The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt (30 page)

I
N THIS HEALTHY FRAME
of mind, and feeling superbly healthy in body, the conqueror of the Matterhorn arrived back in New York on 2 October 1881. He lost no time in resuming his tripartite life, although a diary entry for 17 October indicates that his priorities had changed. “Am working fairly hard at my law, hard at politics, and hardest of all at my book.” Indeed, Theodore’s interest in the first of these activities was steadily waning. He would continue to attend Columbia Law School lectures, on and off, for at least
another year, and acquire, almost against his will, a semiprofessional mastery of civil and criminal procedure, corporate and constitutional law, labor contracts, and cross-examination techniques—all highly useful to him in later life. But he found his current ambitions better served (and his soul more soothed) by the contrasted pleasures of politicking and writing.
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From 6 October to 8 November it was the former activity that prevailed, since the Twenty-first District was going through its annual throes of returning an Assemblyman to Albany. Theodore did not want to miss a moment of the “rough and tumble.” He plunged aggressively into primary work, resolved “to kill our last year’s legislator,” who was up for renomination.
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The legislator’s name was William Trimble. Like all of Jake Hess’s hand-picked Assemblymen, he was a loyal servant of the machine, and a Stalwart through and through. This alone would have been enough to prejudice Theodore against him. The fact that Trimble had voted to oppose his pet cause, the Street Cleaning Bill, added a personal zest to the fight. Accordingly Theodore worked energetically on behalf of independent delegates, and on 24 October, at the preconvention meeting in Morton Hall, he stood up to make a formal protest against Trimble’s renomination.
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Hess listened from behind his pitcher of iced water with the bland patience of a leader who is sure of his delegates. Neither he nor the speaker was aware that the same thoughtful eyes which had rested on Theodore earlier in the year were resting on him again, and that by now their gaze was beady.

The eyes belonged to Joe Murray, one of Hess’s Irish lieutenants. Burly, red-faced, taciturn, and shrewd,
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Murray had his own reasons to stop Trimble, more complex ones than Theodore’s. He had been raised in barefoot poverty on First Avenue, and emerged in his teens as the leader of a street gang. In this capacity he had been employed, on a freelance basis, to influence the course of local elections with his fists. Although he worked, in alternate years, for both Republicans and Democrats, his blows on behalf of the former party carried more conviction, so to speak, than those for the latter, and in his early twenties he had been rewarded with the job of ward heeler at Morton Hall. Having thus literally punched his way into politics, Murray revealed unexpected gifts for party organization, and moved up quietly through the ranks until now, in his midthirties,
he stood at Hess’s elbow. Being a philosophical man, he tolerated his leader’s arrogance and vanity, content to build up support within the association until the time was ripe to “make a drive” at him.
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It had been too early to do that in the spring, when Murray had joined Hess in crushing Theodore’s support of the Street Cleaning Bill, but he had not forgotten the young man’s courage and outspokenness. During the summer, events had conspired to keep Roosevelt in his mind. The resignation of Boss Conkling, and the assassination of President Garfield, caused a public outcry against machine politicians in general, and Stalwarts in particular. Since Assemblyman Trimble was both, he had been tainted by this unpopularity, and Murray’s street instinct warned that if Trimble stood for reelection, the Twenty-first might fall to the Democrats. But when the Irishman expressed his misgivings, Hess had reacted contemptuously. “He’ll be nominated anyway. You don’t amount to anything.”
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This was one insult too many for Murray. Unknown to Hess, he had already lined up enough delegates to nominate anybody he chose. All he lacked was a candidate. Two nights later, as he sat listening to Theodore speak at the preconvention meeting, he realized that he had found one. Here was a candidate to beat Trimble, humiliate Hess, and convince the electorate that the bad old days of Republicanism were over. This boy bore the name of one of New York’s most revered philanthropists. As an Ivy League man, he could be counted on to bring in “the swells and the Columbia crowd”; as a Knickerbocker, he would generate funds along Fifth Avenue. He was obviously naive and untrained in politics, but that should prove an advantage on the hustings. His manners were pleasing, his face open and ingenuous, and he positively glowed with righteousness. He would be independent of any machine, immune to all bribes; he was honest, elegant, humorous, and a born fighter. What was more, he obviously enjoyed getting up on a chair and shouting at people. Murray decided “it was Theodore Roosevelt or no one.”
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At the end of the meeting he drew the young man aside and told him that he, too, was opposed to the renomination of Trimble. Casually, the Irishman said that he had been “looking around” for another candidate and thought his search might be over.

“No, I wouldn’t dream of such a thing,” Theodore said. “It would look as if I had selfish motives in coming around to oppose this man.”

Murray could interpret a coy expression as well as anybody. “Well, get me a desirable candidate.”

“Oh, you won’t have any trouble,” replied Theodore, and offered to look for one himself.
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The following evening they met again, and Theodore had to admit that he had not found a candidate. But he was still sure he could do so. With only three days to go before the convention, Murray grew impatient.

“Mr. Roosevelt, in case we can’t get a suitable candidate, will you take the nomination?”

Theodore hesitated. “Yes, but I don’t want it.” He was privately suspicious of Murray’s motives, and went to seek the reassurance of a mutual friend, Edward Mitchell. “Joe is not in the habit of making statements that he cannot make good,” Mitchell told him. “You have fallen in very good hands.”
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On 28 October 1881, the Assembly Convention met at Morton Hall. Murray sat patiently through a forty-five-minute speech nominating Assemblyman Trimble. Then he rose and simply said, “Mr. Chairman, I nominate Theodore Roosevelt.” The convention voted in his favor on the first ballot, with a majority of sixteen to nine.
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Theodore was just twenty-three years and one day old.

Late that night the nominee wrote in his diary, “My platform is: strong Republican on State matters, but independent on local and municipal affairs.” Thus, at the very outset of his political career, he managed to balance party loyalty with personal freedom. The platform he chose was an unstable one, yet he had already found its center of gravity. For the next four decades he would occupy that motionless spot, while the rest of the platform tipped giddily backward and forward, Left and Right.

C
ONFRONTED WITH
Theodore’s nomination as a fait accompli, the Roosevelt family rallied to his support with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
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Wealthy friends of his father offered to help with
campaign expenses and published an open letter testifying to his “high character … honesty and integrity.” The list of signatures on this document, which read like a combination of the
Social Register
and
Banker’s Directory
, included that of the eminent lawyer Elihu Root, yet another of Theodore’s future Secretaries of State.
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Press comment on the nomination was mostly favorable. “Every good citizen has cause for rejoicing,” declared
The New York Times
, “that the Republicans of the Twenty-first Assembly District have united upon so admirable a candidate for the Assembly as Mr. THEODORE ROOSEVELT.… Mr. Roosevelt needs no introduction to his constituency. His family has been long and honorably known as one of the foremost in this city, and Mr. Roosevelt himself is a public-spirited citizen, not an office-seeker, but one of the men who should be sought for office.”

The newspaper went on to note that as Theodore’s district was “naturally Republican,” he could look forward to “a handsome majority” in the election.
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This fact may also have been realized by the Democrats. Their candidate was a Dr. W. W. Strew, recently fired from the directorship of Blackwell’s Island Lunatic Asylum.
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Theodore himself had no doubt that he would be elected. His campaign circular, dated 1 November 1881, was so brief, and bare of promises, as to seem almost arrogant:

After decades of flowery political appeals, this simple message came as a welcome surprise to the electorate.

For all the favorable trends, Theodore’s eight-day campaign was not without its anxious moments. Joe Murray and Jake Hess (who had philosophically agreed to support the Assembly Convention’s decision) soon discovered that their candidate had an alarming
tendency to speak his mind. It was fortunate that they accompanied him on a personal canvass of the saloons of Sixth Avenue, or, as Theodore recalled in his autobiography, the “liquor vote” might have been lost.

Theodore received the news of his victory—3,490 votes to Strew’s 1,989, almost double the usual Republican margin—distractedly. After voting on the morning of 9 November, he had retired to the library at 6 West Fifty-seventh Street and busied himself with his book, which was due at Putnam’s by Christmas. Not until an admirer called, “wishing to meet the rising star,” did he accept the fact that he was now a professional politician.
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This sudden change in status seems only to have increased his determination to become, simultaneously, a professional writer. He spent the rest of November working with total absorption on his manuscript, and by 3 December it was in the hands of the publisher.
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The Naval War of 1812
, which appeared some five months later,
was the first and in some ways the most enduring of Theodore Roosevelt’s thirty-eight books. Reviewers were almost unanimous in their praise of its scholarship, sweep, and originality. It was recognized on both sides of the Atlantic as “the last word on the subject,” and a classic of naval history. Within two years of publication it went through three editions, and became a textbook at several colleges. In 1886, by special regulation, at least one copy was ordered placed on board every U.S. Navy vessel.
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Eleven years later, when Great Britain was preparing her own official history of the Royal Navy, the editors paid Theodore the unprecedented compliment of asking him to write the section of that work dealing with the War of 1812. For almost a century,
Naval War
would remain the definitive work in its field.
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Considering the author’s youth (he was twenty-one when he began it, and just twenty-three when he finished), his frequent ill health, and many distractions, the book may be considered an extraordinary achievement.

Its merits are as simple as those of any serious piece of academic writing: clarity, accuracy, and completeness, backed by massive documentation. The density of research is such that Theodore often quotes a different authority for every sentence. His impartiality in weighing facts and reaching conclusions is remarkable in view of his burgeoning Americanism. Sentiment is never allowed to interfere with statistics. Admittedly, the first chapters do not make for fascinating reading: