Reports now streamed into the Clifton announcing the declarations of the delegates state by state—California, Kentucky, North Carolina, all for Bryan. The candidate asked the
Journal
correspondent for a sheet of paper. He told his guests that he’d be back in a minute and stepped into his private room. The correspondent followed him.
“You are nominated, Mr. Bryan,” said the
Journal
man.
The nominee looked up. He was writing a statement to be given to the press. He knew that he was already nominated, but he wouldn’t admit it by word of mouth. But he was putting on paper his first official utterance as the nominated candidate of the Democratic party. Before he had finished it another bulletin came in. It was brief.
“Bryan is nominated.”
That was all. It was enough. A crowd gathered, each man in it being anxious to be the first to touch his hand.
That hand was still writing.
“Wait a moment, I’ve important business just now,” he said, laughing, and looked up when he finished and stood erect. He looked the typical leader of men—the leader of a great political party. He had leaned over to write his idea of one term for the Presidency. When he began no one knew that he was already a nominee for that high office. When he looked up, his face was full of conscious pride.
37
The
Journal,
in its coverage of the Democratic convention, was by far the most animated and comprehensive of the New York dailies. Several papers, including the Republican
Tribune,
credited the Nebraskan with a stirring address, and reviewed or quoted his salient points. The
Times
, on the other hand, reported that the speaker, a “wild theorist” in baggy trousers, had managed to excite the “diseased” minds of the “silver yawpers.”
38
Only the
Journal
left readers with the impression that Bryan’s performance was of a caliber American politics had not heard since Lincoln.
The
World
also ran transcripts of the Hill and Bryan speeches but covered the latter with evident distaste, quoting from it only a single forgettable sentence, and mentioning in a few short paragraphs that his audience was impressed—“the floor of the convention seemed to heave up.” The paper’s editorial, entitled “Hysteria in Politics,” accused the delegates of “fanaticism” and “madness.” Bryan had been carried from obscurity to the nomination on the “frenzy” generated by his eloquence at the convention, an effect identical to that produced when “religious exhorters work upon the sensibilities of their hearers until hysterical women fall into a state resembling catalepsy. . . . Men, too, under the influence of these magnetic appeals, fall to shouting ‘hallelujah!’ ‘Glory to God!’ and walk up and down the . . . aisles under the control of a frenzy that renders them utterly unconscious of their actions.”
39
The
World
decided to leave speculation on the psychological origins of this condition to specialists in the “abnormal conditions of the mind and the contagion of emotion.” It concerned itself instead with mocking the already famous closing of Bryan’s speech: “Is the best money a ‘crown of thorns’ for labor? Is mankind ‘crucified’ in gold-standard England, France, Germany, and Austria, and exalted in free-silver Mexico, Central American and Japan? If it comes to a question of torture and death, is it any worse to suffer upon a ‘cross of gold’ than to be twisted and torn on a rack of silver?” The whole of Bryan’s speech, declared the
World,
was “sublimated nonsense.”
40
Yet however outraged he may have been by the convention, Pulitzer was reluctant to abandon Bryan and his followers. Perhaps realizing that insisting on the lunacy of Democrats was a risky strategy for a Democratic paper, not to mention inconsistent with the
World
’s “trust the people” editorial line, he went out of his way to boast of his access to the new leader. He ran on his front page transcripts of letters from Bryan explaining his policies and asking for the newspaper’s support.
41
The
World
began to sort itself out as the election heated up. It opposed Bryan and his platform as “hostile to the traditions and foreign to the principles”of the Democratic Party. On July 21, it noted that only five of the seventeen policy planks agreed upon in Chicago had ever before been part of a national Democratic platform. The people were still trustworthy—rank-and-file Democrats were fundamentally decent folk who, shattered by corporate greed and Cleveland’s misrule, had stubbornly ignored the sound advice of the
World
’s editorials and succumbed to the dubious charms of a boyish prairie demagogue, but they would eventually come to their senses. Pulitzer promised to keep the party’s true flame alive on their behalf until Bryan’s inevitable crash.
42
Pulitzer was acting from conviction on these matters, but he was also playing the odds. He considered the Democrats doomed, and he was not about to go down with them. “There is no doubt as to the result of the election,” he told his executives, “except as to the size of McKinley’s popular and electoral majorities.”
43
Bryan sent an emissary to Pulitzer, asking again for his support and suggesting that the
World
would lose prestige and influence if it failed to back a winning ticket. Pulitzer was unyielding. “As we sat there on his little private porch at Bar Harbor,” remembered his employee, George C. Eggleston, “Mr. Pulitzer named every state that would give its electoral vote to each candidate, and the returns of the election.” Pulitzer ordered an editorial predicting the results of the election on the basis of his projections. “Let that be our answer,” he said, “to Mr. Bryan’s audacious message.”
44
Confident as he was of his position, Pulitzer was nonetheless abandoning the Bryan Democrats as Charles Dana and the
Sun
had shunned Cleveland a dozen years earlier.
HEARST, MEANWHILE, had problems of his own. According to one biographer, John K. Winkler, he had attended the Chicago convention and was a dozen feet from the stage, watching impassively, as Bryan made his rousing address. Hearst could see where the party was headed and that Bryan was likely to take the nomination. The
Journal
’s hopes of a compromise in Chicago were dashed, and the paper needed a new editorial line.
45
The two biographers who had the most cooperation from Hearst, Winkler and Cora Older, tell essentially the same tale of his deliberations. Winkler’s version is more detailed. He has Hearst hustling back to New York and called a meeting of his top executives. “Gentlemen,” Hearst said, “I have asked you in to discuss our attitude in the coming campaign. Shall we support McKinley and the gold standard or Bryan and free silver?” Managing editor Sam Chamberlain reportedly counseled him to either sit on the fence or switch allegiance to the McKinley Republicans. Editorialist Arthur McEwen argued that Bryan and the Democratic platform deserved support but acknowledged that such a position was untenable in New York or anywhere else in the Northeast given the overwhelming sentiment in favor of the gold standard. Charles Palmer, the
Journal
’s business manager, warned that anything other than an endorsement of McKinley would be devastating to the paper’s circulation and advertising prospects. Hearst is said to have let this conversation run for about half an hour, listening intently and occasionally whistling softly. Finally he said his piece: “I am sorry to disagree with you but I have made up my mind. Mr. McEwen, write a good strong editorial for Bryan and silver. Get it into tomorrow’s paper. Have it played up right, Sam. Good day, gentlemen.” With that, he picked up his straw hat with its bright ribbon and left the room, still whistling softly.
46
Hearst ’s own account of his decision, like the Winkler and Older biographies, emerged long after events. He claimed to have spent a sleepless night pondering his move before choosing to support Bryan, despite silver, as a sincere Democrat and champion of the people. “When . . . the mor ning of the next day broke, I walked down to my editorial room and said to the boys, ‘Unlimber the guns; we are going to fight for Bryan.’”
47
Hostile biographers—including Carlson and Bates and Ferdinand Lundberg—maintain that Hearst was privately in favor of gold but cynically took up the silver cause seeking competitive and financial advantage. He hoped either to sell more papers by distinguishing himself from Pulitzer or, worse, to increase the value of his family’s silver mines by getting Bryan elected.
If Hearst did hold a meeting about the
Journal
’s position on Bryan and silver, it probably did not happen in the manner Winkler describes. Winkler leaves the impression that the
Journal
’s deliberations over the endorsement began and ended at that one particular executive meeting and that a full range of options were on the table at that time, including support for McKinley and gold. He portrays Hearst as approaching the decision cavalierly and without much forethought. But, as we have seen, the paper had been publishing editorials on currency and partisan matters for many months in advance of Chicago. “It will take something worse than the free coinage of silver at 16 to 1 to ruin this country,” the paper had stated only a week earlier.
48
The
Journal
’s positions were so deeply entrenched by the time of the convention that a move toward McKinley in the wake of Chicago would have meant recanting several months’ work and effectively relaunching the paper. If Hearst did discuss an endorsement with his executives, the options under consideration would have been narrow. Would the
Journal
support the ticket and silver, or would it support the ticket despite silver?
What’s more, the meeting could not have happened when Hearst and his biographers say it did. There was no time for Hearst to return from Chicago for a conference with his executives, as in Winkler’s account; nor was there occasion for him to endure a sleepless night, as in his own account. The
Journal
’s new position was on the street within hours of Bryan’s speech, even before he’d won the nomination: “The platform adopted yesterday at Chicago, admirable in everything else, outlines a financial policy that is not satisfactory to Eastern Democrats, nor to the more thoughtful ones of the West and South. It involves confusion, distress, and, as regards existing contracts, partial repudiation.” Recognizing these unpleasant facts, the
Journal
asked, what was a Democratic newspaper to do?
If the alternative were between the free, unlimited and independent coinage of silver at 16 to 1 and McKinleyism . . . our situation would indeed be embarrassing. But it is not quite as bad as that. The election of a free silver President would not necessarily mean the free coinage of silver. All such a President could do would be to sign a bill passed by both houses of Congress. It is absolutely impossible for the silver men to capture the House of Representatives without gross dereliction on the part of the friends of sound money. The question for us, therefore, is whether we ought to try to elect a President who is independent, upright and progressive . . . and enlightened in his views on all subjects but one, but whose ideas on one topic that is never likely to come before him for official action are unsound, or whether we should prefer a man mortgaged to a corrupt oligarchy that would make his Administration a national scandal. . . .
The choice is between the regular Democratic nominee and McKinley, and in such circumstances the duty of Democrats admits of no doubt. It is to vote for sound money Congressmen and the national ticket.
49
It was not an especially elegant position, wishing the Democrats frustration on their key plank, but it was consistent with the
Journal
’s standing policy. The next morning, the paper repeated the essentials of its new argument in an editorial welcoming Bryan as the nominee.
50
It is unlikely that Hearst’s hunger for higher circulation decided the matter. Hearst could be as self-interested as any publisher in New York, but the commercial prospects of his choice were unpromising. Even if Pulitzer were to repeat Dana’s error and abandon the Democrats in a presidential year (which was not certain when the
Journal
made its call), and even if that were to leave Hearst the only significant New York editor behind Bryan, he remained at risk. The Democrats were prohibitive underdogs coming out of Chicago. The party was split and the ticket was unpopular in New York, especially among the commercial elites, although it did find a measure of support among the working-classes and recent immigrants. These facts threatened Hearst’s circulation and advertising. He stuck with Bryan primarily on principle. However much he disliked the silver plank, Hearst did consider the Republicans and their support for the gold standard a greater evil.
Biographers have always found it difficult to accept Hearst as a serious political actor. One reason is that he does not fit the profile. He had none of the familiar attributes of leading political journalists. The
Sun
’s Dana and the
Evening Post
’s E.L. Godkin owned more impressive intellects; Pulitzer was more didactic and Whitelaw Reid more high-minded; and all of these editors were also accomplished political writers. Hearst got an incomplete at Harvard and he did relatively little writing for publication. He was young and high-spirited and burdened with the perception that he was making what one historian has called a “spectacle of his life.”
51
He was also running a newspaper notably short of the earnestness we associate with a strong sense of political purpose. But all of this only makes Hearst unusual: none of it disqualifies him as a political voice.