimes given
as, for instance, when he was asked to comment on a
somewhat absurd speech made the day before by
young Theodore Roosevelt.
2aTK3Alfred E. Smith

“If bunk was electricity,” Al snapped, “the
Colonel would be a power house.”

The chances are great that most of the conference
will be devoted to reminiscences of the East Side,
changes in the style of living in New York, memo-
ries of his days as an actor. The rise of the modern
apartment house caused him to snort in disgust at
one recent conference.

“T know a fellow,” he said, “who was invited to
invest $600,000 in one of those new duplex coopera-
tive ownership places and then pay $30,000 a year
rent; 30,000 simoleons!”

“The $600,000 was for the privilege of paying
the rent,” suggested one of the correspondents.

“Sure,” guffawed Al, “it was a cover charge!”

It would be incorrect to infer, however, that the
conferences are unduly lengthy or a waste of the
Governor’s time. If Smith prefers to address the
public by means of formal statements, prepared in
advance and handed out in typewritten form, he
has the right to choose his own method. Never,
probably, has the business of government moved so
swiftly or so efficiently as during the four adminis-
trations of Governor Smith. He works under heavy
pressure, rarely doing more than snatch a bite of
lunch at noon and often remaining at the Capitol
until after 7 o’clock at night. The door between
his own office and that of Mr. Graves is seldom

214A Prisoner at Albany

closed. Constantly, as the line of visitors passes 11)
and out, the nasal voice of the Governor resound:
with a penetrating clearness that makes secrecy im:
possible.

“Took up Chapter 34 of the laws of 1914,” he
will tell a State Senator, asking for advice about a
pet bill. ‘Maybe there’s a conflict. I think there
is. You better fix it. Outside of that the bill’s
o. k. with me.”

The next man is the head of a department, com-
plaining that some subordinate, a political appoint-
ment, is falling down on his job.

““You’re the boss,”” Smith booms. ‘You tell him.
You tell him if he don’t work, out he goes. He’s
being paid good money. Make him work!”

After this there is, perhaps, an extradition hear-
ing in the outer room. Smith strides to the chair
at the head of the table and nods to the attorneys.
Bobby Fitzmaurice scurries over with an armful of
papers; the lawyers begin their argument in protest
against the removal of their client to some other
State where he is charged with crime. Smith cuts
short their legalistic phraseology, gets at the root of
the matter and demands that briefs be filed.

Perhaps the hearing is to afford the public an
opportunity to express its views on some bill await-
ing the Governor’s signature. Smith has a genius
for maintaining peace at these sessions, despite the
215Alfred E. Smith

presence of numerous windy citizens. At these, too,
he translates legal dissertations into plain English,
vivid and understandable. Once such hearing was
on a bill to amend the penal law. A former district
attorney held forth at length on the mental processes
of criminals, on the preventive nature of punish-
ment. What the criminal does, he said, is to ponder
whether he can break the law with safety.

“Tf he decides that he will probably not be sent to
jail,” he concluded, “the goes ahead and breaks it.”

“What you mean,” said Al, a little bored, “is that
the Ten Commandments are no good if a man
doesn’t believe in Hell.”

Smith went to Albany in 1919 with a great ad-
vantage over previous governors. As Speaker and
majority leader in the Assembly he had sat in the
Governor’s office for many hours, poring over State
business. He was aware that the theory of the sepa-
ration of the legislative and the executive did not
work in practice, and as soon as he took office he
demanded the creation of a system that would enable
him to know just what was going on in the legis-
lature. This was perfected by Mr. Mahoney. By
means of it Smith knows, probably better than any
legislator, the status of every bill in which he is
interested. In addition to this he has a file of his
own, kept in a cabinet in the inner office. It con-
tains thousands of notes and memoranda, unintelli-

216A Prisoner at Albany

gible to all except himself. But to the Governor
they are filled with meaning and it is the assistance
of this file that has enabled him, again and again,
to confound his opponents by the simple method of
knowing their stuff as well as he does his own.Chapter Iwo

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

“T ATTRIBUTE MY SUCCESS,” AL SMITH MIGHT DE-
clare in an interview, but undoubtedly never will,
“to the Republican Party.”

There would, however, be a large element of
truth in such a statement. The G.O.P. in New York
State, smug in the knowledge that it is widely her-
alded as the party of the educated and well-bred,
has been incredibly stupid during all the years that
Smith has been Governor. Always in control of at
least one house of the legislature, due to the consti-
tutional limitation on representation from New
York City, it has consistently chosen the wrong side
of almost every public question. It has been stone
blind in its partisanship and has adopted the policy
that anything desired by Al Smith is evil, extrava-
gant, radical or unscientific. Its predicament, as a
result of all this, has not been too happy a one at any
time. Smith, from the start of his first term, has
had a faculty for being right in his theories of gov-
ernment. Many of his policies were once cherished
theses of the Republican Party itself. The views of
this Tammany Governor have been evolved, re-
peatedly and frankly, from studies made by eminent

218A Prisoner at Albany

Republicans. But once he had spoken for them and
they became his, the thin brains operating the Re-
publican State machine made frantic efforts to block
their fulfillment.

This much, and little else, can be said for the
party of refinement: that its capacity for taking
beatings is comparable only to that of a heavyweight
champion’s sparring partner. Year after year it has
been defeated when Smith has used the newspapers,
the stump and the radio to go to the people and ex-
plain what he wanted. So great is the skill with
which he does this that the resulting deluge of pro-
test received at Albany has forced Republican
legislators to back down and defy their leaders.
And when the time came for Al to run again all
he needed to do, as the G. O. P. hastily but feebly
called attention to the extent to which it had “co-
operated”, was to point out what he had accom-
plished. The most superficial examination of the
years from 191g to 1927 discloses that the Repub-
lican Party’s record for doing the wrong thing is
virtually unimpaired. It has opposed, to enumerate
but a few of the issues, tax reduction, welfare legis-
lation, budgetary responsibility and a plan for scien-
tific reorganization of State departments. All
these it once believed in and all were in the end
forced through by Smith. At the present moment
it is in the process of getting fearfully snarled up by
a water-power policy which probably would mean

219Alfred E. Smith

the theft of this resource from a public that is slowly
awakening to the importance of natural wealth.
Al Smith is not perfect. He has the Tammany
viewpoint which sees no danger in piling up huge
bonded debts to be met out of future taxes. During
the last two years, his head slightly swollen by con-
tinued victories, he has verged on the cocksure.
His conception of the State as a huge corporation,
which must borrow for improvements as does an
industrial plant, is not wholly accurate, since the
State has no earnings out of which to meet pay-
ments and no income save taxes. I wonder whether
he might not have gone too far in his anxiety to
improve conditions had the Republican Party been
bright enough to give him some rope. Certainly
he would never be the nationally known figure of
to-day, declared by Republican strategists, terrified
of his ability to win campaigns, to be unfit for the
presidency. Even during the two years in which
Nathan L. Miller, a very able man, was Governor,
the Republican Party showed its customary asinin-
ity. It did everything possible to antagonize New
York and other cities by attempting to raise utility
rates. Laws requiring loyalty tests from teachers
and other of its enactments against the mildest of
radical thought were insults to a democracy. There
is at least evidence, even if unreliable, that the
G.O.P. organization in some parts of the State
knifed Miller when he opposed Smith in 1922.
220A Prisoner at Albany
The Republican boys, who differ from Tammany

not in the least in this, were resentful of their Gov-
ernor’s economy program which had meant fewer
jobs.

The obstructionist campaign of the Republicans
started a few weeks after Smith began his first term
in 191g. In his message to the legislature the Gov-
ernor called attention to important problems arising
from the war that had just ended. These, he said,
included not only the care of wounded soldiers and
employment for other veterans, but more permanent
problems that had been aggravated by the national
hysteria. Among the objectives to be attained were:
taxation to be borne equally by all classes, produc-
tion and distribution of the necessities of life at low
cost, improved welfare legislation and housing re-
lief. To solve these vital perplexities Governor
Smith appointed, on January 20, I91Q, a recon-
struction commission and invited Abram I. Elkus,
former Ambassador to Turkey, to act as chairman.
There is not the slightest indication that Smith con-
sidered politics for an instant in selecting the mem-
bers. Most of them were distinguished citizens and
many were Republicans. Among those who agreed
to serve were George Foster Peabody, Charles H.
Sabin, Mortimer L. Schiff, Dr. Felix Adler,
Michael Friedsam, the late Charles P. Steinmetz,
Bernard M. Baruch, Arthur Williams and V.
22,1Alfred E. Smith

Everit Macy. Mrs. Henry Moskowitz became sec-
retary of the commission.

Announcing the personnel of this body, Smith
asked the legislature, controlled by the Republican
Party in both houses, to appropriate $75,000 for its
expenses. The funds were available from several
unspent sums previously set aside for patriotic pur-
poses during the war. The commission swiftly
demonstrated the nature of the work that it was
doing and its great value to the State. The whole
thing was, however, Smith’s idea; so the master
minds of the Republican Party refused to pass the
appropriation. This meant, as a matter of fact, very
little to the members of the commission. Several
were men of wealth, and they paid the cost of the
work out of their own pockets. ‘Thus Smith, in the
end, received sole credit for statutes that resulted in
numerous reforms. ‘The researches into taxation,
alone, that the reconstruction commission com-
pleted were worth many times $75,000 to the State
of New York.

The action of the majority party in this instance
was repeated with regard to nearly every recom-
mendation that Al Smith made. He urged, at about
the same time, a popular referendum on the prohi-
bition amendment, soon to be presented to the legis-
lature for ratification. He suggested a scientific
water-power policy. He asked for additional pro-
tection for child workers, for the creation of a mini-

DiDi zeA Prisoner at Albany

mumM wage commission to pass upon the earnings of
women and minors. Health and maternity insur-
ance, he said, were essential to the welfare of the
commonwealth. The cost of milk in New York
was a menace to infant health. The State hospitals
for the insane were in a deplorable condition. Can-
didates for public office should be required to file
an accounting of their campaign receipts before, in-
stead of after, elections, so that the public would
be informed in time to take action at the polls. The
prison problem needed attention.

A number of these ideas, it will be recalled, had
been the subject of debate in the Constitutional Con-
vention. Many had received Republican support
at that time. Nearly all were sound. But now they
had become tainted with the approval of Smith, not
yet strong enough to break down the opposition, and
so they died in committee without debate. In time
Al forced enactment of some of these, and simi-
lar statutes. But he was, in 1919, a long way from
being the figure that he has since become. Even in
1919, however, the Republican policy of obstruc-
tion had its effect in advancing the career of Smith;
toward the close of the year he was editorially com-
mended by the Springfield (Mass.) Republican for
his management of the State government. Al used
his veto power effectively from the start. He man-
aged to slash about $2,000,000 from the general
appropriation bill and vetoed most of the special
22)2Alfred E. Smith

measures advanced by country legislators and pro-
viding for bridges across the old mill stream. With
these last he was very familiar. During his legisla-
tive days he had agreed to the passage of many
similar bills in return for laws that Tammany Hall
needed.

Much, it is true, of the Al Smith that was fast
vanishing remained during 1919. He permitted
Charles F. Murphy to come to Albany to reward
organization workers who had brought about his
election. A month after he took office he gave a
reception at the Executive Mansion to the mem-
bers of the legislature and delighted them by danc-
ing a jig to the melody of “Tim Toolin’”. But
almost at the same time he was recommending the
abolition of fat counsel jobs in numerous State de-
partments and pointing out that this work could
easily be done by the Attorney General, the law
officer of the State. Some of the men in these berths
were his personal friends.

Early in March he was invited to preside at a
meeting at the Metropolitan Opera House at which
President Wilson was to speak on the League of
Nations. It was the sort of function that Smith,
prior to this time, had either not adorned at all or
merely as a member of the audience. Former Pres-
ident Taft was among the platform dignitaries.
Caruso was there to sing. ‘There were as many
dress shirts as at the opening of the operatic season.
224A Prisoner at Albany

But Al was superbly calm in the face of all this con-
centrated wealth and culture. He had the intelli-
gence, so exceptional among chairmen, to make his
introductory remarks brief. In presenting the
President, who was about to sail back to France, he
said:

“Whatever may be the cross-fire of opinion, there is
one thing we are all agreed upon, and that is that America
will not have completed her part in the great world con-
flict until she has done everything possible to prevent the
recurrence of the death, the misery, the suffering, the
waste and the devastation that from time immemorial has
followed in the wake of war. At the Peace Conference to
that task our President is applying his wonderful talents.
He told the mothers of our country that they were giving
up their sons not only that the world might be made safe
for democracy but that there would never be another
war. To the fulfillment of that promise he has dedi-
cated himself with all his heart and all his soul and all
his strength and all his great ability.”

The 1919 session of the State legislature was not,
to return to it for a moment, entirely barren of
accomplishment. Summoned in special session by
the Governor, the legislature ratified the suffrage
amendment. It also passed several laws, upon
recommendation of a legislative committee of which
a Republican was chairman, to relieve the housing
crisis in New York City. Meanwhile, as I have re-
lated at the beginning of this attempt to evaluate
Smith, Hearst was beginning to beat his journalistic
225Alfred E. Smith

tom-toms in a war which was to bring greater luster
to the name of Alfred E. Smith, with the milk sit-
uation in New York as the excuse for savage attacks.
While he is meeting these attacks there will be time
to relate how he came to be nominated in 1918 and
the manner of campaign that he made.Chapter Three

 

THE YEARS FROM IQI5 TO 1917 DURING WHICH
Smith was Sheriff of New York were, on the whole,
uneventful. This official, it has been pointed out,
no longer wears a tin badge or carries a gun. He
has no police functions, but devotes his time to in-
carcerating miscreants who have neglected to pay
lawful alimony, to making attachments in debt cases
and to selling at mortgage properties that have re-
verted to the county because of non-payment of
taxes. The chief excitement of the office until
recently was tabulating the fees that poured in.
Now, since it is on a salary basis, it does not pro-
vide even this diversion. Except for it Al spent his
time growing accustomed to wearing a dress suit
at the many political dinners to which he was in-
vited. When he retired he is supposed to have
salted away between $50,000 and $80,000.
Meanwhile Tammany was making preparations
to persuade the public that Mayor Mitchel, whose
term expired in 1917, had been a failure and that
it would do well to elect some one else. It was at
this point that Hearst stepped into the situation to
support John F. Hylan, then a Brooklyn county
227Alfred E. Smith

judge. Smith might otherwise have had the nomi-
nation. Undoubtedly he would have accepted it and
been elected. If this had happened, and if the his-
tory of other mayors of New York City means any-
thing, his political career would probably have ended
after a term or two in that office. For some reason
it is a blind alley. Murphy, however, listened to
Hearst and consented to endorse Hylan. To satisfy
the growing Smith wing in Tammany he chose Al
as candidate for President of the Board of Alder-
men. ‘The campaign that followed was about as
low in quality as any in recent years, that is to say,
‘t was as low as it could possibly be. The nation
had been swept into the World War the previous
April, with the result that patriotism became the
chief issue.

“Judge Hylan,” said Al Smith in one address,
‘< an American American who is going to lead us
to an American victory.”

Both the fusion group, working for Mitchel, and
Tammany Hall gave orders that Liberty Bonds
were to be peddled at all meetings and their forums
opened to “Four Minute Men” and other patriotic
talkers whose task it was to keep the home-fires
burning. Hylan frequently abandoned his accusa-
tions concerning the “moneybund” that gripped the
city to recall that his father had been a corporal in
the Civil War. Somehow, though, the Mitchel
forces were able to appear more loyal and more

228A Prisoner at Albany

patriotic than Tammany and at last Murphy declared
explosively that the Americanism talk was, in brief,
the bunk. Besides, he said, ‘‘Al’s father was killed
in the Civil War in which Mayor Mitchel’s father
fought on the Confederate side”. The next day he
discovered that Smith’s father had died quite peace-
fully in the late ’80’s.

It is recalled that Smith, except when he praised
Hylan’s Americanism, showed increasing ability as
a campaigner during this contest. He was handi-
capped, however, by the fact that Hylan was the
head of the ticket and received most of the pub-
licity. Newspaper accounts of meetings frequently
included a column of dull rambling by the mayor-
alty aspirant and merely a line at the end that “‘A. E.
Smith, candidate for Aldermanic President, also
spoke”. Smith was opposed by Robert Adamson,
now a banker and one of his supporters. Unusually
able and convincing, Adamson was very effective,
with the result that on Election Day Smith ran sev-
eral thousand votes behind Hylan. The entire
Tammany ticket was, however, elected.

Fortunately for his own happiness, for he soon
discovered that Hylan was less than the great figure
his own stump speeches had indicated, Smith was
not required to remain a member of the administra-
tion for long. A few months after he took office,
in January of 1918, up-State Democrats began to
talk of him as a candidate for Governor. It is even
229Alfred E. Smith

said that Smith went personally to Murphy and
demanded the nomination. The Tammany Boss,
knowing that rural members of the party were sus-
picious of 14th Street, was wily enough to show
little enthusiasm.

“Tet the up-State leaders pick their man,” he
said in June. “Tammany Hall will help to elect
him.”

The State convention was scheduled for Saratoga
Springs in July, and as the date drew near the de-
cision of the up-State men to work for Smith was
definite. This was largely due to rumors that
Hearst was again in the field and to a justified appre-
hension that Tammany would again accept him, as
it had done in 1906. In the end Smith was desig-
nated as the official choice of the party. The pub-
lisher abandoned his threat to run in the primaries
and later gave newspaper assistance to the election
of Smith. The prospects for Democratic success
were moderately bright as the campaign opened.
Governor Whitman had aroused antagonism by his
obvious desire to run for President, while his ser-
vices as District Attorney in New York, which had
brought about his first term at Albany, had been for-
gotten. Al made an excellent campaign, drawing
upon the detailed knowledge of the State machinery
which he had gained during his long years in the
legislature. His managers enlisted the assistance of
followers of President Wilson, who had not yet
230A Prisoner at Albany

fallen under the cloud of the League of Nations.
Among the letters of endorsement which Al re-
ceived was the following:

THE SECRETARY OF THE TREASURY
WASHINGTON

September 6, 1918.
Dear Mr. SnITH:

It gives me genuine pleasure to send you my warm con-
gratulations upon your nomination as the Democratic
candidate for Governor of the State of New York.

Your public career has qualified you, by training and
experience, for this great office, and your ability and char-
acter fit you admirably for the discharge of its respon-
sible duties.

All good wishes for your success. With kind regards,
I am cordially yours,

W. G. McApboo.
Hon. Alfred E. Smith,
President, Board of Aldermen,
City of New York, N. Y.

Despite Smith’s part in it, the campaign was not
particularly exciting. The war made the bleatings
of politicians seem even less important than usual
and an epidemic of influenza kept even the most con-
scientious party members away from many of the
campaign rallies. Smith enjoyed the opposition of
the Anti-Saloon League, due to his wet record and
to his platform demands that a referendum be held
before the State ratified the prohibition amendment.
2QiAlfred E. Smith

As to how he would conduct himself in office, he

declared:

“Never in my political career have I permitted parti-
sanship to swerve me from absolute loyalty to the people.
The approval I have received from non-partisan organ-
‘vations like the Citizens’ Union attests this——I will be

subservient to no faction.”

Which proves, of course, that Al’s renown as
a man with an amazing memory is exaggerated in
some respects. The Citizens’ Union had, it 1s true,
endorsed him for Sheriff. But in its 1911 analysis
of the members of the State legislature it said he
had shown “not the slightest evidence of independ-
ence”. In 1912 he had “on most issues of impor-
tance stood against the public interest”. In 1913 he
had “executed the orders of the machine” and had
“opposed primary and election reforms”.

Toward the close of the campaign, probably irri-
tated by the cordiality with which his opponent was
being featured in the newspapers, Whitman seems
to have lost his head. ‘Thinking of Smith’s years on
the public payrolls, he incautiously made the state-
ment that the Democratic candidate “has never
earned a dollar with his hands”. Al’s retort was
obvious.

“When Whitman was an Amherst College stu-
dent,” he said, “I was working at the Fulton Fish
Market, at the hardest work that any man could do.
I started before sunrise and worked until dark.”

232A Prisoner at Albany

Another excited assertion by Republican orators
was that Smith’s associations “have been among the
lowest and vilest persons the nation could produce”’,
that his appointments as Speaker of the Assembly
had been crooks, that he had been friendly with
thieves, pickpockets and other criminals. But the
worst that Charles E. Hughes, a gentleman even
when he makes a political speech, could say was:

“T distrust Tammany Hall even in its most ami-
able aspect.”

Smith was elected by the small majority of 14,-
000 votes. The margin was narrow enough, consid-
ering Tammany’s long reputation for dirty work, to
justify a demand by Whitman fora recount. In the
end, however, the Republican sent his congratula-
tions and so far recovered from his ill-temper of the
campaign to become an affable and charming host
when the inaugural exercises were held. The Smith
family moved to Albany on December 30, 1918,
Als forty-fifth birthday. Their arrival at the
Union Station was very impressive. In addition to
the Governor-elect and his wife there were five chil-
dren. Walter, the youngest, was yanked along the
platform by a huge Great Dane that was to be part
of a constantly increasing menagerie at the Execu-
tive Mansion. As Smith stepped off the train,
arriving members of the legislature rushed up to
felicitate him. One or two timid new legislators
looked with awe and respect at the man who, fifteen

433Alfred E. Smith

years before, had come to Albany no less forlorn
than they now felt.

The Inaugural Ball, held the next night at the
State Armory, was a strange function. As the
Governor-elect appeared in his box the band played
“Hail to the Chief” and then a series of melodies
of old New York. Among these tunes was “The
Sidewalks of New York”, but this had, as yet, no
sentimental meaning. It was the assortment of
guests that made the party not a little grotesque.
Tammany Hall had turned out in full force and
there were hundreds of old neighbors from the East
Side, many wearing dress suits which they had hired
on Canal Street. Mr. and Mrs. James Colombo,
Jimmy Kelly, Solly Bernstein, Michael Kuku and
Dr. Paul Sarrubbi, all from the Fourth Ward,
rubbed elbows with the Dutch aristocracy of Albany,
which had condescended to attend in order to smile
behind its hand at this roughneck who had become
Governor. Mrs. William Bayard Van Rensselaer
had her first close view of Charles F. Murphy, Mrs.
Murphy and their daughter, Miss Mabel Murphy.
Tom Foley circulated around, shaking hands indis-
criminately, and beaming that the young man whom
he had assisted to rise in life had already done so
well. Al Smith, surrounded by his family, was
magnificently at ease.

Among those seated in the box of the Governor-
elect was his mother, a little old lady in black silk

234A Prisoner at Albany

who was white of face and very proud. Toa few
intimate friends she shyly exhibited a picture post-
card, now growing yellow. It was a scene of the
Executive Mansion which Al had sent to her in
1904, the year when he began his duties as an
Assemblyman, ‘The message on the back read:

“Dear Mother: This is a picture of the Governor’s resi-
dence. I’m going to work hard and stick to the ideals

you taught me and some day—maybe—I’ll occupy this
house.”Chapter Four

   
 
 
 
 

 

 

So MUCH HAS BEEN SAID DURING THE LAST FOUR
or five years on the expertness of Alfred E. Smith
in the governmental machinery of New York that
there is danger, I suspect, of forgetting facts about
the man which are potentially more important. If
Smith is merely to be reélected for repeated terms to
the post he now holds it is enough that he is a poli-
tician of great skill, who understands his duties far
better than have most of his predecessors. But this,
it can be argued, makes him little more fit for the
presidency than does Henry Ford’s knowledge of
industry. Every department at Albany or Washing-
ton has some expert of inestimable worth in his own
line, but with a horizon limited by the problems
concerned with highways, taxation, agriculture or
Hopi snake dances.

Certainly an appreciation of Al Smith must go
behind his undoubted competency as Governor. It
may be true that a mind such as his, which has so
thoroughly mastered the State government, will
have slight difficulty with national matters. But it
is not necessary to make conjecture regarding cer-
tain facets of his mind which, it is my theory, now

236A Prisoner at Albany

receive less attention than they deserve. It is these
which have caused him to enunciate principles that
carry weight far beyond the boundaries of New
York. Among the principles in this classification
are his belief in the social importance of welfare
legislation and his insistence upon executive respon-
sibility. Most striking of all, for Smith is by no
means an outstanding liberal but a conservative with
a liberal mind, is his consistent defense of the rights
of minorities. So has he spoken in behalf of So-
cialists and more extreme radicals with whose views
he is, himself, in utter disagreement. As head of
the nation he would, I think, discourage imperial-
istic tendencies fostered by business men greedy for
the natural resources of feeble nations. He would
use his influence and his veto to prevent sporadic
bursts of discriminatory legislation against aliens.
As the year 1919 began the United States was
shaken by apprehensions that an appreciable part of
its foreign population was in direct communication
with Moscow and that overthrow of the govern-
ment by Bolsheviks wearing beards and carrying
bombs was. under serious consideration. Big Busi-
ness led the onslaught against radical, even liberal,
thought. Through chambers of commerce and
other service organizations it began a drive against
the Red Menace. Funds poured into the National
Security League and the National Defense Society.
The federal government became infected and sent

2317Alfred E. Smith

secret agents out by the hundred to regard with sus-
picion, and arrest, if possible, every one who spoke
with a foreign accent.

There were, it must be admitted, a number of
‘ncidents that partially justified the general panic.
Several bomb outrages occurred and the Department
of Justice, in its raids, uncovered tons of inflam-
matory literature. Even Al Smith, in an address at
Cornell University in June of 1919, dwelt on the
dangers of radicalism. But the ardor of the radical
chasers was out of all proportion to the actual dan-
ger, and one result of the persecution was outspoken
resentment on the part of voters in the congested
sections of New York City. To give voice to this
they elected five Socialist Assemblymen in the fall
of the year. These men were legally elected beyond
any question. They represented the honest choice
of their constituencies. But when they arrived at
Albany for the 1920 session they were branded, by
virtue of the right of the Assembly to pass on the
qualifications of its members, ineligible to serve.
The Republican Party, it 1s probably unnecessary to
remark, was in control of the House. Governor
Smith fought with energy to prevent the expulsion
of the Socialists and indicated his own position by
inviting the five men to a reception at the Executive
Mansion. He was, however, powerless, although
he called a special election that fall so that the five
assembly districts would be represented at a special

2.38A Prisoner at Albany

session of the legislature. All of the five so-called
Reds were reélected. In commenting on the ouster
Smith voiced his own conception of a democracy:

“Although I am unalterably opposed to the funda-
mental principles of the Socialist Party, it is inconceivable
that a minority party, duly constituted and legally or-
ganized, should be deprived of its right to expression so
long as it has honestly, by lawful methods of education
and propaganda, succeeded in securing representation, un-
less the chosen representatives are unfit as individuals.

“Tt is true that the Assembly has arbitrary power to
determine the qualifications of its membership; but where
arbitrary power exists it should be exercised with care and
discretion because from it there is no appeal.

“If the majority party at present in control of the
Assembly possesses information that leads them to believe
that these men are hostile to our form of Government
and would overthrow it by processes subversive of law
and order, these charges in due form should have been
presented to the legislature and these men tried by
orderly processes. Meanwhile, presumably innocent un-
less proven guilty, they should have been allowed to retain
their seats.

“Our faith in American democracy is confirmed not
only by its results, but by its methods and organs of free
expression. They are the safeguards against revolution.
To discard the methods of representative government
leads to the misdeeds of the very extremists we denounce

. and serves to increase the number of the enemies of
orderly free government.”

The 1920 legislature spent most of the session,
however, at the business of scotching Bolsheviks to

239Alfred E. Smith

the neglect of everything else except appropriation
bills. It passed laws, ultimately vetoed by Smith,
which permitted teachers to be questioned regarding
their loyalty, and dismissed from the service unless
they could prove themselves 100 per cent Ameri-
cans. Another patriotic enactment required that
private schools must submit their courses of study
to State officials. A third gave the Attorney Gen-
eral power to initiate proceedings against radical
candidates for office before the Appellate Division
of the Supreme Court. No more vicious or more
ridiculous measure than this last has ever, probably,
been sent to a Governor for his signature. In his
prompt veto, Smith again outlined his theories of
government:

“This bill would place upon one particular appellate
division of the supreme court of this State . . . the duty
of deciding upon the validity of the political principles ad-
vocated by any party in the State. Its determination would
be final and controlling. To its members would be per-
mitted the despotic power to strike from the ballots the
candidates of any party. The tests which it would be com-
pelled to apply would, of necessity, be not legal but politi-
cal tests. The bill would throw a high appellate court into
the very midst of political controversy. This alone would
require its disapproval, but to this one objection must be
added an even more vital and far-reaching one.

“The bill would confer upon this small body of men,
perhaps of one political faith, the absolute power in effect
to disenfranchise hundreds of thousands of voters. It
may even exercise this unheard-of power upon the faith
240A Prisoner at Albany

of affidavits, without ever hearing a witness. A few
judges elected in one part of the State, and assigned to
the appellate division of their department, would have the
power to keep from the ballot all candidates of whose
parties they disapproved. . . . If unpopular minorities
are to be deprived of their basic rights to representation
upon the ballot they will, indeed, have conferred upon
them a just claim to political martyrdom. The very evils
of ultra-radicalism which are feared by the proponents of
this measure would, in my opinion, be infinitely enhanced
if the bill became law.

“. .. In a State just as in a legislative body, the ma-
jority need no protection, for they can protect themselves.
Law in a democracy means the protection of the rights
and liberties of the minority. Their rights, when properly
exercised, and their liberties, when not abused, should be
safeguarded. It is a confession of the weakness of our
own faith in the righteousness of our cause when we at-
tempt to suppress by law those who do not agree with us.
I cannot approve a bill which confers upon three judges,
learned though they be, but nevertheless human, the
power to disenfranchise any body of our citizens.”

So with the other two bills, the loyalty tests for
teachers and the proposal to regulate private schools,
the veto messages were statesmanlike papers now
nearly forgotten. Critics of Smith may say that he
had assistance from persons more learned than him-
self in drafting them, that they bear marks of the
polishing touch of Mrs. Moskowitz. Even if this
is true, it makes no difference. This East Side poli-
tician, who has never had the desire to read, looks

241Alfred E. Smith

deeply and wisely into the principles of government.
Those that are right he seems intuitively to adopt
for his own.

The teachers’ loyalty test, said Smith in placing
his veto on it, provided that every public school
teacher in the State must obtain from the Commis-
sioner of Education a certificate showing good moral
character, intention to support the State and federal
constitutions and a pledge that he is “loyal to the
institutions and laws thereof”. ‘The certificate can
be revoked by the Commissioner without a hearing.
The test, said Smith, is not what the teacher teaches,
but what he believes.

“Tt permits,” he said, “one man to place upon any
teacher the stigma of disloyalty and this even without
hearing or trial. No man is so omniscient or wise as to
have entrusted to him such arbitrary power not only to
condemn any individual teacher but to decree what belief
or opinion is opposed to what he deems to be the institu-
tions of the country.

“No teacher could continue to teach if he or she enter-
tained any objection, however conscientious, to any exist-
ing institution. If this law had been in force prior to the
abolition of slavery, opposition to that institution which
was protected by the Constitution and its laws would have
been just cause for the disqualification of a teacher.

“Opposition to any presently established institution

. would be sufficient to disqualify the teacher. Every
teacher would be at the mercy of his colleagues, his pupils
and their parents, and any word or act of the teacher might
be held by the Commissioner to indicate an attitude hostile
242A Prisoner at Albany

to some of ‘the institutions of the United States’ or of the
State... . The bill . . . deprives teachers of their right
to freedom of thought, it limits the teaching staff of the
public schools to those who lack the courage or the mind to
exercise their legal right to just criticism of existing in-
stitutions.”

In disapproving the proposal to license private
schools, Smith said that it gave to the Board of
Regents power to withdraw its approval in the event
that the course of instruction was “detrimental to
the public interest”. Schools under the guidance of
the Roman Catholic or other churches were ex-
empted from the provisions of the law.

“Tt is unthinkable,” he said, “that in a representative
democracy there should be relegated to any body of men
the absolute power to prohibit the teaching of any subject
of which it may disapprove.

“This bill seeks to bring within the power of prohibition
of the Board of Regents every subject, political, ethical,
religious or scientific. Under its provision they might
decree that it was inimical to the public interest to give
instruction on the theory of the single tax, on minimum
wage, on child labor laws, and on public regulation of in-
dustry. . . . The free play of public opinion, resting upon
freedom of instruction and discussion within the limits of
the law, would be destroyed and we should have the
whole sphere of education reduced to a formula prescribed
by governmental agency.

“The clash of conflicting opinions, from which progress
arises more than from any other source, would be abol-
ished by law; tolerance and intellectual freedom destroyed

243Alfred E. Smith

and an intellectual autocracy imposed upon the people.
. The safety of this government and its institutions
rests upon the reasoned and devoted loyalty of its people.”

 

But a large number of earnest gentlemen, most of
them paid for their services, continued to batter at
the Bolshevik man of straw that they themselves
had erected. In 1920 the Republican Party suc-
ceeded in electing Nathan L. Miller to the Gover-
norship and the following year the bills regulating
teachers and private schools became law. In 1923
Smith returned to the Capitol. In his first message
to the legislature he demanded the repeal of these
statutes. By this time the hysteria had abated to
a certain extent and he was successful. I quote
from his message:

“T am firm in my belief that the law . . . which requires
the teachers of our public schools to submit to a loyalty test
is a direct violation of the letter and spirit of the laws of
our State, unless you are prepared to take the stand that
this great army of useful public servants is incapable of
being responsible for the abuse of their rights. . . . It 1s
wrong in principle. It is a violation of the spirit of our
Constitution and it is an unwarranted interference with
freedom of opinion—one of the foundation stones of
democratic government. Throughout the history of the
world, where people have allowed the government to
think for them, the government has been unsuccessful.
Part of the success of America lies in the undisputed fact
that the government permits the people to think for
themselves.

2.4.4A Prisoner at Albany

“Equally vicious is the law . . . which provides for li-
censing and supervising private schools. While ostensibly
for the purpose of safeguarding the traditions of our coun-
try, its real effect is to weaken them by abridging the fun-
damental right of the people to enjoy full liberty in the
domain of idea and speech. . . . Liberty and the pursuit
of happiness cannot be said to be safeguarded in a commu-
nity that delegates to anybody the absolute power to pro-
hibit the teaching of any subject of which they may dis-
approve.”

I have quoted at such great length from these
messages and statements by Alfred E. Smith because
they throw so much light on a side of his character
often, as I have said, forgotten. It is far more im-
portant that he will speak out against laws that
abridge freedom of thought than for him to reor-
ganize the State departments, worthwhile as that
may be. Viewed as a presidential possibility, it is
well that he has sympathy and tolerance for the
beliefs of those with whom he does not agree. I
doubt that Al Smith has read a line of Voltaire.
But with Voltaire he can exclaim: “I do not agree
with a word that you say, but I will defend to the
death your right to say it”.

One of Governor Smith’s first acts during his
second term as Governor was to pardon the famous
“Jum” Larkin, who had served two years in prison
for advocating criminal anarchy. Larkin had
joined in the promulgation of a manifesto which
called for a change in the form of government to

245Alfred E. Smith

that of “a dictatorship by the proletariat”. This
was to be achieved by strikes general enough to force
political action. In his pardon message, Smith said,

 

in part:

“My present action in no way involves the slightest
agreement with this manifesto. I condemn the dictator-
ship of ‘the proletariat’, of the farmers, of the capitalists,
of the merchants or of any other section of the community.
In a free democracy we know no dictatorships and we
endure none. No group has any legal, social or moral
right to impose by dictatorship its views or interests on
any other group. Likewise I condemn the project to
coerce political action by any such method as the calling
of general strikes. Labor has the right to strike for the
purpose of securing reasonable improvement of its own
conditions, but not for the purpose.of driving other groups
into the acceptance of a proposed political dictatorship. I
disapprove such a project just as I would disapprove a
combination of capitalists or.of manufacturers to constrain
political action of the laborers or the farmers by with-
holding from them the means of procuring the necessaries
of life.

“T pardon Larkin, therefore, not because of agreement
with his views, but despite my disagreement with them.

“The public assertion of an erroneous doctrine 1s per-
haps the surest way to disclose the error and make it
evident to the electorate. And/it is a distinct dis-service
of the State to impose, for the utterance of a misguided
opinion, such extreme punishment as may tend to deter,
in proper cases, that full and free discussion of political
issues which is a fundamental of democracy.”

 

246Chapter Five

 

A POLITICAL CAMPAIGN INVARIABLY BRINGS OUT
the worst in even the best of men. It is a little diffi-
cult to explain why this is so, but probably it is partly
because the average campaign strategist has, at
heart, a very low opinion of the intelligence of the
public. He directs his candidate, of course, to dwell
in all his speeches upon the extrordinary brilliance
of the electorate and particularly upon the super-
intelligence of the section of it that belongs to the
party. But when the strategist has summoned the
Supreme Council to secret conference, he urges a
course of action based on the assumption that those
who vote are lower in mental capacity than the State
legislature of Mississippi. The party platform that
is laboriously drafted says nothing at all in the most
obscure and elegant manner. ‘The issues chosen are
likely to be either bogus or ones about which there
is not the slightest interest. “The Supreme Council
shies from any really vital question, such as prohibi-
tion at the present time, as does J. P. Morgan from
a newspaper reporter. If the platforms they adopt
are a criterion, campaign managers are confirmed

247Alfred E. Smith

pessimists who believe the electorate universally
feeble-minded.

Perhaps they are not far wrong. Certainly there
are incidents in the history of the land, too painful
to enumerate, that give weight to their theories. I
offer in rebuttal, however, the thought that occa-
sionally the striking career of some one man shows
that campaign commanders have been in error.
Alfred E. Smith has demonstrated that voters of
both the major parties will flock to support a candi-
date of character and proved worth, despite an off-
cial party platform of negation. The Democrats,
for instance, are going to argue themselves into
many a headache before 1928 trying to write a pro-
hibition plank that will delight the drys as well as
the west. But if they select Smith as their candi-
date, his own wetness will be the basis of judgment
by the voters. A dry plank will, perhaps, disgust a
great many people, but it will fool very few.

Exceptional among politicians as he has been,
however, even Al Smith must give way to profound
melancholy if he reads over some of the campaign
orations that he has made in the past. In 1920, it
will be recalled, he ran against Nathan Ll. Miller
for Governor and was defeated. In 1922 he again
opposed the same Republican and was elected.
Miller, too, is a man possessed of intelligence. But
the campaigns of both frequently descended to the
level of aldermanic contests. The first contest was
248A Prisoner at Albany

befogged by the fact that it was a presidential year.
The Democratic state platform, in consequence, was
a senseless document calling for recognition of the
mythical Irish Republic, modification of the Vol-
stead Act and endorsing the reference in the national
platform to the League of Nations, but avoiding
mention on its own responsibility of that obnoxious
parliament.

Judge Miller, under orders from the Republican
High Command, devoted most of his time to na-
tional issues and drew to his bosom those who be-
lieved the League of Nations was conceived by the
Devil, the British and the selfish governments of
Europe. He also won the support of the rapidly
increasing number who were to cast their ballots
more as a protest against Wilsonism than as indica-
tion of admiration for Harding and Coolidge, of
whom they knew little and cared less. Smith’s ap-
peals for a State campaign on such State issues as
welfare laws, the executive budget and the reorgan-
ization of departments were largely futile. And so,
in turn, the Democratic gubernatorial candidate
made long speeches defending Article X. On the
whole the Republican plan appears to have been
fairly smart, although the defeat that Smith suf-
fered seems, looking back, to have been one of his
greatest victories. He ran some 1,000,000 votes
ahead of the national ticket in the State. The mar-
gin of his defeat was only 74,000, proof of the vast

249Alfred E. Smith

number of voters who had split their tickets to elect
a Republican President and a Democratic Governor.

Nor was the 1922 campaign much more intelli-
gent. Miller had been in office for two years and
deserved a drubbing on one issue more than all the
others combined; that he had sanctioned laws in
mockery of freedom of thought and education.
Two years previous, as I have quoted, Smith had
vetoed these measures in language that was vivid
in its force and that approached the profound in its
understanding of the ideals of true democracy. But
in his campaign he barely touched on these matters.
Instead, he devoted hours to emulating Mayor
Hylan and denouncing Miller as the tool of wealth,
the friend of the public utility companies, a dictator
and a czar who believed that the governor should
be the supreme ruler of the State. My point is not
so much that these accusations were untrue. Mil-
ler’s subsequent connection with the United States
Steel Corporation, where he was close to the late
and very loquacious Elbert Gary, and his work as
counsel to the New York city traction companies,
are indicative of his corporation philosophy. But
I think Al chose in them a lesser issue, flavored with
demagoguery and calculated to be more effective in
arousing the moron public.

Miller was just as bad. He called Smith’s two
years as governor the most expensive in the history
of the State, a naive assertion in view of the fact that
250A Prisoner at Albany

a Republican legislature had controlled both houses
and had approved appropriation bills from which
Al had slashed several millions of dollars. He
boasted of his own great works at Albany and re-
frained from mentioning the mysterious manner in
which the amendments for consolidation of State
departments, once officially approved by the G.O.P.,
had been permitted to die. Both men were anxious
to ignore prohibition, and if Smith said anything
about repealing the State enforcement act, an issue
which later was to prove most distressing, his re-
marks on the subject are lost in the mists of time.

After his defeat by Miller in 1920, Smith was
fortunate in the offer to become chairman of the
United States Trucking Corporation. Discussed by
some of the newspapers, but not by Tammany Hall,
which planned to renominate Hylan as the next
mayor of New York, Al declared that he did not
intend to run again for public office. He did not,
however, really mean this and few were convinced.
While he was still at Albany he began to consider
what he would do to make a living when his term
expired. The choice of a job was a ticklish matter.
He had many offers, naturally, since a former Gov-
ernor of the standing and talent of Smith is a big
asset to any large corporation anxious to win public
approbation. Most of them were out of the ques-
tion, since his private life was to be but temporary.
If he allied himself with the usual financial inter-
251Alfred E. Smith

ests, Smith knew, valuable ammunition would be
placed in the hands of future Republican spellbind-
ers. Connection with a great bank, for which he
was eligible because of his knowledge of State bank-
ing matters, was obviously impossible. ‘Thus he was
delighted when some old friends approached him
with the suggestion that he head the United States
Trucking Corporation, which they controlled. The
post was ideal, even though the company had a capi-
talization of over half a million dollars, owned sev-
eral thousand trucks and was, by any other rule ex-
cept the illogical one of politics, Big Business at its
biggest. For Al Smith, whose father had been a
truckman and who had dabbled in the art himself,
the job was poetic in its suitability. Sam Koenig
and the other mentalities of the G.O.P. could never
make an issue out of Smith the Truckman, even
though his work was exclusively executive and paid
$30,000 a year.

Al had rather a huge time during those two years.
He enjoyed the reunion with his neighbors on Oli-
ver Street. For the first time since he had been
Sheriff he was free from financial tribulations. It
is in harmony with his love for action that he was
not content to draw his salary for acting as window
dressing, as he might easily have done. He bustled
around in pursuit of new business with the energy
of a young and ambitious salesman. One of his
visits in this new role was, as it happened, to win
252A Prisoner at Albany

him a measure of political support of great value
during his subsequent terms as Governor.

He learned, in some manner, that there was a
chance of doing the trucking for the New York Sun,
FHlerald and Telegram, three newspapers captured by
Frank A. Munsey and still permitted to live. He
did some figuring and decided that the United
States Trucking Corporation could save the
publisher-grocer-capitalist some money. The job
of carting the huge rolls of newsprint that must be
delivered daily to a newspaper plant is a lucrative
one for a trucking concern.

Arriving at No. 280 Broadway, the office of the
Sun and the Herald, Smith must have sent in hig
card with some misgivings. Munsey had urged the
election of Miller in the campaign the previous fall.
His editorial policies had been contrary to nearly
everything that the Democrats had fought for. Al
had often heard from his Albany newspaper friends
of the degree to which Munsey was despised by the
profession because of his industry in destroying
newspapers and for his unpleasant whims that often
resulted in the discharge of subordinates who were
too fat, or too young, or too old, or who were left-
handed.

But on this occasion Munsey differed from the
popular conception of a man cold and narrow, and
the experience enjoyed by Smith indicates that there
was a side to him, usually hidden, that could be era-

a)3Alfred E. Smith

cious and broadminded. He looked up with interest
as Alsat down. Just what was it that he wanted!

“We'd like,” said Smith, using a trucking phrase
that he had already picked up, “to ride your news-
print. We can save you money. I’ve got some—”

But Munsey interrupted.

“Tet’s talk about politics,” he suggested.

For two hours they did so. Astonished for only
an instant, Al launched into a dissertation on matters
still far closer to his heart than trucking contracts
or any other means of making a living. He told of
what he had tried to do during his first term at Al-
bany and described the theory behind State reorgan-
ization. Then he outlined the desperate needs of the
State hospitals. He may have hinted that if he be-
came Governor again he would press for huge bond
issues to remedy conditions which placed wards of
the State in danger of death by fire and hindered
effective cures. Munsey listened attentively and
with apparent appreciation. As Smith arose to leave
he gave orders, without waiting for the carefully
prepared cost figures, that all of his business should
go to the United States Trucking Corporation.

In due time Smith went back to Albany for the
three terms that caused him to become a national
figure. Munsey never went so far as to recommend
his election as against the Republican candidate.
But he repeatedly gave assistance to the Governor’s
program in the face of otherwise unified Republican

254A Prisoner at Albany

opposition. Then, in 1926, he died. Editorial
writers, some of whom had worked for Munsey and
hated him, wrote stilted columns of praise on a ca-
reer that they really viewed with contempt. But
Smith was able to send an appreciation to the Sun
that was sincere, for during six years the publisher
had continued the friendly attitude that had so un-
expectedly resulted from the visit to obtain a truck-
ing contract.

“Frequently,” he wrote, “when I came down from Al-
bany I had luncheon or dinner with Mr. Munsey and in
many such informal meetings, with a variety of topics
under discussion, it never failed to come to this point in
his mind—Ts that the best thing to do and the right thing
to dor? . . . I say truthfully that I have felt rewarded
richly for much of my hardest work as Governor by the
warm, honest, confidential friendship of Frank Munsey.”

Munsey, Smith revealed, had always declined
public recognition for his assistance in the further-
ance of State projects. He had given his aid to the
passage of the $100,000,000 bond issue for public
improvements and had been largely responsible for
the passage of laws which, it is now hoped, will wipe
out the tenements of lower New York. In one let-
ter that he had written, Smith said, Munsey had ex-
pressed himself as having small use for either of the
two large political parties and had indicated that he
remained a Republican because this organization
“fits my point of view least badly”.

255Chapter Six

 

 

No GOVERNOR IN ALL THE HISTORY OF THE STATE
of New York has gone to Albany under happier cir-
cumstances than did Al Smith on January 1, 1923.
That summer at Syracuse he had fought single-
handed against Hearst and a Tammany Hall that
had been cowed into subjection by the publisher-
politician. He had emerged from the convention
victorious in his defeat of the Hearst-Murphy com-
bination and immeasurably stronger because he had
demonstrated that he would never again, in all like-
lihood, bow to the demands of men he despised. He
was unquestionably, for all the grumbling that the
feeble intellects of 14th Street might do, the leader
of the Democratic Party in New York; a man whose
obligation was now to the people who had elected
him and not to the organization which had given
him his start.

It is not to be wondered that Smith, as early as
1923, was filled with justifiable pride in himself.
He had received almost 1,400,000 votes in the elec-
tion that fall; about 400,000 more than Miller. It
was a record majority, made up in no small measure
by the support of up-State residents who under nor-

256A Prisoner at Albany

mal circumstances vote the straight Republican
ticket. Another happy factor in the situation as
Smith began his second term was the control by the
Democrats of the Senate, which meant that Jimmy
Walker would become majority leader and would
battle with infinite skill for the pet projects of the
Governor. The majority, it is true, was but a single
vote, which makes the task of a leader precarious
inthe extreme. But this, to so versatile a parliamen-
tarian as the present mayor of New York, was am-
ple. His floor leadership of the upper house during
the sessions of 1923 and 1924 was a constant source
of worry to the Republicans. Because of it, Smith
forced through several measures which otherwise
would have remained buried in committee. The
G.O.P. was following its consistent policy of ob-
struction which was, in the long run, to prove of
such great benefit to the career of Al Smith.

There was, since no one knew that the Mullan-
Gage act would be repealed, only one cloud on the
azure sky. One morning the legislative correspond-
ents found a very bothered Smith, surrounded by
check stubs and personal account books.

“I’m trying to figure out my income tax,” he said,
mournfully. “I have to pay a tax on the $30,000
I earned last year from the $10,000 salary I get as
Governor. Trying to do that would give any guy a
headache.”

In emphasizing the new strength of Smith in

257Alfred E. Smith

1923, it would be unfair to give the impression that
he had shown no independence during his first term.
He went to Albany with a profound sense of obliga-
tion. He has often said that he was determined to
show that an East Side resident, a life-long member
of Tammany, could be a strong executive. And if
he permitted Boss Murphy to suggest many appoint-
ments, there were others of primary importance that
he made on merit alone. The most striking of these,
perhaps, was the selection of Colonel Frederick
Stuart Greene, who had been in charge of road re-
pair work in the American occupation areas in
France, for the office of Commissioner of High-
ways. Colonel Greene is an engineer of ability who,
although nominally a Democrat, has been extremely
casual in his political allegiance. His reputation
among politicians was demonstrated at the time of
his appointment when pop-eyed Democrats ran to
the Governor giving yelps of protest. Smith also
deserves credit for making Miss Frances Perkins a
member of the Industrial Commission in 1919, in
the face of protests that she was somewhat radical,
and for redesignating Justice Frank C. Laughlin to
the Appellate Division of the Supreme Court in the
First Department, although he was a Republican
and the action gave that party a majority of the
members of the court. Al has, it should be noted,
frequently resisted Tammany pressure to throw the
courts into politics. In describing the origin and
258A Prisoner at Albany

cause of his quarrel with Hearst, I have detailed his
refusal to take appointive recommendations from
the publisher.

In 1919 and 1920, even in 1923 and 1924, Smith
was not yet as concerned with fitness as he was to
become in later years. His growth in the selection
of men qualified by knowledge and talent for their
posts has been gradual. It was at the beginning of
1927, elected for a fourth term, that the Governor
wounded his former Tammany intimates most
deeply by announcing that his cabinet, created by
the State reorganization plan, would consist of eight
Democrats and six Republicans. The so-called Re-
publicans included George Graves, once secretary to
the Governor and still serving in that capacity, but
given the title of “Head of the Executive Depart-
ment”; Robert Moses, Secretary of State; Commis-
sioner Alexander MacDonald of the Conservation
Department, Commissioner Byrne A. Pyrke of the
Department of Agriculture and Markets, Dr. Frank
P. Graves of the Department of Education, and
Charles S. Johnson, director of State Charities.

The announcement of this cabinet was greeted
with some skepticism by the critics of the Governor,
particularly the Republican critics who are afraid
that he will become the Democratic candidate for
President. Their disparaging remarks about these
gentlemen not being Republicans, in the pure sense,
at all, but debauched “AI Smith Republicans”, were

259Alfred E. Smith

almost as frequent as statements of a similar nature
by the lads of Tammany Hall. Smith, they re-
peated, had his eye on the glories of the White
House and was trying to build up the fantastic the-
ory that he had never committed a partisan act.
They concluded with the assertion that he could not
boast regarding the Republicanism of Dr. Graves
and Commissioner Pyrke, for the reason that these
two officials are chosen by the legislature and not by
the Governor.

Among all the appointments that Al Smith has
made, however, there is none more worth-while
than that of Colonel Greene in 1919. Even while
a member of the legislature, Smith had been irri-
tated by the ardor of the Elder Statesmen in manipu-
lating the highway problem. When possible he had
blocked Republican schemes to build satin roads to
the wilderness homes of up-state legislators, or to
gratify their districts by the construction of boule-
vards over which constituents might drive their
hogs. Consequently he selected Colonel Greene to
take charge and instructed him that politicians were
to be viewed with a glassy eye. Ever since, through
changes in his department which have annually
placed heavier burdens on his shoulders, Greene has
been in command. He has spent hundreds of mil-
lions without incurring, despite scholarly researches
into his record, the vaguest charge of graft or in-
competence. He is hated by the machine men of
260A Prisoner at Albany

both parties, is not bothered by that in the slightest,
and spends nis leisure hours writing short stories.

Despite Republican obstruction, Smith was able
to accomplish a good deal during his second term.
In addition to repealing the laws inspired by fear of
Bolshevism he obtained passage of statutes control-
ling motor traffic, limiting rents in the congested
areas of the cities of the State and providing refer-
enda by the voters on bond issues authorizing
$300,000,000 for grade crossing removal, $50,-
000,000 for State hospital improvements and $1 5,-
000,000 for State parks. His greatest triumph
was accomplished during 1924: the reduction of
taxes by a total of about $17,000,000. Besides be-
ing financially sound, the Governor’s action was
political witchcraft of the sort that left the G.O.P.
shuddering.

“I believe,” he said in his January message, “that it is
a very great mistake to take from the taxpayers in any one
year more than is needed for the actual conduct of the
government, always leaving a safe reserve in the bank in
case of trouble. I am satisfied after a comparison of the
State’s resources, plus the clear surplus over and above
commitments, taking account of fixed charges and making
allowances for progressing other public work of a special
nature, that there can be a substantial reduction in the
State income tax, to every person paying it, for at least
this year.”

The amount of the reduction, the Governor rec-
ommended, should be 25 per cent. His suggestion

261Alfred E. Smith

was generally applauded, but nothing was done; for
the obvious reason that the greater the sums in the
treasury the more would be available for local im-
provements in rural districts. Besides, the Repub-
lican leaders knew, the income tax was more ob-
noxious to the city than the country sections.
Toward the end of the session, however, the leaders
were told with emphasis that their plan to use the
surplus for vote-producing appropriations was fu-
tile because the Governor intended to veto all of
them. They passed the income tax cut with re-

 

luctance.
Then Smith, the city man theoretically uninter-
ested in levies on real estate, sprang a surprise that
was to win for him widespread approbation in up-
state communities. Still further reductions were
possible, he announced. These should be in the
form of a 25 per cent slash in the direct tax. To
this, of course, the befuddled country cousins could
offer no objection and they stampeded to approve
the bill. The saving was about $8,700,000 in each
case. The inability of Al’s opponents to perceive
when they are beaten is, I have said, amazing. The
tax reduction was for the current year, only. The
next year Smith found that the same lower rates
were possible and he again urged them. It was not,
however, until protests began to arrive in every mail
that they again passed the bill. Then Al received
all of the credit.
262Chapter Seven

 

THE TALE OF SMITH AS GOVERNOR GROWS, PER-
haps, monotonous in its repetition of nomination by
acclaim, vigorous campaigning, reélection and then
victory over an obstructionist Republican legisla-
ture. In 1924 he defeated young Theodore Roose-
velt, whose chief claim to the governorship was an
excellent record as a member of the A.E.F. and
whose campaign meetings were featured by the
presence of local veterans on the platform, Gold
Star mothers, flags and bands playing the more polite
melodies of the war his father had been eager to
manage for America. Two years later the G.O.P.
discovered most of its notables strangely reluctant
to join the ranks of those who had been defeated by
Al in gubernatorial contests. At last, however, it
found a candidate in Ogden L. Mills, a gentleman
of wealth and social position who at the moment
was a member of the House of Representatives and
reputed to be an intimate of the Silent Man of the
White House. Now that Mr. Mills, like Whitman,
Miller and Young Teddy, has joined the Licked-by-
Al Smith-for-Governor Club, he is serving his party
and the nation as first assistant at Washington to

263Alfred E. Smith

Andrew Mellon, “the greatest Secretary of the
Treasury since Alexander Hamilton”.

“Beat Smith now and you will not have to beat
him in 1928” was the unofficial slogan of the Re-
publican strategists in the 1926 State campaign.
Having failed to accomplish this laudable purpose,
and aware that 1928 is rushing toward them at a
fearful speed, these same gentlemen are now issuing
statements to the effect that Smith is obviously the
last candidate that the Democrats will nominate.
They consent to frequent interviews in which they
point out that no party would be so absurd as to jeop-
ardize even a remote chance of winning the presi-
dency by naming a man handicapped by being wet,
a Catholic and a member of Tammany Hall. In
the 1926 contest, however, the watchword aroused
the party’s workers to unprecedented heat and in-
dustry. Mills himself, there is slight doubt, would
have preferred to lecture on such high class issues
as extravagance, inefficiency on the part of Smith,
and the dangerous evils of a water-power develop-
ment program which threatened to limit the exploi-
tation of hydroelectric projects by private interests.
It must have been extremely distasteful to him, a
man whose home had never been contaminated by
yellow newspapers, to hear that the moribund
Hearst, as a final gesture in the New York political
scheme, had published another blast against Smith
and had announced his support of the Republican
264A Prisoner at Albany

candidate. Mills successfully suppressed, however,
any urge of his better nature to reject this support.
He even permitted his managers to hand him that
ancient Hearst issue—Bad Milk in New York!

He stumped up and down the State making ex-
actly the sort of speeches that he had so often heard
ridiculed in the more exclusive New York clubs.
He screamed that the milk in New York was “defi-
cient in butter fats”, and cited laboratory tests, made
at the order of the Republican State Committee, to
prove it. Inthe Hearst papers and in other journals
appeared the old, wild headlines of “poisoned milk?’,
although the Republican nominee had never gone
that far in his accusations. ‘This barnstorming, typ-
ical of Hearst and Hylan and the Tammany Hall
of a former day, had its effect on the mass mind and
toward the end of October it seemed possible that
Mills might win. Then the milk issue blew up ut-
terly when the very scientists hired by the G.O.P.
were forced to admit that their tests had disclosed
only that the city’s milk supply was at least the equal
of that in other parts of the State. Last-minute yells
from Sam Koenig’s men that Tammany had villain-
ously corrupted those who had made the tests were
without effect, so Mr. Mills tossed in his sleep and
wondered how large would be Al’s majority this
time.

The Al Smith who in 1926 was, for the fifth
time, the nominee of his party for the highest office
265Alfred E. Smith

in the State had grown enormously in stature from
the man who eight years before had eagerly accepted
designation to run against Whitman. Statesmen,
who for months have pulled wires and made bar-
gains in order to obtain a nomination, frequently
deny in public that they are candidates and assert
that they will consent to run only “if drafted by the
people”. But it was really true, in 1926, that Smith
was forced to run; first by his ambitions for the
presidency and second because the Democrats had no
other candidate of merit. Smith, I have said, was
a vastly different figure in 1926 than he had been
in 1918, for the reason that in the intervening years
there had been pregnant changes. The most impor-
tant of these, obviously, was the death early in 1924
of Charles F. Murphy. This seemed an appalling
blow to Tammany and weeks passed, filled with bit-
ter quarrels, before his successor had been chosen.
To Smith it meant the loss of a skilled manipulator;
but it also meant quite definitely a step upward in his
own. standing. With Murphy in command he al-
ways faced the possibility that the Murphy-Hearst
conspiracy of 1922 might be repeated. Al had been
a young and totally obscure politician when Murphy
had become the Boss, and the memory of those days
could never be entirely dispelled. ‘The selection of
George W. Olvany as head of Tammany placed, of
course, a different emphasis on things. Here was no
figure once viewed, from the lowest ranks, as the

266A Prisoner at Albany

embodiment of all power. Olvany was Smith’s con-
temporary, already in his debt. In 1915, as Sheriff,
Al had made him his counsel.

Thus it was not Olvany, but Al Smith, who was
the Boss of the State convention, again held at Syra-
cuse, in September of 1926. His was the omnipo-
tent presence that stalked through the hotel lobby
to a suite from which came peremptory orders. Be-
hind him stretched the years of his achievement in
the State. Inthe dim past was his work in the Con-
stitutional Convention, with its endorsement by Re-
publican leaders of prominence. The foundation of
his might lay in his series of victories: the defeat
of Whitman in 1918, his personal triumph in 1920
when he polled an amazing vote although he lost to
Miller, his come-back in 1922 when he ran far
ahead of this same candidate, and his victory over
the flag-waving Teddy in 1924. It rested, too, in
the still vivid memories of 1922, when Tammany
had betrayed him for Hearst and had then retreated
in the presence of courage. The boys had not for-
gotten that the year previous, 1925, Smith had
turned against Hylan and had forced the nomina-
tion of Jimmy Walker. They knew that McLaugh-
lin, already hated in his job of Police Commissioner
of New York, was Al’s man and therefore unassail-
able, despite his nasty attitude toward politicians
seeking favors. They knew, finally, that Al Smith
and no other would select this time the ticket to run

267Alfred E. Smith

with him and the platform on which Democracy
would make its appeal to the voters.

All of this Smith did, harshly and arrogantly with
his coat off, his collar wilted and his shirt wet with
perspiration. ‘There was a sporadic insurgent move-
ment in the shape of two candidates for minor State
offices. Buffalo, Syracuse and Albany, ruled Al
sharply, must be represented on the ticket and it was
the privilege of the bosses of those communities to
pick their men. The insurgents slunk off. Then
the wise ones from Tammany, Olvany among them,
objected to a platform plank endorsing the entrance
of the United States into the World Court. This,
they said, smacked of the League of Nations and
would bring brickbats from the Irish. But Smith,
probably so advised by Mrs. Moskowitz, insisted
that the plank goin. It did, and he gained thereby
a talking point in the event that he runs for the
presidency in 1928.

Long before the campaign against Mills in 1926,
Smith had reacted from his inclination, on first be-
coming more than a ward politician, toward plat-
form formality. All the old sprightliness is there,
and much of the flavor of the East Side. Con-
sciously now, instead of despite himself, he resorts to
tricks of the stage. Sometimes he is effective to a
degree that is startling and an address becomes as
fascinating as a Broadway show. Laughter strides
the boards with Al Smith; “Laughter and ap-

268A Prisoner at Albany

plause”, as the hurrying stenographers who record
his speeches phrase it.

He spent most of the afternoon of October 30,
1926, laboring on an address to be made that night
at the Metropolitan Opera House. It was the last
important speech of the campaign and those unfa-
miliar with Smith’s present methods might have
supposed that it was to be long and tedious. But
preparation on the part of the Al of to-day does not
mean boredom for his audience.

“TI will take for my text,” he said that night, grin-
ning his old grin, “the subject of ‘The Republican
Dilemma’ or ‘Looking for an Issue’. Now what
I propose to do to-night is to stage a conference for
you. I am going to paint a picture in words of a
Republican conference. In this I am going to have
the leaders in thought in the Republican Party, fa-
miliarly referred to as the best minds. I am also
going to have a few of what is known as the machine
leaders, the men that are elected to deliver the goods.
And the conference would certainly not be complete
without a few of the legislative leaders. Picture
in your mind’s eye that they are right around me,
eres,

Standing well toward the front of the platform,
he gestured in the direction of an imaginary group
behind him. The audience snickered. Then Smith
explained that the conference was seeking “an over-
shadowing issue” by which they could accomplish

269Alfred E. Smith

the election of their candidate. I quote from the
stenographic report:

“One of the better minds immediately said: ‘Wel-I-l,
why then, take economy! We seem to be progressing
reasonably well with that in the nation. Why not transfer
it to the State? We will take economy for an issue!”

“The machine leader knows nothing about Economy.
He hates it. He is satisfied to ride along with it for an
issue, though. But we have got to hear from the legisla-
tive leader. He says:

“ (Now wait. Don’t be in too much of a hurry. Don’t
go too far with the Economy issue It may be too difficult
for us to develop. In the first place, you have to bear in
mind that even the boys and girls in the public schools
of the State know that Governor Smith and no part of his
administration can spend a five cent piece until that piece
is first appropriated by the legislature. We have been in
absolute control in the last five years. Smith was chair-
man of the Ways and Means Committee of the Assembly
for a long while. He understands these appropriation
bills from good, hard, long experience and he is liable to
ask you to point to something in that bill that you could
take out. And if he does, you will be in bad.’ ”

 

Smith pulled a wry face and glanced around at
his fictitious fellow-Republicans. He mimicked
another legislative leader, pointing out that the
G.O.P. majorities in the last three years had sent
appropriation bills to the Governor from which
$20,000,000 had been slashed by veto. This, he
said, made the best minds at the conference gloomy
and one of them asked:

270A Prisoner at Albany

“What kind of a deal could that be??

“And one of the legislative leaders immediately fitted
into the breach and says, ‘Well, you know some of the
boys from the interior counties and on the Canadian
border go back to the legislature each year under the
promise they are going to get some State money for local
improvements. And we couldn’t let them go back home
saying they were unable to pass the bill in their own legis-
lature. So we let it go down to the Governor and let him
get the abuse that comes from the specially selected sec-
tions of the State when they are vetoed.”

Al paused again, to picture the effect of this on
the Republicans seeking an issue. It was unani-
mously agreed that economy could not be used and
silence settled over the meeting. ‘Then, said Al,
some one suggested tax reduction, also an effective
part of the party’s national program. Why not say
that if a Republican governor were elected similar
tax reductions could be achieved at Albany? Smith
resumed his dialogue:

“One of the leaders said, ‘Now, wait. Don’t go too
strong on tax reduction; don’t stress that because we made
an awful mistake in 1925. We stood up in Albany and
we bitterly opposed tax reduction. We fought the Gover-
nor. We made wild and foolish statements to the effect
that the Governor’s policy would impair the State’s
surplus’.

“Another one said: ‘Wait a minute. You ain’t said half
of it. Tell the conference about that night we sat up until
4 o’clock in the morning trying to find things to spend
money on, and tell about the list of appropriations we sug-

271Alfred E. Smith

gested, amounting in total to over $13,000,000, which, if
adopted by the legislature and signed by the Governor,
would have made tax reduction impossible. And listen,

while you’re at it tell the whole truth.

“ ‘Tell the conference what Smith said about that $13,-
000,000. You remember how stupid we were about it.
We put $2,500,000 1n it anticipating a verdict in a damage
suit that hadn’t been decided yet. And above all things,
don’t overlook that night Smith had the General Electric
Company rig a radio up in the Executive Chamber and sat
talking into it up to 12 o’clock. Don’t forget the advice
that he gave to the people of the State to write to their
Senators and Assemblymen and let them know what they
thought about it. And don’t forget the wagonload of mail
that came up Capitol Hill the next day and saturated the

post office.
“ “No, we better not crow on that too strong because we

were wrong. Smith demonstrated that taxes could be re-
duced, that every known activity of the government could
be cared for, and that there could be a safe surplus. And

there was. So go easy on it.’”

For over two hours, in this fashion, Smith con-
tinued to mimic this conference. He was, beyond
much doubt, close enough to the truth to be almost
phonographic. He skipped from one side of the
stage to the other, grinning, frowning and gesticu-
lating while the audience in the hall pounded its ap-
plause and countless thousands listened in by radio.
He showed the consternation of the Republican
leaders when, discussing water power, they recalled
that the family of their candidate, Ogden Mills,
272A Prisoner at Albany

was financially interested in some of the power com-
panies seeking franchises under the Republican
program. One of the best minds, continued Al
Smith, next offered labor as an issue, saying:

“What is all this talk about labor? Our platform
gives page after page to our devotion to the laboring man.
We tell him every September and October how we love
him. And what our heart is aching to do for him. Is it
possible we have never carried out any of these promises?’

“All is quiet in the conference [Smith went on]. You
can hear a pin drop in the conference for over five minutes,
Then one of the leaders said:

“Keep off that! Keep away from it. It is loaded
with dynamite. In 1924 we made a definite promise, a
specific promise, that we would enact a 48-hour law for
women in industry in this State and do you remember
how our candidate went around talking about the great
sympathy he had with the laboring man? Lay off that!
What happened? Why, two years in succession the Senate
passed a 48-hour bill and when it went over to the As-
sembly it met the strong and overpowering force of a well
organized and well-greased lobby and it went down to an
ignominious death. But wait, you haven’t heard half of
it. Keep off labor, because we may be asked to give our
candidate’s record on it. He was the great driving force
behind the bill that wrote the direct settlement provision
into the Workmen’s Compensation Act, that left the in-
jured men and women of the State at the mercy of the
insurance companies. And Smith was able to show in
1919, after a thorough investigation, that that amendment
alone cost injured men and women in this State over
$500,000 in a single year.’ ”

273Alfred E. Smith

Smith next took up education and had his fancied
conference admit that the Republican Party had
resisted efforts to improve conditions in the schools
and had even refused an appropriation for an inde-
pendent investigation conducted by a committee of
which Michael Friedsam of B. Altman & Company
was the chairman. ‘This board, as in the case of the
reconstruction commission in Al’s first term, paid
its own expenses. The conference-in-search-of-an-
‘ssue then decided to abandon its efforts to attack the
Democratic candidate and to emphasize, instead, the
accomplishments of its own party:

«“ Lets talk about what we did ourselves... . Certainly
some of the things that happened up in Albany were con-
structive; reorganization of the government, rehabilitation
of the State hospitals, the perfection of public works, the
laying out of public parks, the elimination of grade cross-
ings—all of these are great things that affect not only the
business but the human side of government. Let us take

some credit for them.’ ”

At this point Smith paused once more and the
audience, knowing the obstructionist record of the
G.O.P. on these measures, laughed with anticipa-
tion:

“Well, the last straw was piled on the camel’s back
when the legislative leader said to the best minds:

“ Keep off, keep off! You can get no credit for any-
thing you have just mentioned. We fought every one of
those things. .. . It is a matter of State history who

274A Prisoner at Albany

fought the reorganization of the government. When we
were in control in 1921 under Governor Miller we de-
feated it. It is a matter of history that when it went all
over the State we said—“Keep off that amendment!” We
tried everything we could to fight grade crossings. The
chairman of the Finance Committee talked in all small
communities against it and misrepresented it. Well, not
only are we deprived of an issue against Smith, but there
ain’t anything we can say for ourselves.’ ”

Concluding, Smith portrayed the conference de-
bating whether prohibition might be made an issue
and dismissing the idea because it had been the pol-
icy of the party to “talk a little dry to the country
people and then when we get to the great centers of
population talk a little wet”. Nor could the con-
ference accept the threadbare issue of the menace of
Tammany, since it knew that 14th Street had sup-
ported the welfare measures which he, as Gover-
nor, had advocated.

“Well,” said Smith, “there ends the story of the con-
ference. There is no issue and the conference could do
no other thing but say to the candidate: ‘Make your own
issue’. So the candidate went out to make his own issue.”

As he said this, Smith held up a cartoon of Mills
that had appeared in a newspaper. He pointed to a
black shadow that appeared in the background of
the drawing.

“You know who that is! That is Hearst. Lowbrow,
sinister looking creature that lurks behind the candidacy of

275Alfred E. Smith

Ogden Livingston Mills, and he is the man that made the
issue. Well, he made a regular Hearst issue. The busi-
ness of the State of New York or the material financial
prosperity or the betterment of the people does not mean
anything to him and he invented the issue of milk.

“Tf I hadn’t worked hard for the State, the little con-
ference that has just suspended would not have been
forced to drive the aristocratic and intelligent son of an
aristocratic family out in the gutter to pick up Hearst for
his issue.

“The conference could find no issue, because I have
faithfully, honestly and solely given every minute of my
time to the business of the State of New York. I have
bettered its business side. I have bettered its human side.
I have bettered every phase of it. I have never failed to
tackle any problem that came up before it. With the help
of New York and the help of citizens of all parties, I will
go back to take up the job again on the first of January.”Chapter Eight

 

AL SMITH WILL NOT, IT IS VIRTUALLY CERTAIN,
return to Albany again. The conclusion of his pres-
ent term as Governor—no other man in the history
of the State has been elected to this office four times
will mark the release of the prisoner. He will be
glad that this is so, for the job has grown constantly
more irksome. The small salary, $10,000, has
made it impossible for him to set aside savings that
any man, particularly when he has crossed the sad
boundary line of fifty years, wishes to provide for
his family. The work of the Governor’s office is so
great that only by rigid conservation of his strength
has Smith been able to retain his health. He has had
hardly a moment for rest or relaxation.

Ambitious as Al Smith is, and naturally, for the
presidency, he will find much to console him if his
party follows the usual practice of politicians and
chooses a candidate dedicated to neutrality in all
things and therefore without enemies; who is a
Protestant and acceptable to the bigots who believe
that a Catholic president would cable to the Vatican
for approval of his Colonel House. Smith, as I have
before suggested, is beginning to enjoy the fleshpots

277Alfred E. Smith

of life. He knows that as a private citizen he can
earn a large salary from some big corporation. Free
from the obligations of present or future public
office, he will no longer have to pretend that his
heart yearns for Oliver Street, although he dwells
in the gilded splendor of the Biltmore Hotel.
Mayor Hylan, until his political demise, was a faith-
ful ornament of the middle-class Bushwick section
of Brooklyn. But he has recently built himself a
home at Forest Hills, one of the more select suburbs
on Long Island. So Smith, perhaps, will move to
Park Avenue.

Nine years have passed since he first went to Al-
bany as Governor of the State of New York. They
have been years filled with turmoil and have left
their mark on both the man and the politician. The
man, it is my viewpoint, is more inclined to impa-
tience and is less tolerant when associates disagree
with him. He is more austere now than at any other
time in his life. He may be known universally to
newspaper readers as “Good old Al”, the hero of
“The Sidewalks of New York”. But strangers, and
even men who know him fairly well, are learning to
hesitate before they call him by his first name. He
cares nothing for most of the amusements that men
enjoy. He does not, for instance, play cards nor has
he the slightest interest in racing, pugilism or base-
ball. He has taken up golf on the-recommendation
of his physicians and his game is mediocre. Swim-

Q-7
ardA Prisoner at Albany

ming he really delights in, and when he is in the
water his youth returns and he sheds the dignity
that has so swiftly grown upon him. As for the
politician, his attitude in the State convention of
1926 demonstrates his confidence that he and no
other is the Boss. It is a theory of politics that the
party’s destiny is shaped by the voice of its members
and its active workers. In New York, to-day, the
Democratic Party is shaped by Al Smith, and those
who disagree with him do so at their peril. And yet
he is a phenomenon in that he has taken to himself
all the power of a man who commands a personal
machine, but uses his power chiefly in the interests
of good government.

If Smith achieves the Democratic presidential
nomination, his Republican adversaries will be
forced to find, as best they can, some issues in his rec-
ord as Governor. Their chief hope, as they are al-
ready making clear, rests in the charge that the
expenses of the State have increased enormously
since he has been at Albany. ‘They are saying, even
now, that he is disqualified on this ground, alone; as
well as on others that they may be able to whip into
publication form in due time. The budget during
his first year was about $90,000,000 and had
reached $200,000,000 by 1927. The G.O.P. strat-
egists are pointing with horror to the increase in
the public debt and are seeking some way to develop
this issue so that too much emphasis will not be

279Alfred E. Smith

placed upon the fact that the bonds sold have been
for hospitals, grade crossings, parks and other pub-
lic improvements. At the close of the 1927 legis-
lative session they chuckled with glee over Smith’s
inability to make good on the recommendation in
his annual message to continue the 25 per cent in-
come tax cut. The State, they said, was “back on a
war-time basis of taxation”. Smith’s answer to ac-
cusations of extravagance will be, of course, the one
he has made many times before: that the Republican
Party controlled at least one house of the legisla-
ture during all of his terms and approved every cent
that was appropriated. He can, and will, point
again to the millions of dollars slashed annually by
veto from the appropriation bills, and with his rare
gift for the specific will show that these sums were
to have been used for local improvements where the
grass grows green and home-made wine makes for-
mal support of the Volstead Act not too bothersome.
Occasionally one of “the two great political par-
ties” will rise from the mud of mediocrity and will
represent, because of the personality of its candidate,
a principle that really means something. Woodrow
Wilson, I think, gave the Democratic Party a stand-
ing that it had not had for decades. Even the obsti-
nacy that wrecked his dreams, and cowardly leader-
ship in the years that followed, could not quite ef-
face it. But usually there is little to choose between
the two organizations. The boast of Democracy
280A Prisoner at Albany

that it stands uncompromisingly for liberalism is as
silly as for the G.O.P. to deny that the income tax
schedules devised by Mr. Mellon are arranged so
that millionaires can afford to pay their alimony
bills. The Republican Party, in office, appoints de-
partment heads approved by the House of Morgan.
The Democrats, on the rare occasions when they are
in that happy situation, select third-rate political
leaders from the South. Any real question, like pro-
hibition or the Klan, is as unwelcome to both parties
as a chiropractor at a convention of the American
Medical Association. Honesty has joined the tariff
dodo, since the voters in 1924 endorsed the theory
that public servants are expected to be crooked.

But I grow bitter. The record of Smith as Goy-
ernor of the State of New York for four terms has in
it much to indicate that here is another personality
around whom discouraged idealists, so often called
cynics, can rally. It is still within the realm of pos-
sibility that he will spoil that record before the 1928
convention is called to order. But it is more than
probable that he will not, for Al Smith is watching
his step very carefully these days. The danger is
rather that he will be too cautious. His admirers
hope, however, that he will resist pressure from such
well-meaning gentlemen as former Governor Sweet
of Colorado and will decline to protest that he has
always been in favor of the Volstead Act.

281Alfred E. Smith

Smith’s record on prohibition will be discussed in
a later chapter. Looking back to 1919, when he
began his first term, there are a number of striking
accomplishments to his credit. I have already de-
scribed, almost lyrically, the theories of government
that he expressed when the Red Menace was at its
height in 1919 and 1920 and when he insisted upon
the veto of 100 per cent Americanism laws. The
measures that he forced down the throats of four
Republican legislatures demonstrate his ability as a
leader and are signs that, if President, he might have
similar influence with Congress. The successful
parts of his program might be summarized as fol-
lows, in the order, as I see them, of their impor-

 

tance:
Housing

From the start of his first term, then working
through the Reconstruction Commission, Smith has
had this problem under study and has won the ap-
probation of social workers and other experts. The
housing problem has been most acute, necessarily, in
New York City where money is always available for
large apartment houses and motion picture theaters,
but where high rates of interest on mortgages make
the construction of decent homes for poor people
virtually impossible. The Governor supported the
bills suggested by Samuel Untermyer, counsel to a
282A Prisoner at Albany

legislative housing commission, which might have
controlled combinations in building materials.
Most of these were strangled by the Republican
Party. He also supported rent legislation and bills
permitting tax exemption to stimulate the building
of homes. He urged, in 1926, a law which permit-
ted corporations agreeing to limited dividends to is-
sue bonds through a State Housing Bank, at low in-
terest, and to condemn land for building purposes.
Republican opposition, on the ground that it was
Socialistic, forced Smith to accept a compromise bill
which is less effective but which may still do much.
It grants liberal tax exemption and tends to prevent
speculation.

Education

As in the housing problem, Smith based his pro-
gram on the findings of experts. He signed, early
in his gubernatorial career, a bill giving equal pay
to woman teachers, but has insisted that municipali-
ties shall have the right to pass on other salary in-
creases. During his first term the State contributed
about $9,000,000 for education; for the fiscal year
which ended June 30, 1927, it spent $82,500,000.
Al can be criticized, however, for not interfering
with continued Tammany meddling with the Board
of Education in New York City, which has done
much to undermine the morale of the city’s school
system.

283Alfred E. Smith

 

Consolidation of Departments

When Smith took office the government of the
State was carried on through almost 200 boards and
commissions, many of them with authority to sign
contracts obligating the State to large expenditures.
Few of them were responsible to any one. The con-
solidation of these scattered bureaus into an orderly
system of less than a score of departments was ap-
proved by leading Republicans in the Constitutional
Convention of 1915. Smith’s reconstruction com-
mission gave further study to it four years later.
Then the G.O.P. attempted to make a political issue
of the subject, with the result that Smith was unable
for years to accomplish passage of the necessary
amendments to the statute and constitutional law.
By appealing to public opinion he was successful in
the end. The heads of the more important State de-
partments are now responsible to the Governor and
confer with him, as members of his Cabinet, every
two weeks. For the first time in its history, New
York has a scientific form of government. The sys-
tem now in operation will be the subject of study by
experts from all parts of the country.

The Executive Budget

State funds had for many years been appro-
priated by the legislature through a mysterious and

284A Prisoner at Albany

appalling document understood by none except one
or two of the leaders. This appropriation bill in-
cluded, under various vague headings, items for lo-
calimprovements. It was drafted behind the closed
doors of committee rooms. The new Executive
Budget places the initiative and the responsibility
upon the Governor. At the beginning of the year
he submits the list of necessary appropriations. 'The
legislature may add to it, or subtract from it. But
everything is done in the open. The G.O.P. ma-
jority, fighting this amendment, said that it made
“a King of the Governor”. It was approved at the
polls.

Welfare Legislation

Smith’s greatest services toward the protection of
men, women and children in industry were accom-
plished while he was still a member of the legisla-
ture. But since he has been Governor he has used
all of his influence to further such reforms as mini-
mum wages and the 48-hour week for women. He
has obtained an imperfect 48-hour week law. He
has always opposed frequent Republican efforts to
undermine the Workmen’s Compensation Act. In
1925 he urged a referendum on the federal child
labor amendment and said he felt sure that the
people of the State favored its ratification. He
did not, however, press the issue when the ancient

285Alfred E. Smith

war-cry of “state rights” was raised, by skillful
manufacturing interests, against the amendment.

 

Parks

Smith began in 1923 the development of a State
park system and obtained approval of a $15,000,000
bond issue for this purpose. He fought the Repub-
lican legislature which, in 1925, obeyed the man-
date of a group of wealthy landowners on Long
Island and attempted to prevent the establishment
of public parks in the neighborhood of residential
sections.

Water Power

I mention this at the end of the list for the reason
that nothing has been accomplished, except nega-
tively. ‘The water-power resources of the State are
still undeveloped and millions of dollars are being
lost annually. Smith is entitled to credit, however,
for the fact that the hydroelectric interests have as
yet been unable to seize this natural resource under
terms that are disadvantageous to the public. Both
parties have injected politics into the issue. Smith
has altered his program in some of its technical de-
tails at various times and does not, perhaps, regret
that the issue has been preserved for presidential
purposes. He seeks the creation of a quasi-public
corporation which can sell its securities on a tax-

286A Prisoner at Albany

exempt basis and build the power plants at lower cost
than can private capital. Distribution of the cur-
rent is to be accomplished through contracts with
private companies. This has been defeated by the
Republican Party. An alternative plan offered pro-
vides for private operation on long-term leases with
the State. ‘The State is to share in the earnings,
can regulate the rates and can recapture the proper-
ties at the conclusion of the lease. In theory the
Republican plan seems sound enough; in fact, rate
regulation has never been fair to the consumer and
recapture clauses are seldom workable. \BOOK FIVE

Presidential YearningsChapter One

 

THE DEMOCRATIC NATIONAL CONVENTION OF
1924, which had convened on June 24 in high good
humor, finally ended on the night of July g with
every one except the members of the Republican
National Committee, who had been watching the
battle from a distance, plunged in gloom. These
gentlemen, whose merriment had increased as the
days had dragged by, knew that the nomination of
John W. Davis meant the election of Calvin the
Stuffy. They were aware, as at heart the Demo-
crats must also have been aware, that the scarlet
brand of “corporation lawyer” would do more to
retain Coolidge in the White House than all the
carefully staged sap-bucket toting and hay pitching
of the Republican candidate. Davis would carry
the South, of course. But in pivotal States such as
New York his affiliations with the House of Mor-
gan, the New York Telephone Company and the
United States Rubber Company were certain to turn
hundreds of thousands against him. It does not, or-
dinarily, matter to the Democrats of the nation that
a candidate is a gentleman, intelligent and honest.
Mr. Davis is all of these. But as a candidate he rep-

291Alfred E. Smith

resented not only a compromise but also the con-
servative wing of the party. He could not play the
role of Demagogue; and the Democrats, except un-
der the most extraordinary circumstances, are lost
unless they can thunder against the menace of Wall
Street, banks, big corporations and the Standard Oil
Company.

Another cause for chuckling at the headquarters
of the Republicans was the history of the convention
that had just ended. The Republican Convention,
which had gathered at Cleveland merely to nomi-
nate Coolidge by acclaim and to select the discreetly
profane Mr. Dawes as his running mate, had been
smart enough to ignore the Ku Klux Klan. The
Democrats, either more honest or unable to prevent
it, had fought out this issue on the floor. The weary
balloting between Al Smith and William G.
McAdoo, with never a hope that either could do
more than block the nomination of the other, had
caused enmities that could never be patched up be-
fore Election Day, for all the enthusiastic statements
and pledges of support that were given just before
the tired delegates hurried to their trains. But what
pleased the Republican strategists the most, particu-
larly those who looked to the future, was their be-
lief that Al Smith, whose candidacy they really
feared, had been eliminated for all time as a presi-
dential possibility. They knew that the issues be-
tween the Smith forces and those of McAdoo had
292Presidential Yearnings

not been settled. They felt certain that before 1928
arrived each man would have been commanded to
withdraw in the interest of harmony and that the
Democrats would again be forced to nominate some
nondescript as their standard-bearer. ‘They were in
error, as it has turned out. But this was due to de-
velopments that none could have then foreseen.

The Democratic convention came to New York
through the efforts of a group of citizens who felt
that it would be an excellent thing to convince the
rest of the country that the town was not the red-
light menace generally conceived by the sticks. Such
staunch Republicans as Frank Munsey assisted in
the plans, first set in motion by Herbert Bayard
Swope, executive editor of The World. ‘The prom-
ise of enough cash to enrich the impoverished party
treasury won the consent of the Democratic Na-
tional Committee. During the weeks before the
sessions began a gay spirit of boosting pervaded the
city. The convention, it was declared, would be a
great thing for business. The delegates and their
wives would spend many a dollar at the shops and
at the theaters. The hotels would do an enormous
trade. Season tickets to the convention were in great
demand and were exchanged for $100 contributions
tothe fund. Before it was over, however, the shop-
keepers were growling that the delegates must have
either left their money in the home-town bank or
given it to the local bootleggers, who had not do-

293Alfred E. Smith

nated a nickel to the convention fund. Only the
Follies and similarly frothy shows, which always
flourish on rural patronage, did any business. Tick-
ets to the convention, sought so eagerly before the
opening day, were being scorned by chauffeurs and
housemaids during the second week. The conven-
tion was a flop for the same reason that all nominat-
ing speeches and most political orations are a bore;
it was far too long. The delegates finally left for
their homes resenting the time and money that it
had taken to nominate a candidate who could not
win.

They were bitter, too, over the misguided enthu-
siasm that New York had shown for Al Smith and
the degree to which his supporters had whooped up
mechanical demonstrations in his behalf. Some
went so far as to hint that holding the convention in
Manhattan had been a plot on the part of Tammany
Hall to nominate Al. The resentment was not, of
course, unanimous. A few of the delegates were
mannerly enough to appreciate the efforts made in
their behalf and realized that the New York com-
mittee had established a precedent in convention
cities by preventing profiteering on the part of ho-
tels and restaurants. Half a dozen were bright
enough to know that the deadlock which had oc-
curred would have taken place irrespective of the
convention city.

Only three years have passed, but the 1924 con-

294Presidential Yearnings

vention has been, happily, nearly forgotten. The
old Madison Square Garden, scene of horse-shows,
circuses and prize-fights and once notorious because
on its roof Harry Thaw had shot Stanford White,
has been torn down and its place is being taken by a
building that will be merely another sky-scraper.
Most of the days of the convention were dull and
drab, but there were moments of high excitement,
of color; even a few of courage. The sessions, on
the whole, were monotonous and the delegates who
clutched their State standards, paraded and screamed
applause were puny figures whose votes were con-
trolled by men scorning to come near the Garden.
But there were exceptions:

. . A morning session when the gay lanterns
hung against the dim ceiling made, for the moment,
a pretty thing of the Garden. The heat of the day
was not yet and the flags and the bunting stirred in
a breeze that somehow had found its way past the
guards and the ticket takers. . . . Governor Bran-
don of Alabama, standing on his chair and scream-
ing as the poll on each ballot started: “Twenty-four
votes for Oscar-r-r W. Under-r-r-wood!” .. .
White-lipped young patrolmen of the city force cir-
culating through the aisles while the battle over the
Klan plank raged and bloodshed was not far beneath
the surface. . . . A frightened woman seated with
the Georgia delegation, surrounded by chivalrous
Southern gentlemen who gesticulated and shook

295Alfred E. Smith

their fists and forced her to change her vote and
support the Klan, and thereby brand the Democratic
Party lacking in courage. .. - A young man from
Alabama, arising to place the name of Senator
Underwood in nomination, and daring to name and
damn the Klan. . . . Franklin D. Roosevelt, limp-
ing on crutches to the speaker’s stand, smiling down
and starting to say “Alfred E. Smith”, but getting
only as far as the first syllable. . . . A mad demon-
stration that began with happy spontaneity and
lasted until only fire sirens and other mechanical de-
vices were blaring a paid-for demonstration for
Smith, who deserved a better tribute. . . . Al him-
self, appearing on the last night of the convention by
unanimous invitation and making a speech that 1s
better forgotten, because it proved that he was not
then presidential in stature. . . . William Jennings
Bryan, whose voice had once been the most resonant
‘n the Democratic Party, attempting to speak and
being booed by Tammany roughnecks; a man grown
too old for the political arena and soon to die.
Consternation on the faces of Southern delegates
when a well-meaning band leader played “March-
ing through Georgia” as a tribute to the Georgia
delegation, beginning a parade.

In 1918, it will be recalled, when running for
Governor for the first time, Smith received a letter
from McAdoo endorsing his candidacy. Interest-
ing in the light of subsequent events, this document

296Presidential Yearnings

meant nothing. It had been written at the request
of the Democratic organization of New York, which
was anxious to cloak its nominee with the respect-
ability of Wilsonism, and thereby counteract the
prejudice against Tammany Hall. Certainly Mc-
Adoo has never had any reason to feel friendly
toward Smith. Two years later, at the Democratic
convention at San Francisco, Al was a “favorite son”
candidate from New York. Murphy, in charge of
this maneuver, had not the slightest idea that Smith
could be nominated and did not, probably, desire it.
The purpose of advancing his name was a common-
place example of political strategy; to hold the wet
delegates as a unit against the advances of the
McAdoo prohibition forces. ‘The scheme worked
admirably. McAdoo could not get two-thirds of
the delegates and when the break came the lads from
New York were switched to James M. Cox, who
was, at the least, moist. Cox was nominated and
joined the ghostly procession of Democratic presi-
dential nominees who have run for the Presidency
without a chance of being elected.

The Democratic Party has dedicated itself by its
system of nominations to lost, if any, causes. It is
not, perhaps, wholly to blame for this because, un-
like the Republicans who have no representation in
the South and whose members are much alike from
coast to coast in that they represent business inter-
ests and respectability, the Democratic leaders must

297Alfred E. Smith

curry favor with three different sections of the
country, the East, the West and the South, Whe
ideal Democratic nominee would be a Protestant and
therefore not offensive to the South, a wet and
therefore acceptable in the large cities of the East, a
dry and therefore not obnoxious to the daughters and
sons of wagon-train pioneers of the West who be-
lieve in, even obey, in some cases, the Volstead Act.
He should, in addition, be somewhat liberal, but not
enough so to alienate men of wealth whose purses
must be opened for the campaign funds.

It is to prevent the nomination of a man who does
not, in theory, combine all these virtues that the
impossible two-thirds rule has been adopted. Thus
when there are two leading candidates, possibly men
of distinction, each able to control a third of the
delegates, the nomination is virtually certain to go
to one of the many dark horses ready to gallop up
from obscurity. Smith, in 1924, was viewed with
suspicion in the South because he was a wet and a
Catholic. He had little or no support in the West.
McAdoo was hated by the Wet-Irish-Catholic
Democrats of the large industrial centers of the
East. In 1924 Al, as runner-up to McAdoo, op-
posed the abolition of the two-thirds rule which
gave him the power of veto. To-day the positions
of the two men have been reversed. Smith has an ex-
cellent chance of getting a majority of the delegates
and his managers therefore favor a nomination by

298Presidential Yearnings

the lesser margin. But McAdoo, of course, now
supports the two-thirds rule with vigor.

Some day, perhaps, the Democratic Party will
grow weary of defeat. It may then consider avail-
ability less and the ability of a candidate to win elec-
tions more. Continued loss of patronage, the South
and West may decide, is even more lamentable than
the specter of a wet or a Catholic in the White
House. The old prejudices, however, are all too
likely to be dominant again when the Democratic
Convention of 1928 begins its deliberations.Chapter Two

 

IF THERE IS ANYTHING AS LUDICROUS, IN MOST OF
its aspects, as the sessions of a national convention,
it is the spectacle that goes on in each of the hotels
where the delegates gather and where the hopeful
candidates have established their headquarters. The
Waldorf-Astoria was the principal rendezvous in
the 1924 Democratic affair and certainly the staid
old hotel had never appeared so strange. Not all
of the candidates had their rallying grounds at the
Waldorf; McAdoo was brooding by himself over
at the Vanderbilt Hotel on Park Avenue. But
nearly all of the delegates, alternates, political
hangers-on and aspirants for ambassadorial jobs who
had flocked to town thronged through the corridors.
The variety of peculiar methods by which visi-
tors to a campaign city plan to nominate their can-
didate is amazing. ‘Two or three days before the
sessions started McAdoo supporters were handing
out placards, bearing the magic words “Mcil Dom
to be tucked in the bands of straw hats. Smith’s
friends, apparently convinced that “The Sidewalks
of New York” left much to be desired, had hurried
around getting campaign songs which, they were
300Presidential Yearnings

confident, would stampede the convention for Al,
once they were sung from the floor. I quote from

one lyric, “Dedicated to Governor Alfred E.
Smith”:

AL, MY PAL

The nation’s sad and things are bad
While dark clouds fill the sky,

For evil men have triumphed in the land.
But Justice soon their plans will ruin

And those that laugh will cry,

For better men will take command!

Chorus

Al, my pal, a nation’s falling

In the war ’tween might and right,

Al, my pal, your country’s calling,
Lead us onward in the fight!

Al, my pal, to you we’re turning,
Through dark clouds will shine the sun.
Al, my pal, for you we’re yearning,

Lead us on to Washington!

Ten million men and women then
Will march with eager eyes,
With ballots and not bullets in each hand.
They’ll strike for right with all their might,
And from that day will rise
A newer, better land!

Chorus: Al, my pal, etc.
301Alfred E. Smith

It is not improbable that Smith, as late as mid-
year in 1923, was scheduled to be used by the wet
element of his party for the same purpose as in
1920: to wreck McAdoo. The former Secretary
of the Treasury had made no secret of his intention
again to seek the nomination and his candidacy was
just as unwelcome to the wets of the East as it had
been four years previous. Smith had, in effect,
stopped him then. He could do so a second time.
But by the time the Democrats of New York held
their State convention at Albany, on April 15, for
the purpose of selecting delegates-at-large to the
national convention, his rdle had become far more
important than that of a man who was merely to
prevent the nomination of another. Long before
the ballyhoo at the Garden began there were many
who believed that he might actually be nominated.
McAdoo, as counsel to Doheny, had fallen under
the cloud of the oil scandals. He had obvious sup-
port from the Klan and did not repudiate that sup-
port. Smith, on the other hand, had surprised even
his own backers by unexpected strength in distant
parts of the country. In Wisconsin and Minnesota,

for instance, he had been victorious in primary con-
tests held to elect convention delegates. He had the
definite pledge of George E. Brennan, Democratic
Boss of Illinois, that the votes of that State would
be his. Smith did not, it is true, have any definite
newspaper assistance as his boom started to become
302Presidential Yearnings

a matter for serious consideration. Even the New
York World questioned his entire fitness and pro-
tested that it had no candidate. Predictions were
being made, however, that Al had an excellent
chance, after salutes to favorite sons had been given,
to get all or some of the delegates from New York,
Connecticut, Rhode Island, New Hampshire, Mas-
sachusetts, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Illinois, Wis-
consin, Minnesota and Delaware. The forecasts, as
it turned out, were not unduly optimistic.

As the convention drew near Smith, like the rest
of the leading candidates, indulged in the usual
windy and meaningless statements pointing out the
certainty of his nomination and eventual election.
But during the period from January to May in 1924
he held rigidly to his previously declared policy
of declining to discuss the situation or to do anything
personally to further his chances. I do not mean,
naturally, that Al did not talk things over with Mrs.
Moskowitz or other intimates. Democrats from
friendly States were undoubtedly received with
cordiality at Albany. But by far the greater part
of his time he gave to the business of being Governor
and so, when formally endorsed at the Albany State
convention, he could say with entire honesty:

“T want to step out of my character as Governor and
have a personal word with you. . . . It would be a diffi-
cult task for any man to stand before an audience of this
kind and be able adequately to express the appreciation

393Alfred E. Smith

he would feel for the great compliment, the great honor
and the great distinction that come to him to be spoken of
as the choice of his party in the greatest State in the Union
for the highest office in all the world.

“Tf I were to tell you that I haven’t heard anything on
this particular subject for the last year, you wouldn’t
believe it, because it wouldn’t be true. I have heard a
ereat deal about it; but in the frankness that ought to
exist among friends and comrades together, let me say this
to you: I have done absolutely nothing about it, either
‘nside or outside of the State, and I do not intend to do
anything about it.

“The man who would not have an ambition for that
office would have a dead heart. But I stand exactly in the
position to-day that I stood on the floor of the Constitu-
tional Convention in 1915, when I said that the man who
used one office and neglected it in order to climb to a
higher one was not deserving of the one he had. J am
going to do nothing about it, because there is nothing I
can do. . . . If I fell down on this job, I would never
forgive myself and I would not ask forgiveness from any
one else. If the required number of delegates in the
National Convention takes your view of it, I will be hon-
ored beyond the power of expression to lead the forces
of my party in the next campaign.”

Charles F. Murphy, Boss of Tammany Hall, was
to have been the master mind, behind the scenes, of
the plan to nominate Smith. He had confessed, it
is said, that he considered the candidacy of Al the
crowning achievement of a life filled with the vic-
tories that politicians call great. This time, he 1s
reported to have told close associates, he would act

304Presidential Yearnings

unselfishly. Having a hand in sending a son of
14th Street to Washington would be reward enough.
The miracle accomplished, he intended to sail for
Europe and ask not a single favor. But Murphy
died on the morning of April 25, ten days after the
convention at Albany. It seemed, at the time, a
terrific setback to the hopes of Smith, but I cannot
see that it made the slightest difference in the end.
Even Murphy’s great talents in bargaining and
strategy could not have changed the result. For
Smith, I repeat, was doomed to defeat in 1924.

Franklin D. Roosevelt, who lives near Pough-
keepsie, has some social position and does not bear
the Tammany brand, was selected to act as Smith’s
manager and to counteract the prejudice against the
Wigwam. The actual commanders were to be
Brennan of Illinois and Norman E. Mack, national
committeeman from Buffalo. ‘Tammany was to
remain very much in the background. Meanwhile,
on May 18, Smith himself suffered grievous per-
sonal loss in the death of his cherished mother. But
plans for the battle went on. Three weeks before
the convention, on June 1, Roosevelt started the
avalanche of silly predictions with the remark that
Smith was certain to be nominated. His clairvoy-
ance went as far as to include the remark that he
“would have more than 300 votes in the Electoral
College, well above the number necessary for a
choice”.

305Alfred E. Smith

“T believe,” said Smith himself, on the eve of the
convention, “that when they get around to naming
the real man, after distributing the complimentary
votes, P11 be nominated.”

“The rank and file of the people of this country

want me nominated,” he said, in another newspaper
‘nterview. “That constitutes the source of my
strength. This statement may sound a bit chesty,
but it ism’t at all and it shouldn’t be regarded that
way. It’s a mere statement of rEEEN En”
“Smith hasn’t a chance,” ruled William Jen-
nings Bryan, cornered without difficulty at the Wal-
dorf. “The Middle West does not know him and
does not want him; and the South, of course, won’t
have Smith. And then you must remember that J
come from Florida and we are for McAdoo.”

And so, on the morning of June 24, the Demo-
crats assembled in New York City for a national
convention for the first time since 1868. It will be
even longer, I suspect, before they come to Manhat-
tan again. The weather on the opening session was
hot enough, but before the convention finally ad-
journed it was suffocating. It was a wilted, per-
spiring and bedraggled assortment of President-
makers who slumped to their hotels each night.

Before two days had passed, his name not yet in
nomination, Smith found himself the leader of a
cause vastly more important than the ancient issue
of Wet versus Dry. The platform committee, meet-

306Presidential Yearnings

ing at the Wadorf and attempting to draft a docu-
ment that would please everyone and offend nobody,
was exhibiting the cowardice typical of such com-
mittees. The majority of its members insisted upon
a Klan plank which did not name that mystic order,
but disowned its practices. A more courageous
minority held out for one that specifically declared
war on the fraternity of intolerance. The only solu-
tion was to fight it out on the floor of the conven-
tion. Smith had naturally nothing but hatred and
scorn for the kleagles and their small-town armies
of third-rate tradesmen and other weak creatures
needing white robes to cloak their impotence. Nor
was this hatred due to his Catholicism, I am sure.
It was in line with his entire outlook. As Governor
of New York he had approved a bill which forced
such secret societies to file their membership with
the Secretary of State. But asa politician he might
have now followed the example of other practi-
tioners of expediency and dodged the issue. He
did not do so. Several weeks before the convention
began he was asked to state his position on the Klan.

“T had infinitely rather lose the nomination on an
issue of principle,” he said, “than be successful
through resorting to subterfuge.”

McAdoo, similarly questioned, said nothing.
Thereby, in many cases falsely, his supporters were
placed in the ranks of those who favored, even be-
longed to, the Klan.

397Alfred E. Smith

The vote on the two Klan planks was scheduled
for the night of June 29. ‘The bitterness that at-
tends all controversies of a religious nature was
everywhere. The Madison Square Garden that
night was an ominous place. So thin was the veneer
of civilization, so black the thoughts in the minds
of the delegates that it was a terrifying thing
for onlookers to behold. ‘The city police were on
hand in added numbers. It was, in fact, only the
ae of husky Irish peeoleaeet who would as

cheerfully have knocked in the head of a pugnacious
Catholic as of a Protestant Klansman, that pre-
vented rioting. If the smoldering enmities had
flared into flame that night, the Democratic Na-
tional Convention of 1924 would have ended forth-
with and the party might never have recovered from
the disgrace. Intolerance won, assisted by many
delegates who felt that religious liberty and polit-
ical freedom were less vital than votes in the Klan
sections of the country, and who therefore cast their
ballots for the milder of the two planks. The oppo-
nents of the Klan made a gallant fight, however,
and for hours the result was in doubt. When the
votes, fractional votes being allowed some of the
delegates, were counted the tally stood 546.15 for
the plank which straddled the issue and 542.85 for
the one that had been written with courage.

This, beyond question, was a victory for McAdoo.
The Smith men, if politicians ever are able to see

308Presidential Yearnings

the obvious, must have known from that moment
that Al could not be nominated. Not all of the
546.15 votes cast to conciliate the Klan were
McAdoo votes, of course. But all of them repre-
sented delegates who believed the Klan very power-
ful and it was unthinkable that they would nomi-
nate a Catholic. The real rdle of Al Smith became,
then, that of a man who might defeat a candidate
who had accepted the support of the Klan. His
original objective, the elimination of a dry, had been
lost sight of. Having accomplished his purpose, it
was, perhaps, just as well for his friends that Smith
was not nominated. With only a party torn by bit-
ter strife behind him he would, beyond much doubt,
have lost to the safe and sane Mr. Coolidge. This
having occurred he would not now be available, a
far stronger man, for 1928.

There were 1,098 delegates to the 1924 conven-
tion so that, under the two-thirds rule, 732 votes
were necessary for a nomination. On the first bal-
lot Smith received 241 votes and McAdoo 431%.
On the 58th ballot, with which all records for dura-
tion of voting were shattered, Al had 331% and
McAdoo 495, not evena majority. Neither candi-
date ever received a majority. McAdoo’s peak was
530 votes, while the most that Smith ever received,
on the 76th ballot, was 368. ‘These did not repre-
sent the actual strength of the two men, since from
time to time delegations that did not desire the

309Alfred E. Smith

nomination of either voted for them for strategical
purposes. Experts have placed McAdoo’s real
strength at about 420 and Smith’s at not more than
300. Through 77 ballots, for the reason that they
were held by primary instructions and the unit rule,
17 States never shifted their votes. McAdoo had
twelve of these delegations; Smith none.

No Democratic convention in history had with-
stood so bitter and so stubborn a battle before. In
1860, at Charleston, S. C., 57 ballots were taken and
then the convention split on the slavery issue, with
one faction naming Stephen A. Douglas and the
other John C. Breckenridge. The 1924 conven-
tion was, by July 5 with 77 ballots, well on the
road to the destruction of the party. On one side
were demands that Smith withdraw and leave the
field to McAdoo, while from the other came frantic
appeals that he stand fast and save the party from
domination by the Klan. Smith readily consented
to an agrement that the delegates were to be re-
leased from all promises, but he made the specifica-
tion that McAdoo must also bow to this arrange-
ment. Finally, and reluctantly, McAdoo did this
on the night of July 9. Within four hours, on the
103rd ballot, John W. Davis was nominated.

“T shall lead in this campaign a united and mili-
tant and a victorious party,” Mr. Davis told the
delegates, who cheered out of sheer relief, simulated
enthusiasm and rushed for their trains.

210Presidential Yearnings

But before they did so a resolution was adopted
calling upon Smith to address the convention. Few
men have had a greater opportunity than this, and
few have so completely fallen down. A nomination
at last achieved, the delegates were glad to forget
for an instant the bitter nature of the struggle. They
had heard so much about Al that they were anxious
to see him. They knew that he was dearly loved
by the people of New York and they suspected that
the love was based on a personality that was charm-
ing, gracious, humorous and typical of the city that
had bred him. They wanted to laugh, probably no
crowd of men and women had ever wanted to laugh
so much as did the delegates to the dying national
convention. Al started well enough. He begged
them to forget the demonstrations in his behalf.

“Tf you have been annoyed in any way,” he said,
“by the various people with whom you have come
into contact, in their zeal to explain to you why I
am the greatest man in the world, overlook it.”

But then he went on, with lamentable taste, to
make a speech that might have been written for
Mayor Hylan. He told of the great things accom-
plished during his régime at Albany by the State of
New York; its soldier bonus, the hospitals for
veterans, the appropriations for schools, the road
program, the welfare laws. He said, in part:

“We have the most enlightened factory code in the
world, bar none. We have the most progressive work-

BrAlfred E. Smith

men’s compensation act. We have gone as far as the
Court of Appeals and the United States Supreme Court
would permit us to go in legislation for the protection and
the care of women and children who are engaged in in-
dustrial enterprises.

“T hope it has not been distressful during these trying
days, but we have been for law enforcement. We have
not given it a lip service. We have made it an actuality.
[ This statement brought one of the few laughs. ]

“T was called to Washington in October of 1923 to talk
with the President of the United States about the question
of law enforcement, and I never heard such eloquent
speeches in my life. The governors at that conference
waxed eloquent. They talked about it, but I afterwards
found out that two governors who attended that confer-
ence actually carried out the purposes of the conference;
and I was one of them.”

This was less than tactful, inasmuch as a number
of the Governors to whom Smith referred were
among the delegates. He then went on to boast that
New York had been a pioneer “‘in the field of direct
nominations” and that it had led the nation in prison
reform. The State had attacked, “‘for the first time
it has been scientifically attacked in any State in this
Union, the question of housing and regional plan-

ning”.

“We have made the most generous contributions to, and
laid out the most comprehensive platform and program
that could be imagined for the preservation of the public
health. We have a widows’ pension law, which, in spite
312Presidential Yearnings

of all it costs our taxpayers, leaves the fatherless child in
the home of its own mother.

“We have helped agriculture. We have laid out a com-
prehensive plan for the development of parks and play-
grounds and recreational places for the public of our
State. And on top of it all we have reduced the taxes of
the people by actual dollars and cents.”

All of which, naturally, did not interest the dele-
gates from South Dakota, Maryland and New
Mexico in the least. It confirmed, in fact, their
suspicions that these New Yorkers were extraordi-
narily well pleased with themselves and believed
their State superior in every possible detail to the
rest of the nation. It deepened their resentment
over the boorish conduct of some of Al’s supporters
at the convention. They applauded, of course, as
Smith concluded with a promise that, as “the leader
of the Democracy of this State”, he would work:
for the election of Mr. Davis.

During his speech Smith was watched with ap-
praising eyes by hundreds of delegates. The mem-
bers of the South Carolina delegation, it happened,
had offered the hospitality of the floor to a former
South Carolinian who had for some years resided in
New York. While living there he had been won
over to Smith and in letters to his friends in the
South he had protested against the decision of the
Democrats of the State to send a delegation in-
structed for McAdoo. But as he listened to Smith

313Alfred E. Smith

on this final occasion his face grew gloomier by the
minute. As the Governor finished he turned to a
friend.

“T take it all back,” he said. ‘“‘Al’s not yet ready
for the White House.”Chapter Three

 

THE CONVENTION OVER, AL SMITH SOON DEMON-
strated the falsity of the theories that his presiden-
tial possibilities were at anend. He did so, in fact,
during the campaign for Davis. Several speeches
that he made in behalf of the Democratic nominee
created a profound impression. An appearance in
Boston, for instance, brought a mob of 15,000
people to the hall where he spoke. As he thanked
the Democrats of Massachusetts, whose delegates
had voted for him at the Madison Square Garden,
there were many predictions that he would be nomi-
nated in 1928. Since then, as I have previously
suggested, his position has constantly grown stronger
while McAdoo has lost ground year by year. The
victory of Smith over Mills in the fall of 1926
aroused nation-wide comment on the fact that no
other man had been four times Governor of New
York. His fight against Hylan in the Democratic
primaries the year before had also been pointed to
as indicative of his added strength and his greater
independence of Tammany Hall.

Obviously, then, Smith’s character must be
studied in the light of the possibility that after

315Alfred E. Smith

the convention in 1928 he will be the standard
bearer of the party. There are, I think, several spe-
cific points which must, if possible, be explained. It
is these matters that are being debated in sections of
the country as yet unconvinced that he should be
nominated. What is his record as a Catholic? Is
his judgment of policies influenced by the position
of his Church? What of prohibition, on which sub-
ject he has recently been silent? Are statements by
“persons close to him”, and published as newspaper
interviews, to be accepted? . Does he favor revision
of the Volstead Act? Repeal of the 18th amend-
ment? What of the saloon? What of his fitness to
be President from the angle, superficial in a sense
but widely discussed, of breeding and poise? Is
he, as the term is commonly used, a gentleman or
is he a typical Tammany politician with a coating of
polish acquired by years in public life? Will the
nation be able to take pride in his appearance?
What, finally, of his knowledge of national and
international issues?

In making an effort to answer these questious I
make no pretense of being, myself, a spokesman for
the Governor. Those which have not already been
answered by Smith will, inevitably, be the subject
of explanatory statements long before the 1928 con-
vention. My own answers are given with an effort
to weigh the real value of assertions made for politi-

316Presidential Yearnings

cal purposes. They are based on careful examina-
tion of his public record, his messages and other
papers and newspaper interviews over a period of
many years. They are also based on interpretations
offered by some of Al’s intimates, enemies as well as
friends, under pledge that I would not reveal their
source. First, then, prohibition:

The Anti-Saloon League, with its usual faith in
the power of money to do anything, has made pre-
liminary plans to raise a large fund with which to
prevent the nomination of Smith. The Women’s
Christian Temperance Union has also expressed hos-
tility to his candidacy. The National Woman’s
Democratic Law Enforcement League, a more re-
cently organized band of dry ladies, has launched a
drive to block him, Governor Ritchie of Maryland
or any other Democrat who does not bask in the
sunny smile of Wayne B. Wheeler. All of these
societies will place great emphasis on the wet record
of Al Smith. They will, in fact, seek to spread the
impression that the Smith who was an Assembly-
man in 1904 is the man who now is receptive to the
presidential nomination. And their blasts will un-
doubtedly worry the strategists nursing the Smith
boom.

But Smith’s remote saturation is, I submit, less
important than the views he has expressed since he
has been Governor of the State of New York. The

historical aspect and his early actions are, however,
epi,Alfred E. Smith

illuminating to a certain degree. In fairness they
must be considered in the light of changing social
standards, just as Al’s pronouncements about “the
sacred responsibility of sustaining the Volstead Act”
must be discounted because of the pressure of politi-
cal expediency. Smith, it can be stated with flat and
definite emphasis, does not desire the return of the
saloon. He may have mourned its passing, although
I doubt that he did so with any great depth of feel-
ing. But he does not advocate its exhumation for

two major reasons: the first, that he is socially
minded enough to appreciate that its aggregate evils
were probably as great as those caused by boot-
leggers, the second that it would be political suicide
to hint seriously at the restoration of the brass rail
and the free lunch.

This great truth was impressed upon Al all too
painfully in 1923, as the result of an unhappy mis-
understanding. On a warm day during the early
spring of that year he was holding the afternoon
conference with the legislative correspondents.
There was little news and the conversation turned
to reminiscences. Al, for the moment, felt that life
had become less pleasant 1n some ways.

“Wouldn’t you like,” he mused, “to have your
foot on the rail and blow the foam off some suds?”

The newspaper men agreed thirstily, but knew
that the remark had been made in confidence, as are
so many by Smith, and that nothing was to be written

318Presidential Yearnings

about it. It chanced to be repeated, however, to a
reporter who had not been present at the confer-
ence and who, for some reason that has never been
clearly explained, thought that he was at liberty to
telegraph it to his paper. Smith was furiously angry
when he saw the item, and even more so as clip-
pings of editorial damnation began to pour in from
dry sections of the country. William H. Ander-
son, prior to running afoul of the law and spending
some months in Sing Sing prison, often threw the
remark into Al’s face in statements issued as Super-
intendent of the Anti-Saloon League. Ina letter to
United States Senator Simeon D. Fess, of Ohio, on
March 26, 1923, the Governor gave his own ex-
planation of the incident:

“You may have noticed recently in the newspapers a
statement coming from me about bar rails. I think that
on my record you will join with the people who know me
well and do me the credit of believing that I have enough
common sense and experience of life to understand that
the saloon is and ought to be a defunct institution in this
country. In an informal meeting with newspaper men,
after several facetious remarks had been made about the
promised introduction of a 3 per cent beer bill, I joined
with the reporters themselves in joking about it, and took
occasion myself to speak facetiously of the bar rail. My
remark was intended for gentlemen with a sense of hu-
mor, and not for use by an intolerant and prejudiced
adversary, spying for a chance to misrepresent the real
meaning of a casual jest. There was present one such
man. It is the only occasion in my public life on which

319Alfred E. Smith

I have ever known a newspaper man to violate the ethics
of his profession.”

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The militant drys have often made the charge
that Smith pretends to stand for the right of the
people to decide the alcoholic content of what they
drink, but that as an Assemblyman he fought local
option laws. These gave to communities the power
to forbid the sale of liquor if a majority of the popu-
lation so desired. ‘The records show that Tammany
Hall members of the legislature did oppose local
option and that Al voted with them on this, as
he did on nearly everything else. In 1906, in one of
his earliest speeches, he charged that the Anti-
Saloon League had collected $300,000 with which
“to promote legislation”. In 1915, as minority
leader during the administration of Governor
Whitman, he fought a local option bill. Wherever
the sale of liquor was prohibited, he said, “‘hypocrisy
reign”. He told the members of the Assembly that
he had recently spent the summer in a “dry town”
where the village barber received double his usual
rate for a shave for agreeing to treat his customers
with ‘a special tonic” after the operation.

When Smith took office as Governor for the first
time, on January 1, 1919, the most important matter
before the legislature was ratification or rejection of
the 18th amendment. In his annual message to
the law-makers, the Governor asked “careful con-
sideration of the pending amendment to the Federal
320Presidential Yearnings

Constitution for national prohibition”. He did not
intend, he said, to review the arguments for and
against the proposal. But he questioned whether
the people of the State were “ready to surrender
their inherent right to legislate upon the question”’.

“Are they,” he asked, “prepared to forfeit any part
of their police power? Are they reconciled to a policy
of incorporating in the Federal Constitution a rigid re-
striction upon their personal liberty? I believe it is our
duty to ascertain their will directly upon this subject. I
believe we should consult them, and to that end I recom-
mend to your honorable body that legislation be enacted
submitting the question to a popular referendum in order
that its determination might represent the expression of
the will of the majority.”

Mr. Anderson, of course, drew his shining sword
to attack this proposal to consult the people and
branded the proposed referendum “bogus and fu-
tile”. The G.O.P. controlled both houses of the
legislature and obeyed the orders of the Anti-Saloon
League. The amendment was ratified on January
29, with Jimmy Walker, as a leading orator of
Tammany, denouncing Anderson as the “most
drunken man in the State, drunk with the power
that he exercises over the Republican Party”.

The Governor has no power of veto with respect
to legislative ratification of a federal amendment,
so Smith could only remark that it had been ap-
proved by the Republicans by the aid of a caucus
321Alfred E. Smith

and “by a strict party vote”. He expressed regret
that his appeal for a referendum had been ignored.
There was nothing that, as Governor, he could do
and he deplored that “the Republican majority in
the legislature had denied the people the right to
speak for themselves”.

Before the end of the year, the Anti-Saloon
League was demanding the passage of a State en-
forcement law to assist the federal agents in their
task of making America sober by statute. Smith de-
clined to commit himself on this. But how far he
really was from favoring such a law was shown by
his message to the legislature at the beginning of
the 1920 session, a message that momentarily
brought hope of relief to the unhappy wets of the
land. In several States, Smith said, legislative
bodies had ratified the amendment in the face of
provisions in their constitutions that referenda were
first necessary. Their action thus being illegal, it
was at least possible that the 18th amendment had
never been lawfully adopted by three-fourths of the
States. The New York legislature had, he admitted,
acted within the law. But constitutional experts
agreed that a State might rescind ratification pro-
vided three-fourths of the other States had not al-
ready approved the amendment. This being so,
should not New York hasten to withdraw its

approval:

    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 

222Presidential Yearnings

“Force is added to this suggestion,” Smith went on,
“because of the circumstances surrounding the passage of
the resolution by the legislature of this State. The mem-
bers of that legislature were not elected in view of any
proposed amendment to the United States Constitution,
that question had not been passed upon by the people of
the State in their election. The resolution passed the
legislature by a very narrow margin. The question was
not a party one, but in order to enforce its passage it was
made the subject of a party caucus, and members of the
legislature whose personal views, and in some instances
the well-known views of their local constituents, were
opposed to such action, were coerced by the party lash to
surrender their own convictions and vote for the
resolution.

« |. inorder that the true opinion and position of the
State of New York in regard to the 18th amendment
be ascertained and carried out, and made known to the
people of other States, I recommend that the legisla~
ture rescind its prior ratification of the said amendment
and submit the question to the qualified electors of the
State at the general election in the year 1920.”

The drys prevented without great difficulty any
such scheme as this which would, in the event that
enough other States had taken similar action, have
permitted the voters to say whether the saloon was
to be revived. Later during the same year both
houses of the legislature, under the same Republican
leaders who had maneuvered to ratify the amend-
ment in 1919, passed a bill intended to pacify the
wets. This permitted the sale of beer of 2.75 alco-

323Alfred E. Smith

holic content by weight, about 3.50 per cent by
volume, in restaurants and hotels. The bill was an
obvious fake, for the Volstead Act placed the voltage
limit at .5 per cent and the United States Supreme
Court swiftly declared that the New York law was
unconstitutional. The highest court held that the
“concurrent power” mentioned in the amendment
was power on the part of the State to enforce the
dry law, not to define what makes an intoxicant
really intoxicating.

The Republican Party resumed, in the fall of
1920, its subservience to the Anti-Saloon League
and justified, thereby, a remark made by Smith that
it would be well for it to nominate Mr. Anderson
as a gubernatorial candidate. The G.O.P. prom-
ised that it would enact a State enforcement law and
when Nathan L. Miller became Governor he signed
the Mullan-Gage act. This required the police of
all the cities in the State to assist in suppressing the
liquor traffic, provided for trial in State courts and
for prosecution by district attorneys of the various
counties. Whether it was effective or not is a ques-
tion that will never be settled. Certainly it opened
the door to grafting by many of the officials con-
cerned, for the bootlegging profession was being or-
ganized on a business basis and bribery had been
found to be the best means of obtaining the codpera-
tion of patrolmen, constables and deputy sheriffs. In
1922 Smith was again a candidate against Miller.

324Presidential Yearnings

By this time the Democrats were aware that the
hooch issue was a dangerous one. The platform on
which Smith ran did not pledge repeal of the
Mullan-Gage law, nor did the candidate in his
speeches make any promise that he would suggest
it. The wet plank of the party called merely for
modification of the Volstead Act to permit light
wines and beers under the 2.75 limitation. Smith,
in his first message to the legislature in 1923, was
meticulously careful to go no further. This State
paper recited the history of the 18th amendment
and again set forth that its “history in our State
does not indicate that a majority of the people are
in sympathy with the existing Volstead Act”. But
on the dangerous subject of repealing the Mullan-
Gage law, which was the chief topic of discussion,
Alsaid nota word. The wets were disappointed, but
not discouraged. Those with an understanding of
the pitfalls of political life felt that Smith could
do nothing else. They were confident that Al would
not fail when the test came; that he would live up
to under-cover campaign pledges they had pre-
sumed to make in his behalf:

“Vote for Al Smith and the cops will be called
off prohibition enforcement!”Chapter Four

   
 
  
   
 
  
  

 

THE POLITICAL LIFE OF ALFRED E. SMITH HAD
been, until 1923, fairly free from extreme compli-
cations. He had had his battles, of course, with
Hearst and had found on these occasions that cour-
age brought both victory and added prestige. He
had challenged Boss Murphy and the other prac-
tical men of Tammany Hall and had found that a
refusal to compromise with decency also brought
victory and prestige. In the main, however, the
problems that he faced were limited in their com-
plexity to New York State. He had fought, as an
Assemblyman, against early inclinations to machine
regularity and had, in the end, been won over by his
native intelligence to a measure of independence.
As Governor, during his first term, he considered
problems in the light of the State alone, for he did
not take seriously theories advanced by his friends
that he had a political future beyond its boundaries.

But in 1923 the situation had changed radically.
The most casual examiner of his public life cannot
fail to be impressed with the sincere and honest
efforts that he made to ignore, as Governor, the
growing possibility that he would be the Demo-
326Presidential Yearnings

cratic candidate for President. He was successful
to an extraordinary degree, probably more so than
any other man ever placed ina similar position. But
from the time he defeated Judge Miller in the fall
of 1922 he must, despite himself, have started to
ponder policies and recommendations in the light
of their national effect. In this, beyond doubt, he
was encouraged by his new intimates. Prohibition
was, of course, the most dangerous of all the issues.
As a Democratic Governor, Smith could be moist
without peril, even with profit. But as a candidate
for the presidential nomination, passive though his
candidacy was, he was constantly being warned that
the South and its delegates were politically dry.
Under these circumstances the wise course was to say
as little as possible; at which Al Smith has become
so proficient in recent years that he may, if nomi-
nated, succeed not only to Calvin Coolidge’s job, but
to the title of ““The Silent Man in the White House”
as well.

Thus, in 1923, he declined to agitate for the re-
peal of the obnoxious Mullan-Gage liquor law and
veiled his eyes in a fishy stare when Albany corre-
spondents made bold to ask him what he would do
if the law chanced to be invalidated. He was obvi-
ously irritated, and anxious to escape, when a group
of ladies calling themselves the Molly Pitcher Club
waited upon him to protest that prohibition was
a flop and that their husbands, sons and brothers

327Alfred E. Smith

were turning from mellow beer and sparkling wines
to hard whisky and gin. Smith did not, naturally,
go back on his suggestion that the legislature pass
a resolution requesting Congress to soften the Vol-
stead Act. Nor did he dodge a feeble Republican
plot which required that he sign and personally for-
ward a memorial containing this prayer. But a real
crisis arose when, at two o’clock on the morning of
May 2, the legislature passed the bill that nullified
the Mullan-Gage law. Under the statute Al had
thirty days to ponder whether he would approve
or veto this act. He must have wished devoutly
that it had been thirty years.

“How about the repealer?” the correspondents
demanded twice a day.

‘When I’m asked that,” replied Al, “I always
say, ‘How old is Ann?’ ”

From time to time Smith insisted that he had not
decided upon his course. Every speech that he made
in the anxious interim was eagerly scanned for a
clue, and an address at Coney Island on the night of
May 19 plunged the wets into gloom. He then
hinted, to an audience which had been yelling “Kill
the Mullan-Gage bill” that he might “disappoint
you in what I am going to say”. He would do his
best, he said, “to sustain the laws of the country
and the Constitution”. Eventually, having listened
to lurid exhortations from Tammany Hall, he signed
the bill. Before he had done so, however, the New

328Presidential Yearnings

York World had published an editorial under the
caption “Will Smith Wreck His Party?” The
World pointed out that the Mullan-Gage law en-
forced the exact provisions of the Volstead Act and
was therefore in direct contradiction to the light
wine and beer resolution which Smith had signed
and forwarded to Congress. It said, in part:

“Back of everything else, including the Governor’s
presidential ambitions, there is an issue of political sin-
cerity. That issue cannot be dismissed by splitting hairs as
to the exact meaning of a state platform that the voter ac-
cepted on trust. He took it for granted that the Demo-
cratic Party was opposed to the Volstead Act and conse-
quently to the Mullan-Gage law. He did not try to
measure the precise degree of that opposition. . .. To
him Mr. Miller represented Volsteadism and Mr. Smith
represented the opposition to Volsteadism and the election
was a referendum.

“Governor Smith’s position is embarrassing only as he
makes it embarrassing. He can keep faith with the voters
who elected him or he can break faith. If he breaks faith,
the Democratic Party in New York is again headed to
certain defeat.”

News of Al Smith’s approval of the repealer
caused, as I indicated at the beginning of this
biography, dancing in the gin-mills. And despite a
long memorandum that the Governor issued ex-
plaining his decision, his act has always been held
against him by Mr. Anderson and the other zealous
drys. William Jennings Bryan was even moved to

329Alfred E. Smith

write a long article, of doubtful logic, criticizing
the repeal.

“Tf I had been Governor,” remarked Represen-
tative Andrew J. Volstead of Minnesota, “I would
have vetoed the repealer.”

Governor Smith’s memorandum detailing his
reasons is a 4,000 word document composed of equal
parts of bunk, sincerity and specious reasoning. It
reads as though it might have been written by a
Judge of the Court of Appeals or a high-priced at-
torney. In it Al reviewed once more the history
of prohibition in New York State, the efforts to pass
the 2.75 beer bill and the position taken by the
Democratic Party in 1922. He did not criticize, he
said, the action of the 1921 legislature in passing
the Mullan-Gage law. But he did take issue with
the argument that any obligation rested upon the
several States to pass or to maintain laws enforcing
a federal statute. Here he went into an extended
legal dissertation in support of his theory and con-
cluded with the remark that although the duty of
enacting State legislation did not exist, the States
were forced, none the less, to see that their citizens

obeyed the federal law.

“That means,” he said, “that after repeal there will
still rest upon the peace officers of this State the sacred
responsibility of sustaining the Volstead Act with as much
force and as much vigor as they would enforce any State
law or local ordinance, and I shall expect the discharge of

330Presidential Yearnings

that duty in the fullest measure by every peace officer in
the State. . . . In law and in fact there is no more law-
lessness in repealing the Mullan-Gage law than there is
in the failure of the State to pass statutes making it a State
crime to violate any other federal statute.

“Let it be understood once and for all that this repeal
does not in the slightest degree lessen the obligation of
peace officers of the State to enforce in its strictest letter
the Volstead Act, and warning to that effect is herein con-
tained as coming from the Chief Executive of the State of
New York.

“At this point, with all the earnestness that I am able
to bring to my command, let me assure the thousands of
people who wrote to me on this subject, and the citizens
of the State generally, that the repeal of the Mullan-Gage
law will not and cannot by any possible stretch of the imag-
ination bring back into existence the saloon, which is and
ought to be, a defunct institution in this country, and any
attempt at its reéstablishment by a misconstruction of the
executive attitude on this bill will be forcefully and vig-
orously suppressed.”

The Governor got into difficulties when he took
up the question of double jeopardy. First he praised
the repeal because it removed the possibility that a
citizen could be punished under the federal law and
also under the State law. But then he remarked
that forcing the State to prosecute violators was
“wasteful and futile”, because juries declined to
convict. Practically speaking, he said, enforcement
should rest with the federal government, since
smuggling constituted the greatest source of supply.

331Alfred E. Smith

The bootlegger had profited, he added, by the divi-
sion of responsibility between the State and the
federal authorities. Smith went on to object to state-
ments attributed to President Harding that repeal
meant nullification and savored of treason. He
sharply called attention to the rights of the States
in their own sphere and insisted that Washington
must not encroach upon those rights. He denied,
in conclusion, that his decision to sign the repealer
had been prompted by expediency and again pro-
tested against the .5 per cent definition of booze
contained in the Volstead Act. ‘This, he said, “‘was
written by the fanatical drys in defiance of the gen-
eral experience of mankind and of actual fact”.
From that time on, unless I grossly misread the
evidence, Al Smith listened more attentively to his
presidential advisers. He did not, of course, with-
draw from his stand for modification of the Vol-
stead Act. But most of the references that he made
to prohibition were demands for law enforcement
and repeated warnings that unless local authorities
supported the 18th amendment he would consider
removing them. He has not, I think, fired a single
official, however. In October of 1923, as he boasted
in addressing the Democratic National Convention
some months later, he went to Washington with
other Governors for a conference with President
Coolidge on law enforcement. In February, with
the convention still closer, he summoned the district

332Presidential Yearnings

attorneys of the State to Albany and told them that
they must codperate with the federal authorities and
herd the bootleggers into jail. The various counties,
he said, must give their enforcement officials the
funds and assistance needed for this high purpose.

“The 18th amendment is a part of the Constitution,”
he said once more, “and just as sacred as any other part.
The so-called Volstead Act is just as sacred as any other
law in the country—and we are here to discuss the best and

most practical way of enforcing the amendment and the
law sustaining it.”

William Hayward, at the time United States At-
torney for the New York district, was among those
at Al’s conference. The repeal of the Mullan-Gage
law, he tactlessly remarked, had been the greatest
blow that the federal enforcement agents had re-
ceived since the 18th amendment became the law of
the land. It was idle, he said, “to talk of real en-
forcement without a State law”. But Hayward, of
course, is a Republican and was probably out of
sympathy with Smith’s gathering. Concluding his
harangue to the conference, the Governor pointed
out that the men of the State constabulary were
doing more to prevent smuggling over the Canadian
border than previous to nullification of the State en-
actment. Similar demands for stringent local
enforcement were publicly made by Al in his 1925
and 1927 messages to the legislature. Just before

333Alfred E. Smith

the 1924 convention he gave out a letter explaining
his views. He stood, he said, for revision of the
Volstead Act to permit 2.75 beer and was eternally
and everlastingly opposed to the return of the saloon.
He called attention in the letter to his zeal, at the
Albany conference, in impressing upon the local
constabulary bodies that they must rout the boot-
leggers. He again mentioned that he had been vir-
tually the only Governor to take such vigorous
action.

After the convention Smith returned to Albany
in 1925 and 1927. It has become increasingly ob-
vious that he is constantly being told to discuss pro-
hibition, if at all, only in terms of law enforcement.
But late in the 1926 session the legislature passed a
bill which provided for a referendum on the whole
question of prohibition. This exploded the non-
sensical theory that the believers in light wines and
beers would be satisfied with a 2.75 per cent alco-
holic content. No good beer can be made on that
basis and no good wine. The referendum called for
revision of the Volstead Act to permit, if the several
States so willed, the sale of “beverages which are
not im fact intoxicating”. The exact wording was:

“Shall the Congress of the United States modify the
Volstead Act to enforce the 18th amendment of the Con-
stitution of the United States so that the same shall not
prohibit the manufacture, sale, transportation, importation
or exportation of beverages which are not in fact intoxi-

334Presidential Yearnings

cating as determined in accordance with the laws of the
respective States?”

Al Smith signed the bill providing for this refer-
endum. The platform on which he ran against
Ogden Mills in the fall urged an affirmative vote.
A majority of 1,164,586 of the voters of the State
spoke in the affirmative. Smith can no longer claim,
as his friends are doing for him, that he believes in
the 2.75 maximum. He believes in a maximum,
or so he is on record, to be determined in some un-
known manner by the various States. Before 1928
he will be urged, in fact he is already being so urged,
to change his position, to say that he is not so very
wet after all and to continue broadcasting statements
about his passionate belief in the necessity for the

enforcement of all laws, particularly the Volstead
Act.Chapter Five

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

THE FACT THAT ALFRED E. SMITH IS A DEVOUT
and sincere communicant of the Roman Catholic
Church is still, it is greatly to be feared, the greatest
obstacle to the realization of hopes that he may be
elected to the highest office in the land. That this
can be so, despite the frankness, courage and com-
pleteness of his now famous letter to Charles C.
Marshall, is indicative of the degree to which a
Christian nation, dedicated to freedom of thought
and of worship, can deviate from the teachings of
Christ. The Marshall-Smith correspondence, pub-
lished this year in the Adlantic Monthly and almost
universally reprinted in the newspapers, will pre-
vent, it is probable, most of the open attacks on the
Governor’s religion. But bigots are immune to
facts or reason. ‘They will continue to whisper
threats of Papal domination; and thunder publicly
denunciations of Al’s record on prohibition.
American politics is capable of swinish depths.
This was demonstrated when Warren G. Harding
was running for the presidency and the rumor was
circulated, utterly without foundation, that he had
a faint strain of Negro blood in his veins. In the

336Presidential Yearnings

corridors of a New York hotel, during the cam-
paign, small white cards bearing a picture of the
White House were passed out by mysterious stran-
gers. Under the photograph were the words,
“Uncle Tom’s Cabin?”. The attacks upon Smith’s
religion will be similarly underhand and cowardly.
They will not, naturally, be sponsored openly by
Democrats opposing his nomination or, in the event
that he is chosen as his party’s candidate, by the Re-
publicans. They will be anonymous and as hard to
trace as they will be slimy. They will take the
form, perhaps, of circulars reprinting imaginary ca-
ble despatches setting forth that the Vatican is fa-
vorable to the candidacy and election of Smith. In-
tolerance will fight from behind a hood. It will not
show its face.

A note of criticism may, perhaps, have crept into
earlier sections of this biographical effort. I have
said that Al Smith voted for many years under or-
ders from Tammany Hall, that he considered the
public welfare less than the good of the machine.
It has been my unkind suggestion that in recent years
he has permitted his strategists to create the impres-
sion that he has great sympathy for the Volstead Act
and that his zeal for its enforcement is rivaled only
by that of Dr. Wheeler. I have indicated that dur-
ing a quarter of a century in public office he has
been, at heart, little interested in problems outside of

337Alfred E. Smith
New York City or New York State. I have deplored

his distaste for reading and have commented upon
the entirely barren nature of his intellectual life.

I recall all this to give emphasis, if I can, to a
belief which a close study of his career has turned
into a conviction: that Al Smith has never been in-
fluenced in any act or any policy by the fact that he
is a Roman Catholic.

I do not, incidentally, subscribe to the theory that
the Catholic Church would not interfere in tem-
poral matters if it could do so; nor can Protestants
or other sects plead that they are entirely inno-
cent in this respect. I am convinced that the Catho-
lics, as an organization, have frequently meddled in
New York City through Tammany Hall. I think
that the Roman Church has often taken a hand in
politics in Massachusetts. I know that it has not
hesitated, in New York, Massachusetts and else-
where, to make known its desire for laws bringing a
greater degree of censorship of books, theaters, mo-
tion pictures and magazines. It has fought move-
ments toward the dissemination of birth control in-
formation. Governor Smith, in his answer to Mar-
shall, denied specifically that any attempt had ever
been made by his church, through priest or layman,
to shape his views. If this is so, it acted wisely in

refraining. After all, Al had defied Boss Murphy
and Tammnay Hall on occasion. To a man trained
as was Smith, in a district club on the East Side, it

338Presidential Yearnings

would have taken very little more nerve to defy a
Cardinal or an Archbishop.

The Governor’s letter to Marshall was welcomed
as a confession of political faith and must have been
vastly reassuring to the many people who believe
sincerely, and perhaps not without cause, that the
Catholic Church would attempt to influence a Presi-
dent who was its communicant. The most hardened
anti-Catholic must admit, if he thinks at all, that
the formally expressed convictions of an honest man
are insurance enough against the nebulous possibility
that an institution will exceed its rights. But Al
Smith has demonstrated for years that he was not
the political vassal of his church. He has opposed
censorship in every form, knowing that the Catholic
Church in New York City favored it. He has done
nothing, I am assured by the American Birth Con-
trol League, to obstruct or oppose birth control leg-
islation or propaganda, although both are prohibited
by the tenets of his faith.

“Censorship in any form cannot be tolerated in a
democratic government,” he declared in an address
in April of 1924.

This marked no departure from his philosophy
of government. With the assistance of Jimmy
Walker, also a Catholic and then majority leader of
the State Senate, the Democrats defeated a hyster-
ical movement in 1923 to purify literature through
the so-called ‘Clean Books” bill. ‘This measure,

339Alfred E. Smith

sponsored by John S. Sumner of the New York So-
ciety for the Suppression of Vice and inspired by the
horror of an eminent New York jurist who caught
his unmarried daughter reading an unsanitary book,
made possible the burning of any work with a single
passage that could be interpreted as smutty. Smith,
it was known at the time, did not want the bill to
pass and would undoubtedly have vetoed it had it
been laid on his desk. In his first message to the
legislature, that same year, he had called for repeal
of the motion picture censorship law, saying:

“Censorship is not in keeping with our ideas of liberty
and of freedom of worship or freedom of speech. The
people of the State themselves have declared that every
citizen may freely speak, write and publish his sentiments
on all subjects, being responsible for the abuse of that
right, and no law shall be passed to restrain or abridge
liberty of speech or of the press. This fundamental prin
ciple has equal application to all methods of expression.

“The spoken drama has always had its place as an in-
fluence to educate. In many countries it is sustained as
2 national enterprise. In early days it was used to give
expression to biblical history. Nobody will dispute that
the invention of moving pictures opened the way for a
new avenue of great education as well as amusement. We
have looked too lightly on guarantees of freedom of
speech and of the press when we selected from among our
citizens three people who, before the fact, have the power
to declare what is and what is not a violation of the statutes
enacted for the protection of the morality of our people.

“Carrying this policy to its logical conclusion, every-

340Presidential Yearnings

thing written or spoken or thought might be subject to a
censorship by public authority. We have abundant law
in the State to jail the man who outrages public decency.
If we have not, enact it. And we have jails enough to hold
him after his conviction. I believe that the enactment of
a statute providing for censorship of the moving pictures
was a step away from that liberty which the Constitution
guaranteed and it should be repealed.”

The Governor has consistently maintained this

position. In his annual message the following year
he said:

“Censorship cannot exist without censors and no purely
administrative body should have the right to impose its
opinion of what should or should not be published or
exhibited upon any citizen whose conduct does not trans-
gress the law of the land. The power in one group of
men to prevent the publication or exhibition of anything
that does not transgress the law is a power which of
necessity destroys initiative and shackles freedom of
speech.”

Likewise, in 1925, 1926 and 1927, he urged the
abolition of motion picture censorship and in doing
so reiterated his belief that indecency in books,
newspapers, or on the stage or on the screen is best
prevented through the enforcement of existing stat-
utes against lewdness. Following the adjournment
of the 1927 legislature, it is true, he signed the
“Theatrical Padlock” bill which gives to the Com-
missioner of Licenses in New York City the power

341Alfred E. Smith

to revoke for one year the license of a theater where

has been shown a play found in the courts to have

been indecent. The law was the result of a particu-

larly purple series of shows given on Broadway dur-

ing the year. It was also, partly, the result of a sud-

den tendency on the part of the town to suppress a
great many things that it had once ignored. My
own view is that the bill is a stupid one, even a‘vi-
cious one. It makes the punishment for transgres-
sion of the code so severe and so financially disas-
trous that theater owners will hesitate to rent their
houses for any drama more bawdy than “Tittle
Women”. Signing this bill seems to me to have been
a blunder on Smith’s part. But it is in no way con-
trary to his opposition to censorship. The padlock
can be snapped into place only after conviction in
the courts.

Al Smith must know that his religion may, in the
end, cause his dream of the presidency to remain
that and nothing more. He must have known so
for years; he has been presidential timber since ap-
proximately the middle of 1923. But he has never,
so far as I know, attempted to dodge any issue or any
situation that focused the attention of the entire na-
tion upon the fact that he isa Roman Catholic. Ex-
pediency has whispered, and been heard, on other
matters. But his place of worship and his manner
of bowing down before his God are, he conceives,
quite his own business. It never entered his mind,

342Presidential Yearnings

apparently, that it would have-been wise to be ‘‘con-
fined to his room with a cold” on the day in the sum-
mer of 1926 when eight Cardinals of the One True
Church were received at the City Hall. He wanted
to attend the Eucharistic Congress at Chicago the
same summer and he did. And I think that Prot-
estants who make noisy orations about freedom of
thought and worship should be the first to give
Smith credit for a personal belief in that thesis.
The visit of the Cardinals to the City Hall on
June 11, 1926, was a splendid pageant. Among the
eight was Cardinal Bonzano, Envoy of Pope Pius
XI to the Eucharistic Congress. ‘Thousands of peo-
ple jammed into the plaza in front of the City Hall
to catch a glimpse of the dignitaries and for an hour
past Mayor Jimmy Walker, who had never before
in his life been on time at a function, had been ner-
vously rehearsing the speech of welcome that he was
to make. The presence in concentrated form of so
many prelates was a little too much for His Honor.
Accustomed to speaking extemporaneously, he had
this time prepared his address in advance. It lacked
all of his usual charm and was dull stuff. But when
Al Smith stepped up to say a few words he was as
care-free as though addressing the Newsboys’ Club.
He mentioned, laughing, the extent to which “The
Sidewalks of New York” had become his personal
song.
“It is said this song is for me,” he said with a

343Alfred E. Smith

grin, “but the truth is I have two partners in it—one
is Cardinal Hayes and the other is the Mayor of
New York. The Cardinal was born north of the
City Hall when it was a residential section. When
you get to Chicago you will meet Cardinal Munde-
lein. He has a big claim to ‘The Sidewalks of New
York’, too. He was born here. We are satisfied to
give him a fourth part of the song.”

The next week Al went to the Eucharistic Con-
gress. Before his departure for Chicago, Bishop
Adna Wright Leonard of the Methodist Church, a
leader in the prohibition movement, issued a state-
ment setting forth that “No Governor who kisses

the Papal ring can come within gunshot of the
White House”,Chapter Six

 

ON THE MORNING OF MARCH 25, 1927, ALL OF
the New York papers and many journals in other
cities carried in full or in abstract an open letter ad-
dressed to Governor Smith by a previously obscure
gentleman, Charles C. Marshall. Mr. Marshall, an
Episcopalian, a retired attorney and a student of
church law, asked in dignified and restrained lan-
guage whether it was not true that the canons of
the Roman Catholic Church were at variance with
the principles of government insured by the Consti-
tution of the United States. As a candidate for the
presidency how did Governor Smith reconcile these
canons with the laws of the nation: ‘The letter was
published in the April issue of the Atlantic Monthly
and released by that periodical to the press.

Al’s first reaction to the communication, it is said,
was one of grieved shock and surprise that any one
could believe, in the face of his long record, that
the code of church or churchman could stand, in his
conception, before the laws of the land. He is, it
will be seen, slightly naive with respect to Catholi-
cism and the prejudice with which it is so often re-
garded. He had first heard of the letter from

345Alfred E. Smith

Franklin D. Roosevelt, who had received proofs
from Ellery Sedgwick, editor of the Adlantic. In
sending them to Mr. Roosevelt, Mr. Sedgwick had
suggested that some spokesman for the Governor
might care to reply to the Marshall indictment. He
indicated that the columns of his magazine were
open, extremely open, to anything that Smith might
say himself. Smith would undoubtedly have pre-
ferred not to answer the communication. Even his
advisers, | am told, were momentarily divided on
the matter. But they soon reached the conclusion
that this was no yelp from a Bishop Leonard but
offered, on the contrary, a great opportunity for lift-
ing the whole subject of Catholicism out of the mud
of prejudice. Thus when the Marshall letter ap-
peared it was simultaneously announced that Smith
would shortly make answer.

After paying tribute to Governor Smith’s charac-
ter, his justice and fair play in public office, and de-
claring that his candidacy had stirred great enthu-
siasm, Mr. Marshall said that “through all this trib-
ute there is a note of doubt, a sinister accent of in-
terrogation, not as to intentional rectitude and moral
purpose, but as to certain conceptions which your
fellow citizens attribute to you as a loyal and con-
scientious Roman Catholic”. These conceptions,
he said, “fare irreconcilable with that Constitution
which as President you must support or defend, and

346Presidential Yearnings

with the principles of civil and religious liberty on
which American institutions are based”.

“To this consideration no word of yours, or in your
behalf, has yet been addressed,” Mr. Marshall remarked.
“Tts discussion in the interests of the public weal is ob-
viously necessary, and yet a strange reticence avoids it,
often with the unjust and withering attribution of bigotry
or prejudice as the unworthy motive of its introduction.
Undoubtedly a large part of the public would gladly
avoid a subject the discussion of which is so unhappily
associated with rancor and malevolence, and yet to avoid
the subject is to neglect the profoundest interests in our
national welfare.”

The conceptions to which he referred, the attor-
ney said, “are of the very life and being of” the
Catholic Church. The “more conscientious the Ro-
man Catholic and the more loyal to his Church, the
more sincere and unqualified should be his accept-
ance of such conceptions”. He cited the thesis of
Catholicism that all power not given by God to the
State is given to the Roman Catholic Church and
that no other sects have “divine sanction, and [are]
therefore without natural right to function on the
same basis—in the religious and moral affairs of the
State”. Thus, he said, the Church is “hopelessly
committed to that intolerance which has disfigured
so much of her history.”

Marshall then quoted Pope Pius IX as having de-
nied, in the Syllabus of 1864, that “national

347Alfred E. Smith

churches, withdrawn from the authority of the Ro-
man Pontiff and altogether separate”, could lawfully
be established. The Catholic Encyclopedia, he said,
declared that the Roman Catholic Church “ ‘re-
gards dogmatic intolerance, not alone as her incon-
testable right, but as her sacred duty’ ”. He quoted
Pope Leo XII as holding that the Church “ ‘deems
it unlawful to place the various forms of divine wor-
ship on the same footing as the true religion’ ”, but
that it did not condemn the States which permitted
It.

 
 
 
  
   
 
    
  

“That is,” concluded Mr. Marshall, “there is not a
lawful equality of other religions with that of the Roman
Catholic Church, but that Church will allow State authori-
ties for politic reasons—that is, by favor but not by right
—to tolerate other religious societies. We would ask, sir,
whether such favors can be accepted in the place of rights
by those owning the name of freemen?

“Furthermore, the doctrine of the Two Powers, in ef-
fect and theory, inevitably makes the Catholic Church at
times sovereign and paramount over the State. It is true
that in theory the doctrine assigns to the secular State juris-
diction over secular matters and to the Roman Catholic
Church jurisdiction over matters of faith and morals,
each jurisdiction being exclusive of the other within un-
disputed lines. But the universal experience of mankind
has demonstrated, and reason teaches, that many questions
must arise between the State and the Roman Catholic
Church in respect to which it is impossible to determine
to the satisfaction of both in which jurisdiction the matter
at issue lies.

348Presidential Yearnings

“Here arises the irrepressible conflict. Shall the State
or the Roman Catholic Church determine? The Constitu-
tion of the United States clearly ordains that the State
shall determine the question. The Roman Catholic
Church demands for itself the sole right to determine it,
and holds that within the limits of that claim it is superior
to and supreme over the State. The Catholic Encyclo-
pedia clearly so declares: ‘In case of direct contradiction,
making it impossible for both jurisdictions to be exercised,
the jurisdiction of the Church prevails and that of the
State is excluded’. And Pope Piux IX in the Syllabus
asserted: ‘To say in the case of conflicting laws enacted by
the Two Powers, the civil law prevails, is error.’ ”

In this conflict, Mr. Marshall said, the Church
cannot yield “by the very nature of her existence”.
The State cannot, for the reason that a great mass
of her citizens are not Catholics. Although the
Church makes no claim to matters “in her opinion”
secular and civil, he continued, it is still true that
“determination of jurisdiction, in a conflict with the
State, rests solely in her sovereign discretion”.

“| . no argument is needed,” he said, “to show that
she may in theory and effect annihilate the rights of all
who are not Roman Catholics, sweeping into the jurisdic-
tion of a single religious society the most important in-
terests of human well-being. The education of youth, the
institution of marriage, the international relations of the
State, and its domestic peace, as we shall proceed to show,
are, in certain exigencies, wrested from the jurisdiction of
the State, in which all citizens share, and confided to the
jurisdiction of a single religious society, in which all citi-

349Alfred E. Smith

zens cannot share, great numbers being excluded by the
barriers of religious belief. Do you, sir, regard such
claims as tolerable in a republic that calls itself free?”

In addition to all this, the letter to Governor
Smith went on, the Roman Catholic church makes
the claim that the sovereignty of the Pope is “not
only superior in theory to the sovereignty of the sec-
ular State, but is substituted on earth in place of the
authority of God himself”. This brings another
conflict between the fundamental law of the nation
and the code of Catholicism. Mr. Marshall quoted
the encyclical letter of Pope Leo on “The Christian
Constitution of the State” to support this conten-
tion. The Church asserts that it is not legal for the
State to hold all religious sects in equal favor, a doc-
trine expressed by Pope Leo XIII. The Constitu-
tion of the United States holds that it is not lawful
to do anything else. ‘The Supreme Court has so

ruled.

“Ts our law, then, in papal theory no law?” he asked.
“Ts it contrary to natural right? Is it in conflict with the
will and fiat of Almighty God? Clearly the Supreme
Court and Pope Leo are profoundly at variance. Is it not
obvious that such a difference of opinion, concerning the
fundamental rights between two sovereigns operating
within the same territory, may, even with the best inten-
tions and the most sensitive consciences, be fruitful of
political offenses that are odious among men?”

“Citizens who waver in your support would ask
whether, as a Roman Catholic, you accept as authoritative

350Presidential Yearnings

the teaching of the Roman Catholic Church that in case
of contradiction, making it impossible for the jurisdiction
of that Church and the jurisdiction of the State to agree,
the jurisdiction of the Church shall prevail; whether, as
statesman, you accept the teachings of the Supreme Court
of the United States that, in matters of religious practices
which in the opinion of the State are inconsistent with its
peace and safety, the jurisdiction of the State shall prevail;
and, if you accept both teachings, how will you reconcile
them?”

In the Oregon School Case, Marshall recalled,
the Supreme Court had invalidated a law forbidding
parents to educate their children at church schools.
Would such have been the decision had there been
evidence that the parochial schools of the Catholic
Church had been giving instruction “inconsistent
with the peace and safety of the State”? He ad-
mitted, however, that no such evidence had been
presented.

Another “direct conflict” cited for the considera-
tion of the Governor lay in the attitude of the Cath-
olic Church toward marriage. Jurisdiction over
marriage, he said, “is wrested from the State and
appropriated to the Roman Catholic Church, its ex-
ercise reposing ultimately in the Pope”. The
Church proceeds “in disregard of the law and sov-
ereignty of the State, and claims, at its discretion,
the right to annul and destroy the bond of civil con-
tract”. As evidence of this, Mr. Marshall reviewed
the facts in the action of the Sacred Rota at Rome

35%Alfred E. Smith

in annulling the marriage of the Duke of Marlbor-
ough to Consuelo Vanderbilt. In this case a divorce
had been granted by the English courts. But the
second marriage of the Duchess was to a Roman
Catholic, making an annulment of the first marriage
necessary. Neither the courts of England nor those
of New York, under their laws, could grant an an-
nulment. ‘This forced the recourse to the Rota,
which gave the decree on the ground that Miss Van-
derbilt had been forced against her will to marry

the Duke.

“The decree was granted,” said Marshall, “on an ex
parte hearing, on the testimony of interested witnesses
only. It would be difficult to find a more utter disregard
of the sovereignty of States than this by the sovereignty
of Rome, touching that comity which, in good morals and
public decency, is supposed to exist between sovereign
powers.

“In your opinion, sir, are such proceedings consistent
with the peace and safety of States?”

The concluding sections of Mr. Marshall’s brief
are, I think, less impressive than the balance. The
Mexican situation, he said, had again focused atten-
tion on the claims of the Catholic Church. He
quoted at length the opinion of William D. Guthrie,
a New York attorney, prepared “at the request of
the Roman Catholic Hierarchy of America and ex-
tensively circulated”. This challenged the provi-
sion in Mexico’s Constitution discriminating against

352Presidential Yearnings

the standing of the Roman Catholic Church within
its boundaries. The Guthrie opinion, he added, was
based upon the theory that the Church can decide,
in the event of a dispute, whether it had exceeded
proper bounds in education or other matters.

“Flow serious might be the crisis,” he commented, “if
Mr. Guthrie’s premises were to be accepted by the people
of the United States, is seen in his declaration that ‘many
historical precedents of action on the part of the Gov-
ernment of the United States of America, as well as of
other countries, could be cited which would abundantly
support a protest or remonstrance, and even armed inter-
vention, at the present time in Mexico, in order to assure
to the Mexican people religious liberty’. Armed inter-
vention! And, Mr. Guthrie goes on to explain, the
Papacy and the Mexican Hierarchy refrain from asking
for it, not because it is unlawful and unreasonable, but
because ‘history admonishes them of the horrors of civil
war and of the danger of inviting interference by foreign
powers and arms to compel what the aggressors conceive
to be either religious liberty or the only true faith’. It is
clear that Washington is saved an international episode
only out of considerations of expediency and policy by the
Papacy and the Mexican Hierarchy.”

The last of Mr. Marshall’s indictments of the
Catholic Church was based on the decree of Pope
Pius V in the 16th Century deposing Queen Eliza-
beth. The first result of this, he said, was an out-
break of prejudice against Catholics and enforced
disabilities that were not fully removed until 1850.

353Alfred E. Smith

In 1896, three hundred years after the persecution
of the Catholics, Pope Leo XIII issued an Apostolic
Letter declaring the orders of the Church of Eng-
land void and her sacraments without effect. Ten
years previous, this same Pope had beatified an Eng-
lish citizen who had, in 1570, posted on the walls of
London the decree which deposed the red-haired

Queen.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 

“The honors paid him,” Marshall remarked, “were ren-
dered three hundred years after his treasonable act.
There lies their sinister import. They are no part of the
medieval milieu; they belong to the modern world and
must have judgment not by medieval but by modern
standards. One would have supposed, in view of the
critical situation in modern States in relation to respect
for authority of government and the obedience of citizens
to the law, that the beatification might have been omitted.

“Nothing will be of greater satisfaction to those of
your fellow citizens who hesitate in their endorsement of
your candidacy because of the religious issues involved
than . . . a disclaimer by you of the convictions here im-

puted. sen eeChapter Seven

 

“IT AM GRATEFUL TO YOU FOR DEFINING THIS ISSUE IN THE
open and for your courteous expression of the satisfaction
it will bring to my fellow citizens for me to give ‘a dis-
claimer of the convictions’ thus imputed. Without men-
tal reservation I can and do make that disclaimer.”

“T recognize no power in the institutions of my Church
to interfere with the operations of the Constitution of the
United States or the enforcement of the law of the land.”

“You have no more right to ask me to defend as part
of my faith every statement coming from a prelate than
I should have to ask you to accept as an article of your
religious faith every statement of an Episcopal Bishop, or
of your political faith every statement of a President of
the United States. So little are these matters the essence
of my faith that I, a devout Catholic since childhood, never
heard of them until I read your letter.”

From the reply of Governor Smith.

Several Catholic editors, deplorably impatient,
could not wait for Governor Smith to issue his own
answer to the communication from Mr. Marshall.
The Catholic weeklies, America and The Common-
weal, were among the publications that undertook to

gs)Alfred E. Smith

deny the validity of the lawyer’s arguments and to
declare either that his quotations meant less than he
ascribed to them or that his hypotheses were fanci-
ful. It would have been wiser for the editors of
these publications to have restrained themselves, for
in this instance Al Smith needed no spokesmen.
Their haste did not add to the really lofty tone of
the discussion, nor did statements from sources
obviously so partisan convince non-believers in
Catholicism.

Having decided to state his beliefs, Governor
Smith held a number of conferences with the group
of men and women upon whom he has come to lean
most heavily during the last few years. Tammany
Hall, obviously, could not be of much assistance in
a matter which concerned a measure of profound
thought. Only Smith himself, of course, knows the
method by which his answer was drafted. Boss
Olvany may have been consulted with respect to the
political effect of what was to be said. But it 1s
fairly safe to assume that Mrs. Moskowitz, Secre-
tary of State Moses and two or three others were
those who gave Al the assistance he needed. Father
Francis P. Duffy, chaplain of the 165th Infantry
during the World War, was called in to interpret the
technical parts of the Marshall letter and to cite
authorities in refutation. This last he did with sin-
gular success. The priest has since declared that

356Presidential Yearning

Smith wrote the answer in person. ‘This being so,
the Governor is entitled to great credit for clear,
concise language; language that approached in many
passages no small measure of brilliance and literary
style. It is the high point among all his public pa-
pers, some of which have been drafted with the aid
of others. An uneducated boy from the Fourth
Ward had traveled far to be able to write as did Al
Smith on this occasion.

The reply was awaited with extraordinary inter-
est not only in New York but throughout the coun-
try, for by March of 1927 Governor Smith had be-
come the leading candidate for the presidential
nomination of the Democratic Party. The antici-
pation was heightened by premature publication in
two newspapers which, with dubious ethics, had ob-
tained advance proofs. As a matter of courtesy,
since the original question had been propounded in
the columns of that magazine, Smith had agreed to
send his answer to the A¢lantic Monthly, with the
stipulation that it was to be released to all news-
papers on the date that the magazine reached its sub-
scribers and was placed on sale. The earlier publi-
cation by the two offending newspapers caused the
date to be advanced. On the afternoon of April 17
editors were notified that copies of the communica-
tion would be given out at once at the Madison
Avenue office of Mrs. Moskowitz. That night the
Associated Press sent a 3,000 word story to its 400

357Alfred E. Smith

member newspapers. All the other press associa-
tions carried similarly long despatches.

“Catholic and Patriot, Governor Smith replies,”
was the caption placed by the editor of the Atlantic
over the text of the article. An editorial note de-
clared the incident of the Smith-Marshall corre-
spondence “historic for the country and for the

Church” :—

“Now for the first time in the republic’s history, under
a Constitution which forever forbids religious tests as a
qualification for office, a candidate for the Presidency has
been subjected to public questioning as to how he can give
undivided allegiance to his country when his church re-
stricts the freedom of his choice; and the candidate has
answered—answered not deviously and with indirection,
but straightforwardly, bravely and with the clear ring of
candor. . . . The discussion has served its purpose. . . .
The thoughts arising almost unbidden in the minds of the
least bigoted of us when we watch a Roman Catholic aspire
to the Presidency of the United States have become mat-
ters of high, serious, and eloquent debate.”

The views imputed by his interrogator to Ameri-
can Catholics, the Governor said in opening his let-
ter to Marshall, “would leave open to question the
loyalty and devotion to this country and its Consti-
tution of more than twenty million American Cath-
olic citizens”. He expressed gratitude for “defin-
ing the issue in the open” and for “the courteous ex-
pression of the satisfaction it will bring to my fellow
citizens for me ‘to give a disclaimer of the convic-

35Presidential Yearnings

tions’ thus imputed”. Without mental reservation,
he said, he made such disclaimer. ‘The convictions
in question “are held neither by me nor by any other
American Catholic, as far as I know”. He denied,
as Marshall stated, that he was a candidate for the
presidency and quoted from his 1927 annual mes-
sage to the State legislature in which he declared
himself receptive to the nomination, but insisted
that he would “do nothing to achieve it except give
to the people of the state the kind and character of
service that will make me deserve it”’.

“] should,” he said, “be a poor American and a poor
Catholic alike if I injected religious discussion into a po-
litical campaign. Therefore I would ask you to accept
this answer from me not as a candidate for any public
office, but as an American citizen, honored with high elec-
tive office, meeting a challenge to his patriotism and his
intellectual integrity. Moreover, I call your attention to
the fact that I am only a layman. . . . I am neither a
lawyer nor a theologian. Whatever knowledge of the law
I have was gained in the course of my long experience in
the legislature and as Chief Executive of New York State.
I had no such opportunity to study theology.”

His first intention, Governor Smith said, was to
answer “with just the faith that is in me”. But
“knowing instinctively that your conclusions could
be logically proved false”, he had later decided to
take counsel “with some one schooled in the Church
law”. He had selected Father Duffy for this pur-
pose, a man whose patriotism was above question.

sagAlfred E. Smith

“Taking your letter as a whole and reducing it to com-
monplace English,” Smith continued, “you imply that
there is a conflict between religious loyalty to the Catholic
faith and patriotic loyalty to the United States. Every-
thing that has actually happened to me during my long
public career leads me to know that no such thing as that
istrue. I have taken an oath of office in this State nineteen
times. Each time I swore to defend and maintain the Con-
stitution of the United States. All of this represents a
period of public service in elective office since LOOgaaaeL
have never known any conflict between my official duties
and my religious belief. No such conflict could exist.
Certainly the people of this State recognize no such con-
flict. They have testified to my devotion to public duty
by electing me to the highest office within their gift four
times. . . . During the years I have discharged these
trusts I have been a communicant of the Roman Catholic
Church. If there were conflict, I, of all men, could not
have escaped it, because I have not been a silent man,
but a battler for social and political reform. These bat-
tles would in their very nature disclose this conflict, if
there were any.”

He had always regarded public education, he said,
as a foremost function of government. He had sup-
ported in every way the State Department of Educa-
tion. In addition he had fought for, and achieved,
protection of men, women and children in industry.
He had worked for improved conditions among the
State’s sick and insane. He had defended “freedom
of speech and opinion against the attack of war-time
360Presidential Yearnings

hysteria” and had accomplished complete and scien-
tific reorganization of the State government.

“T did not,” he commented, “struggle for these things
for any single element, but in the interest of all of the
eleven million people who make up the State. In all of
this work I had the support of churches of all denomina-
tions. I probably know as many ecclesiasts of my church
as any other layman. During my long and active public
career I never received from any of them anything except
codperation and encouragement in the full and complete
discharge of my duty to the State. Moreover, I am un-
able to understand how anything that I was taught to be-
lieve as.a Catholic could possibly be in conflict with what
is good citizenship. The essence of my faith is built upon
the Commandments of God. The law of the land is built
upon the Commandments of God. There can be no con-
flict between them.”

This, it might be remarked, is eloquent but inac-
curate. Laws are not an elaboration of, for instance,
the Ten Commandments. ‘Taking the name of the
Lord in vain is a sin, but not acrime. Adultery is a
sin against God, and yet is not necessarily a crime.
There is nothing in the penal law of any State re-
quiring that children honor their fathers and moth-
ers, although it may be required that they give finan-
cial assistance in case their parents are without other
means of support. But so minor a lapse in logic is
unimportant in comparison with the worth of the
rest of Al’s letter. It were better, he said, to cease

361Alfred E. Smith

“quarreling among ourselves over dogmatic princi-
ples” and inculcate “‘obedience to these Command-
ments in the hearts and minds of the youth of the
country”. More religion for youth, not less, is
needed. The “bickering among our sects?’ was lead-
ing to doubt “whether or not it is necessary to pay
attention to religion at all”.

Smith then pointed out, as had been done by many
others before him, “the long list of other public
servants of my faith who have loyally served the
State”. Chief among these were Roger B. Taney
and Edward Douglass White, both of whom were
presiding justices of the United States Supreme
Court. He might have added that Massachusetts,
New York, Illinois, Minnesota, Missouri, Montana,
Rhode Island, Louisiana, Idaho and North Dakota
have elected Catholic governors or have sent states-
men of that faith to the United States Senate. The
“tens of thousands of young Catholics who have
risked and sacrificed their lives in defense of their
country” also proved, Smith added, that the impu-
tations by Marshall were false.

At this point the Governor departed from the
general to the specific. Wishing “to meet you on
your own ground”, he addressed himself to the def-
inite questions propounded. He critized the attor-
ney for divorcing “sentences from their context in
such a way as to give them something other than

362Presidential Yearnings

their real meaning”. This had been done, Smith
said, in the instance of the reference to the decree by
Pope Leo XIII declaring the orders of the Church
of England void. Mr. Marshall had given the im-
pression that “the Pope gratuitously issued an af-
front to the Anglican Church”. Actually, the ruling
had been in response to a request made by the priests
of the English church for a statement on the va-
lidity of their priestly orders. Mr. Marshall’s quo-
tation from the Catholic Encyclopedia stating that
the church “regards dogmatic intolerance, not alone
as her incontestable right, but as her sacred duty”
did not mean intolerance toward other sects, Smith
explained. It meant, as the whole of the article in
question demonstrated, no deviation within the
church “from complete acceptance of its dogma’.

“Similar criticism,” Smith went on, “can be made of
many of your quotations. But, beyond this, by what right
do you ask me to assume responsibility for every statement
that may be made in an encyclical letter? As you will
find in the Catholic Encyclopedia (Vol. V, p. 414), these
encyclicals are not articles of our faith. The Syllabus of
Pope Pius IX, which you quote on the possible conflict
between Church and State, is declared by Cardinal New-
man to have ‘no dogmatic force’. You seem to think that
Catholics must all be alike in mind and heart, as though
they had been poured into and taken out of the same
mould. You have no more right to ask me to defend as
part of my faith every statement coming from a prelate
than I should have to ask you to accept as an article of

363Alfred E. Smith

your religious faith every statement of an Episcopal
Bishop, or of your political faith every statement made by
a President of the United States. So little are these mat-
ters of the essence of my faith that I, a devout Catholic
since childhood, never heard of them until I read your
letter. Nor can you quote from the canons of our faith
a syllable that would make us less good citizens than non-
Catholics. In fact and in truth, I have been taught the
spirit of tolerance, and when you, Mr. Marshall, as a
Protestant Episcopalian, join with me in saying the Lord’s
Prayer, we both pray, not to ‘My Father,’ but to ‘Our
Hatheren

Mr. Marshall’s statements about the desire of
Catholicism for an established church belonged, said
Governor Smith, to what Archbishop Dowling had
declared “‘the limbo of defunct controversies”. The
best Catholic thought, he said, quoting a number of
authorities, admitted a “‘Catholic State” beyond the
realm of actuality, even in Spain or the countries
of South America. Where several religions had
been firmly established, the State must insist upon
complete religious liberty. Such, commented the
Governor, “is good Americanism and _ good
Catholicism”’.

‘‘’. . I stand squarely,” he said, “in support of
the provisions of the Constitution which guarantee
religious freedom and equality.”

The next point taken up in the answer to Mar-
shall was the respective functions of Church and
State and the hypothetical danger that the separate

364Presidential Yearnings

jurisdictions might conflict. Both the Catholic
Church and the Protestant Episcopal Church, Smith
insisted and again cited authorities, maintain that
each is independent in its own sphere.

“Your church, just as mine,” he said, “is voicing the
injunction of our common Saviour to render unto Czsar
the things that are Czxsar’s, and unto God the things that
are God’s.

“What is this conflict about which you talk? It may
exist in some lands which do not guarantee religious free-
dom. But, in the wildest dreams of your imagination,
you cannot conjure up a possible conflict between re-
ligious principle and political duty in the United States,
except on the unthinkable hypothesis that some law were
to be passed which violated the common morality of all
God-fearing men. And if you can conjure up such a
conflict, how would a Protestant resolve it? Obviously
by the dictates of his conscience. That is exactly what a
Catholic would do. There is no ecclesiastical tribunal
which would have the slightest claim upon the obedience
of Catholic communicants in the resolution of such a con-
flict. As Cardinal Gibbons said of the supposition that
‘the Pope were to issue commands in purely civil mat-
ters’ :—

“ ‘F¥e would be offending not only against civil society,
but against God, and violating an authority as truly from
God as his own. Any Catholic who clearly recognized
this would not be bound to obey the Pope; or rather his
conscience would bind him absolutely to disobey, because
with Catholics conscience is the supreme law which under
no circumstances can we lawfully disobey.’

“Archbishop Ireland said: ‘To priest, to Bishop or to

365Alfred E. Smith

Pope (I am willing to consider the hypothesis) who should
attempt to rule in matters civil and political, to in-
fluence the citizen beyond the range of their own orbit
of jurisdiction that are the things of God, the answer is
quickly made: “Back to your own sphere of rights and
duties, back to the things of God”.

“Bishop England, referring to our Constitution, said:
‘Let the Pope and the Cardinals and all the powers of
the Catholic world united make the least encroachment on

that Constitution, we will protect it with our lives’.”

 

Never in any office that he had held, said Gover-
nor Smith, had any man, “cleric or lay,” attempted
to exercise “Church influence on my administration”
or ‘‘asked me to show special favor to Catholics or
exercise discrimination against non-Catholics”. It
was well known, he added, that his appointments as
Governor had been made on the basis of merit. He
had never, he said, “‘asked any man about his re-
ligious belief”. The Governor’s Cabinet, created
by the state reorganization amendments, had been
selected by him. It consisted of two Catholics, thir-
teen Protestants and one Jew. His closest associate
at Albany, George B. Graves, is “‘a Protestant, a Re-
publican and a 32nd degree Mason”.

“T have exemplified,” he said, “that complete
separation of Church and State which is the faith
of American Catholics to-day.”

You ask, Al continued in coming to the question
of parochial schools, whether the Supreme Court

266Presidential Yearnings

would have defended the schools of the Catholic
Church in the Oregon case had it been shown that
theories in discrimination against Protestants were
circulated. Both he and his children, he said, had
attended parochial schools. He had never “‘heard of
any such stuff being taught or of anybody who
claimed that it was”. The action of the Rota in
annulling the Marlborough marriage, which Mar-
shall had cited as indicative of the degree to which
the Catholic church interfered in civil matters, had
no validity under the laws of America or any other
nation. All that the decree did was to define the
status of the parties to the marriage contract as com-
municants of the church.

Taking up the Mexican question, where Mar-
shall had declared that the Guthrie opinion had
sanctioned the legality of armed intervention to
protect the rights of Catholics in Mexico, Smith
quoted in refutation the Pastoral Letter of the
Catholic Episcopate of the United States. This
flatly disavowed any endorsement of intervention in
Mexico for the protection of the church.

“My personal attitude, wholly consistent with that of
my church,” said Smith, “is that . . . no country. has a
right to interfere in the internal affairs of any other coun-
try. I recognize the right of no church to ask armed inter-
vention by this country in the affairs of another, merely for
the defense of the rights of a church. But I do recog-
nize the propriety of church action to request the good

367Alfred E. Smith

offices of this country to help the oppressed of any land,
as those good offices have been so often used for the pro-
tection of Protestant missionaries in the Orient and per-
secuted Jews of Eastern Europe.”

 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  

And then, in conclusion, Alfred E. Smith sum-
marized his creed, as American and Catholic:

“T believe in the worship of God according to the faith
and practice of the Roman Catholic Church. I recognize
no power in the institutions of my church to interfere with
the operations of the Constitution of the United States
or the enforcement of the law of the land. I believe in
absolute freedom of conscience for all men and in equality
of all churches, all sects and all beliefs before the law as
a matter of right and not as a matter of favor. I believe
in the absolute separation of Church and State and in the
strict enforcement of the provisions of the Constitution
that Congress shall make no law respecting an establish-
ment of religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.

“T believe that no tribunal of any church has any power
to make any decree of any force in the law of the land,
other than to establish the status of its own communicants
within its own church. I believe in the support of the
public school as one of the corner stones of American
liberty. I believe in the right of every parent to choose
whether his child shall be educated in the public school
or in the religious school supported by those of his own
faith. I believe in the principle of non-interference by
this country in the internal affairs of other nations and
that we should stand steadfastly against any such inter-
ference by whomsoever it may be urged. And I believe
in the common brotherhood of man under the common
fatherhood of God.

368Presidential Yearnings

“Tn this spirit I join with fellow Americans of all
creeds in a fervent prayer that never again in this land
will any public servant be challenged because of the faith
in which he has tried to walk humbly with his God.”

Inevitably a document such as this one must have
brought a deluge of commendation from all parts of
the country. For the next week telegrams and let-
ters poured into Governor Smith’s office at Albany.
Newspapers from coast to coast, in the South as well
as in the North, voiced the opinion that he had
spoken with honesty and with courage. Some edi-
tors felt that the answer would not satisfy the utterly
narrow-minded, and added that nothing could do so.
It was not long before it became apparent that
Smith’s enemies had swiftly changed their strategy.
It was not his Catholicism that bothered them, they
said. It never had. But how did he stand on the
subject of prohibition: His wet views were the
ones that needed clarifying.

Republican politicians, who beyond question fear
the candidacy of Smith more than of any other man
whom the Democrats may select to run in 1928,
admitted in private that the letter was masterly.
They were not too happy about it, for the reason
that it might tend to bring harmony to the Demo-
cratic Convention. Charles D. Hilles, Republican
National Committeeman and considered a crony of
President Coolidge, declined to comment for publi-

369Alfred E. Smith

cation. So did George K. Morris, Chairman of the
Republican State Committee.

“Tet Smith and Marshall fight it out; I have
nothing to say,” was the gallant remark from Sam
Koenig of the Manhattan Republican machine.

“The letter was most excellent,” said United
States Senator William Borah, always more of a man
than a politician.

Well, Smith has spoken. He will not again, I
think, recite the catechism of “the faith in which
he has tried to walk humbly with his God”. It will
be said, of course, that he could speak for himself
alone and that his fine disavowals cannot be applied
to less fastidious members of the Roman Catholic
Church. If he is nominated, I have suggested, it
will be found that there are a few whose intolerance
has not been softened and who will still voice their
prejudice against Catholicism. Some of those who
will do so will be clergymen, men supposed to be
consecrated to the theory that there is a brotherhood
to which all men belong. These gentlemen of the
cloth will be Protestants. Can they claim that their
own church has never interfered in temporal mat-
ters? They have short memories, if they do. For
Presbyterians, Baptists, Methodists and the rest
have thundered in the past for prohibition, censor-
ship and stricter divorce laws. They will do so
again. Some of them have sought laws providing
270Presidential Yearnings

that the Book of Genesis be made the guide for the
study of natural sciences.

The Protestant Church must also plead guilty to
violating the thesis that the Church and State are
ever separate in their jurisdictions.Chapter Eight

    
  

 

THERE REMAIN FOR DISCUSSION, THEN, BUT TWO
of the counts in the indictment which specifies that
Al Smith is not qualified for the presidency. By far
the more important of these is that as Governor of
New York his outlook has expanded from the lim-
its of the Fourth Ward merely to the boundaries of
the State, that he has never pondered national or
international problems. ‘The other is that Al is still,
after all, a crude sort of fellow, certain to stub his
toe, metaphorically speaking, over the red plush car-
pets that would be unrolled before him were he to
become Chief Executive of the nation.

Light on both these objections to his candidacy
may have been found, I hope, in previous chapters
of this entirely unauthorized biography. In gen-
eral, I think, Smith must admit that his fundamen-
tal viewpoint has been chiefly local. Even as a pri-
vate citizen he has been uninterested in such matters
as the tariff, railroad consolidation, international
debts and agriculture. He has, it is true, voiced the-
orles concerning them on several occasions; when
party obligations or his own ambitions made it nec-
essary. Nor does the accusation that his interest is

372Presidential Yearnings

somewhat synthetic carry with it any thought that
he will be unable to master these complexities should
they become part of his official life. His intelli-
gence, I think, is capable of demands even more
severe than those already placed upon Smith. He
has demonstrated many times that he is capable of
growth.

The charge that he is deficient in poise or in nec-
essary social smoothness has no longer, it is my be-
lief, much foundation. Assume, for the sake of the
argument, although it is not true, that all previous
presidents have been gentlemen of culture, refine-
ment and charm. Smith would not be found lack-
ing inany of these. This would be so if only for the
reason that the President of the United States lives
in rarefied atmosphere, remote from the public. He
is seen at state functions, being whirled through the
streets in an automobile, making speeches and at in-
frequent White House receptions where he grasps
the hands of the electorate with machine-like swift-
ness. At all of these Smith is already proficient. If
underneath, when he is alone or with intimates,
there persists a strain of the East Side, if he resorts
to profanity, bad grammar and expectoration, it does
not matter. Several who have been president have
thus sinned; and the American public never sees its
president with his coat off, his vest unbuttoned and
his feet encased in house slippers. He is always the
leader of a big parade.

373Alfred E. Smith

Between now and the Democratic convention of
1928, perhaps by the time that this study has ap-
peared, Smith will probably have found opportuni-
ties to air his beliefs, hastily formulated, on national
issues. For a year past political leaders from widely
separated parts of the country have been drifting
into New York to demand that Al speak out on the
woes of the farmer, on labor or on immigration. He
has held, with admirable restraint, to his principle
of not admitting that he is an active candidate and
has insisted that these subjects are no concern of a
man who is merely the Governor of the State of
New York. But if the fiction that he is not a candi-
date cannot be maintained much longer, it will not
be difficult for him to evolve policies on the matters
that are of national interest.

Some of his advisers insist, in fact, that he has al-
ways had ideas regarding national problems. One
of these, whose name it would be unkind to reveal,
was connected with the campaign for Smith’s nomi-
nation in 1924. Himself a man with a broad out-
look, he told me that Al had asked him to assist in
the contest. Before consenting, he said, he had de-
manded to know whether the Governor had con-
sidered the issues he would be called upon to face.

“To my surprise,” he said, “I found that Al had
thought about these things a great deal. Almost as
though he were on the stump, he spoke for an hour.
Regarding the League of Nations, it was his view,

374Presidential Yearnings

it would be better to urge that all of the friction of
the past be forgotten. The thing he would seek to
do would be to impress upon the people what the
League had accomplished, what nations belonged to
it and took part in its deliberations. He said that as
President it would be a matter of no concern to him
by what name the international organization was
known. He would codperate in any movement
for world peace and would send unofficial advisers
to sit around the table and discuss the problems
before it.

“Smith has sound ideas with respect to the organi-
zation of the federal government. He thinks that
his own experience in accomplishing consolidation
of state departments in New York can be applied to
the federal machine. He has thought about farm
relief, too. He told me that it was his conviction
that the prosperity of the agricultural interests de-
pended upon a measure of scientific control of crops.
He knew, for instance, that wheat had often been
overproduced. He thought that excess crops might
be controlled through the banks. The heads of
these, he said, should refuse to extend credit to farm-
ers who persisted in overproduction. He did not
believe that subsidies from the government would
provide a cure for an evil that was economic in its
nature.”

Other friends of Governor Smith are meeting the
challenge that he is “a town-lot Sir Galahad” with

SiAlfred E. Smith

the flat assertion that he is nothing of the sort. They
have combed his record to show that instead of be-
ing interested in the State alone he has on many oc-
casions given utterance on national and international
affairs. Early in 1920, they point out, he criticized
the Republican Party for wrecking the dreams of
Woodrow Wilson that war might be prevented. In
October of that year he issued an executive procla-
mation setting aside Sunday, October 24, as a day
upon which the people of the State were to toss aside
the comic sheets of their newspapers and familiarize
themselves with the League of Nations covenant.

In February, 1923, it is now recalled, Governor
Smith suggested that the President of the United
States take office on January 1 following his election
instead of in March and that members of the Sen-
ate have four-year terms running concurrently. In
March of that year he declared himself opposed to
literacy tests for immigrants. In response to a ques-
tion regarding his position on five to four decisions
by the United States Supreme Court, he said that it
might be well to have more emphatic rulings when
the question under consideration was a public health
or public welfare law.

During the campaign for John W. Davis in 1924
Smith made several speeches in behalf of the Demo-
cratic candidate and these, naturally, concerned na-
tional issues. At Boston he criticized the foreign
policy of President Coolidge, scored the tariff of the

376Presidential Yearnings

Republicans and pointed out that the President had
not openly attacked the Ku Klux Klan. He also
berated the Republican administration for the oil
scandals. At Manchester, N. H., he said:

“They say the Republican Party is not responsible for
the breach of trust of its appointees. They didn’t say
that in 1920 when they were arousing the ranks of the
people against a man who was dying so they could defeat
the candidate of the party of Woodrow Wilson.

“No issues but Coolidge? Can they dodge the issue of
seating Newberry and keeping him almost until his trial
and conviction?

“When the Republican Party through somebody’s cu-
pidity and every one else’s stupidity let the naval oil re-
serves get away it was striking a blow at the Navy. Is
no one to answer for that? Why the whole Administra-
tion should have known about it. They either were in
on it or they have no brains.

“The Republicans point with pride to Coolidge and
say that he is the issue. They say that he 1s not a talker
but a doer. Well, the last four years in Washington
was no place for a silent man. It was the place for a
leader and a leader never afraid to talk out.”

Smith was, with reason, far from silent on na-
tional issues during the weeks just before the last
Democratic convention. In an interview in the
New York Times, prior to the Madison Square Gar-
den débacle, he discussed various subjects at length.

“Tet us lead the nation back from ‘normalcy’ to ‘hon-
esty’,” he said. ‘ ‘Normalcy’ also prompts tariff extor-

S77Alfred E. Smith

tion. The farmer has been cheated by the promise that
high duties on agricultural products which are not im-
ported would offset for him high duties on the articles he
must buy. The laborer has been deluded by artificial in-
flation which gives him an apparent high wage, the real
purchasing power of which is destroyed by the provisions
of the Fordney-McCumber Tariff act. The business man
has been misled by artificial interference with the course
of commerce that enriches the favored monopoly at the
expense of the average man. The restriction of foreign
imports for the benefit of the tariff beneficiaries has im-
paired the ability of our foreign debtors to discharge their
obligations to us.

“A nation stretching from Maine to California, which
comprises metropolis and farm, foreigner and native,
mountain and plain, with every variety of community and
every habit of life, must retain that local self-government
which our forefathers regarded as a foundation of our
Republic. New York cannot impose local rules for Okla-
homa, nor Montana for Florida. Reasonable differences
of viewpoint in widely differing sections must be recog-
nized if we are to preserve national unity.

“We must, therefore, revitalize the constitutional pro-
vision that powers not expressly given to the Federal Gov-
ernment are reserved to the States. We must stop the
dangerous overcentralization of federal power. We must
halt the march of federal commissions and bureaus and
taxation and laws that are pressing on every locality. We
must be not only for one, but for all.

“Our tradition condemns alike entangling alliances and
unreasonable isolation. The vacillating policy following
under the Republican administration is challenged not
only by those who regard it as false to the American ideal
of service to the world but also, with equal force, by

378Presidential Yearnings

those who regard it as destructive of our own self-interest.

“The arteries of trade reach through the civilized
world. When Europe lies economically prostrate, the
flow of our merchandise through these arteries stops short.
In our western wheat belt, the greatest in the world, more
than 200 banks have failed under the Republican régime.
Our surplus agricultural products rot in storehouses be-
cause foreign nations, our legitimate customers, are with-
out power to purchase. From us they have received no
affirmative help, but even actual injury in our policy of
aloofness.

“There is nothing partisan in these considerations.
When the Republican Party spoke through the voice of
its great statesmen and not through the voice of its small
politicians that party, too, proclaimed the necessity of
maintaining proper and reasonable contacts with other
nations of the world. The matter is one both of aims and
of economic policy. At the water’s edge all partisan con-
tentions should cease.

“But our party must lead the way where the Repub-
licans have failed. We should enlist the ablest men of all
parties to examine at first hand conditions and the actual
functioning of the national and international agencies
operating in Europe to-day, both from economic and gov-
ernmental points of view. In the light of their recom-
mendations we should act and act promptly, for the fur-
therance alike of American ideals and American pros-
perity, with the full knowledge of conditions as they are.
Then we may be guided to action, not by partisan rancor,
but by knowledge and wisdom.

“We must help build the machinery for peace. The
hopes and fears of every father and mother in our land
cry out for it. The same cry resounds from the parents
of every land. . . . Let no man say that this is mere senv

379Alfred E. Smith

timentality. The broken heart of a stricken mother is the
most real thing in life. We must come together with
other nations to end war.

“Tt is the sacred right and mission of the party of
Cleveland and Wilson to lead in translating into action
the Biblical exhortation:

“‘FYave we not all one Father? Has not one God
created us? Why, therefore, should we deal treacher-
ously, each with his brother?’

“Tn every activity of government, domestic and foreign,
the Democratic Party must reéstablish what one of its
great leaders proclaimed and exemplified—that ‘Public
office is a public trust.’ ”

I quote so extensively from these remarks not to
indicate, as Smith’s supporters in time will do, that
he is deeply interested in such matters. I do not
question their sincerity, but I hold to a suspicion that
they were not entirely spontaneous. Whatever the
purpose behind their utterance, however, they prove
that Al can speak intelligently, even eloquently, on
matters that have no bearing on his labors as Goy-
ernor of New York. Despite his growing tend-
ency toward caution Smith has, once or twice, in-
sisted that courage is to be preferred to silence. The
most recent example of this was at the New York
State convention in 1926, when he demanded that
the platform contain an endorsement of the World
Court. Some of the principles, also, on which he
has made himself heard as Governor are applicable

380Presidential Yearnings

in their essence to the nation as well as to the State.
Among these were his scorn for loyalty tests among
teachers and his opposition to the expulsion of the
Socialist Assemblymen. His grasp of financial mat-
ters can be translated without great difficulty into
national terms.

On at least two big problems, Governor Smith
has been able to speak nationally without stepping
out of his rdle. One of these is the development for
the benefit of the public of water power. Virtually
since the first day that he became Governor, Al
Smith has worked energetically to prevent exploita-
tion of this natural resource by private capital. He
has, it must be admitted, shifted his policy in some
details. But in the larger aspects his program seems
sound and constructive. It has been one of his fre-
quent pieces of political good fortune that the Re-
publican Party has successfully blocked his recom-
mendations, with the result that the issue is pre-
served for national consumption. It will be greeted
with favor, undoubtedly, by the residents of the
western states who are agitated over the Boulder
Dam and other power projects. ‘The other State
problem of wide interest is the suggestion Smith
made in March of 1926 that the State barge canal
be made part of a ship canal connecting the Great
Lakes with the Atlantic seaboard. His analysis of
this contained in a letter to the members of Con-
gress from New York is a refutation of the charge

281Alfred E. Smith

that he cannot assimilate details of the country’s
transportation puzzles.

A final word may not, perhaps, be out of place to
reassure the sensitive souls who fear that Al Smith
might not measure up to what they believe the social
traditions of the White House. These can find com-
fort in the knowledge that Smith associates to-day
with men of great wealth. He is momentarily, be-
ing Governor and receiving only $10,000 a year,
short of funds. But the tastes that he has been ac-
quiring during the last few years are those that go
with private cars, yachts and large suites of rooms
in the best hotels. Such is his innate self-assurance
that he has rarely, at any time, felt out of place
among the blue-bloods of the Social Register. But
more recently he has acquired a polish that enables
him, to an increasing degree, to say the right word.
No one, I have said before, can find fault with his
manner of dress or his appearance when he presides
at functions. There have been few governors in the
history of the State whose dignity and bearing have
been as impressive. The austerity with which the
office of President of the United States is surrounded
will increase this dignity. Al Smith might become
even more aloof, even more stuffy if you like, than
he is to-day. If he were ever to spend a year or so
in the White House, I predict, the melody of “The
Sidewalks of New York” would be heard less fre-
quently. It might be revived, of course, if he ran

382Presidential Yearnings

for asecond term. But there is an excellent chance
that it would fade into the misty realm of forgotten
things, along with the dear, dead days when Al
Smith wore a brown derby and called across to the
barkeeper of many a tavern to scrape off the foam
or to fill the glasses again.Chapter Nine

 

 

POLITICAL PROGNOSTICATION HAS, OBVIOUSLY, NO
legitimate place in this volume. It is a pastime al-
ways fraught with peril, particularly with regard to
the chances of any particular candidate for a presi-
dential nomination. The 1928 Democratic conven-
tion is, as this is being written, almost a year off. At
the moment Al Smith would seem to be leading the
procession, a fact that in itself may spell his doom
because it enables the opposition to concentrate its
fire. Whether he will be chosen to lead his party
is something written in the stars; and in the secret
plottings of practical politicians. I do not know
what the outcome will be. But it will not be out
of place, perhaps, to analyze predictions being made
by more reckless men and to summarize the attitude
being expressed toward Smith in various parts of the
country.

Almost from the conclusion of the 1924 conven-
tion Smith has been a national figure. At first, I
have indicated, it was believed that he could no
longer be viewed as a presidential aspirant. But
this was quickly dispelled when he campaigned for
Davis and drew crowds far in excess of the Demo-

i
304Presidential Yearnings

cratic candidate. Newspapers throughout the coun-
try commented on the leading part that he played
in the rejection of Mayor Hylan by Tammany Hall
in 1925. Butit wasin November of 1926, when he
defeated Ogden Mills and became Governor of New
York for the fourth term, that even in the most un-
friendly communities politicians began to remark on
his extraordinary talents as a campaigner and to
wonder whether he, more than any other man,
might not be able to revive the forlorn prospects of
Democracy. The West, officially dry, started to
hope that Al would either keep silent on prohibition
or, preferably, state in ringing terms his devotion to
the Volstead Act. The South, also dry and in addi-
tion Protestant in its religious leanings, reflected
that even a Catholic might be preferable to a per-
manent Republican in the White House.

It is not quite accurate to quote from the edito-
rials of Julian Harris, owner and editor of the En-
qguirer-Sun of Columbus, Ga., as indicative of the
viewpoint of the South. Mr. Harris, whose news-
paper has already won the Pulitzer Prize for its dis-
tinguished courage, is not a typical Southerner. His
beliefs are based on reason and not prejudice. He
writes what he believes instead of what he thinks his
subscribers believe. Despite all this, however, his
journal has been financially successful and his influ-
ence in Georgia and in other parts of the South in-
creases constantly. [Early this year he wrote to me:

385Alfred E. Smith

“T have been for Alfred E. Smith from the mo-
ment he was reélected to the New York Governor-
ship; not that I did not see him as an able man and
a possibility before then, but his latest success makes
him the oly man for the Democrats to name.”’

In an editorial on November 7, 1926, Mr. Harris
commented on the victory of Smith over Mills.
Many things might happen before 1928, he warned.
It was not unlikely, however, that in two years
Smith would still be the outstanding personality in
his party and the only nominee with whom the
Democrats had a chance to win.

“. . it is well,” he said, “that the Southern: Demo-
crats should begin to appraise the unusual executive ability
of Alfred E. Smith, . . . begin to study open-mindedly
his past record, and scrutinize with careful fairness during
the next two years his administration of the affairs of the
greatest State in the union.”

This was, of course, before the Marshall corre-
spondence. Mr. Harris, in his editorial, warned
Georgians to remember the constitutional guaran-
tees which relate to freedom of worship. He de-
tailed the repeated victories of the Governor of New
York as proving that more than mere local popu-
larity was responsible for his success. But many
Southerners, he admitted, ‘‘see him through the dis-
torting fog of religious prejudice”.

In the same issue of his paper, Mr. Harris quoted
from the editorials of other Southern journals. ‘The

386Presidential Yearnings
Montgomery (Ala.) Advertiser defended Smith’s

impartiality in religious affairs and had praised his
honesty and courage. The Macon (Ga.) Telegraph
said that “unless there are tremendous upheavals be-
tween now and the convention he is almost in a posi-
tion to force his nomination”. The Chattanooga
(Tenn.) Times remarked that were Smith a Prot-
estant, his nomination would be “unanimously ac-
claimed”. Despite his Catholicism, the paper said,
he might be nominated and this would be an excel-
lent thing, since it would furnish a test of whether
the religious issue was to supersede constitutional
guarantees. These newspapers, Mr. Harris com-
mented, were unhappily not representative of the
whole South. The Atlanta Constitution had inti-
mated that a Catholic could not be nominated.
“Face the facts,” warned the Macon (Ga.) News;
“Smith is a wet and the religious issue against him
will be raised.” ‘The Jackson (Miss. ) News insisted
that the nomination of Smith “or any other wet
aspirant would smash Democracy to smithereens in
this commonwealth.”

“The Democrats may as well be honest,” Mr. Harris
wrote on December 26, 1926. ‘Democrats—those of the
South at any rate—are not particularly opposed to Smith
because he is not a prohibitionist, because the Southern
people are not greater prohibitionists than the people of
any other section of the country; if they are, their prac-
tice fails to prove it. . . . The real opposition to Smith is

387Alfred E. Smith

based on the fact that he is a Roman Catholic communi-
cant, and Southern Democrats who oppose him may as
well be honest about it.”

All of this was, I repeat, before Al Smith wrote
his answer to Mr. Marshall. The newspapers of
the South almost unanimously applauded this decla-
ration, of course. ‘There was no other course open
to the most Klan-ridden of editors. Whether the
letter has gone far to minimize the religious issue is
a thing that can merely be pondered. It has been
my theory that it will force the opposition to con-
centrate, in the open, on Al’s prohibition views.

In the West, also, has come a definite change in
the sentiment toward Smith. This is not so much,
if I read the signs correctly, a drift toward Al as a
defection from McAdoo. In 1924 the former Sec-
retary of the Treasury drew heavily from the open
spaces and from the South. ‘To-day, there are in-
dications, he will win few delegations west of the
Mississippi. ‘There will, of course, be any number
of “‘favorite son” candidates who will be offered by
the western commonwealths. Delegations to the
convention will probably be uninstructed, instead of
required to vote for Smith, McAdoo or some other
candidate. Or they may be ordered to cast a few
ballots for the figure who is the pride of their par-
ticular state. When it becomes apparent that he
cannot win they will shift to the candidate who has
388Presidential Yearnings

a chance; Smith or some other. Thus Al has a
chance of winning ultimately, although not as the
convention starts, California, Arizona, Montana,
Nevada, New Mexico, Oklahoma, Texas and Wyo-
ming. All of these were McAdoo states in 1924.
Western newspapers are looking askance at Smith’s
prohibition record. The Anti-Saloon League will,
beyond question, send agitators to the corn and cow
country to convince the clergy that Smith stands for
nullification and the saloon. Meanwhile, it might
be added, there are signs that some parts of the West
are beginning to lose faith in the dry cause. Obvi-
ously, if this is so, Al will benefit. The newspapers
have recently been filled with rumors that McAdoo
is going to withdraw. But this, [ think, 1s far from
verification. ‘That he is weaker than in 1924 seems
tobe true. But at the present time enough delegates
might rally to him to veto the nomination of Smith.

All of which means, perhaps, less than nothing.
Al Smith must go through another session of the leg-
islature during which the Republican Party will ig-
nore the business of the State of New York in order
to disqualify him for the presidency. It will again
resort, as it has done with small success in the past,
to obstructive tactics. It will raise the issue of ex-
travagance. Much will depend upon the 1928 ses-
sion of the law-makers of New York. ‘The strate-
gists of the Democratic Party will, in the interval,

389Alfred E. Smith

perfect their plans to have Al Smith run, if he runs
at all, on a platform which straddles the issue of
prohibition. So astute a political observer as Frank
R. Kent of the Baltimore Sw wrote in the Nation
on March 30, 1927, that the plan of the Democratic
leaders secretly favoring Smith was to encourage
“favorite son” movements. These, as it happens,
will take place in the states where once McAdoo was
strong. They will, if the scheme succeeds, result in
the elimination of the man considered, even now,
Al’s leading opponent and will prevent another
costly battle such as that of 1924. It may work.
It is, at all events, a plan far superior to those which
the limited intellects of politicians ordinarily
achieve.

Smith will, if nominated, receive the support of
the Solid South. ‘Talk that southerners will decline
to vote for a Catholic is perfectly foolish. Some
may remain away from the polls, of course. A few
may mark their ballots for God and Protestantism.
But the total of those who will do this will be so
small as to be negligible. Wzill Al Smith be nomi-
nated! Does he deserve the nomination? The
first question no one can answer. An answer to the
second may, perhaps, have been found in the pages
of this book. The Democratic Party has, it must be
clear, passed through seven long, lean years of fam-
ine. In the last analysis it may choose a man, what-

390Presidential Yearnings

ever his qualifications or faults, who can restore days
of plenty, of prosperity and of federal jobs.

“Tt’s just possible,’ one cynical politician has
muttered, “that the party may get tired of finishing
second in a two-horse race.”

THE ENDAdamson, Robert 229

Adler: Dr. Kelix: 227

Anderson, William H. 379, 327, 324, 329
Anti-Saloon League 231, 317, 319, 321-22, 389

B

Barnes, William 1757, 163, 174, 183, 198
annum. bs dle /8i5

Baruch, Bernard M. 22r
Becker, Lieut. Charles 174
Beer, [Thomas 99-100

Black, Loring 160

Bernstein, Solly 234

Bonzano, Cardinal 343

Borah, William 370

Brandon, Governor 295
Breckenridge, John C. 272
Brennan, George 41, 302
Brisbane, Arthur 44

Brodie, Steve 99

Brown, Henry Collins 84-5, rz9

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Bryan, William Jennings 99-100, 296, 306, 329-30

c
Campbell, Henry 1737
393Index

 

Campbell, Timothy J. x74

Caruso, Enrico 22,

Caughlan, Tommy 139-42 |

Citizens’ Union 151-52, 156, 160-61, 164, 178-79, 232

Cockran, Bourke 47

Colombo, James 234

Coolidge, Calvin 140, 198, 212, 262, 291-92, 309, 327,
332, 309, 376-77

Copeland, Royal S. 57

Cox, James M. 297

Croker, Richard 19, 222

D

Daly, Augustin 79

Davis, John W. 18, 140, 291-92, 310-13, 315, 376,
384-85

Dawes, CharlesG. 292

DeFord, William A. 50, 58

Democratic National Convention, 1924 18, 41-2, 291-
98, 300-14, 332

Doheny, Edward L. 302

Douglas, Stephen A. 272

Duffy, Father Francis P. 356, 359

Dunn, Katie 67, 102, 105-06, 116-20, 182

Dreier, Mary E. 165

|
Elkus; AT. 65, 165-66

F

Fess, Simeon D. 250
Fitzmaurice, Bobby 209-10, 275

394Index

Foley, Tom 22-3, 59, II2, I15, 135-30, 142-43,
T47) 172) 177) 234

Rook, ouis: | a2

Ford, Henry 236

Gary, Elbert H. 250

Gaynor, William 64

Glynn, Governor 171, 176

Glynn, Mrs. John (sister to Smith) 80, 94
Gompers, Samuel 1765

Graves, Dr. Frank P. 259-60

Graves, George B. 206-07, 210, 214, 366
Greene, Col. Frederick S. 258, 260-61
Guthrie, William D. 352, 367

Ei

Hand, CharlesS. 57-8

Flamill, Peter 1&3

Harding, Warren G. 332, 336

Harris, Julian 385-87

Hayes, Cardinal 123, 343

Hayward, William 333

Hearst, William Randolph 20-34, 40, 43-7, 50-60, 104,
113, 164-05, 225, 230, 250, 259, 264-67, 275-76,
326

Hilles, Charles D. 369

Etughesy Charles Hi. 1465 751, 107,20 1nenas ene

Hylan, John F. 23, 34-9, 43-4, 46-7, 50, 53, 58-9, 161,
227-29) 2517) 205, 278, 3IIy 315) 385

I
Israels, Charles H. 64
395Index

J

   
   
 
 
  
   
    
 

Johnson, Charles S. 259

K

Kamisky, Paul 137-38
Kelly, Jimmy 234
Kent, Frank R. 390
Koenig, Samuel S. 163, 252, 265, 370
Ku Klux Klan _r00, 281, 292, 295-96, 307-09, 377
Kuku, Michael 234
ie
Lambert, Willie 205
Larkin, Jim 245-46
Laughlin, Justice Frank C. 258
Leonard, Bishop Adna Wright 344, 346
Lewis, Clarence M. 73
Lindner, Belle 63 (See Moskowitz, Mrs. Henry)
Longworth, Nicholas 124
M
MacDonald, Alexander 359
Mack, Norman E. 54, 30
Macy, V. Everit 227
Mahoney, James J. 206-07, 216
Marbury, Elisabeth  rrz
Marlborough divorce case 352, 367
Marshall, Charles C. 336, 338-39, 345-70
McAdoo, William G. 14, 41, 231, 292-93, 296-99, 300,
302, 306-07, 309-10, 313, 315, 388-90.
McCadden, Henry 183
McCooey, John H. 50, 53-4, 58, 158
McLaughlin, George V. 15, 17, 267
Mellon, Andrew 264, 281

396

2
5Index

Miller, Nathan L. 37, 43, 60, 213, 220-21, 244, 248-51,
253, 203, 207M, 275M, 324, 329

Mills, Ogden L. 69-70, 104-06, 263-65, 272, 275-
795 315) 335, 385

Mitchel, John P. 228-29

Moses} Robert 735 250) 356

Morgan, J. BS 247m; 2385,.207

Morris, George K. 370

Moskowitz, Dr. Henry 64-5

Moskowitz, Mrs. Henry 61-73m, 221, 241, 268, 303,
350-57

Mundelein, Cardinal 244

Munsey, Frank A. 253-55, 293

Murphy, Charles F. 40-7, 43, 45, 50-5, 58-9, 127,
E30-31, 757-6) TOO, 103, 160,708, 170-0 b. E7O-ga
186, 195, 198, 224, 228-30, 234, 250, 266-67, 297,
303-4-5, 326, 338

N

National Defense Society 237

National Women’s Democratic Dry Enforcement League
317

National Security League 237

O

O’Byrne, Frederick 176-17

Odell, Benjamin B. 139-40

Olvany, George 19, 182, 266-68, 356
O’Gorman, James’ 158

FE

Peabody, George Foster 227
Perkins, Frances 258

oTIndex

   
  
 
 
  
  
   
  
 

Proskauer, Joseph 73
Pyrke, Byrne A. 259-60

R

Ritchie, Governor Al 377

Rockefeller, John D., Jr. 150

Roosevelt, Alice 124

Roosevelt, Franklin D. 47-2, 131, 158, 160, 296, 305,
346

Roosevelt, Theodore 64, 99, 100, 263

Roosevelt, Theodore, Jr. 213-14, 263,

Root, Elihu 186

267

S

Sabin, Charles H. 227
Saxe, John Godfrey 160
Sedgwick, Ellery 346
Schiff, Mortimer L. 227
Schurman, Jacob Gould 156-57
Shientag, Bernard L. 165
Stimson, Henry L. 207
Steinmetz, Charles P. 227
Straus, Oscar 64
Sulzer, William 168-73, 177
Sumner, John S. 340
Syracuse Convention, 1922 21-24, 48-60, 62-3
Swann, Edward 180-81
Swope, Herbert B. 293
Smith, Alfred E., Senior 80-1, 91-2, 22
Smith, Mrs. Catherine 26-7, 80-1, 92-4, 234-35, 305
Smith, Mrs. Alfred E. (See Dunn, Katie)
Smith, Emily 120-24, 210
Smith, Alfred E.
Actor 93, 99, 100-06, 113-14, 116,'119, 135-9, 182-
§3, 268-76

398Index

Aldermanic President 34-6, 177

Ancestry 80-1

Appearance 28-9, 112, 124, 135, 184, 210-17, 373,
382

Appointments 123, 258-61

Apportionment (State and city) 174-6, 194, 199-—
201

Assemblyman 60, 73, 127-29, 133-34, 138-43, 144-
79» 154-50

Assembly Leader 64 2127, 130-32, 242, 157-00,
163-64, 168-71, 176-77, 187-89, 216, 320

Birth 80

Birth control 339

Boyhood 83-4, 86-7, 89-95, 98, 101-02

Catholicism 90, 142, 264, 277, 298, 336-71, 386-88

Censorship 339-42

@hildren’ 26,526,155, 120-24, 13155) Ta eae

Commissioner of Jurors job 63, rrs-179, 135.
RG 7,

Consolidation state departments 195-96, 207
254) 274-75, 284

Constitutional Convention 147, 164, 175, 177-78,
185-202, 284

Courtship and Marriage 102, rr6-120

Direct primaries 161-62, 232

Education (asa boy) 90, 93-4, 96, 112, 159

Executive Budget 279, 284-85

Free Speech, views on 239-46, 282, 340, 360-61

Fulton Fish Market 91, 95-6, 98, 112, 150, 1590;

2 2

Gambling (race-track) 1751, 161
Governor (General) 64-5, 70-90, r1o2-04, 151,
205-220, 320-24

» 219;

399Index

 
    
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  

Governor, Ist term 40, 122, 216, 221-26, 233-35,
238-44, 250-51

Governor, 2nd term 244-46, 250-51, 256, 257-8,
261-2

Governor, 3rd term 265-266

Governor, 4th term 202, er 297,

Grade Crossings 261, 274-7

Grammar and pronunciation eg) 2, 7-200. 150

Home Rule 207

Housing 91, 227, 225, 255, 282-83

Intellectual outlook 84, 90-1, 94-6

Labor (see welfare legislation) 27

Local option 320

Milk 24-32, 55, 60, 104, 223, 225, 265, 275-6

Mullan-Gage repeal 13-14, 15, 257, 325, 327-33

Narcotic easier rele

National Viewpoint 97, 225, 237, 2.

Newspapers 183-84, 208-21 I

Norites for Governor ua

25, 220-33, 266, 296- 9

Me inee for Governor 192 O BT

Nominee for Governor 1922 47-

Nominee for Governor 1924 26:

Nominee for Governor 1926 104-06, 146, 263-

Oliver Street home 15-17, 40, 120, 181-2, 2

Parks 261, 274, 286, 31

Political career begins 109-14, 115-17, 119-20,135-
36

Presidential hopes 1920 40-1, 69, 297

Presidential hopes 1924 13-4, 41-2, 292-94, 296,
300-14, 320-27, 329, 334

Presidential hopes 1928 42-3, 202, 261, ae a
268, 277, 279-81, 292-93, 309, 315 3175 325) 357
359 374) 384-91

CO

400Index

Prohibition 713-14, 155 4%, 47, 00, 00, 222-29, mG,

251, 257, 264, 275, 281-82, 297, 302, 300, 312
317-36, 337 399, 389, 390

Real estate 112

Reconstruction Commission 68, 221-23, 274, 282

Schools, VIEWS ON 240, 242-46) 274 2oe.

Sheriff 102, 148, 164, 177, 178-85, 208,

Short ballot 207

Socialism, views on 237-39, 381

Sunday baseball 157

Tammany Hall, relations with 173, 15, 16-21, 43-7,
50-60, 90, 109-15, 125-30, 164, ee 200-01, 224,

255 250-01, 204, 207-06, 263, 305, 320, S20, ay
Tastes and hobbies 17178, 277 ce
Taxation 219-22, 261-62, 271-72, 279-80
United States Trucking Corporation 37, 43, 46, 59,

63, 69, 92, 251-54
Water Power 71, 219-20, OAT or, a8

4, </- 286-87 ) 381
Welfare Legislation 156-5

d
57, 164-68, 187-88, 90-93
219, 221-23) 237) 254-55) 261, 273) 274-76, 285,
iT Or
Woman Suffrage 66, 225
World Court 268, 380
Youth 107-08, rr1-14

Taft, William Howard 224
Taney, Roger B. 262
ener Frederick C. 195-96
Triangle Fire 164-65
Tweed, William 19, 172

U
Untermyer, Samuel 169-7
Underwood, Oscar W. 295
401Index
V
Van Rensselaer, Mrs. William B.

Volstead, Andrew J. 330

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 

NO

Gy)
$NA

Wadsworth, James W. 144-47
Wagner, Robert F. 1273, 141-42, 144-46, 157-58,
165-66, 171, 170, 195-90

Walker James J) 15, 27, 30, 56, 102,273, ra7-2o8
» 183, 212, 257, 200, 321, 339) 343
White, William Allen 97, 129

White, Edward Douglass 362

Wheeler, Wayne B. 377, 337
Whitman, Charles )

161-62

L

230, 232-33, 263, Fis
Wickersham, George W. 186-87, 190, 193, 198, 201
Williams, Arthur 227

Williams, Gus 80

Wilson, Woodrow 224, 230, 280, 297, 376-77
Women’s Christian Temperance Union 317
Y

Young, Owen D. 123PLEASE RETURN TO
ALDERMAN LIBRARY

 

DUE DUEXX COO S09 4b4