1912: War for the White House, page 6
part #2 of Second American Civil War Series
Around midmorning, a train chugged up the hill from Kellogg. It hissed to a stop on a siding, boxcar doors slammed open. Grim-faced men emerged into the drizzle to confront the crowd. A few of them were wearing uniforms of the Idaho National Guard. A more significant number wore uniforms from several different police and sheriff’s departments. The largest group looked like ruffians hired by the mine bosses.
A man in a business suit stepped onto the company office roof. He began yelling at the crowd through a conical speaking trumpet.
“OK, men, we’re done with this nonsense. Get back to work.” The crowd responded with catcalls and obscenities.
The company men started lining up, the police pulled out nightsticks, the civilians armed themselves with canes, sticks, two by fours, even hammers. The Guardsman stayed back to act as reserves.
“I’m ordering you, go to work, we don’t need more trouble here.”
The line of company men began to move forward. The miners yelled obscenities. The company men charged. In seconds a pitched hand-to-hand fight was in progress. Men fell into the mud, where they received more beatings. It didn’t take long for the first shots to ring out. A telegraph operator sent out a message about the unrest, stopping rail traffic.
Moscow, Idaho
On Tuesday afternoon, I traveled the eight miles to the University of Idaho in Moscow to hear Jerome Burns speak. An associate professor I knew drove us in his newly purchased Ford Model T. (I wasn’t sure where my friend got the $850.00 for the automobile, although I’d learned not to play poker with him.) I will confess the ride proved a truth behind the Rationalist message. If the future held more machines like the Model T, it would be a marvelous place, we made the eight-mile trip in half an hour. I also felt firsthand the need for paved roads. My back hurt for days afterward.
I wanted to hear Burns for myself, out of professional interest. Eastern Washington was solidly Constitutional territory, neither a Rationalist nor a Unionist bothered to speak in public near me. This was my only chance to hear their message directly. I recognized some students in the crowd, even though they couldn’t vote for him. Like me, they wanted to hear Burns. They displayed much more enthusiasm than I did.
Burns had done an excellent job of learning the RP’s methods for delivering a polemic speech. It only took him a few minutes to whip the crowd into a frenzy.
“The fact that honest, hard-working men are willing to stop work, put their families at risk of eviction and starvation, and risk life and limb, to fight their bosses, shows the utter lack of compassion with which they’ve been treated,” he said. “The corrupt bosses of the Union party and their business cronies live off the sweat of these men’s brows just as surely as the slave bosses of the old south lived off the African man’s sweat. It is time for this to stop.”
The crowd cheered.
“Under a Rationalist administration, and with a Rationalist Congress, men will receive payment based on the value of the products they produce…”
More cheers.
“No man will have to risk his life to support his family. Those that sit idly, collecting the fruits of other men’s labor, will pay back to society, through a tax on their income, what is justly due to society.”
College students formed most of the crowd. But I also saw many striking mineworkers, some of them bearing the scars of Saturday’s fight. At first, I thought it odd to see students and miners cheering and waving signs together. But many students were the sons of miners and other working-class parents. For them, life was a hardscrabble existence. They were the first in their families to attend college. I smiled at the memory of my first meeting with Phillip Anderson, he was a perfect example. I sensed the appeal of Rationalism to these kids.
I still thought that come Election Day, most people would vote for the two traditional parties. The majority did, but not enough, and not in the right places.
I strode into my “lecture hall” and into a shouting match. Half the class of twenty-two yelled and gestured wildly. Most of the rest watched with interest. I saw two place bets on the result.
“The Unionists are corrupt and incompetent…”
“The Rationalists will bring about--”
“You fools are living in a dream--”
“The Constitution is the supreme law of the land--”
“Only an idiot thinks that…
“Well, that may make sense to a fool, but--
“You morons--”
“Sit down,” I bellowed.
I had to suppress a laugh as I watched the classroom full of first and second-year students scramble to find their seats. I thought a good teacher should also be a good student. I strived to learn as much as I taught, an attitude I hope never to lose, But these young men believed I was a King, the classroom my court.
After a few seconds of fumbling bodies and scrapping chairs, they sat, keeping their eyes on me. It was like looking at a room full of frightened puppies. I’d forgotten we were only a few weeks into the semester. They didn’t know my attitude and methods.
“Well, I’m glad to see I still command a little respect here.”
They laughed nervously, then a young man named Walenski (I’d already noticed that he was an aggressive participant in discussion time) spoke up.
“Dr. Thayer, we were just talking about the election.”
“Good, this course is a political history course. Elections are History, I hear you have some strong feelings, I’d like to hear what you discussed.”
“Oh, just what’s going on,” Walenski answered, “we don’t mean to take up your lecture time.”
“You aren’t, I’m not going to lecture today. We will discuss this year’s election and how the Constitution shapes the process.”
I let them think about that for a second,
“While we’re at it, we’ll talk about the Civil War and reunification. It’s all tied together. This is your chance to learn about how History affects your life.”
We had a lively discussion. The class split almost evenly between Rationalists and Constitutionalists, plus a few undecideds and Unionists. We decided the Rationalists gained voters at the expense of the Unionists. Both parties believed in using a robust national government to achieve their ends. But scandals and corruption clouded the Unionists. I let the students discuss their thoughts among themselves, only intervening when they yelled or resorted to personal attacks.
“Sir, how will you be voting?” Walenski asked, near the end of the class.
I told them they shouldn’t change their minds based on my views. Several laughed, “Don’t worry, I won’t,” Walenski announced to more laughter. I asked how many could vote. Three hands went up, the rest were too young. “So for most of you, this is a theoretical topic. I’ll be voting for Governor Pearsall.”
“Sir, not to be disrespectful,” Walenski spoke up, “but if you believe in the central government, don’t you believe that Governor Davies is the better candidate?”
“No, I don’t. I’ve met him--”
“You’ve met him?” Several students blurted out.
“I knew him from my college days, he was President there when I got my doctorate. Some other graduates and I had dinner with him three years ago, just before I came here.” This excited Davies’ supporters in the room.
“What did you think of him? If you know him, how can you think he isn’t the best candidate.” One asked, his face flushed.
My response produced a shocked silence from the class.
“I think he’s a jackass.”
As November opened the country braced for violence. Besides the strike at Mullan, the last days of October saw many other clashes. Various party supporters and the police fought in too many locations to list. The South, overwhelmingly Constitutionalist, saw little trouble. But across Northeast, and along the Pacific coast demonstrations and rallies turned ugly. This was traditionally Unionist territory, and the UPA party bosses were desperate to fight off the Rationalists.
The Seattle headquarters of the UPA burned down on Halloween night, the fire labeled “suspicious.” The Remington Arms factory in Ilion, New York, saw several days of riots. The company had done a lucrative business with the Army, and the directors were solidly Unionist. They locked out the workers after identifying most of them as Rationalists. In Los Angeles and San Francisco, the problems revolved around dockworkers.
Just like a sudden calm before the storm, everybody settled down. The candidates turned toward their respective homes to await the voters’ decision. Most of us went about our usual business while making final voting decisions. On Sunday Reverend Winchester took as the subject of his sermon the first few verses of Romans 13:
“Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. For there is no power but of God: the powers that be are ordained of God.
Whosoever therefore resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God: and they that resist shall receive to themselves damnation. For rulers are not a terror to good works, but to the evil. Wilt thou then not be afraid of the power? Do that which is good, and thou shalt have praise of the same: For he is the minister of God to thee for good. But if thou do that which is evil, be afraid; for he beareth not the sword in vain: for he is the minister of God, a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil.”
He urged us to remember our responsibilities as good citizens, and representatives of God (I didn’t put myself in that category), he began and ended the service with a prayer for God to guide and bless the country, and to heal the divisions among the people.
On Tuesday, November 5, 1912, two significant events occurred. The big topic of discussion on campus was a cartoon published in the Spokane newspaper. Saturday, the school’s football team had beaten the California Golden Bears by a score of six goals to none. The cartoon depicted the WSC squad as a mountain lion mauling a bear. For years we endured taunts of “Farmboys” directed at our team. We’ve been Cougars ever since that cartoon.
And some fifteen million Americans went to the polls. All over the country, election workers counted ballots and relayed the results by telephone or telegraph. Early Wednesday morning, information about the results began to flow over the country. About noon, the editor of the Pullman Herald put up a chalkboard in front of the paper’s offices and began marking up the state results. By evening he was posting results from other parts of the country.
Thanks to the marvels of modern communication, within days, we knew the result of the election or lack thereof.
On Friday, President Bryan provided the best summation, “The American people have spoken, but I’m not sure any of us knows what they said.”
Chapter 7 Election Results
Counting ballots and reporting results took time. For several days the country waited tensely to see the winners and losers. The politicians used the time to keep their supporters excited about their prospects. Crane and Davies both said they expected to win. Pearsall seemingly resigned himself to a loss. Many United Party incumbents changed their affiliation to Rationalist in the last weeks before the election. This was especially true of those in races that did not include Rationalist opposition. Many looked at the voters’ mood and decided to join what looked like the winning team. This trend continued even after the voting.
My students settled down for a few days after the election, reflecting the voters’ mood. We were all tired. For several days the class listened as I lectured. They asked questions, which I let them discuss among themselves. The discussions stayed polite.
Friday morning, the Pullman Herald ran a vote summary for the Presidential Election. While still incomplete, it reported enough votes counted to determine the probable result. I scanned the article as I ate breakfast. Another tenant of Mrs. Walter’s Boardinghouse leaned over the table.
“Dr. Thayer, what do you make of all this?”
“I think it's going to make some interesting times.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” another guest said, holding up a different newspaper page. “Davis says he’s going to sue, if not awarded the office.”
“Sue who, and for what,” I responded, shaking my head, “in what court? I don’t think he has a case. That isn’t how we settle elections in this country.”
“What would you recommend we do, bring back dueling?”
I looked up from my eggs, “If we do, it will ensure at least one politician shuts up.”
We laughed at my little joke, if I’d known what approached, I would not have joked. I finished breakfast quickly as I wanted to start my day.
I arrived in my classroom early. I expected a lively class, and I wanted to get a start on the right foot. My students quickly justified my thoughts. They all clutched copies of the campus newspaper, which also carried a summary of the election. I noted that most of them brought copies of the Constitution, a few brought “The Federalist Papers.” At least they learned, I hoped, to base their opinions on facts.
“Dr. Thayer, what happens now?” Walenski asked.
“That’s easy,” another said, emphatically, “Davies got the most votes, he should be President.”
“What about the electoral college?” A young man named Paulus yelled, “you can’t just declare your man the winner!”
“Well, this is the perfect time to discuss this.” I said, “Why don’t all you put your heads together and tell me what will happen. It looks like you have what you need.”
Twenty-two students looked at me like frightened deer for a few seconds, then they began flipping through various books looking for information. Wisely, they started with a review of the known votes. After that, the lively discussion I expected began.
The students quickly put together the first piece of information. Out of fifteen million votes cast, Davies took almost six million or thirty-eight percent. Crane followed with about five million, Pearsall came in third with less than four million. Davies carried fifteen states for two hundred fifty-eight electors, just eight short of winning. Pearsall had ninety-eight electoral votes, Crane one hundred seventy-five.
“Sir, I don’t see why you think this is a problem,” as usual, Walenski talked more than the other students, “It seems obvious that Governor Davies will be President.”
“Obvious?”
“The Rationalists will have the largest voting bloc in the House. So they’ll elect Davies, and we’re done right?”
I gave him what my students had learned to call “the look.”
I saw a hand go up, “Mr. Paulus.”
“For starters, it isn’t the new Congress that votes, it’s the outgoing Congress. Groans and expressions of doubt erupted. I heard several students exclaim, “that can’t be right.”
I nodded at Paulus. “Go ahead.”
He held up a newspaper “A joint session of Congress on February 12, 1913 will tally the votes. The new Congress starts March Fourth.”
“I think with the defections from the Unionists, then Mr. Davies will have a majority of votes.”
Another hand shot up.
“Mr. Carlson.”
He had a text open on his desk.
“Sir, both Article Two, Section One, as originally written and the Twelfth Amendment specify that if the vote goes to the House, then the voting is by state, not delegate.”
“Continue.”
“Each state gets one vote, a candidate needs a majority of states to win.”
There was a minute of silence marked only by scratching pencils as my students worked this out.
I heard a whispered, “Jesus.”
“Mr. Wahl, did you have something to say?”
“What happens if NOBODY wins the election?”
“Good question.”
Carlson’s hand went up again.
“Professor, the Twelfth Amendment says that, if by March Fourth the House hasn’t chosen a President, then the Vice President selected by the Senate--”
“Provided they pick one,” somebody interrupted.
Carlson looked up. “I don’t even want to think about that.”
“They will,” Paulus said, “the Senate chooses from the top two candidates and vote as individuals. They’ll take a vote, and that’s it.”
Carlson looked up from his copy of the Constitution, “it says in that instance, the Vice President will ‘act as President’ if the President dies or is unable to discharge his duties. Does that mean he’s acting President until the House decides, or does he just get the job?”
“Another good question.”
We spent the rest of the hour in the most lively discussion.
Barring something radical, the House of Representatives would pick the next President.
I spent the weekend worrying about what would happen, as did the rest of the country. The Sunday paper had a lengthy article on previous disputed elections. I already knew the election of 1804 had taken the House five days and thirty-six ballots to settle. The resulting turmoil had led to the twelfth amendment and the death of Alexander Hamilton. The 1824 election ended with the “corrupt bargain” that made John Quincy Adams President and Henry Clay Secretary of State. In 1884 a special commission settled a dispute over Electors to no one’s satisfaction.
For days, the papers talked about nothing else.
Chapter 8 Heading off the Deadlock
“Sir, I don’t see why you think this is a problem,” as usual, Walenski talked more than the other students, “It seems obvious that Governor Davies will be President.”
“Obvious?”
“Well, the Rationalists will have the largest voting bloc in the House. So they’ll elect Davies, and we’re done right?”
I gave him what my students had learned to call “the look.”
I saw a hand go up
“Mr. Paulus.”
“For starters, it isn’t the new Congress that votes, it's the outgoing Congress. Groans and expressions of doubt erupted. I heard several students exclaim, “that can’t be right.”
I nodded at Paulus. “Go ahead.”
