\\\ 1 iiiii MY OWN STORY An account of the conditions in Kentuqlyr leading to the assassination of William Goebcl, who was declared governor of the State, and my indictment and conviction on the charge of complicity in his murder By CALEB POWERS Illustrated from Photographs INDIANAPOLIS THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY PUBLISHERS * Copyright 1905 The Bobbs-Merrill Company V-.4 April I LIBRARY of CONGflESS I Twc Copies .-Jsctfiveu APR 22 l^Ot \ u^y. Ct -Xc. Mo: I I //SSO/ PRESS OF BRAUNWORTH & CO. BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS BROOKLYN, N. Y. CONTENTS CHAPTER I BOYHOOD IN THE MOUNTAINS PAGE My reasons for writing this story — My ancestors ^- My life as a boy in the Kentucky mountains — Our re- moval to Brush Creek i CHAPTER n MY FIRST SPEECH I matriculate at Union College — The college debate — My first oratorical effort — I teach my first school . 9 CHAPTER HI THE GREAT DEBATE I argue about the burning question, " Resolved : That the earth is round" — The judgment of my peers . 20 CHAPTER IV COLLEGE DAYS My life at the state college — I learn to drill — I teach school again — Illness — My appointment to West Point 26 CHAPTER V A NEW OUTLOOK I journey to West Point — A glimpse of the national capital — I prepare for examinations — The ordeal — I enter West Point 35 CHAPTER VI SUMMER CAMP I Spend the summer in camp — Hazing — I arrest my superior officer 43 CHAPTER Vn AT LAW SCHOOL I become a third-classman — My eyesight fails and I am forced to leave the Academy — I enter the law school at Valparaiso, Indiana 48 CHAPTER Vni MY FIRST POLITICAL CAMPAIGN I am a candidate for the office of superintendent of schools of Knox County, Kentucky — I make a can- vass of the mountain districts — I take part in joint debates — I am graduated from law school and elected to office 52 CHAPTER IX MARRIAGE Responsibility of office — I begin to practise law — My marriage — The sudden death of my wife .... 61 CHAPTER X AGAINST ODDS I am again a successful candidate — I take a post- graduate course in law at Center College, Danville — Stump-speaking 6/S CHAPTER XI THE KENTUCKY PROBLEM FACE Affairs in Kentucky in 1899 — The Goebel Election Law — Opinion of Henry Watterson — The effort of the Democrats to have the law declared constitutional — The outlook for Democratic success in the campaign of 1899 71 CHAPTER Xn THE DEMOCRATIC MACHINE The Democratic state convention at Music Hall, Louis- ville — Many contesting delegations — Excitement over the temporary chairman's decision — Bailiffs fail to preserve order — Election of Redwine as perma- nent chairman — Machine work — Stone proposes terms ']'j CHAPTER Xni THE CONVENTION DECIDES Continuance of Democratic Convention at Music Hall — Despair of delegates — Judge Redwine refuses to entertain a motion to adjourn — Goebel is nominated — Democratic ticket — Independent Democrats re- pudiate the ticket of the Music Hall Convention — Objections of Prohibitionists — Anti-Goebel move- ment goes on — Denunciation of the Goebel Election Law 85 CHAPTER XIV THE REPUBLICAN CONVENTION Race for nominations on the Republican ticket — State convention at Lexington — I am nominated for Sec- retary of State 93 CHAPTER XV MR. BRYAN VISITS KENTUCKY PAGE Goebel opens his campaign at Mayfield — His reluctance to mix with people — Republican campaign begins at London — Opening of anti-Goebel campaign at Bowl- ing Green — Goebel refuses to take part in joint de- bate — Mr. Bryan on the stump for Goebel — Louis- ville election board removes election officers ... 98 CHAPTER XVI ELECTION DAY IN KENTUCKY IN 1899 Election day — " Repeaters' paradise " — Assembling of military — Republicans win by a safe plurality — Democrats claim election — -Election board renders decision in favor of Republicans 105 CHAPTER XVn THE REPUBLICANS STAND FIRM Goebel contests decision of election board — Democratic caucus — Evidence of Mr. Harrel — Inauguration of Taylor — Rules of Contest Committee . .. . . iil CHAPTER XVin THE SHOOTING OF WILLIAM GOEBEL Effort of Taylor's attorneys to remove Democratic mem- bers of contest committees — Suit to enjoin Taylor appointees from taking oath of office — Republicans seek to arouse the people — I bring the mountain people to Frankfort — Meeting on the steps of the Capitol — I go to Louisville for more petitioners — Goebel is shot — The excitement at Frankfort — The military is called out . . . I18 CHAPTER XIX MAKING POLITICAL CAPITAL PAGE Demand for revenge — Governor Taylor convenes the Legislature at London — Democrats declare Goebel and Beckham elected and later falsify the records of the general assembly — A proclamation — Senator Goebel's death is announced, and Beckham takes the oath of office as governor 126 CHAPTER XX AN APPEAL TO THE COURTS Sorrow over the death of Senator Goebel — Governor Taylor rejects the Louisville "Peace Agreement" — General assembly reconvenes at Frankfort — Two legislative bodies and two sets of state officials . . 130 CHAPTER XXI DEMOCRATIC SLEUTHS BEGIN WORK Decision against Republicans — Action of Legislature final — Goebel partizans threaten to take forcible pos- session of the offices — Situation becomes warlike — The Democrats appropriate one hundred thousand dollars to discover and punish the assassin . . . 137 CHAPTER XXII MY ARREST I visit my father and mother — Threatened with arrest, I seek safety in flight, but am taken from a train at Lexington — I pass a gloomy, apprehensive night in a cell 142 CHAPTER XXIII FROM LEXINGTON TO LOUISVILLE FACE Nocturnal visit of officers to my cell — Handcuffed, I am taken from jail, driven across country to a rail- way and hurried to Louisville — A defense fund of ten thousand dollars 150 CHAPTER XXIV MY PRELIMINARY HEARING Before Judge Moore — The late T. C. Campbell's record — Wharton Golden's testimony — Dramatic scene, pregnant with dire possibilities, that finally passes away without bloodshed — Moments of great peril to myself — I am denied bail and go back to jail . . 155 CHAPTER XXV THE prosecution's PLANS Arrest of Combs, Noakes, Youtsey and others — How Lawyer Campbell and Arthur Goebel secure a " con- fession " from Youtsey — Decision against Taylor and Marshall — Report of the grand jury, indicting myself and many others — Federal supreme court de- cides against the Republicans — Governor Taylor's flight to Indiana — Denunciatory Democratic plat- form 164 CHAPTER XXVI REPUBLICANS BARRED My first trial before Judge Cantrill — Selection of a par- tizan jury — Disregard of the law for the purpose of insuring conviction — Campbell's statement in behalf of the prosecution ...... .... . . . 176 CHAPTER XXVII A POLITICAL NECESSITY PAGE Trained witness for the Commonwealth — George F. Weaver's sensational statement in regard to the shoot- ing of Senator Goebel — Indictment for perjury, but no prosecution — Finley Anderson's false testimony 183 CHAPTER XXVIII THE VALUE OF AN OATH Robert Noakes in the role of a star-witness — Later con- fesses himself to be a perjurer — W. H. Culton exon- erates me after giving sensational testimony — F. Wharton Golden's evidence — Prosecution calls the Goebel press to its rescue 189 CHAPTER XXIX MY DEFENSE AND MY CONVICTION Judge Faulkner's statement for the defense — My testi- mony for myself — Cross-examination by Lawyer Campbell — Address to the jury — Verdict of guilty, with penalty of life imprisonment — Juryman Porter — My card to the public I95 CHAPTER XXX AFTER THE VERDICT I am again taken to the Louisville jail — ^ My reflections on the way — I find myself a victim of injustice, with no prospect of redress — Charges and countercharges preceding the trial of Jim Howard — Summary of the testimony — Howard is convicted of shooting Goebel and is sentenced to death 204 CHAPTER XXXI TRIAL OF HENRY E. YOUTSEY FAGS Campbell's deftly woven statement — Hunted look of the defendant — His fierce denunciation of Arthur Goebel and paroxysmal display of emotion — His illness and his appearance in the court-room — Jury returns ver- dict of guilty, with imprisonment for life . . . 213 CHAPTER XXXn A REPUBLICAN JUDGE ELECTED Confessions by Anderson and Noakes, admitting they were bribed — Youtsey signs an affidavit exonerating me — I am encouraged by a change in the political complexion of the court of appeals 220 CHAPTER XXXni A NEW TRIAL GRANTED Four Republican appellate judges grant Howard and my- self new trials — Colonel W. C. P. Breckinridge's arraignment of the Democratic judges — Continua- tion of the prosecution's "Hang and damn" policy — Captain Ripley's acquittal — Judge Cantrill's famous charge to the Grand Jury 225 CHAPTER XXXIV AGAIN BEFORE JUDGE CANTRILL Governor Durbin declines to honor requisitions for Tay- lor and Finley — My second trial a repetition of the first — Judge Cantrill refuses to vacate the bench — Twelve partizan Goebel Democrats act as jurymen — Am again convicted, and sentenced for life . . . 232 CHAPTER XXXV YOUTSEY AND THE PROSECUTION PAGE J. B. Howard's second trial results in change of sentence to life imprisonment — Berry Howard's acquittal — Attempts to induce Youtsey to make a " new " confes- sion — Torture at last produces a statement that is satisfactory to the prosecution — My own position be- comes more grave 237 CHAPTER XXXVI Howard's third trial Cecil's remarkable testimony — Youtsey tells a long story, but fails to connect me with the so-called conspiracy to kill Senator Goebel — Admits having perjured him- self, when confronted with affidavits — Is again con- victed and sentenced 246 CHAPTER XXXVH MY THIRD TRIAL Death of my father — I am not permitted to attend his funeral — Judge Robbins supplants Judge Cantrill — Another packed jury — Youtsey and Cecil testify against me 253 CHAPTER XXXVni CONDEMNED My closing argument in behalf of myself — Crowds listen to my review of the case, in which I arraign the pros- ecution — Jury, however, finds me guilty, attaches the death penalty, and I am sentenced to be hanged — Appeal to the higher court 259 CHAPTER XXXIX WHERE MY CASE RESTS PAGE Tragic end of T. C. Campbell and peaceful death of for- mer Governor Brown — Court of appeals for the third time declares my conviction illegal and unfair and grants me a new trial — I am awaiting the re- turn of reason and justice 265 CHAPTER XL CONCLUSION My story written under difficulties — I am surrounded by criminals of all degrees — Noise and impertinent curi- osity, instead of privacy — Five years in prison and still no final determination of my case — An awaken- ing of the people at hand 271 APPENDICES Appendix A Affidavit of Finley B. Anderson . . . 279 Appendix B Affidavit of Robert Noakes 283 Appendix C My Address to the Jury During My Third Trial 295 Appendix D Instructions Asked, and Instructions Given, During My First Trial . . . 469 Appendix E Correspondence Between Governors Dur- bin and Beckham 478 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Caleb Powers Frontispiece Members of My Family 50 In My Earlier Days 64 , William Goebel 7^ Goebel's Home in Covington 90 Colonel "Jack" Chinn 100 Goebel and Chinn with Members of the Legislature . . 112 Scenes in Frankfort 124 A Plan of the Capitol Grounds I34 On the Capitol Grounds I44 The Grand Jury 168 Some of the Others Indicted 186 Robert Franklin 198 The Judges During My Trials 234 My Address to the Jury • . . . 260 Scenes in My Quarters in Louisville Jail 272 MY OWN STORY MY OWN STORY CHAPTER I BOYHOOD IN THE MOUNTAINS My reasons for writing this story — My ancestors — My life as a boy in the Kentucky mountains — Our removal to Brush Creek One of the masters of literature has said that a book for which the author feels an apology necessary should never see the light. It is in full agreement with this sentiment that my present task is begun, admitting, though, that if there is any book for which the author is tempted to apologize, it is one of an autobiograph- ical character. When, however, an autobiography is written for the purpose of promulgating the truth, of putting before the public facts which have been misstated, distorted, misrepresented — especially in a case where life and honor are involved — there should be no hesitation on the part of the writer, even though the ego is more conspicuous than modesty might desire. Thoreau says in his Walden: *' I would not talk so much about myself if there were anybody else whom I knew as well." Let his excuse be mine. It is impossible to eliminate self from an autobiog- raphy ; equally impossible to present certain facts and ideas in other than the first person. I 2 MY OWN STORY Realizing all this, and more, I have decided to put before the reading public, just as though I were relating it of another, an account of such periods of my life as seem to be of interest, knowing that what- ever value it may possess is not intrinsic, but comes of the unprecedented conditions and circumstances which have forced me into becoming a somewhat con- spicuous figure in the criminal and political history of my state. Feeling that all the environments, ambitions and circumstances that affected my early life have a bearing upon my present position, I relate them as they recur to my memory. The charm of reading consists in recalling to mind what is already known. Litera- ture is a confession. My father, Amos Powers, was born December seventeenth, 1840, and was reared on Patterson Creek, Whitley County, Kentucky. About twenty miles dis- tant, my mother, whose maiden name was Elizabeth Perkins, was born about seven years before, and spent her childhood and youth. The name of my paternal grandfather was Jesse Powers; the name of my mother's father was Thomas Perkins. Both were originally from Virginia, and on the way to the promis- ing West, they stopped and cast their lot and fortune among the people of that slandered region known as the mountains of Kentucky. My grandfather, Jesse Powers, was killed during the Civil War, fighting for the preservation of the Union. My other grand- father, Thomas Perkins, enlisted in the same cause ; he held no rank in the army, wanted none, and was always considered a genial comrade and an all- round good fellow. He was married twice, and had by his first marriage a large family, consisting of BOYHOOD IN THE MOUNTAINS 3 three sons, Wiley, Sterling and Peter, and three daugh- ters, Nancy, Margaret and my mother. There were no children by the second marriage. Thomas Perkins was a slaveholder at the beginning of the Civil War, but liberated his negroes before he became a volunteer in the Union Army. My uncle Caleb, for whom I was named, is the only brother my father had ; they had one sister, Katherine. My uncle Caleb is an unostentatious, level-headed man, of a cool and calculating disposition. Neither he nor my father ever sought office. Both my father's and mother's people have led lives of compara- tive obscurity, rarely seeking political preferment ; but, when they sought it, they were generally successful. A number of them from time to time have been elected to county and district offices. In the early days the mountains of Kentucky af- forded few advantages, and not many of my an- cestors obtained more than a common-school educa- tion ; but, with rare exceptions, the kinspeople of my mother, who were numerous, were men and women of exceedingly strong character, possessed of fine native ability, and took an active part in local affairs, while one of my uncles, Peter Perkins, was, at the time of his death, a man of considerable means. My mother has been married twice, and by her first marriage had two children, Uriah and Nancy Blakeley. After her first husband lost his life in the Civil War, she lived several years a widow, and married my father August second, 1867. As a result of that marriage there are four children, John Lay, Katherine, Rebecca and myself. I am the oldest, and was born February first, 1869, in Whitley County, Kentucky, on the waters of what is known as Patter- 4 MY OWN STORY son Creek. My brother and sisters were born in Knox County, Kentucky, where my parents moved when I was less than a year old. My brother was born March third, 1871 ; my sisters, Katherine and Rebecca, March twenty-sixth, 1876, and June eighteenth, 1880, respectively. Some of my egotistic kinsmen have, upon a few occasions, stoutly maintained that we are de- scendants of Hiram Powers, the sculptor, and therefore related to the wife of President Fillmore, who was a Miss Abigail Powers, a descendant of Walter Powers. But as to the fact of these relationships, I am not pre- pared to speak. Be the relationships as they may, the chasing of pedigree is a harmless diversion, whether a man has much or little to chase. I leave mine here. Yesterday's triumphs belong to yesterday. My father devoted his life to the farm and the education of his children. He always regretted that he did not adopt the law as a profession ; conse- quently it was natural that from my boyhood his am- bition was that I should be a lawyer. He began to train me early, and entered me in the public school of Knox County in my fifth year. Our home was two or three miles from the school-house, so I traveled that distance every day, along a country road, down Poplar Creek Valley to the country school, in search of some learning and not a little fun. I remember well the old log house in which my education was begun. It had one window and one door ; the logs were hewn oak ; the benches were sap- lings split in the middle; auger holes were bored through the ends, into which legs were pushed in order to hold them up in the form of a bench, and these benches were placed against the wall, which BOYHOOD IN THE MOUNTAINS 5 served as a back. The floor was of large, hewn poplar puncheons. The fireplace had a large open mouth that could have swallowed half the pupils without difficulty. I remember taking an active part in the games, sports and mischief that went on at school. I recall, particularly, an incident in which I figured a little too conspicuously for my own peace of mind and body. After painting my face and hands with pokeberry juice, I walked into the school-room during study hours to witness the effect of my appearance upon the pupils, and forthwith felt the effect upon myself. My teacher soon persuaded me, with the assistance of a long beech limb, which he kept near-by, to go to the mill-pond and wash off the purple dye with which I had adorned myself. In fact, I was frequently cor- rected during the early days of my school life, but as I stood well in my classes, this in a great measure palliated my wrong-doing; and I escaped the teacher's correcting rod in many instances where I merited it. It was during these days, and before I was thir- teen years of age, that I fell desperately in love — at least, I thought I did, which served the purpose quite as well. The object of my affection was a sweet, mild- tempered little girl of about my own age, who brought me candies and apples, and with whom I walked home on my way from school. Young though she was, she never hesitated to declare publicly that she was my sweetheart, and that we would marry when we were " big enough." As these assertions reflected my own sentiments I felt quite gratified at her bravery in so courageously declaring them. She met me at the gate of life, and I thought if I could but cling to her skirts, she would take me to Heaven. It was my firm deter- 6 MY OWN STORY mination to marry her, and I possibly might have done so had not my father, with unfeeHng disregard for our romance, moved from that section of the coun- ty. I did not wish to go away; I preferred to stay in the old place where I could be near, and occasionally see, my sweetheart ; but fate was inexorable. Our new home was on a farm of about five hundred acres, on Brush Creek, Knox County, Kentucky, where my mother still resides. We had been there nearly two years before I again saw the object of my ad- miration. During these two years, I had often thought of going to see her; but I was too young to think of going a-courting, and, as I had no business in her lo- cality, I could only bide my time. Finally, I had an opportunity to attend the church of her neighborhood. Arriving there one Sunday, I awaited her coming with much impatience, but at last my eye fell on her. I remember that there were five ministers present on that day ; and, as was the custom in this part of the country at that time, they all took part in the service, so it can be readily imagined that the ceremony was not short. All these preachers were what might perhaps be called uneducated men, and their discourses were phrased in homely verbiage, but what they said was neverthe- less earnest and forceful. Two of these gentlemen wore jean trousers, cot- tonade shirts, and brogan shoes. The men of the congregation, with few exceptions, had on rough, country apparel ; while the women present wore sun- bonnets, calico dresses, large aprons and other para- phernalia to match, or intended to match. As is still customary in the mountains of Kentucky, nearly the whole congregation lingered about the church door BOYHOOD IN THE MOUNTAINS 7 and in the churchyard, after the services, to exchange friendly greetings. It was in the churchyard, then, that I met the sweetheart of my school-days. Surely this was not the same girl I had loved so devotedly two years before ! I scarcely knew her ; she scarcely knew me. She was changed. She was no longer trusting and confiding in her manner, but shy and self-conscious — as elusive as the ripples that play hide-and-seek over the bosom of the placid lake. Her brown eyes sparkled more brilliantly, her dark hair was carefully arranged, her face was none the less beauti- ful, but it was not the face I had known. Lovers dis- cover subtle changes, while time and distance only too frequently dissipate love, as the sun dissipates the morning dew. I suppose I was not prepared to find her almost grown into womanhood, and was conse- quently disappointed. She was no longer my ideal. I no longer loved her. The crowd soon dispersed up and down the country road ; some went across the paths through the fields, some on horseback, some on muleback, some afoot. Some horses carried one person, others two, and not a few bore even heavier burdens. As the members of this little congregation departed for their homes, or the homes of their neighbors, *' How is your crop? " " Come to see us," and " How are all at home ? " were remarks frequently heard. Soon all were gone, and I was left alone in the deserted church- yard. I felt lonely, for I knew no one very well except my sweetheart, and I knew her no more. For a few moments I was left in reverie. The sluggish waters of Poplar Creek crept by me near at hand; the shadows from the tall oaks standing in 8 MY OWN STORY the churchyard protected me from the burning rays of the sun. Two tall mountain peaks rose on either side of the creek ; there were corn-fields in the bottom- lands, corn-fields on the hillsides, but I was thinking little of stream, or sun, or growing corn. My thoughts were not of these. It is said that there is something in the surroundings of the mountaineer, — the solitude of the mountains, the close and constant intercourse with nature, — which causes him, at an earlier age, to take a more serious view of life than do those who dwell in less elevated lands. Be that as it may, I question whether, at any age, my disappointment could be more acute than on that quiet Sunday as I stood in the silent churchyard, looking at the past and future. A boyish dream was then and there left behind, and though I had perhaps no definite idea or plan for the future, yet I began to wonder, in a vague way, what it might bring forth. In this mood, half-melan- choly, half-retrospective, I mounted my horse and made my way back to my home. CHAPTER II MY FIRST SPEECH I matriculate at Union College — The college debate — My first oratorical effort — I teach my first school My father's farm was, and still is, a very good one for the section of the country in which it lies. He always kept it in an excellent state of cultivation, re- taining several tenants on the place. Plowing corn, chopping weeds, raking hay and doing a thousand and one chores about the farm, made up my occupa- tion until the fall school began ; and, let me say it in my own favor, I worked as well, possibly better, when my father was not looking at me as I did when he was. In his presence, I made footprints on the sands of time, plowing up and down Brush Creek bottom. I continued this at intervals until I was fifteen years of age. After that I worked but little on the farm. From the time we had moved to Brush Creek, I had been less wayward in school, and had confined myself closely to study, so that before I was fourteen years of age I had completed Ray's Practical Arithmetic, and had almost completed Elementary Algebra. A short time before I was sixteen years old, I matriculated in Union College, at Barboursville. I was somewhat small for my years, had lived all my life in the country, among country people, and knew very little about town or city life. It had 9 10 MY OWN STORY always appeared to me that the towns and cities had a superfluity of folk. I had often wondered how people in these places made their living. I had been in Bar- boursville, my home town, on a number of occasions, and the people, as it then seemed to me, were all idle and well-dressed. I did not understand how this could be. It was among these idle, well-dressed people that my father had decided to send me to school. The prin- cipal hotel-keeper of the place, Mr. W. B. Anderson, was an old friend of my father's, and to his house I was sent to board. He gave me a small up-stairs room, which I shared with two other college students. These were two of the leading spirits of the college, and they proceeded to initiate me rather rapidly. As a begin- ning, the morning after my arrival, they escorted me up to the college, and introduced me to Professor Hartford P. Grider, president of the school. He was a large, frank-faced, kind-hearted man, who seemed to realize at once that I was an inexperienced boy from the country, and needed his sympathy and guid- ance. When, from the little bag in which I carefully carried them, I pulled the books I used in the country school, he very kindly told me that these text-books were not used at the college, and that I should have to purchase others — a thing which struck me as something of an infringement of a boy's rights ; for I had been accustomed to use whatever text-books I desired, or that chanced to be convenient. I saw that the college rules were evidently different from those of the country school, so I reluctantly bought a new set of books, and began my school career anew. When the professor assigned me a patent desk (the MY FIRST SPEECH ii first I had ever seen) the eyes of every student in the room were fixed upon me. I was a new boy in the school. That I was from the country, my dress and appearances clearly indicated. Society punishes, not those who sin, but those who fail to conceal it, and my sin was apparent, for I was countrified beyond concealment. I fancied that a goodly number of my future companions looked at me sneeringly. I was not one of them, or had not been until a few moments be- fore, and it struck me they were not particularly proud of their new acquisition. Taking this view of the situation, I did not care in the least whether they were glad or sorry to have me. I was there, and I meant to stay. At the first recess the boys and I had it out, as boys will, but after this all was smooth sailing. Through the persuasion of my room-mates, E. B. Hemphill and John C. Main, I joined the lit- erary society the first day I was at college. This was a new feature of school life to me ; and it was the first society of the kind of which I had ever been a mem- ber. I was selected as one of the judges of the dis- cussion which was to take place that night, and, in consequence, felt that I was being promoted rather rapidly. The society was to give a public entertain- ment the following night, but it became known on the night of my initiation into the society that the leader on the negative side of the debate could not participate in the discussion. After several unsuccessful attempts to fill the vacancy, my name was finally suggested, and I was selected. I was lacking in the elements of caution and prudence, so I accepted, without really knowing what was to be done on the occasion. I did not know that the whole town would be invited, and that it would 12 MY OWN STORY certainly come. I supposed the program would be similar to the one I had just seen rendered, and I was quite willing to take part in an affair of that kind, for I regarded it as a source of improvement. I was there to learn all that could be learned, as I saw it at that time. At length I began to inquire of my schoolmates something about the nature of the coming entertain- ment. They told me, with a lightness of manner which ill accorded with my feehngs, that the event in which I was to figure so conspicuously was to be a public performance in which the town-folk took great interest. They said that the legal and medical fraternity would turn out en masse ; that the business interests of the place demanded that the business men and their wives and daughters, by their presence, should lend encour- agement to the school ; that practical fathers and inter- ested mothers would be there to judge, by what they saw and heard, the school's fitness as a place to which they might send their sons and daughters ; and that the elite of Barboursville would be present, because of the amusement the occasion would afford. Every town in America has its " smart set." My heart sank within me when they were through with their tale, for me so full of unexpected news. It was apparent to me that I was in a bad position. What to do under the circumstances, I could not de- cide. My first impulse was to have myself relieved from the duty. My room-mates informed me, however, that it was then so near the hour of the entertainment that it would be impossible to draft a substitute. They went on to say, too, that to attempt to get myself re- lieved from the duty at that late hour would not be MY FIRST SPEECH 13 acting a fair part to the society, of which I had so recently become a member. They closed their argu- ment by declaring that the only manly course left for me was to prepare myself thoroughly on the points of the question at issue, and to acquit myself credit- ably. As these new acquaintances were my only ad- visers, I accepted their solution of the difficulty, and began the preparation of my address with the utmost zeal and ignorance. It was the first one I had ever tried to compose. The day and night preceding my debut on the '* raging stump " were filled with soul-harrowing fore- bodings. Besides the newness of my position, which was in itself worry enough, there was the terrifying fact that I must make a speech to the learned and fashionable of Barboursville. In anticipation it was to me a very trying ordeal. Nor did Father Time call a halt to his fleetest steeds in order to give me an opportunity for preparation ; the fateful even- ing came, just as usual, dragging behind it the dra- peries of night. I was in my room poring over my address, and trying to decide what to say, and how to say it, when the college bell rang loud and clear. This was the summons to the college chapel. When my room-mates left me, I had given them my promise that I would not fail them, so nothing remained for me but to go. Differing from the wife of one of our mountain representatives, who before attending the theater in Louisville, announced that she was going ** but would not take part," I was not only going, but would also take part. I hurriedly gathered my copious notes on the negative side of the new and burning subject: "Resolved: That Christopher Columbus is 14 MY OWN STORY entitled to more credit for discovering America than George Washington for defending it," and made my way to the scene of combat. The house was crowded ; as predicted by my two friends, the town had turned out in full force. It was the best-dressed audience I had at that time ever seen. I did not know then the year's fashions from those of the year before ; but I learned later that a goodly number of those present were fashionably dressed. The program was in progress when I reached the chapel. The affirmative speaker, Mr. S. A. D. Jones, was waxing warm on the merits of his side of the sub- ject. I entered by the side door, and, in a timid step or two, reached the seat which was left for me near the center of the stage. That the audience was largely composed of women was a fact that greatly embar- rassed me. I tried to regain my self-possession. I at- tempted to straighten out my notes and arrange the points of my argument ; I could do neither. Mr. Jones, who was many years my senior, and who was accus- tomed to appear in public, seemed much at home on the floor. He was making a veritable opera-glass of his imagination, and was calling upon me to answer this, that, and the other argument when it should be- come my turn to be heard. I sat there wondering if I should attempt to do all he demanded of me, and what the people present would think and say if I did not. Finally, the affirmative speaker, in thunder tones, punc- tuated with violent gesticulations, finished his argument and left the floor, amid applause and laughter. When the enthusiasm had subsided, the chairman of the meeting announced : " The first negative speaker, Caleb Powers." MY FIRST SPEECH 15 As there was nothing else to do, I arose and said : " Ladies and gentlemen, and Mr. Chairman." As the ladies and gentlemen were nearer to me I addressed them first, and, as nothing more brilliant or convincing than my first words occurred to me, I repeated them slowly and impressively. By this time all eyes were turned on me ; my tongue was tied. Up to that time I had never questioned but that my hands and arms had been properly attached to my body ; they had never before been in my way. That night they were not only in my way, but they seemed to grow and multiply until I could have sworn I was all hands and arms. The multitude of hands twitched nervously at my side, thrust my handkerchief into my pocket, only to with- draw it immediately, and shifted my notes from one to the other, all at one and the same time. Perhaps I should have been able to follow my notes, had they not, with the purpose, no doubt, of verifying that part of the Scriptures which says *' the last shall be first," succeeded in arranging themselves in that order. Realizing that they were perfectly useless to me in that condition, I crushed them in one of my numerous hands, glad to find that one of them at least could be put to use. I must have been in a medita- tive rather than in an argumentative mood, for several times I found myself lapsing into a silence which threatened to become permanent. When I succeeded in arousing myself, I was seized with an irresistible desire to repeat my original oratorical achievement of " Ladies and gentlemen, and Mr. Chairman." I re- strained myself, however, and said something else, just what I do not know ; but I do know that I failed to say almost everything I had intended to say. I felt like i6 MY OWN STORY one irretrievably defeated on the broad battle-field of life, a child scoffed at by its own — a fledgling in a foreign nest — but the audience applauded when I had finished; and this courteous appreciation of my pitiful efforts I have always regarded as evidence of the generosity of Kentuckians. As I made my way to my seat, I was only conscious of an intense relief that my part was done. When the program was completed and the society had adjourned, the few friends I had made during my short stay crowded around me and congratulated me upon the " fine " speech I had made ; others whom I did not know took me by the hand and gave me words of en- couragement; they thought I needed it. Counting, then, from my first public appearance, thus began my public career — certainly not a very auspicious open- ing. In the college circle it had brought me some reputation, and in a short time I succeeded in gaining the good will of my teachers and fellow students. At the close of the commencement exercises I re- turned to my father's home on Brush Creek. He was not displeased with my record at college, but told me that I must, in the future, earn the money with which to educate myself. My father's idea was to throw me upon my own resources. Though his means were limited, they were sufficient for him to have as- sisted me further, had he thought It the better policy to pursue. Self-reliance and strict economy in time and money were the great lessons he impressed, as well as the fact that education does not consist in mere book- knowledge, as many suppose. If the cook in the kitchen can bake a better johnny-cake than I, to that extent she is more highly educated. All knowledge is MY FIRST SPEECH 17 related. We are all educated in something; all ignor- ant in many things — aye, in almost everything. My father decided that I should pave my own way to either success or failure ; that the world in which I was to fight the battles of life was before me ; and that whether I won or lost its battles would depend, in a great meas- ure, upon myself. He believed that complete isolation from the world was a poor way to prepare for the world's work; that we grow proficient and strong by doing. My idea was to teach a public school, if I could merit a certificate of qualification and obtain the school. I made application for the district school on Poplar Creek. One of the trustees, being a personal friend of my father's, was willing to employ me ; one was openly opposed to me, while the remaining trustees made my obtaining a first-class certificate at the approaching June examination a condition precedent to my em- ployment. They maintained that the school was a large one, and was entitled to a first-class teacher. When the June examination for teachers was held, I was among the applicants ; and a week later I had the good fortune to receive from the county board of examiners a first-class certificate, with the cheering information that I had the highest average of any of the applicants. Naturally I was pleased with the re- sult of the examination, and presented my credentials to the trustees of the Kitchen District School. They complied with their promise, and accepted my services as a teacher. I tried to make the most unruly boys in the school my friends, and I think they believed me when I ex- plained to them that they brought upon themselves i8 MY OWN STORY whatever punishment was given^ and that I disHked to punish them. Being but a boy myself, I could enter heartily into their games and sports. I dearly loved children then, as I do now, and it gave me as great pleasure to join in their pastimes on the playground as to witness their progress in the school-room. While strict discipline was necessary, I was always glad to forgive them, without punishment, any faults or wrong- doings except inattention to study and poorly prepared lessons. Sympathy and love are better than threats : they secure better work, save more souls. He who loves the most is the best teacher, the best preacher. I went to the patrons in person and urged them to send their children to school ; in this way, their coopera- tion was, to a large extent, secured. I felt keenly the necessity for awakening educational interests in that part of the country. The right use of one's faculties is life; the wrong use, death. Man must express himself in some way. If only the animal side of one's nature is developed, the soul never blossoms; the higher nature withers, dies. Few of the school patrons were possessed of even a common-school education. The opportunities and facilities for the education of the parents had been few and meager, and these were not always embraced. They were satisfied with their opinions, content with their knowledge — a recipe for continued ignorance. Not having seen the best, they were satisfied with less. Their grandfathers had tilled the soil, which pro- duced corn in moderation and boulders in abundance. They were doing the same thing and nothing more. They were not in touch with the spirit of the times ; they were cut off from progress. They were not cog- MY FIRST SPEECH . 19 nizant of the possibilities in their own children. Young men with sufficient native talent, if properly cultivated, to cause their country to be proud of them and their achievements, were growing into manhood only to live as their fathers had hved. While this was true of a great many, it was not true of all; some there were among the younger genera- tion, who were exerting every energy to fit themselves for a life of future usefulness. Some fathers there were, who, though far removed from the centers of industry, and personally undisturbed by the spirit of progress or the mad race for place and power, still felt an anxious ambition that their sons and daughters should be educated, in the widest sense of the word, and prepared to take their places in the front ranks. Among these people I had been born and reared. I thought that I realized their needs, and I spared noth- ing to serve their interests to the very best of my ability. Others have taught more than I have, and better than I have, but none ever taught with more zeal or with better intentions. CHAPTER III THE GREAT DEBATE I argue about the burning question, " Resolved : That the earth is round" — The judgment of my peers During this, my first term of teaching, I organized a literary society, as an annex to the instruction given in the school-room. Other teachers throughout that section of the country had been successful in organ- izing societies of this kind, and public debating had become popular. I shall always remember some of these debates. Our subjects for discussion ranged from the most trivial matters to the gravest and weight- iest affairs of state. Ministers, patrons, and teachers from different neighborhoods entered heartily into this argumentative w^arfare. We discussed the subjects at issue with such vehemence and gesticulation that the participants were themselves always exhausted, be- fore they had exhausted the subjects for discussion. Could some of these oratorical gems now be heard by our city folk, they would be found far more amusing than minstrel, circus or theater. There was one debate which particularly impressed itself upon my memory. Mr. E. B. Hemphill and I were pitted against two loquacious ministers of the neighborhood upon the up-to-date subject : " Re- solved : That the earth is round, and that the sun is stationary." The debate was to take place on a Sun- 20 THE GREAT DEBATE 21 day afternoon, and two weeks had been given to ad- vertise it thoroughly. The announcement that such an exciting event was to take place created consid- erable interest and no small comment throughout the surrounding country. There were some who held the earth to be round. Others contended that it was flat ; that it had four corners ; and that the Bible sus- tained them in their contention. One of the country teachers will be long remembered in that locality be- cause of his candid admission that the position on the subject held by the majority of his patrons would decide for him whether he taught the " round " or the " flat " system in his school. My colleague and I in the debate took the position that the earth was round, and that the sun was stationary. We collected what proof we could to sustain us in our position, preparatory to " the battle of the giants." After days of waiting the time for action came. The weather was all that could be desired. From far and near the country-folk came and crowded into a large, log school-house to hear that unholy discussion. The house was too small to accommodate the crowd and although there was a large church near by, it was deemed too sacred an edifice for such a debate. Crowd- ing round the open doors, and the apertures where the windows should have been, stood that part of the eager audience that failed to get admission. They craned their sunburnt necks and strained their ex- pectant ears to catch the words which were to determine for all time to come whether the earth on which they lived was a round, revolving body, or a flat, immovable surface; whether the sun, which gave it light and heat, rose early in the morning, traveled all 22 MY OWN STORY day for their especial benefit, and then labored all night in getting back to its starting-point to be ready the coming morning ; or whether it actually stood still, and the world revolved around it. It was a momen- tous question. Many silvered heads set upon shoul- ders bent by burdens of care, and faces furrowed by Time's relentless touch — both of which bespoke a long life of arduous labor and constant hardship — could be seen among the audience. Knowing that Joshua had commanded the sun to stand still, and judging, too, from personal observation, they felt perfectly confi- dent that the great illuminator of the universe sped swiftly along his daily course. It was soon apparent to me that I was the champion of a cause which was, to the older among my audience, not only unpopular, but regarded as heretical in itself. My misgivings as to the unsympathetic attitude of my prospective audience were strengthened by the ap- pearance of the two ministers who were to take the opposing side in the debate, and who came elbowing their way through the crowd, each with a Bible under his arm and each wearing a long, black frock-coat. On reaching the platform, the older parson, the Reverend A. J. Baird, who had a high classical forehead and a pious-looking face, called on old Brother Bays to offer a prayer before entering upon such an important dis- cussion. Brother Bays, who was a venerable-looking man with a long, flowing white beard, rose slowly, and, in a voice of unusual melody for a man of his age, asked that God in His wisdom be present to control the trend of the debate ; and that the young men, whose aged parents had lived Christian lives and had set for them Christian examples, be not tempted by Satan to harbor THE GREAT DEBATE 23 in their hearts doctrines of disbehef, or sow in the minds of their neighbors' children, whom it was their duty to help, guide and direct, teachings which might ruin their lives in this world and damn their souls in the next. Brother Bays concluded with the earnest prayer that this would be the last occasion upon which the young men would range themselves against their God and their country's interests. This exhortation was responded to by fervent amens from many voices. After this prayerful address it was patent that the only way to save my unfortunate colleague and myself from overwhelming defeat would be to allow every one present, the young as well as the old, to have a voice in the decision, instead of submitting it to elderly judges alone. My plan burst like a bubble, however, upon its very first suggestion. Our opponents insisted strenuously that the vanquished should know he was defeated; and the victor should wear laurels un- claimed by others. So only three judges were ap- pointed. That was the first instance , of a packed committee I had ever witnessed; since then, my ex- perience in this line has broadened. The three judges were churchmen and good, honest, upright citizens, but their verdict had been formed before the argument began. What is it that prejudice will not lead the best of men to do ? Mr. Hemphill, my companion in prejudged defeat, whose Roman nose, sensitive mouth and large, brown, well-set eyes, be- spoke for him quick native ability and a talent for pub- lic speaking, opened the debate in a forceful speech. He was followed by the Reverend J. C. Partin, who made a broken, fiery appeal to the audience to be true to the teaching of Holy Writ. The thought of the pul- 24 MY OWN STORY pit is rarely in advance of the thought of the pews. It takes a strong preacher to move ahead of his flock and champion an unpopular cause, for to him comes os- tracism, if not exile. It was now my turn to be heard. Since my first effort at Union College as a speech-maker, I had kept myself much in evidence, speaking upon any and every occasion that presented itself. Speaking had a fascination for me and I was always eager to rush in- to the fray of public argument. The " stage-fright " period had almost worn away, and I was beginning to be able to think on my feet ; but, in spite of myself, I still talked rapidly, and often coined strange words in my discussion, and used some of those already coined in a way never intended. There was one conso- lation, however : many of those to whom I talked did not know whether I was making new words or mar- ring old. Although I had grown somewhat in grace since my first oratorical effort, I scarcely knew that there was such a word as elocution in the English language; and my gestures, if it is not doing violence to the word to call my physical demonstrations by that name, would have done credit to an untrained pugilist. They were in marked contrast to the timid manifesta- tions of the tamer moment, when one hand is in partial use while the other is secreted at the back of the speaker, as if it had already done, or was about to do, something wrong. On this famous occasion, I used both hands and arms with a boldness sufficient to con- vince even a doubting observer that they were per- forming not only a very essential, but a very satisfac- tory part of my work. I had by this time become sufficiently versed in parliamentary proceedings to THE GREAT DEBATE 25 know that the chairman should be first addressed, which I proceeded to do with much unction. What was the effect of my remarks upon the audience I will not venture to say at this date, but I am very sure that I then considered them sufficiently forceful to make the sun move or the earth stand. My memory is equally alive to the fact that, in spite of my '' eloquence," the judges decided against me as promptly as a Goebelite jury of the present day decides against a political opponent — the difference being that upon the first occasion I deserved my fate. The justice of that decision in that instance did not soften its sting. I knew the report would spread around the country, my little world, that I had been defeated in debate. I could see no solace for my woe. To in- crease my mortification, there was present a handsome brunette, at whose shrine I was then worshiping. I had gone down in defeat in her very presence. The meeting adjourned, and we traveled back to our homes on the flat world. On the way, the object of my ad- miration said to me : " You beat them all speaking, and if I were you, I would not care whether the judges decided for or against me.*' What balm to my wounded soul! I have always thanked her for those soothing words. To the lover all tokens of love are of equal value, and at that time I considered myself, indeed, an ardent lover. CHAPTER IV COLLEGE DAYS My life at the state college — I learn to drill — I teach school again — Illness — My appointment to West Point As soon as my school closed, I began making ar- rangements to attend the Agricultural and Mechanical College at Lexington, Kentucky, for the remainder of the scholastic year. The Reverend S. D. Tinsley, who was then my father's neighbor and who had been a godfather to me, heartily indorsed my plan of going to the state college, as the Agricultural and Mechanical College at Lexington is generally called. The Reverend Mr. Tinsley is a man of good education, is thoroughly public-spirited, and richly endowed intellectually. He often told me of his own college life, and narrated many anecdotes of his own youth and of his life before he became sorely afflicted by disease. Those to whom fate has done her worst often have no quarrel with it, or the world, but retain the cheerfulness of youth and keep their hearts filled with sympathy and love. Such is the Reverend Mr. Tinsley. And here is a good place to remark that cheerfulness, sympathy and love afford a ballast, as I can well attest, against all the sordid impulses and disappointing reverses of life. My mother was not favorable to my going away to the state college. She argued that I could do quite as well in a college nearer home. I could see that she 26 COLLEGE DAYS 2y realized I would not be much longer under the parental roof; that I was now preparing myself for the duties and responsibilities of life, and that I would soon as- sume them. Even to attend college at Lexington was a virtual divorce from home. My mother realized it, and, while it was a severe trial to give me up, she consented when convinced that it was best for me. A braver, nobler, more generous heart has never found lodgment in human breast than my mother's. There is scarcely enough cruelty in her whole being to brush the down from a butterfly's wing. Her life is as unselfish as the kiss of the summer's sun. Her children have been her world ; for them she has lived. She has always relied implicitly upon what I said to her. How much better it is to be victimized occasionally, than to go through life filled with distrust ! After a stage-coach journey of sixteen miles from Barboursville to Woodbine, Whitley County, I reached the station of the Louisville and Nashville Railroad. In a few hours, the passenger train came shrieking over bridges and puffing among hills on its way through central Kentucky. I bought a ticket for Junc- tion City, and boarded the train for my destination. A few idlers and gossips — those habitues of the railroad station — lingered round the depot as the train steamed out. I had all the misgivings, as to my intellectual capac- ity, that usually beset the average boy with educa- tional ambitions; just where I belonged, what were my capabilities, were problems which often puzzled me. Any satisfaction I may have felt in the few petty triumphs of my district-school days was quickly dis- pelled by the realization that the field of action, both 28 MY OWN STORY for myself and for the other contestants, had been too restricted to be a test of ability. Thus I was at sea, but I reasoned that if Providence had been meager in intellectual gifts to me, it was the more incumbent upon me to make the most of my poor endowments, that I might not be a drone through life. If, on the contrary, I was blessed with an intellect above the average, the greater should be my efforts to develop it and make of myself all I was capable of becoming, so that the greater should be my success in the days to come. After all, every blessing has its price, every misfortune its advantage. I had reasoned in this way about my intellectual capacity, from the time I was a mere boy, and was doing so now as I sped onward toward the fairest land on earth — the blue-grass region of Kentucky. I could not help marking, when I reached Kentucky's fairy-land, the contrast between the extensive fields of grass and the solemn everlasting hills I had left behind me. Great, massive, colonial structures, with huge pillars in front — the character of architecture peculiar to Kentucky — stood far back from the road. The grounds were ornamented by tall, well-trimmed maples and other stately trees, with blue-grass growing be- neath ; well-kept gravel walks and driveways led to the doors of the handsome dwellings. I envied the boys born of these homes. I longed for their advantages and opportunities. I was discouraged as I contrasted their lot with mine. I thought of their wealth, their high social connections, their influential relations and friends, who could secure for them honorable posi- tions in life; but above all I envied them the happy privilege of being able to remain in school ten months COLLEGE DAYS 29 of the year, while necessity compelled me to work five months of that time in order to obtain the means whereby I might remain in college the other five. I felt that it was all unfair, and that I had been bom under an unlucky star. The train stopped at a station, and some of these fortunate young gentlemen boarded it. They were going to Lexington to attend the same college to which I was going, and there was such a marked contrast between them and myself that I en- vied them afresh. It was with these young men that I would have to contend in college, and I feared the re- sult. I did not realize that their lives had drawbacks as well as my own, and that the ease and luxury which were theirs created in some cases an aversion to study. Few can stand prosperity. Emerson well says: " While he sits on the cushion of advantages he goes to sleep." But this was not true of all the boys, for some of them were splendid students. But I am anticipating, for now I am only being driven for the first time toward the state college. When I stepped from the omnibus, I was ushered in and shown up two flights of stairs and lodged in a room in the dormitory. The term of college that follows the holidays had begun, yet few of the students were on the campus or about the building; the place appeared deserted. The loneliness reflected itself in the melan- choly that seized me. Later, however, I found I had arrived during recitation hour; a great many of the students were at class, while others were in their rooms preparing to recite. I had been in my room about fifteen minutes, look- ing at the bare, whitewashed walls, and wondering what kind of place I had got into, when I heard the 3p MY OWN STORY notes of a bugle. I did not know whether the house was afire, whether dinner was ready, or war begun, so I went forth to investigate. As I reached the col- lege building, out from the rooms on either side of the hallway, down the two wide stairways, came one squad after another of gray-uniformed, brass-buttoned young fellows, keeping step in double file, and commanded by one of their number. On reaching the basement, the command was given : " Squad — halt ! Right face ! Break ranks ! " At the concluding words, those in the squad who had held their arms at their side and looked straight to the front, uttering not a word, broke ranks and began talking. At the same time, others were coming into the building from differ- ent directions, and soon the hall was full of gray-suited young soldiers — some still poring over their books, some talking loudly, others laughing and jesting, while others sought a word with some fair friend that was nervously looking to see if Mrs. Blackburn, who had charge of the young women, was observing the for- bidden conversation. The bugle spoke again, but in different notes this time. All over the hall could be heard the section commanders giving the military command : " Fall in ! " After this followed the roll-call of the various sections; then the boys were marched off to the recitation rooms, and, in an incredi- bly short time, the great basement hall was deserted. I was leaning against one of the pillars, as I watched the last class, with military tread, march out of view. It was all new and strange to me. Left alone in the recently crowded but now deserted hall, I reahzed that none of these student-soldiers had paid any attention to me. Some of them had looked at me inquiringly; COLLEGE DAYS 31 but none had offered a word of greeting. I tried to console myself with the thought that they did not know I was soon to be one of their number, though it seemed to me then that they should have welcomed a stranger no matter what his mission. I thought of my mother at home, and wished to be with her. I had never been so far from her before, and I did not relish the reception given me. I was homesick, but this I did not dare admit, even to myself. I had never thought seriously, until then, of the military feature of the college, and wondered why soldiers were being made of the students. It seemed to me that one of the objects of education should be to teach people not to fight ; I did not understand why they should be educated to kill one another. I did not want to be a soldier, and I was wondering for what position in life such a training would fit me. My reverie was broken by the rattle of a sword and the quick elastic step of the officer of the day, who ap- proached me. He was of medium height and strongly built ; his eyes were small and deep blue ; his face was frank and open, while his heavy-set jaws were indica- tive of force of character. He saluted me courteously, addressed me in a kindly voice, and inquired what he could do for me. This was Captain C. C. Calhoun, who later won distinction as a lawyer. When I ex- plained to him why I was there, he conducted me to the private office of James K. Patterson, the president of the college, to whom he introduced me, and then retired. That the president was a hard student was indicated clearly by his pale complexion and studious expres- sion. Sandy whiskers descended from his sharp 32 MY OWN STORY nervous chin, and the general outUnes of his face and head were more nearly like Shakespeare's than those of any man I have ever seen. He was a man of few words, rather cold and calculating, with more head than heart power. When he asked me for what pro- fession or business I desired to prepare myself, I re- plied that I had not yet determined, but I wanted to take such a course in college as would fit me to make a great deal of money, and to make it easily and rapid- ly. A broad smile illumined the president's face, and there was a humorous twinkle in his eye. " Well, young man," said he, " I hardly think you will find in any college a course of study that will meet your demand. Whatever may be your calling in after life, to make a success of it you will have to give it thought, energy and industry." This was a very disagreeable revelation to me. Be- fore that I had held the idea that only the great, toiling, struggling, uneducated masses were compelled to labor; that men who were highly educated and held positions of power and influence were exempt from vexations, labors and worries. When a boy on my father's farm, I had envied the " lazy lawyer," as I then called him, who, during the long summer days, sat in his office far from the reach of the burning rays of the noonday sun, and, with a few strokes of his pen, earned more money than could be earned in a whole month by a man laboring on a farm. At that time I did not know that the world is in a state of un- rest; that humanity is in a condition of general dis- satisfaction; that each one is striving to obtain what he has not, and that each considers his lot the hardest ; that all are searching for happiness, which few find; COLLEGE DAYS 33 that the farmer desires the leisure of the law office; that the lawyer longs for the so-called independence of the farm. It is known to all that the labor of the physician is often unappreciated and unremunerated ; that the lawyer's life is one of arduous study and un- tiring work ; that the office-holder and office-seeker are the slaves of the people, — at one hour they are sailing high on the wave of popularity and public approval; at the next they are shipwrecked on the shores of slander, defeat and disaster. I, for one, little realized that the more exalted the positions, the heavier are the burdens and the graver are the responsibilities attached to them. I thought that those who labored least made the most money, lived the best and were freest from the hardships, ills and ailments of common humanity. For this reason I wished to be educated, that I might be among the fortunate ones ! and so I informed the president of the state college. If his answer threw a damper over my expectations, it did not prevent me from de- ciding very promptly that if life was to be one long struggle, I would rather fight it with law-books than with hay-forks ; therefore, on that day, I determined that I would be as good a lawyer as was in my power to be, and, at least, please my father in the choice of my profession. For me, the half-year was a hard one. I had to compete with students, who, besides having the best of training before they entered, had been in college much longer than I had been. I was anxious to stand at the head of my classes ; but, as I remember now, I did not stand at the head of a single one, although I labored hard to that end. In my school experiences at 34 MY OWN STORY home, I had been accustomed to hold a good place in all my classes, and it was very painful to me that I could not do so then. Still, I finished that term with a fairly good class standing. At the close of the college year I returned home, taught my second school, and went back to college for another five months' study. During this term, in spite of my aversion to military life. Colonel D. W. Clark, a West Point graduate and commandant of the state college corps of cadets, made me a corporal in Com- pany A. Perhaps whatever merit I possessed as a soldier was due to the fact that I was a strict discipli- narian; be that as it may, before the end of the five months, I was again promoted, this time to the posi- tion of sergeant. I stood fairly well in my classes, and before May of that year, I had become an active member of the Patterson Literary Society. I returned to my home at the end of the college year and taught, this time in my home district, and went back to the state college the following winter. I was then promoted to the rank of second lieutenant in my old company; and before the end of the college year, I had achieved another success; for I was also con- sidered by the college boys a fair debater. During the month of May, of this year of my college life, I was stricken with fever and taken to my home. After a prolonged illness I recovered, taught another country school, then a subscription school at Boston, Kentucky, and again returned to the state college the following winter. In June of that year, 1890, I was appointed a cadet to the United States Military Acad- emy at West Point, New York, and left my home pre- paratory to entering the famous school. CHAPTER V A NEW OUTLOOK I journey to West Point — A glimpse of the national capital — I prepare for examinations — The ordeal — I enter West Point All the world knows that West Point is situated on the banks of the Hudson River in New York. To at- tend this far-famed institution of learning and military- training, I began at once my active preparations. By this time, my dear mother had become somewhat ac- customed to my absence from home. She no longer objected to my being at the state college which, at most, was not a long distance from home; but she little relished my going so far away from her as West Point. She was well aware of the fact that I would be permitted to return only once in four years and that, at the end of this visit, I might be sent farther away, possibly to some distant post in the West. My father, on the contrary, was willing to relinquish his long- cherished hope of seeing me a successful lawyer, if by so doing I might enter the Military Academy that had produced such men as Sherman, Sheridan, Lee and Grant. Though my father had no love for war and was al- ways a quiet, peaceful citizen, yet, when war seemed to him justifiable, whether public or private, he was ready for it. In fact, he was always willing to 35 36 MY OWN STORY defend the honor and dignity of his country. More- over, he was wiUing that I should do Hkewise, if occa- sion demanded it, and had no objection whatever to my preparing myself for it. In my heart, I well knew I had little taste for a military career; I should have preferred to educate myself for the practice of law. But I was poor, and my poverty made it necessary for me to provide my own means for securing an educa- tion. It was, after all, education I was seeking, and, at that time, it seemed to me that it would be no mean end to my ambition to obtain this education at the expense of the Government and then, eminently fitted for the work the Government expected of me in return, to take up for my life profession, the calling that had been graced by some of the nation's greatest men. I put behind me, therefore, the impulse to continue my preparations for a lawyer's career, and turned my face from my mountain home to begin the journey that would bring me to West Point and the threshold of the new life the Academy would open for me. It was about the middle of June that I started eastward. My arrangements provided for a few days in Wash- ington. I had never seen my country's capital and, as I was preparing to enlist myself in the nation's de- fense should it ever prove necessary, it was of course excusable that I should desire to visit the seat of Gov- ernment. Congress was in session and I made my way to both the Senate and the House. In the former I was most impressed with the dignity and apparent idleness of the members. One senator was delivering a speech, but his associates paid him little heed. Some were A NEW OUTLOOK 37 writing letters, a great many were reading papers, others were talking; but no one, it seemed to me, was paying the least attention to the oratorical effort of the member who held the floor. I could not help wondering why the gentleman continued speaking when, as it seemed to me, his address could accom- plish nothing, falling as it did on a heedless audience. I was not then sufficiently versed in politics to know that he was speaking for reelection alone, that possibly his constituents in some distant state of the Union composed his audience, and that to these his remarks were addressed. Later, experience taught me that the papers friendly to his interests in the state he represented would publish his oration in full, carefully designating the points where '' thunderous applause and prolonged cheers " greeted his periods, even though, in fact, the speech was not delivered in full and no applause whatever was heard. From Washington I journeyed on to New York City. Here my eager eyes feasted on many things that we did not have at Barboursville — and I make this statement with all due respect to Barboursville. In the end, however, I felt somewhat out of my ele- ment; the bigness of the city, its noise, the roar of its traffic, its crowded thoroughfares, its tall buildings, dazed me, and I felt no reluctance at leaving when I boarded the Mary Pozvell (that, I think, was the boat's name) and we put out to midstream in the Hud- son, bound for West Point. Only ten days intervened before the June exam- inations at the Academy, and I determined to make the most of the time by entering the training-school at Highland Falls, a place some ten miles below West 38 MY OWN STORY Point, where, I thought, if I were extraordinarily diHgent, I might refresh my memory somewhat and be all the better prepared for the examinations. At Highland Falls I found two dozen or more candidates for admission to West Point, all looking forward with increasing anxiety to the crucial tests that lay ahead of them. Many of these had been pursuing a special course of study at the place for as long as two years ; nearly all of them were exceedingly proficient in the branches of study required. In spite of this, however, many of them expressed grave doubt as to their ability to undergo successfully the exhaustive examinations prescribed for entrance into West Point. This alarmed me; I had received no special training and had not, for years, reviewed any of the branches of study specifically mentioned, though I had taught many of them. During the week or so that followed, I gathered much information concerning West Point. I learned, for instance, that hazing, as practised by the upper- classmen upon the poor plebe during his first year at the Academy, was by no means of a mild sort. I was bitterly opposed to tyranny of any kind, especially to hazing; and I assisted to the best of my ability in inducing a half-hundred or more of the candidates to organize for mutual protection, pledging ourselves to resist any and every form of hazing, should we be fortunate enough to gain entrance to the Academy. The day of the examinations came, and we who were applicants were called upon to appear before the board of examiners. We were first examined for our physical fitness, and, in this, I had no credits to spare. I sufifered much then, and ever since, with A NEW OUTLOOK 39 stomach trouble, and my eyes were weak. Still I suc- ceeded in passing. Then followed the mental exami- nation, a test that was at once thorough and rigid, but scarcely as difficult an ordeal as I had been led to sup- pose. The subject in which the applicant's ability was put to the severest test was mathematics, while, in other branches, the examinations were comparatively easy. Two days of hard work were necessary, however, be- fore the ordeal was ended and our fates had been writ- ten on our examination papers for unraveling by the board of review. There were in all about one hundred and fifty ap- plicants, and at the conclusion of the two days' examinations, some were in high spirits and many in low. But, before either the hopeful or the despond- ent could know with any degree of certainty the outcome of the examinations, several days must elapse. During this interval we were not idle, neither were we permitted to follow our own inclinations. On the contrary, we were somewhat a part of the institution and its discipline. This fact alone was sufficient to subject us to the initiatory processes of hazing. I well remember the first command given me by an upper-classman ; it came during the dinner hour of the first day. Upper-classmen and under- classmen, seniors and plebes, were all seated in the spacious dining-hall, and, with devouring appetites, were rapidly disposing of the food before them. At this moment an elastic-footed upper-classman, with a frozen look, hurriedly approached me. He did not introduce himself. Whoever heard of an upper-class- man introducing himself to a plebe or fourth-class- man? Such a courtesy is not on record since West 40 MY OWN STORY Point was established. I was in the midst of my meal when the cadet reached my side. " Drag in your chin and stop slouching here at the table," he said abruptly. I was determined to curb both my temper and my tongue; therefore I looked at him, smiling, and then slowly turned my eyes back to the table and continued my dinner without uttering a word or moving a muscle that might signify that I had the slightest intention of complying with his command. The carelessness of my demeanor incensed him. There was a breathless stillness in the hall; I looked about me cautiously and found many threatening and hostile glances turned in my direction. At the same moment, a poor plebe at another table was guilty of an audible titter, whether at my discomfiture or that of the officer who had spoken to me, I do not know. However, he was pounced upon with the remark : " Do you dare to laugh at the misery of one of your comrades ? " This came from a surly-looking upper-classman at his table. Still I showed no disposition to obey ; in truth, I was rather amused than frightened. The upper- classman who had addressed me glowered a moment, and turning on his heel, declared : " I will see you later. You shall pay dearly for your insolence." And I did. There were, however, only four days of this anx- iety and suspense. The time was devoted, for the most part, to " setting-up " exercises and, to no little extent, to our " proper " hazing. But the end came finally, when those who had taken the examinations were summoned to hear the result of the ordeal. We were lined up in the area of the barracks where the officer in charge announced that those whose names 1 A NEW OUTLOOK 41 he would call should fall out of ranks. Our formation was in alphabetical order, those whose names began with A standing at the head of the line. As it had been announced that the officer would call only the names of those who had failed to pass the examina- tions, my own anxiety can be readily imagined. I was obliged to wait until half the line had been disposed of before I could learn my own fate. I shivered like one with the ague; my breathing was labored; I felt as if life itself depended on my name not being called. The B's were reached, the C's passed, and slowly the line thinned as the officer approached my name. Finally the P's were reached; my suspense was intense. Two boys to the left of me fell out. Sickened with sadness, the poor fellows turned on their heels a-nd walked away. Possibly the fondest hopes of their lives had been crushed, but none then sought to heal the wounds that must have cut deeply into their hearts. The officer continued to call the names as indifferently as though no one had been made to suffer. My own name did not pass his lips. Two men to the right of me were left standing, and then the line was again broken by those falling out who had failed to pass. I had been successful! For a time I could think of nothing else. Yet I was fearful that there might have been some error, some oversight; that the officer might again refer to his list and find he had forgotten or neglected to call my name. This anxiety remained to harass me until the entire list had been read and the last name had been called. Then, fold- ing up his paper, the officer announced that those remaining in the sadly depleted line were from that 42 MY OWN STORY time on cadets in the United States Military Academy. We were ordered to report for duty at the guard- house at ten o'clock that day. It is needless to say that my feelings of fear, dread and suspense were rapidly displaced by joy unrestrained. For the few days following we remained in barracks ; then the entire cadet body was transferred to the summer camp of instruction, and all text-books, for the time, were laid aside. ' CHAPTER VI SUMMER CAMP I Spend the summer in camp — Hazing — I arrest my superior officer We had no sooner been established in camp than it became known generally throughout the whole corps of cadets that I had openly announced I would not submit to being hazed. This, it was apparent, only rriade the enemy all the more determined. Of the original number who had pledged themselves to resist this petty tyranny, only myself and one other still refused to submit to hazing. The others, gradually, one by one, ceased to offer further resistance and, in the end, became the victims of this upper-class des- potism. The result was that Mr. Caldwell, who, I think, was from Pennsylvania, and myself were made targets for the whole battalion. At this time there were probably half a hundred forms of hazing practised at the Academy. Among them were *' doing double step " ; " chewing stretcher " ; " swimming to Newburgh," which consisted in forc- ing the plebe to lie flat on the floor of the tent and imitate the motions of a swimmer in the water until, in the judgment of his tormentors, he had exerted energy enough to carry him to the little town of Newburgh, one mile up the Hudson from West Point ; " sub-Sammy race," which required two plebes, both 43 44 MY OWN STORY of whom were blindfolded, to feed each other rapidly with spoons from a bowl of molasses ; *' chasing pedi- gree," which consisted in compelling a plebe to trace his ancestry, beginning with his earliest progenitors and coming on down through the line until the com- mandant's dog and himself were eventually reached. Nor were these all ; there were other forms of hazing, too numerous to mention, but scarcely less severe. To the hazer, resistance was as salt to the roast. Imagine, then, the deep interest taken in Mr. Caldwell and myself. Nevertheless, we successfully resisted all forms of hazing, except, of course, the petty an- noyances to which we were constantly submitted while in ranks and under the direct command of the upper- classmen. It was in our tents at night that the most exciting events occurred. This, too, after a day of wearying work, many manoeuvers with artillery and no end, apparently, of small-arm drill. Usually I was almost completely exhausted when the day was done; but whether tired or rested, my nightly visitors ap- peared with clock-like regularity and indulged them- selves in such annoyances as their ingenuity could devise. While in camp, each cadet was obliged to mount guard three times a week. The guard was divided into three reliefs, the first, second and third. Guard number one was put on duty at eight o'clock in the evening and was relieved at ten o'clock by guard number two, while guard number three fol- lowed at twelve o'clock and was in turn relieved again by guard number one, and so on throughout the night. It was while the plebe stood his post on such occa- sions as these that he suffered most from the upper- classmen. SUMMER CAMP 45 It was the special duty of the guard to protect the sleeping camp from the attacks of an imaginary enemy, and, at all times, save when stormy weather forced them to seek shelter in sentry boxes, they were obliged to walk their beats with gun at right shoulder. Each sentinel was informed of the regular countersign of the night and he was instructed to pass no one who could not give the word to his satisfaction. One sultry night, in the month of August, while I was thus detailed, something very unusual occurred to me. The night was quiet and^ as is a habit with me, I had lost myself in reflection. I was in truth so oblivious of the surroundings and so completely ab- sorbed in memories of the past and hopes for the future, that I heard no sound — nothing, until I was suddenly aware that some one was approaching my post. In the uncertain light of the moon, I recognized that it was the officer of the day who was advancing. Immediately I threw down my gun to the proper posi- tion and commanded him to halt. He complied at once with the command and I followed it, as is custom- ary, with the order to advance and give the counter- sign. But here an unexpected difficulty arose. In the sudden interruption of my reverie, I had forgotten the countersign entirely, nor would any amount of mental effort on my part serve to recall it. In vain I struggled to remember the all-important word. I hoped the officer of the day, in answering my challenge, might himself throw out some suggestion that would aid me in recalling it. But even if he had thus unconsciously come to my rescue I could be by no means sure that he would not seek to entrap me by giving the wrong word. The officer, who was by this 46 MY OWN STORY time close to me, gave the proper pass, but I failed utterly to recognize it. Accordingly I again halted and calmly informed him to consider himself under arrest. I then called out the corporal of the guard. Behold my predicament! A plebe had arrested a first-classman ! It was unheard-of, preposterous ; and, to make matters worse, I had arrested not only an up- per-classman, but my superior officer as well, and, in fact, the ranking officer of the cadet corps. The only reason I could give for my action was that I had forgotten the countersign. What should I say to the corporal of the guard ? When he approached I should not even be able to recognize the countersign when he gave it. Indeed, the situation was not only em- barrassing, but decidedly interesting. My knowledge of military tactics was not broad at best, and, in the confusion caused by my fickle memory, I found all the. information I possessed gradually growing more and more obscure. There was, however, one thing to do — tell the truth. Every cadet on entering the Academy is put on his honor to do that, no matter what the consequences. In a moment the corporal had joined us ; immediately I came to " present arms " and addressed him. " I have forgotten the countersign," I said simply ; " I did not think when the officer of the day gave the word ' reikiavic ' that the word was correct, but since you have given the same word, I discover my error," The speech was brief, but it was all I could say — all I had to say. I awaited developments. The cor- poral lost no time in administering his reprimand, de- claring that I had been guilty of the most reprehensible conduct, that I had grossly violated my orders as a SUMMER CAMP 47 sentry and to this offense had added the unsoldier-Hke conduct of arresting my superior officer for doing his duty. The officer of the day, however, was not so severe. He seemed somewhat amused at the whole af- fair and only added : '' You must keep strictly within the sphere of your duty, sir. I shall have to report you for this." This he proceeded to do, and a number of demerits necessarily followed. The next day the whole camp knew of the occurrence, and the report that I had arrested my superior officer only served to add to the reputation I had already gained of being a " fresh " fourth-classman. The summer drilling, swimming, dancing, training in the gymnasium, the regularity of my meals, sleep and the lack of hard study, had greatly built up my constitution, and on getting back to barracks, I felt better able to do the year's work, hard though it proved to be. CHAPTER VII AT LAW SCHOOL I become a third-classman — My eyesight fails and I am forced to leave the Academy — I enter the law school at Val- paraiso, Indiana After the June examinations, the members of my class became third-classmen, and began themselves to prepare for the incoming plebes. We were now suf- ficiently promoted to be recognized by the upper-class- men. Cadets with whom we had come in contact every day for a whole year recognized us for the first time and called us by our names. It all seemed very strange to me. A number of upper-classmen ap- proached me upon the subject of hazing, and wanted to know if, now the opportunity offered, I would ever haze any one. I assured them I never would, and discovered then and there for the first time that during the trying ordeal through which I had just passed, I had had a great deal of sympathy from many of the upper-classmen themselves. Let it be said to their credit that it is not every cadet who indorses hazing. A great many in their hearts disapprove of it. Each class expects and demands a certain obedience from the class below it; but not over one-third of any class makes a business of hazing. After the plebe has been promoted to the third class, he is no longer hazed, in the strict sense of the word; and he associates, on 48 AT LAW SCHOOL 49 terms of more or less equality, with the members of the class above him; but there has previously existed such a gulf between the plebes and all upper-classmen that it is rather difficult to bridge it over. In fact, there is always a distinction among the various classes. Successfully past the most trying ordeals of a cadet's life at West Point — the hazing period — I felt that I was now on the threshold of a pleasant, though by no means easy or idle, career. But the plans one makes are not so easily carried out as they are conceived. Just when I was congratulating myself on the outlook for the future, my weak and over-taxed eyes failed me, and I was forced to return to my home. A two years' rest and treatment partly restored them, and, on January first, 1893, I enrolled myself as a student of the law department of the Northern Indiana Normal School at Valparaiso, Indiana, having ex- changed a few letters with its genial and efficient presi- dent, Professor H. B. Brown. I began at once to pre- pare myself for a career before the bar. It is only just to say, however, that my inclination had long turned toward politics. Even while at the state college I had a natural aversion to the semi-prison life led by our soldiers, and longed for freer fields of endeavor. Now that I had, at last, entered upon the study of the law, I felt satisfied ; it was a gate that led into the green pasture of politics. Law and politics, as I viewed them, went hand in hand. To adopt the one as a profession, meant to enter upon the other as a calling. I had al- ways been a close student while at college ; and now that I was making special preparation for my chosen line of work, it was the more important that I give my studies my closest application and my best thought. 50 MY OWN STORY I became a member of the General Debating Society, and in all the discussions took an active part. I secured membership also in two other debating clubs that assembled at night during the week. In this way I gained much valuable experience in the field of public argument, and, in fact, was well enough liked by my fellow students to be elected the first president of the Southern Literary Society — an organization which had for its primary object the bringing into closer contact all the Southern students. It was while taking an active part in this movement that I met Miss Laura Rawlings. We mildly tiffed at first, which is not a bad way of beginning a friend- ship. Disagreement is sometimes the flint on which the mind strikes fire. We all like flattery, but nothing is quite so depressing as continual sentimental adula- tion. Miss Rawlings was a member of the vocal music class, to which I soon attached myself, and also of the literary society ; so we were, necessarily, thrown much together; and where opportunity was lacking, I provided it. After the first little bout our acquaint- ance was most pleasant and interesting ; and, as our in- timacy grew, and as I found that her gifts of mind and heart equaled her beauty and charm of manner, it is needless to say that this year at Valparaiso was the happiest collegiate year of my life. When the month of June came. Miss Rawlings returned to her home at Burning Springs, Kentucky; I remained at Val- paraiso, intending to pursue my legal studies in a special class during the summer months and to devote myself to some branches of history and literature. But when we parted we were betrothed. I had scarcely begun preparation for my summer's My mother, Mrs. Elizabeth Powers My father, Amos Powers My brother, Captain John L. Powers Myself at twenty-four, and Miss Laura Rawlings, My sister, Mrs. Rebecca Green whom I afterwards married MEMBERS OF MV FAMILY AT LAW SCHOOL 51 work, however, when I learned that, by reason of the adoption of the new constitution for Kentucky, superintendents of pubHc schools were to be elected that year in every county in the state. For some time past I had intended, when the office was again to be filled, to enter the race for it in my home county. Therefore, I went home immediately and entered the race for the nomination on the Republican ticket. I had two opponents in the struggle for the nomination — Professor James P. Faulkner, now president of Union College, at Barboursville, and the Reverend Frank Hopkins, a Methodist minister of some reputa- tion and considerable ability. I had been away at col- lege for several years, knew but a small per cent, of the voters of the county, and was poorly prepared to play the uncertain game of politics with much chance of success. I knew, but not intimately, most of the prominent people of Barboursville, and a few of them were warm personal friends of mine; but the majority of them had no reason to feel any particular interest in my candi- dacy. I had, however, become fairly well acquainted with the teaching corps of the county ; had taken an active part in two or three county institutes ; and had as many friends among them as any of my opponents, but had no relatives, either by marriage or blood, to give me a following in the county. Many of my mother's relatives lived then, as they do now, in the county of Whitley. My father had but one brother, and he was not a resident of Knox County. I was then twenty-four years of age, just old enough, accord- ing to the Kentucky statutes, to fill the office of super- intendent of schools. CHAPTER VIII MY FIRST POLITICAL CAMPAIGN I am a candidate for the office of superintendent of schools of Knox County, Kentucky — I make a canvass of the mountain districts — I take part in joint debates — I am graduated from law school and elected to office The campaign work that I now began was not the first in which I had been engaged. On the contrary, when I was but eighteen years of age, I had gone to Whitley County to assist in securing the nomination of my cousin, Thomas Bennett, for the office of sheriff. I had, in fact, met his opponent in the race, Mr. Madi- son Moore, in joint debate. But this was my first work in my own behalf. To say that I entered upon it with some anxiety is to put it mildly, indeed. However, I was not blind to the influences and senti- ment I was about to combat. I knew, for instance, that my boyish appearance was one of the disadvantages which I should be obliged to labor against in this campaign. Like David Copper- field in the early part of his career, I was constantly made to feel that I was exceedingly young. To offset this in part, I began my canvass for votes in that par- ticular part of the county reported to be the least pro- gressive. Here, I thought, my appearance would not be greatly against me, while at the same time I should gain experience and knowledge that would MY FIRST POLITICAL CAMPAIGN 53 stand me in good stead in places where my youth might work to my detriment. Moreover, whatever errors and blunders I might make in my new field of labor I de- sired to keep, as Bill Nye kept his practice of the law, " as quiet as possible." It took about three weeks' daily riding to cover the territory. No hill was too high to be crossed, no creek or stream too long to be followed. I had little difficulty in adapting myself to the con- ditions and environment of those with whom I came in contact, from the fact that I had been reared in that part of the country myself, and was without any super- fluity of the luxuries of life. I was one of the great common people; I knew their tastes, desires, preju- dices, and objects in life. The farmer and his crops, the blacksmith and his trade, the lumberman and his logs, were all familiar to me. All my interest was with them. I knew the meaning of daily toil and had felt the pangs of poverty. In my tour over the county, I resorted to various little oddities which suggested themselves to my mind. I remember, upon one occasion, that I rode up to a little cabin — far up a long and lonesome stream. It was situated at the base of a great mountain side, which was covered with timber and filled with coal. It was late in the afternoon of a summer day; the shadows of the mountain had long since stolen over that quiet abode. The young wife, who had just blos- somed into womanhood, was singing a weird melody when I approached the humble home. When she noticed me the music ceased, and she came timidly to the door. She lived in one of those out-of-the-way localities where the voice of the stranger is seldom 54 MY OWN STORY heard. For a moment she was ill at ease; but her large, fine, blue eyes, beneath a well-formed and beau- tiful brow, sparkled with native intelligence. She was one of the many in th^t section of the state possessing inborn ability, who, for lack of opportunity, were liv- ing lives of penury and obscurity. It was easy to see that she was of a sunny dispo- sition, with a fine sense of humor ; so I felt that what- ever I said would be received in the spirit in which it was intended. I asked the young woman if her father was at home. She smiled with a proud sense of possession, and told me that her father lived across the county, but that her husband would be home soon. I then told her my business, and left her with the injunction to tell him when he returned that the home- liest man north of the equator had called to see him that day and wanted his support in the coming precinct convention. I had remained on my horse, so, after explaining my mission, I bade her adieu, and pulled the reins of my bridle, preparatory to leaving the cozily- kept cabin and its happy inmate. She laughed aloud at my message to her husband, but detained me to say that he would not know who desired his support. With the reminder that the description I had left of myself would be sufficient to identify me, I rode away. She stood in the doorway looking after me and, no doubt, wondering what manner of man she had met. In the meantime, the people were calling me *' a kid," ". a boy " and " young Powers." The Republican county committee had held no meeting, and had made no arrangement by which the nomination should be made. It was important, therefore, for me to arrange matters so that the people who knew me best would MY FIRST POLITICAL CAMPAIGN 55 speak first as to my character and fitness for the posi- tion I sought. With this as one of the objects in view, I entered into negotiations with my opponents. I suc- ceeded in making satisfactory arrangements with them for the first convention to be held in Poplar Creek voting precinct, where I had taught my first public school. When the voting lines were drawn up and counted, three-fourths of the voters present had voted for me. The next convention was held in Brush Creek pre- cinct, in which my father had lived for more than twelve years. There were about one hundred voters present. After the speech-making, our lines were formed, or rather the lines of my opponents failed to form. I did not lose a single vote. I never felt quite so happy in my life. To see the people among whom I had been reared stand as one man for my nomination filled my heart with lasting gratitude. The people of my home had spoken. I knew their voices would be heard throughout the county. After visiting all the voting precincts in the coun- ty except Barboursville, I had more delegates to the general convention to be held there than both of my opponents combined. It was not wholly without reason then that, before holding the precinct convention in Barboursville, both my opponents withdrew from the race, and I was nominated by acclamation. I had won. My suspense was over. My friends were enthusiastic, and, of course, called for a speech. In a few words, I tried to express my gratitude for the honor conferred upon me and for the number and the loyalty of my supporters as well as for the services they had so kindly rendered me. I assured them that 56 MY OWN STORY if the opportunity ever offered I would serve them with the same fidehty with which they had served me. Though the county was RepubHcan, there had not been a Repubhcan superintendent of schools in Knox County for a quarter of a century. All had been Demo- crats. There had also been Democrats elected to the other offices from time to time, for many years. Party lines had never been tightly drawn and a great many voters had insisted on voting for what they called the " best man." In due time, John T. Hays of Barboursville, nephew of Napoleon B. Hays, afterward attorney-general under Governor Beckham, a well-educated man and a lawyer of no mean ability, announced his candidacy for the office of superintendent of schools. He was, and is, a partizan Democrat, but on this occasion ran an independent race. He selected his own device, and maintained that the office was non-political ; that educa- tional qualification and general fitness for the position were all that were necessary for a candidate to possess ; that politics was not taught in our public schools, and should not be, and, therefore, should not influence the county superintendent in the discharge of the duties of the office. About two weeks before the election, Mr. Hays and I arranged a series of joint debates, or rather I ar- ranged the debates and places of speaking and invited him to meet me — an invitation which he accepted. He is an aggressive and forceful man, but not an elo- quent speaker. It was to my advantage to introduce politics into our discussion as often as possible, while it was to his advantage to keep away from the subject. He tried, naturally, to force me from the realms of MY FIRST POLITICAL CAMPAIGN 57 politics into those of education ; and in turn I tried to force him into the discussion of poHtics as well as of education. On November eighteenth, 1892, soon after Mr. Cleveland had been elected President of the United States, the Democrats of Knox County, celebrating their victory, had dragged a dead racoon through the bonfire-lighted streets of Barboursville. The leader of the torch-light parade, in a burst of oratorical enthu- siasm, had declared that the whole world had gone Democratic, except the state of Ohio, hell, and Knox County; and a good brother in the audience, with his hand upon his heart, asserted that they would carry all of them next time. The Republicans of Knox County remembered this occasion and also how liberal they had been in dividing offices with the Demo- crats. I recalled these facts to those who might have forgotten them, and informed my opponent that for the supremacy over one of the places mentioned by his enthusiastic supporter, after the election of November, 1892, the Republicans of Knox County would make no contest; but in the state of Ohio and the county of Knox, the Republicans intended to manage public affairs. My opponent, however, felt equally confident of victory, and showed it both in demeanor and speech on the day before election. At this time I ascertained, to a certainty, that my name did not appear on the ballots. The county clerk was a cousin of my opponent and had permitted him- self to be influenced by Mr. Hays' supporters. When I arrived in Barboursville from Poplar Creek voting precinct, my friends had reached a decision as to what should be done in the premises, and were then drawing 58 MY OWN STORY up instructions to be signed by the county chairman, setting forth a section of the election law to the effect that I could still be voted for by every voter writing my name on the ballot ; and in addition were directing that the election officers in the respective precincts should allow qualified voters to vote for any citizen they de- sired, by so writing his name in the proper place on the ballot. These instructions were signed by the county chairman, and were carried to every voting precinct in the county. When the polls opened the next morning, the election officers of the various voting precincts, half of whom were Democrats, were found to have been supplied, by the friends of Mr. Hays, with copies of the new elec- tion law, with certain isolated passages marked. These, if strictly construed, would have been a bar to my receiving any votes on that day. The passages were underscored with pen and ink. It was with these mutilated portions of the law that the Democratic election officers intended, and in many instances tried, to prevent my friends from voting. Adding insult to injury was more than peace-abiding citizens would endure without some demonstration of disapproval, and especially was this true when the injury aimed at robbing them of the sacred right of suffrage. The Republicans of Knox County were boiling with in- dignation. Their liberty was at stake, and they were ready to defend it. In every precinct in the county where there was resistance to qualified freemen cast- ing their votes, determined men fought to overcome it. Many of the Democrats were outspoken in their de- nunciation of the attempted theft. All day my name was written by the liberty-loving voters of the county, MY FIRST POLITICAL CAMPAIGN 59 and, when the polls closed, my majority was six hun- dred and fifty. Under the circumstances I had not expected it to be so large. In a few days the board canvassed the returns of the election and finally issued to me a certificate of election. This was in Novem- ber, 1893 ; but my predecessor's term of office did not expire until August, 1894. As I was extremely anxious to complete my course in law before bidding good-by to my college days, I hastened back to Valparaiso to accomplish that end, if possible. My classmates had heard of my victory and gave me a hearty reception upon my return. I met a great many friends in wandering about the old haunts. Miss Rawlings, with whom I had spent so many pleasant hours, was not there ; but she soon re- turned to reenter college. I had been successful in my race for superintendent of schools, was progressing nicely with my legal studies, and now was with my be- trothed often. I had good reason to be happy. I joined a debating society or two; was often a visitor to others, and took great interest in parliamentary law. The Southern Literary Society flourished, and its mem- bers derived much pleasure from its social features. The General Debating Society continued to flourish as before, and I took an active part in its proceed- ings also. I was very fond of my study of the law, and, as is usually the case when one's interest is aroused, stood' well in my class. When graduation day came, after many farewells, I left for Barboursville, Kentucky, to take charge of the office to which I had been elected and to begin the practice of my profession. I was admitted to the bar at the July term of the Knox circuit 6o MY OWN STORY court, 1894; and formally took charge of the educa- tional interests of the county the thirteenth of the fol- lowing August. I entered at once into active school work, which I soon found was beset with many difficulties. CHAPTER IX' MARRIAGE Responsibility of office — I begin to practise law — My mar- riage — The sudden death of my wife One who has never had the good, or bad, fortune, however it may be regarded, of being a public servant, can never understand just what it means to deal with the public. But from experience I can say that the task is particularly burdensome when that servant is superintendent of public schools in any county in Ken- tucky. This may be equally true in other states, but I can only speak of my own. The work of a teacher seems to me to come nearer being divinely noble than any other work performed by one human being for an- other. To take a young, pliable intellect, uninformed and unaroused, and breathe into it the desire to know, train it for the intellectual contest of life, inspire it with lofty- motives, prepare it for great duties and grave responsibilities, is almost a divine calling; and on the shoulders of him who commissions those who teach, the responsibilities are all the greater. All this time I found myself becoming more firmly intrenched in my determination to practise law. I con- tinued to be a very diligent student, but with all my diligence and study I knew very little about the actual practice of my profession. I had " hung out my shingle," but it did not prove to be a very catching 6i 62 MY OWN STORY card. At any rate my clients, like angels' visits, were few and far between. A great many consulted me, but few employed me. To these I was often tempted to say what Mr. Alva N. Cade of Illinois, a member of my class at Valparaiso, said to the genial professor, Mark L. DeMotte, dean of the law department. Pro- fessor DeMotte asked him what he would say to a client who presented to him a certain series of facts in a case, as related by the professor. Mr. Cade hung his head in puzzled meditation for a moment. Then, with the celerity of a gust of wind, he replied : " I would advise him to consult a lawyer." In the cases in which I was employed, I met with reasonable success. I made it a rule never to take a civil case unless I believed the law to be on the side of my client; but in criminal cases I tried to do what I could for nearly all who came to me for assistance. I was particularly fond of the law, and found both the office work and the work in the court-room very congenial, and longed for the time when I could devote my whole attention to the profession. Perhaps the greatest proof I can give of my disinterested love of my work is the fact that I loved it for itself, and not alone for the money I could make by its practice. I studied because I wanted to know the law. Continued dabbling in politics, however, proved in the end to be even more fascinating to me than the law. During these months my admiration and affection for Miss Laura Rawlings, to whom I had been en- gaged for some time, still grew; and on January twenty-second, 1896, we were married. I had bought a home in Barboursville some time before, and in a few months after our marriage we there took up our resi- MARRIAGE 63 dence. If supreme happiness ever belonged to earthly beings, it was ours. We both agreed and feared, how- ever, that it was too perfect to last. The thought was prophetic, but the end of our bliss came in a way little anticipated. My young wife, without the slightest warning, was stricken with that deadly disease, cerebro-spinal men- ingitis ; and, in spite of previous perfect health and unusual strength, she succumbed after a month's awful struggle, during which time there were few moments of consciousness. She died at my father's home, on July twenty-sixth, of the same year we were married. The fondest hopes of my life were blasted. What had seemed troubles before now ceased to exist. A great sorrow sinks all minor annoyances into oblivion, and for a time, indeed for all time, grants a respite from all petty, trivial cares. Usually the instinct of a human heart is to draw the veil of silence over such grief as then was mine, but, by a strange chain of subsequent circumstances, even the most cherished feelings of my heart have, to an extent, fallen into the hands of the public. Such being the case, my version of the different episodes of my life will, perhaps, be as acceptable from my pen as from that of another. If, then, it comforts me to pay a tribute to that pure, devoted young wife who, during the few months she was left with me, commanded the highest admiration and the tenderest devotion of which my nature was capable, I feel that it would be dis- loyal to her sweet memory to remain silent, from the fear that I might be accused of " wearing my heart upon my sleeve for daws to peck at." I do not, then, hesitate to speak of the perfection of 64 MY OWN STORY her character, the brightness of her intellect, her per- sonal beauty and the purity of her soul. As men judge all women by those with whom they have been most intimately connected, my ideal is a high one. While not a member of any church, my wife was a Baptist, and was possessed of a beautiful Christian spirit. I do not hesitate to say that when my wife died even death itself held no terrors for me. What is this world but a graveyard of buried dreams? My wife hes in the cemetery at Barboursville, and upon the slab that marks her grave are a few words, telling simply what we were to each other. Like Robert Browning after the death of Elizabeth Browning, I faced echoing rooms of my desolate home, while my heart cried, '' I want her, I want her." As time went on, and as the first keen edge of my grief wore off, I felt the necessity of directing my life into some more natural and less morbid channel. I turned again to my work, and threw myself into it more zealously than I had ever done before. I had a double object in view : first, to divert my mind from my grief, and keep it so fully occupied that I should have no time to brood ; and, second, believing that my days of social and domestic happiness were at an end, I determined that disaster should not overwhelm me on every road, and that my life, as far as it was in my power to make it so, should not be a failure from a business standpoint. " The sure cure for all private griefs is a hearty interest in public affairs," said Burke. I tried to profit by his philosophy and, therefore, kept every hour in the day occupied with the study and prac- tice of law and with my duties as school superintendent, except such times as I set apart for exercise and sleep. My boyhood home on Brush Creek Court-house at Barboursville, where I began the practice of law in 1894. The cross indicates the office I occupied as Superintendent of Schools My home in Barboursville during my brief married life IN MY EARLIER DAYS MARRIAGE 65 I took my daily walks with as much regularity as I took my meals. I found this essential to my health, which I had foolishly impaired by overwork at college. I have never married again. While it is doubtless true that the human heart can more easily love when its depths have once been sounded, still it is further true that arduous labor, intense thought and weighty burdens require such a concentration and taxation of one's energy that there is little left for the soft senti- ments of love, and a man must admit that after he nears the age of thirty, he becomes more parsimonious of his affections. CHAPTER X AGAINST ODDS I am again a successful candidate — I take a post-graduate course in law at Center College, Danville — Stump- speaking The first of the year of 1897 found me again hotly campaigning for the nomination for superintendent of public schools of Knox County. Being a Ken- tuckian, I naturally desired to succeed myself in office. Mr. E. B. Hemphill, whose father was ex-sheriff of the county, was, intellectually, the most gifted of my opponents. Mr. A. A. Hopkins, " another Rich- mond in the field," was a brother of the gentleman who had been my opponent in the first race for the nomi- nation, and was developing a great deal of strength because of the defeat of his brother a few years before. My other opponent, Mr. Thomas C. Jarvis, was a son of ex-Representative John D. Jarvis, and also a nephew of Henderson Jarvis, who was the sheriff of Knox County at that time. He was related also to some of the most wealthy and influential families. Later in the canvass, my opponents pooled their strength, and Mr. Jarvis and I fought the fight to a finish. It was a hard struggle, but I won. During my term of office, I had settled a number of school dis- putes, had rendered a great many opinions in contested cases, had refused teachers' certificates to about half the applicants, had condemned several school-houses as 66 AGAINST ODDS 6^ being unfit for use, had condemned the furniture of nearly all of the others, had changed the boundaries in several of the school-districts and had refused to change them in others, had selected sites for a few school-houses, had appointed several trustees and had refused to appoint others, had sat as judge in cases where charges were made against trustees and teach- ers for immoral conduct, or for failure to perform their duties, and in a great many ways too numerous to mention I had, in my official capacity, taken action, which, as a matter of course, was adverse to some. These, it is needless to say, had a host of followers. Many of them had formerly voted for me, and felt that they should be rewarded. Their bitterness, therefore, was intense when I failed to carry out their expecta- tions. I had, if their own words can be relied upon, proved " disloyal, ungrateful, and untrue " to them. Many of the patrons claimed that they had been un- necessarily " taxed to death," and that I was the cause of it. In support of their argument, they cited the fact that, in their school-days, they used split poles and rails for seats. They said that the school-buildings con- demned by me were better than the homes of some of the tax-payers. In truth, against my policy of im- provement came protests loud and long. Men are prone to revile that which benefits them most. The " back-number " teachers, who had failed to pass the examination for teachers' certificates, with their fath- ers, mothers, sisters, brothers, uncles, aunts, cousins and other relatives, and their friends, lined up in a solid phalanx against me. The dissatisfied and disappointed, who were many, pledged themselves to compass my defeat. Independence and self-reliance are the traits 68 MY OWN STORY that have brought me into collision with other men. They have made me ardently loved and ardently hated. Taking into consideration all the forces with which I had to contend, my nomination was a signal political victory. It was the only county office whose incum- bent succeeded in being renominated. Four out of the five magistrates, who also attempted to be renomi- nated, were defeated. It was a year of rotation in office. Naturally I expected opposition in the final election, and on this I was not disappointed. Professor Lee Pope, who had recently been graduated at the state college, Kentucky, and who had carried oif the highest honors of his class, was put forth by the Democrats and the dissatisfied Republicans to oppose me. Never- theless, I won by a handsome majority. After the election I found myself worn out by cam- paigns, overwork in office and school difficulties. At times before this when the worries of office had become particularly depressing, I had made it a habit to stroll into the woods, where it seemed the burden would be lifted, and I should be able to forget my worries. It is best always to live in eternal sun- shine and let the clouds gather where they will. The sweetest hours of the infinitesimal space of time allowed each human being from the measureless eternity are those spent in the solitude of the forest, God's first temple, where one may feel a brotherhood with the trees, the birds, and the bees. But I am about to forget that the ideas of pleasure of no two men are the same, and that every one's conception of it changes from time to time. . I now longed for college life again, and accordingly made arrangements with Judge John AGAINST ODDS 69 H. Davis, of Barboursville, to stay in my office, and attend to all matters concerning the schools that did not demand official attention, sending me an account of all those matters to which I could attend at a distance. I took a post-graduate course in law at Center College, Kentucky, which I found to be a most profitable one. My brother, John L. Powers, was graduated in the same class. I longed to be a good lawyer, and during this term I learned and understood the law as I never had before. I had the good fortune to be under the direct tutorage of ex-Governor J. Proctor Knott, of Duluth fame, one of the brainiest men the state has ever produced. He was our principal instructor in law. His comprehensive and analytical mind, his ever-ready wit and humor, his profound and exhaustive informa- tion on so many branches of learning, his unusual clear- ness and force in imparting his ideas, and in explaining the doctrine he desired to propound, made him a mas- ter in a professor's chair; and, although he has held many public positions of honor and trust, calling for the utmost fidelity and efficiency, I doubt whether his success in any one of these was greater than in the position of college professor. I had, I believe, the honor of being one of his favor- ite pupils. After recreation hour it was often my pleas- ure and privilege to walk with him to his home. In the talks which we had on these and other occasions, he encouraged me in my work, and it greatly gratified me to have encouragement from such a source. As it was the height of my ambition to make just such a lawyer as he, I made as thorough a study of my pro- fessor as my opportunities allowed, delving, as far as I could, into the secret of his success. In June, 1898, 70 MY OWN STORY after my post-graduation at Danville, I returned to my home at Barboursville to resume the duties of my office and to enter actively into the practice of my profession. I continued to read law closely and my clientage increased. It was, too, a relief to find that the school duties were less onerous. Not only had I become familiar with my duties as superintendent, but the educational outlook in the county was growing brighter every year. Locally I had developed into an active politician and political campaigner. I was much in evidence on the " raging stump " in the campaigns of '95, '96, '97 and '98. Incidentally, I was looking out for broader fields in which to achieve political success. CHAPTER XI THE KENTUCKY PROBLEM Affairs in Kentucky in 1899 — The Goebel Election Law — Opinion of Henry Watterson — The effort of the Demo- crats to have the law declared constitutional — The outlook for Democratic success in the campaign of 1899 That the full force of the gubernatorial campaign of 1899 may be fully comprehended by those not con- versant with the local situation, I shall briefly review the political state of affairs in Kentucky a few years prior to that date. In 1895, for the first time in the history of the state, the Republican party elected a governor and the full state ticket by a plurality of eight thousand nine hun- dred and twelve. The Republican forces in the cam- paign which led to this victory were headed by William O'Connell Bradley, the most adroit and popular leader, perhaps, the Republicans ever had in Kentucky. Bradley had led the Republican hosts before. Respon- sibilities naturally gravitate to those willing and able to shoulder them. Power comes to those who can do things. The money question in the local campaign of '95 divided the Democratic party. General P. Watt Hardin was nominated for governor by the Democrats of the state on a sound-money platform ; but, on his first joint debate with Bradley in Louisville, he was forced to take a position, and declared for free silver. 71 72 MY OWN STORY A free-silver man running upon a gold platform was a situation so unfortunate that it served, together with the persistent charge by the Republicans that the Demo- cratic leaders had long mismanaged state affairs, to cause apathy and alienation in the rank and file of the Democracy. The result was the election of the entire Republican ticket. That the Republican party should gain control and assume the management of state affairs was a bitter morsel in the mouth of Kentucky Democracy, which had, up to that time, represented Kentucky's aris- tocracy. The leaders of the free-silver wing of the party began to revolve in their fertile brains some plan to prevent such another " calamity " and " disgrace to the state," and incidentally, to pave the road to their own future political fortune. How often the selfish desire to govern is paraded as righteous zeal in the cause of oppressed humanity! The plan finally adopted, conceived to secure for themselves the loaves and fishes, culminated in the notorious election bill, adopted over the veto of Governor Bradley in 1898, known as the Goebel Election Law. It came by its name through the fact that Senator William Goebel — a Pennsylvanian by birth, but representing the county of Kenton in the Senate of Kentucky, the state of his adoption — presented the bill and was the master-spirit in forcing it through both branches of the Legislature. The Goebel bill originated in the Senate, and when it reached the House for consideration, there was strong opposition to its passage among Democratic members. A Democratic caucus was held, the party lash applied and the bill became a law, but not with- out much ill-feeling in the Democratic ranks. WILLIAM GOEBEL THE KENTUCKY PROBLEM 73 Governor Bradley said of the bill, in his veto : " Clothed with both judicial and ministerial functions, having no legislative attributes, it, nevertheless, stands out in bold relief, the creature of the Legislature beyond the control of the courts and juries, a supreme power of the state, and the absolute master of the people." Henry Watterson said of it, in the Courier- Journal: " Goebel follows out his own ambitions in desiring to become governor of Kentucky, and he sees, or thinks he sees, a ready chariot thither in the electoral bill that bears his name." The Goebel Election Law seized the key to the elec- tion machinery throughout the state. It provided that three men, to be elected by the Democratic Legislature, were to compose the state board of election commis- sioners. It provided, also, that this board, as well as an election board in each county of the state, which the state board had the power to appoint and remove at its pleasure, should act in a dual capacity. In their ministerial capacity they tabulated the returns of the election and issued certificates thereon; and in their ju- dicial capacity they sat as a court to pass upon the fair- ness and honesty of their former actions in declaring their friends elected. The new law further provided that the decision of the state election board should be final and conclusive, and, therefore, not subject to re- view by any other court, inferior or superior. The election commissioners were to be under no bond to dis- charge their duties honestly and justly. Consequently no civil suit for damages could be brought against them in their official capacity by any injured litigant. This bold measure failed to provide for any punishment to be inflicted upon the members of the board for what might 74 . MY OWN STORY be found to be the grossest or most flagrant violation of their sworn duty. Under its provisions, they were therefore immune from criminal prosecution. Such is the gist of this famous election law. At the bidding of Senator Goebel, the Legislature named Judge W. S. Pryor, Captain W. T. Ellis and C. B. Poyntz, all Democrats, as members of the state election board. This board appointed an election board in each county of the state, a majority of whose mem- bers were Democrats and likewise Goebel's friends. The various county boards in turn had the power to appoint and remove at their pleasure the precinct election offi- cers in each voting precinct in every county in the state. Some of these were to be Republicans, but in all matters touching the suffrage of the citizen the Democrats had the deciding vote. Such a law, it is obvious, was nothing short of legalized brigandage. Under its plenary provisions for theft and wrong the schemes of cunning politicians began to evolve rapidly. The Honorable South Trimble, now a Democratic congress- man from Kentucky, wrote to Ben Marshall, a fellow Democrat and a member of the Franklin County board of election commissioners, his idea of procedure in these words : " Our county is all right, but city elec- tions can not be won with a fair count. Incompetent, unreliable Republican judges will have to be ap- pointed." The Republicans realized the danger lurking in the new election law. The Democrats feared it was not constitutional ; and in order to have that question set- tled and the law declared valid, if possible, while the court of appeals was Democratic, an agreed suit, styled Purnell vs. Mann, was filed in Judge James E. Can- THE KENTUCKY PROBLEM 75 trill's court. This suit was between certain Demo- cratic office-holders and the Democratic County Elec- tion Commissioners of Bourbon County. Judge Can- trill decided that the law was constitutional. The case finally reached the court of appeals where, on a strict party vote of four to three, the law was declared to be valid. The Republicans were downcast. The outlook for fairness in future elections was almost hopeless. In the congressional election of 1898, the Republi- cans lost heavily, electing only two congressmen, whereas in 1896 they had elected five out of eleven. The election, however, passed off without excitement or friction, and the friends of the Goebel Election Law claimed complete exoneration of the charges made against it. Mr. Goebel had become widely known by reason of the fierce opposition to the election law that bore his name. Strong men are often advertised more exten- sively by the denunciation of rabid enemies than by the praise of loving friends. This notoriety enhanced Senator Goebel's chances for the gubernatorial nomi- nation ; so he declared himself a candidate and entered actively into the campaign. General P. Watt Hardin and Captain W. J. Stone also entered the race. The outlook for Democratic success in 1899 was flattering. Since '96 the state had swung back into the Democratic column, electing a Democratic clerk of the court of appeals by nearly twenty thousand plurality. This was a great reversal of the Republican victories of Bradley in 1895, and McKinley in 1896. The indi- cations were that the state had swung back into Demo- cratic ranks for years perhaps, and that the independent ^(i MY OWN STORY Democrats, who had won the race for Bradley and carried the state for McKinley, had gone back to the " house of their fathers." The three-cornered fight for the nomination for governor became intensely interesting. There were no joint debates between the aspirants for gubernator- ial honors. They all declared for free silver, and each confined himself to questioning the record of the other as to his loyalty to the silver cause. It was finally decided to hold county and legislative district mass- meetings for the purpose of selecting delegates to the state convention. These mass-meetings were marked by factional fights and contesting delegations. How- ever, delegates were eventually selected to assemble in state convention and, by ballot, as usual, select the party's standard-bearers, naming the candidates for all state offices. CHAPTER XII THE DEMOCRATIC MACHINE The Democratic state convention at Music Hall, Louisville — Many contesting delegations — Excitement over the tem- porary chairman's decision — Bailiffs fail to preserve order — Election of Redwine as permanent chairman — Machine work — Stone proposes terms The Democratic state convention was called to meet in Louisville, on the twenty-first of June. After the smoke of battle at the county conventions had cleared away, it was discovered that Hardin was in the lead, claiming about six hundred of the total one thousand and ninety-one delegates. Stone claimed three hun- dred and fifty, Goebel about three hundred. Major P. P. Johnston, chairman of the state central commit- tee, who was opposed to Goebel, called the convention to order in Music Hall at the appointed time, and pro- ceeded to conduct the preliminaries of the temporary organization. The Stone-Goebel forces immediately nominated Judge D. B. Redwine, of Breathitt County, for perma- nent chairman of the convention, and the Hardin men named W. H. Sweeney, of Marion County, for the same position. Chairman Johnston ordered the call of the counties, and the balloting began. Scarcely had the secretary begun the call of the counties before it was discovered that one of them had 17 78 MY OWN STORY sent a double delegation to the convention, each set of delegates claiming to be the legal and regularly con- stituted one. The chairman passed the irregularly represented county and, as the call of the counties was continued, there were found to be numerous other con- testing delegations, all of which were passed by the chairman. A survey of the situation disclosed the fact that there were so many of these contesting delegations, and that the vote already tabulated was so close be- tween Redwine and Sweeney, that the result would depend on the disposition made of the contests. Con- sequently, in the decision to be made by the temporary chairman rested the real excitement of the convention. The chairman as a rule recognized as legal delegates those whose credentials were signed by local party authorities. Frantic and perspiring men made threat- ening and incendiary speeches against these rulings and, as they increased in number, the excitement became more intense, the crowd more boisterous and savage. The platform was often crowded with frantic men; anxiety was at fever heat; and hot words were frequently exchanged. As the roll-call was nearing a close Redwine was slightly in the lead, and the Goebel-Stone men were shouting for a decision, when, suddenly, the Hardin men came to the front with a contest over the county of Kenton. This contest involved thirty-five delegates and the decision of the chairman regarding it would determine the fate of Redwine and Sweeney. The Goebel-Stone forces were furious, crying out that it was too late for a contest. The chairman then an- nounced that he had been served with a notice of con- test in this particular case and ruled that it was not THE DEMOCRATIC MACHINE 79 too late. This ruling caused the Goebel-Stone forces to lose no time in contesting many of the large counties that had instructed for Hardin. Among these were the counties of Harrison and Campbell. After this the excitement grew still greater, with small prospect of abating. Mr. Johnston insisted that he, as temporary chairman of the convention, had a right to call to his assistance whatever peace officers he desired for the maintenance of order and the preser- vation of the public peace, and this, too, without the advice or direction of any organized body or the Louis- ville police. He accordingly appointed special bailiffs, who were soon present in large numbers in the con- vention hall, while the Goebel followers called in a large number of the Louisville police and riotous heel- ers from all over the city. Matters were looking squally, and, when the Kenton County case was reached, the storm burst. Many of the adherents of the three candidates mounted the platform and crowded around Chairman Johnston. The bailiffs en- deavored vainly either to preserve order or to force into seats the crowd that gathered around the chairman. A personal difficulty arose between the bailiffs and some of the Goebel-Stone adherents, and for more than a quarter of an hour curses rent the air, blows resounded and noses bled. Finally, the chairman adjourned the convention for a night session. The fate of the contestants was in the hands of the chairman. If he recognized the delegation from Ken- ton County as the legally constituted delegates, it would nominate Mr. Sweeney, Mr. Hardin's candi- date, for permanent chairman. This, of course, would mean the appointment of Hardin sympathizers on the 8o MY OWN STORY committee on credentials, and they would, in all prob- ability, seat a sufficient number of Hardin delegates to give him the nomination, provided a majority of the delegates in the convention lived long enough to make a nomination. One writer, in speaking of the effect upon the convention of a ruling by the chair adverse to the Goebel forces of Kentucky, said ^' that such de- cision would precipitate a riot there was not the slightest doubt. During the afternoon it had been felt in the air." This catastrophe, however, did' not occur, as Mr. Johnston announced that he would recognize the Goebel delegates from Kenton as the legal delegates. This ruling on the part of Johnston resulted in the election of Redwine, the Goebel-Stone candidate; and when once elected, he proved himself to be very much the chairman. He apparently desired the world to sur- render on its knees. Parliamentary usages formed no part of his code. He was not there for the convention to direct, but to direct the convention. There was but one man he obeyed, but one man he served, and that man was William Goebel. Him he served with all the fidelity with which a slave serves his master. Throughout the whole of the proceedings, the master-spirit of William Goebel dominated the con- vention. While other men lost their reason and per- mitted themselves to be carried away by the excitement of the hour, as by a whirlwind, William Goebel was as cool and dispassionate as an onlooker at a Sunday- school convention. It was he who dictated the mem- bers of the various committees and directed the work to be done by them. At his dictation the committee on resolutions indorsed, bodily, the Goebel Election THE DEMOCRATIC MACHINE 8i Law. He sent men to their knees in abandonment of their own wills. At his command the committee on credentials agreed to bunch the contested cases from the various counties and decide them without regard to the merit, or lack of merit, of any individual case. This was a bold stroke. The Hardin men were furious, but Goebel gave them no consideration. He had out- generaled them, and now he laid his plans to make a cat's-paw of Captain Stone. In the interim, the Hardin people were enthusias- tically working up a mass meeting to protest against the rulings of " Czar " Redwine. The meeting was largely attended and Redwine was bitterly denounced, while at the same time the propriety of a bolt was freely discussed at the Hardin headquarters. The fourth day of the convention came, and the com- mittee on credentials was not yet ready to report. The Hardin men made the outcry that the committee had been out long enough, and a motion was offered that the convention take up the contests and determine them. The motion pended, and again pandemonium reigned. A number of the delegates began leaving the hall, but they were seized by those who desired them to remain, and forcibly detained. This impressed some with the idea that they were about to be arrested, which only added to their indignation. The Honor- able Charles J. Bronston, of Lexington, mounted a seat and made a fiery speech. Amidst cheers and hisses, he declared to such as could hear him above the din, that he did not care to be heard by " the thugs and hood- lums from the slums of Louisville, who had sur- rounded the convention with brass ' knucks ' and guns." Finally, the committee on credentials completed its 82 MY OWN STORY arduous ( ?) labors, and reported. The Stone-Goebel combine gained, by that report, one hundred and fifty- nine votes over the vote that elected Redwine chair- man. The committee had been slow to report, but it had performed well the duty assigned it, which was, in substance, the bringing into being of delegates to nominate Senator Goebel. In other words, nearly the entire gain scored by the committee's report was in straight Goebel delegates. After this flagrant exhibition of machine-work, General Hardin made his way to the platform, while the most intense suspense hushed to silence the noisy convention. Speculation was rife as to what was about to occur. General Hardin slowly and deliberately mounted the platform, although his manner was marked by a certain degree of agitation as he stepped to the rostrum. He began his remarks by saying the interests of the Democratic party demanded that he speak. He then announced that he withdrew his name from the convention ; that he was no longer a candidate for the office of governor of Kentucky. Men often cease to struggle when success is fairly within their grasp, but this can not be said of General Hardin. Wild shouts of approval and disapproval greeted his unexpected announcement, but the work of the con- vention proceeded and the balloting was soon begun. Goebel developed startling strength and Stone's fol- lowers were immediately filled with consternation. It began to dawn upon them that the committee on credentials had, to use a slang phrase, " done the work for them." The Goebel men felt so confident the nomi- nation was within their grasp that they threw obligations to the winds. People often throw their THE DEMOCRATIC MACHINE 83 friends overboard when, by doing so, they will insure their own success ; and it is needless to say the game of politics often illustrates this. It was asserted at one time that a sufficient number of votes had actually been cast for Goebel to nominate him, but before these votes could be tabulated and the result announced, some of the counties had withdrawn their ballots from his support. When Captain Stone fully realized the situation and recovered from the shock of it, he went at once to Goebel, who was sitting in a corner on the stage, and demanded that he immediately withdraw his name from the convention. "If you do not, I myself will withdraw at once and nominate General Hardin," exclaimed the outraged ex-Confederate. Goebel's lieutenants rushed to Captain Stone, while Hardin's henchmen rushed to the front of the stage, preparatory to giving a new impetus to the Hardin boom. Goebel's advisers implored him to accept Stone's terms and thus save himself from the loss of party platform, party organization, complete shipwreck and disaster. To their wild appeals for his safety Goebel listened un- moved. Then, rolling his large steel-gray eyes upon them, he calmly said : " If they wish to nominate Hardin, let them nomi- nate him. If they can stand it I can." After Stone's threat to nominate Hardin, Goebel and Stone came together on the stage and held an animated conference — at least animated on the part of Stone. Stone arose from his seat, with the intention, it was supposed, of withdrawing from the race and placing the name of General Hardin in nomination. " Wait a moment," said Goebel. 84 MY OWN STORY Then before Stone could proceed further, his friends gathered about him and advised him not to act precipitately. In the confusion of the moment the con- vention was adjourned. CHAPTER XIII THE CONVENTION DECIDES Continuance of Democratic Convention at Music Hall — Despair of delegates — Judge Redwine refuses to entertain a motion to adjourn — Goebel is nominated — Democratic ticket — Independent Democrats repudiate the ticket of the Music Hall Convention — Objections of Prohibition- ists — Anti-Goebel movement goes on — Denunciation of the Goebel Election Law Monday morning found Music Hall again well guarded by police. About seventy-five officers were scattered through the convention hall. These were henchmen of Goebel. The Hardin-Stone men had not agreed on whom they would nominate, but did agree, with a chorus of shouts, that the police should be re- moved from the convention hall. Chairman Redwine refused to entertain either a motion to this effect or an appeal from his decision. At this point, the Hardin-Stone forces made a mad rush for the stage. A line of police checked them. Above the confusion Redwine's voice could be heard demanding that the secretary call the roll for the bal- loting for governor. The Hardin-Stone forces declared that this should not be done. '' Give us," they shouted, *' a vote upon our motion and upon our appeal." The disorder continued so great that twelve hours of that day were occupied in taking two ballots. Nearly 85 86 MY OWN STORY every time an attempt was made to call the roll, the exasperated Hardin-Stone supporters would fill the hall with shouts and a pandemonium of hideous sounds. Occasionally the delegates forced the unwilling audi- ence to submit to specimens of their vocal powers. My Old Kentucky Home, There'll be a Hot Time in the Old Town To-night, and Hang Judge Redwine on a Sour Apple Tree, to the tune of John Brown's Body, were among the favorites in their choice repertoire. Finally, Judge Redwine decided he would clear the galleries and lobbies and disperse those who, with horns and tin whistles, alternated a bedlam of dis- cordant noises with the voices of his boisterous tor- mentors. When he announced his intention, some one in the crowd cried : '' When you are ready to clear this floor, nominate your undertaker ! " This is a sample of the sentiment felt and expressed toward the chairman, and, although he hailed from the county of " Bloody Breathitt," and his name was really '* Red wine," his purpose to clear the lobbies and gal- leries was not carried out. Having abandoned all hope for even the semblance of fair play, the Stone- Hardin men practically decided that they would make an effort to adjourn the convention to Lex- ington, or to adjourn it sine die, without making a nomination. Delegates were becoming discouraged and worn out and some were returning to their homes. The action of the convention had been in so many ways notorious, such bitter feelings had been engendered, and so much dissatisfaction caused, that it was thought best not to make a nomination at that time. Accord- ingly, when the convention met next day, a motion was THE CONVENTION DECIDES By made to adjourn it sine die, and to instruct the state executive committee to issue a call for another con- vention. Both Captain Stone and General Hardin, in speeches to the delegates, urged the adoption of this motion. Here was another crisis. If the delegates were per- mitted to vote on this motion, there was not the slightest doubt the turbulent convention would be ad- journed. It was now necessary, therefore, for the chairman to exhibit more cool nerve than he had shown before, and to proceed with even less regard for the formalities of parliamentary usage. But Judge Red- wine was equal to the occasion ; he was one chairman in ten thousand. He arose, or descended, as the exi- gencies of the moment might require, to any plane of dictatorial despotism. He now emphatically declared that he ** would not entertain any motion, the object of which was to strike at the foundation of the con- vention's existence." The Hardin-Stone men tried in vain to appeal from the decision of the chair. The chairman ruled that such a motion was very much out of order and forth- with ordered that the balloting proceed. It did proceed, and after lasting six long, stormy, anxious days — days fraught with excitement and danger — the convention finally nominated Mr. Goebel on the twenty-fifth ballot, and the struggle at last was ended. GoebeFs speech of acceptance was characteristic of the man. It was neither honeycombed with flattery nor laden with sentiment of any kind. He virtually told those who had opposed him that he had defeated them in the struggle, and that it was now their duty as good 88 MY OWN STORY Democrats to assist in electing him governor. At the conclusion of his short speech, Goebel retired from the convention hall, leaving the love-feast to those who might enjoy it. The affair, as a whole, could scarcely be called a brilliant success. On the next and final day of the convention, candidates for the minor state offices were nominated, almost entirely at the dictation of Mr. Goebel. They were : Mr. J. C. W. Beckham, of Nelson County, for lieutenant-governor; Judge Robert J. Breckinridge, of Boyle County, for attorney-general ; Mr. Gus G. Coulter, of Graves County, for auditor of public accounts ; Mr. S. W. Haager, of Boyd Coun- ty, for treasurer; Mr. C. Breck Hill, of Clark County, for secretary of state; Mr. H. V. McChesney, of Livingston County, for superintendent of public in- struction ; Mr. I. B. Nail, of Louisville, for commis- sioner of agriculture. So rapidly, fiercely and tumultuously do events fol- low one another here in our American Republic that they upset the calculations of politicians, and change, almost in the twinkling of an eye, the chances of success for political parties. The popular things and paramount issues of to-day are repudiated to- morrow, and this, too, without a moment's warning. The glittering prospect of success in the political arena is turned into dismal defeat with similar celerity. Fol- lowing the nomination of Mr. Goebel were many difficulties in the way of his success, numerous charges of more or less gravity of import were brought against him, and among these was one that he had killed his man. John Sanford, of Covington, Kentucky, was the victim. He was an ex-Confederate soldier, a promi- THE CONVENTION DECIDES 89 nent banker and a gentleman of high social and busi- ness standing. On account of the killing of Sanford, nine-tenths of the ex-Confederates of the state declared they would not support Goebel. It is true that it was said of his election law that it left " nothing to chance." It did not leave much ; but the people are always the master when they choose to use the whip. When they will it, political machines are smashed into atoms. In this instance, the people were aroused. The methods of the Music Hall con- vention were vigorously assailed. The unseating of delegates, the packing of the hall with Louisville police and firemen, the arbitrary rulings of the partizan Redwine, were all loudly denounced by Democrats, both in public and private life. Many ministers over the state — in fact, the majority of them — in their sermons and private talks, moralized upon the Music Hall convention, its candidates and the probable con- sequences of their nomination. An enthusiastic meeting of Democrats was soon held at Mt. Sterling, Kentucky, calling upon the Democracy of the state to repudiate the nominees of the Music Hall convention. Other meetings were held for a simi- lar purpose, following in rapid succession in other parts of the state. The meeting at Bowling Green probably elicited more comment than any of the others. Theodore F. Hallam, of Covington, one of the most gifted men of the state, was the speaker of the occasion, and part of his speech was much commented on. He declared that he was a Democrat and held that there was much sacredness in the word " nominee." " I have always," he said, " stood ready to vote for a yellow dog if he was nominated on the Democratic 90 MY OWN STORY ticket. I stand ready and willing, to-day, to go that far, but lower you shall not drag me." Personal difficulties were narrowly averted. It was early discovered that the brains of the Democratic party in the state were against the Goebel ticket. Such men as the late Colonel W. C. P. Breckinridge, Gen- eral Basil W. Duke, ex-Governor Simon Bolivar Buck- ner, and men of that type, were known to be in oppo- sition to the Goebel faction. Intolerance and tyranny compass their own ruin by driving from their support men who can not be coerced and who have the ability to think and the courage to act. Many of the rank and file of the party were willing to follow such men as Duke and Buckner. They had followed them before in the days of the country's peril. The Prohibitionists of the state also took a bold stand, and said in their platform : " We demand the repeal of the odious Goebel Election Law." The Popu- lists said in theirs : " We denounce the infamous Goebel Election Law and demand its repeal." The temperance people attacked Mr. Goebel and charged him with having defeated a local option bill, when he was the temporary presiding officer of the Kentucky Senate. Thus the anti-Goebel movement grew in volume and intensity, and it was early decided to nominate an- other full Democratic state ticket. It was learned authoritatively that the late ex-Governor John Young Brown would accept the nomination for governor at the head of the anti-Goebel forces, and lead their fight. There was not a Democrat in the state who had been more loyal in his support of all Democratic men and measures than John Young Brown. In faithful and Goebel's chair and correspondence In Goebel's bedroom in Covington His house GOEBEL'S HOME IN COVINGTON THE CONVENTION DECIDES 91 efficient performance of his duty, his record as gov- ernor of the state had been surpassed by none of his predecessors. His pubHc and private Ufe was without blemish, and besides these recommendations as a man and a candidate, he possessed that which is possibly of even more value in a campaign — the gift of oratory. Bryan had cast his fortune in Kentucky with that of Goebel — an action which created a certain amount of depression among the anti-Goebel Democrats; but when Brown expressed a willingness to be their leader, a fresh impetus was given to their cause. On the sixth of August, the anti-Goebel men held their state convention at Lexington. The crowd was large and enthusiastic, and ex-Governor Brown was nominated by acclamation to lead the fight against the Goebel forces. He made a stirring and eloquent speech of acceptance. " Are you ready," he asked, " to bow down in abject submission? Are you ready to surrender your birth- right under the name of party regularity?" He said that the man who would tamper with the humblest citi- zen's right to vote, or the man who would falsify that vote was " a public enemy, and worse than an assas- sin." He declared " that the civilization of the age would approve, and the moral atmosphere of every community would be purified, if the scoundrel should be forced to don a felon's stripes, and hold his con- versations through barred doors." The other candidates nominated were : Major P. P. Johnston, of Fayette County, for lieutenant-governor; L. P. Tanner, of Daviess County, for attorney-general ; Frank Pasteur, of Caldwell County, for auditor of public accounts; Captain E. L. Hines, of Warren 92 MY OWN STORY County, for secretary of state; Mr. John Droedge, of Kenton County, for treasurer; the Reverend E. O. Guerrant, of Jackson County, for superintendent of public instruction; and Mr. G. H. Van Derveer, of Lincoln County, for commissioner of agriculture. The platform adopted was a very strong one. It denounced the Goebel Election Law in no uncertain terms ; it declared that the Music Hall convention was " held up " by police, and robbed by Judge Redwine's unprecedented rulings, and that one-third of the Demo- crats of the state had been disfranchised. CHAPTER XIV THE REPUBLICAN CONVENTION Race for nominations on the Republican ticket — State con- vention at Lexington — I am nominated for Secretary of State Such were the events which, step by step, had led to this condition of Kentucky Democracy, and this was. the situation in which that party found itself at the threshold of the famous campaign of 1899. As my fate was to be cast in lines similar to those of the Republican party, my own situation may be the better understood if the conditions confronting my party at this time are clearly in mind. I aspired to the Repub- lican nomination for the office of secretary of state. I talked this matter over with many of my warm friends, but I did not indicate, as is usually the case, how I wished to be advised. There is a strong desire, if not a necessity, in every soul to impart its joys and aspirations. I gave the matter serious thought myself, and, after weigh- ing the advantages and disadvantages of such an undertaking, and not forgetting the possibilities of success or defeat, I decided to enter the contest for the nomination. Having determined upon my course, I decided to push my candidacy with vigor. One who enters politics with any reasonable hope of success must be willing to stake his all upon one throw of the dice. 93 94 MY OWN STORY The race for the nomination for governor waxed warm, and in that, as in every other similar contest, interest in the lower places on the state ticket was over- shadowed by the all-absorbing contest for the guberna- torial nomination. The entries in the race were Wil- liam S. Taylor, of Morgantown, Butler County, who had been the attorney-general of the state under Gov- ernor Bradley's administration; Colonel Samuel H. Stone, of Richmond, auditor of public accounts under the same administration; and Judge Clifton J. Pratt, of Hopkinsville, Christian County, a man successful as lawyer, politician and financier. There were five en- tries, including myself, for the office of secretary of state. As the various counties in the state soon called their conventions — they were held on different days — it was most agreeable to me to see that I, despite fierce opposition, was receiving more instructed votes than any of my opponents. I arrived at Lexington to attend the state convention rather early in the action, opened headquarters at the Phoenix Hotel and worked with unflagging zeal to secure the nomination for the office I sought. I knew few of the party leaders, and consequently was placed at a great disadvantage; but my candidacy progressed admirably, and for a time I was on, or thought I was on, " the slate " for nomination, al- though it was strenuously denied by those in control of the convention that there was any slate. But who ever heard of a state convention where there was no slate ? The night before nominations were to be made, a change in the program occurred and it was decided by those supposed to be in authority that it would not be THE REPUBLICAN CONVENTION 95 good policy to nominate me, for, besides being un- known, I was " so young." The nomination of W. S. Taylor for the governor- ship was almost a foregone conclusion from the very beginning. His record as attorney-general of the state was unimpeachable. Stone, however, had conducted the office of auditor of public accounts to the entire satisfaction of the public, while Pratt had been circuit judge for a number of years and had made an efficient officer. Taylor, however, seemed to have captured the public's favor, although the other candidates were men with clean and admirable records. When Judge James Breathitt, chairman of the con- vention, announced that nominations for governor were in order. Colonel Stone and Judge Pratt withdrew their names from consideration of the convention, and W. S. Taylor was declared the Republican nominee for governor. The wildest enthusiasm prevailed when the action of the delegates was officially announced. After the Honorable John Marshall, of Louisville, was nominated lieutenant-governor, the nomination for secretary of state was, according to the program de- cided on, next in order. The moments were filled with suspense for me. Senator W. J. Deboe, Kentucky's first Republican United States senator, at this time reputed to be the principal slate-maker of the con- vention, had just said to me that, unless I agreed to an adjournment of the convention until the after- noon, before the nomination for the office I sought was made, I would be defeated. I did not agree to the adjournment, because I believed a majority of the delegates then favored my nomination, and I feared to allow the politicians any time whatever wherein they 96 MY OWN STORY might lay plans to secure my defeat. It is just to Senator Deboe to say, however, that after a motion to adjourn the convention was put and lost, and after the various candidates for the nomination for secretary of state were placed in nomination. Senator Deboe and his friends heartily supported my candidacy. I hoped for success, but was prepared for defeat. For two nights I had not sought rest until two o'clock in the morning, because I was working and planning for victory. I had done all I could do, and was anxious for the struggle to end and the results to become known. Uncertainty wears life threadbare. Many interested politicians were on the platform with me when my name was placed before the convention. The broad amphitheater in front of us was packed with an excited mass of humanity, composed largely of young men who were the hope and promise of what had only recently assumed the proportions of a great political party in Kentucky, while to the rear of the stage, the telegraph wires were flashing the proceed- ings of the convention to all parts of an anxious and expectant state. To me, very naturally, the seconds were charged with intense interest and suspense. Before the votes of the various counties had all been announced, it was evident that I had received a major- ity of all the ballots in the power of the convention to cast, and my nomination was, of course, assured. My heart throbbed with joy. The struggles of my life were now rewarded ; my ambitions vaulted skyward. After nominating the Reverend John S. Sweeney, of Paris, Bourbon County, for auditor of public ac- counts; Walter R. Day, of Breathitt County, for state treasurer; Professor John Burke, of Newport, Camp- THE REPUBLICAN CONVENTION 97 bell County, for superintendent of public instruction, and John W. Throckmorton, of Lexington, Fayette County, for commissioner of agriculture, the conven- tion adjourned. It had been harmonious throughout and was in striking contrast to the turbulent affair held in Music Hall. CHAPTER XV MR. BRYAN VISITS KENTUCKY Goebel opens his campaign at Mayfield — His reluctance to mix with people — Republican campaign begins at London — Opening of anti-Goebel campaign at Bowling Green — Goebel refuses to take part in joint debate — Mr. Bryan on the stump for Goebel — Louisville election board re- moves election officers Goebel formally opened his campaign at Mayfield, Graves County, August tv^elfth. Those who had pre- dicted that he would meet with a chilling reception and then and there realize the hopelessness of his cause proved to be false prophets. The crowd was there, there can be no doubt of that; but, as has been said of it, " it was rather a cold and curious crowd," and Goebel added nothing whatever to its enthusiasm, even when the time came for him to address it. In marked contrast to Blackburn, he had but little to say, and what he said and his manner of saying it were cold. Great men do not affiliate freely with others, but dwell apart from their fellows, and Goebel, in some respects, was a great man — great in intellect, great in energy, great in will. But, he was not a good " mixer," for he possessed neither personal magnetism nor personal attraction. He never condescended to personal famil- iarity or personal intimacy. He did not achieve suc- cess in the political arena in what may be termed a pop- 98 MR. BRYAN VISITS KENTUCKY 99 ular manner. He neither passed pleasantries nor re- counted jokes. He disliked hand-shaking as a business, and only submitted to it when it could not be avoided. He was a political strategist, a schemer, a planner. He had fought life's battle, beginning in the ranks of pov- erty. He was bold, daring, self-reliant, a lawyer of ability, and so confident of his own opinions that his advisers usually became, in the end, instead of his counselors, the creatures of his dominating will. That he must now come in personal contact with the voters was uncongenial for Goebel and it is small wonder that he was not more successful. When he made his first speech at the launching of his political ship, he spoke about thirty minutes, and then fell over suddenly as if dead. The severe heat of the day had prostrated him and he was unable to resume speaking until some time had elapsed. The superstitious — and they are always to be found — con- sidered this a bad omen for Goebel and his ticket. Senator J. C. S. Blackburn followed Mr. Goebel in a characteristic speech. "If political thievery is to con- tinue in Kentucky, in spite of the Goebel Election Law," he said, " I am willing to swear that the other fellows will not do the stealing." The Republicans opened their campaign at London, on August twenty-second. Taylor is a gifted and warm-mannered speaker, and was greeted with enthu- siasm. " When," said he, " a law fails to provide against any inequalities and wrongs, it is equivalent to a direction to do wrong. To make possible is to license. The Goebel followers propose to rob us of our suffrage in this campaign if we will permit it. Every election board in each of the one hundred and loo MY OWN STORY nineteen counties in the state is packed with a majority of Goebel partizans. Even where RepubUcans have been named as precinct election officers, in many cases, they are old, infirm and wholly incompetent to act. And we are told, with solemnity, that the decisions of the various election boards are final and conclusive — too sacred to be touched by human hands. It is not a question of parties, it is not a question of men, but it is a question whether we shall longer exist as a free people." He spoke with angry vehemence, his long, shaggy, black hair waving in the wind, his bony fingers clenched in emphasis. Four days after the Republicans had opened the campaign at London, the anti-Goebel Democrats opened theirs at Bowling Green. Ex-Governor Brown made a stirring address. After Mr. Brown had re- ceived the nomination for the governorship, at Lex- ington, Goebel and his followers made him the special object of their acrimony. Ex-Governor Brown in turn now trained his batteries upon them, and, in his usual vigorous style, delivered some telling blows. The campaign waxed warmer and warmer, if it is not doing violence to the word to call it a campaign. It danced on the ragged edge of a vendetta. Charges and countercharges were made. Denunciation, re- criminations, threats and violence marked every step of the belligerent crowds. The whole state was a hotbed of strife and hatred. Even to this day the passions and prejudices of the forces that lined up on either side of this controversy have by no means van- ished. Early in the campaign, Goebel's henchmen saw that the breach was too wide for them to think of inducing COLONEL "JACK" CHINN, WHO WAS WITH GOEBEL WHEN THE LATTER WAS SHOT MR. BRYAN VISITS KENTUCKY loi the anti-Goebel men to join their ranks by persuasive methods, so they sought to force them. Goebel himself became more and more bitter in his denunciation of those Democrats who opposed his election. In his speech at Bowling Green, shortly after ex-Governor Brown had opened his canvass, he said, in speaking of those who opposed him : " I ask no quarter, and I fear no foe." At the same time he spared none, and, in fact, he singled out and attacked each and every man of political standing among his opponents. The shaft he aimed at Major W. C. Owens was that Owens dishked him because he had used his influence against faro-banks and other gambling devices and resorts, which had " interfered with Owens' regular business, so, of course, he does not like it." He charged Theo- dore Hallam with having a brother in the peniten- tiary, while his followers castigated the late Colonel W. C. P. Breckinridge and ex-Governor Simon Bolivar Buckner unmercifully. As we know the fruitful apple- tree by the number of stones at its roots and by the number of sticks thrown into its branches, so we know the caliber of men by the way they are traduced and denounced. The man who amounts to anything — who is anybody — expects to be criticized and vilified. All great men understand this ; it is as certainly one of the penalties of greatness, as it is a proof of greatness, to be able to endure these attacks without resentment. The Brown spellbinders made much capital out of the fact that Goebel had refused to meet their cham- pion in joint debate, while those whom Mr. Goebel had attacked in a personal manner responded in lan- guage equally severe. Major Owens said that he opposed Goebel, not for the reason given by him, but I02 MY OWN STORY because Goebel had violated three Christian precepts — Thou shalt not lie, Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not kill. Mr. Hallam denied the charge of having a brother in the penitentiary and added that while Mr. Goebel had no brother in the penitentiary, " his brothers have a brother who ought to be there." When excitement and bad feeling had grown to such proportions that it was obviously impossible to assuage them, Mr. Bryan was induced by Mr. Goebel to come to Kentucky. It was hoped that the Ne- braskan's appearance would at least turn the tide, if it did not, in fact, allay the passions entirely. The Goebel supporters were in high feather when Bryan's tour of the state was ended, and he had departed for a similar journey through Ohio. The famous Democratic national leader left behind in Ken- tucky the most roseate visions of an harmonious De- mocracy marching to victory. But these were only visions. The Brown contingent, like Banquo's ghost, would not down, even at the bidding of Mr. Bryan. It was made of sturdy stuff. It represented the brain and character of the Democratic party in Kentucky, and the men composing it refused to be driven. It is easy to arouse the feelings of the rabid and mystify the minds of the ignorant, but to carry the man of calm and sober thought off his feet is a difficult matter. The last week of the campaign was replete with stirring events. No candidate felt that his election was a certainty, and each one stubbornly continued the fight until the polls were closed on the evening of election day. Goebel confined his canvass of the last week principally to Louisville. The Republicans had special trains flying over the state, on which were MR. BRYAN VISITS KENTUCKY 103 Governor Bradley and other prominent men of the party, who made speeches at every station, while Mr. Taylor and others did similar work. Bradley said, in speaking of the theft of the ballot : " Yes, I would rather steal the last crumb from a hungry beggar, mean and despicable as that would be, than rob my fellow citizen of his vote." George Denny, a Republi- can orator of no mean ability, said : " The man who casts out a legal ballot is a traitor to his country and, in the language of Patrick Henry, * Give me liberty or give me death.' If this is incendiary," he continued, " I say, make the most of it." Late in the afternoon of the day before the election, the Louisville election board unceremoniously threw out eighty-seven Republican election officers, and filled their places with men who could be relied upon to meet the emergencies of the occasion. This changed the personnel of half the voting precincts in the city. The appointment of the extra police, the refusal of the election board to allow the Brown organization and the Populist and the Prohibition inspectors at the polls, the wholesale removal of the Republican precinct elec- tion officers less than eighteen hours before the polls were opened, were the *' culmination of infamy," as the Republicans expressed It, and were merely fore- runners of the next day's proceedings. The news of the removal of the Republican precinct officers spread over the city like wildfire. Men became drunk with passion. The wires of the telephone and telegraph were hot with the outrageous news, and alarm and terror swept swiftly over the entire state. Enraged and outraged men walked the streets of Louis- ville, torn with conflicting emotions. The great crowd \.. 104 MY OWN STORY vacillated between violence and submission for more than an hour. The excitement was so intense that Governor Bradley canceled his appointment to speak in the city that night, but both Goebel and Blackburn addressed immense crowds. CHAPTER XVI ELECTION DAY IN KENTUCKY IN 1 899 Election day — "Repeaters' paradise" — Assembling of mili- tary — Republicans win by a safe plurality — Democrats claim election — Election board renders decision in favor of Republicans The early morning of election day saw thousands of voters on their way to the polls — some to be allowed the exercise of their sacred rights as citizens, while others were to be denied theirs. In Lexington and other cities the most stupendous corruption prevailed. In Louisville, in some precincts, the voting places were removed. In others the voting did not begin until late in the day; in many it did not begin at all, it is said, until plans had been matured to sink the ballot-boxes in the Ohio River after the polls had been closed; and in still others ballot-boxes were heavily " padded " before the voting began. Louis- ville was overrun with " repeaters " from other cities, and proved in truth on this day to be the re- peaters' paradise ; for they were protected by police- men, firemen, thugs and bullies. In droves the " phony " voters were chaperoned throughout the day from one voting-place to another, and gave the names and cast the votes of actual or supposed residents of the city, while officers of the law, whose duty it was to protect the ballot, bade them God-speed. 105 io6 MY OWN STORY By order of Governor Bradley, the military had been assembled in the armory in anticipation of trouble, but was not called out until three hours after the polls had been closed. Three companies then left the armory and visited only eight of the polling places where trouble had been reported. Fraud and cor- ruption ran riot at a majority of the voting precincts throughout the entire city. In spite of all this the opposition to the Goebel ticket was so overwhelming that it was learned early in the night that the Repub- licans had carried Louisville by a majority of nearly twenty-five hundred, and, before morning dawned, the Republicans knew that Taylor and his ticket had won by a safe plurality, although at the Goebel head- quarters the state was claimed for the Goebel forces. Had not the Goebel followers and those operating under the Goebel Election Law underestimated the magnitude of the opposition to the Goebel ticket, the result might have been written in different figures. On Wednesday, when Taylor reached Louisville, he gave to the country a signed statement, in which he said he had been elected in spite of the disfran- chisement of twenty-five thousand voters favorable to him ; and that the trust which the people had con- fided to him would be assumed and maintained. When Goebel reached his headquarters at Frankfort from Covington, where he had spent election day, his fol- lowers and adherents were panic-stricken. A crowd of his supporters met him at the train and followed him to the Capital Hotel, where they induced him to make a speech from its steps. They were anxious to know what he had to say about the election. His words were worth more to them and they placed ELECTION DAY IN KENTUCKY IN 1899 107 more confidence in them than in any returns they might receive. Goebel was more excited than his worshiping fol- lowers had ever seen him. When the crowd cheered him madly as the governor-elect, he said, with pas- sionate emphasis : " I have been honestly elected gov- ernor of Kentucky. . . . Mr. Taylor says in an interview, that he will assume the office and maintain it. All that I have to say is that, if declared elected, I will occupy the office." J. Willard Mitchell, a leading Democratic politician, who was recently a candidate for the office of attor- ney-general, followed Goebel in an incendiary speech. When the results of the election were more fully known it was clear that the Legislature would be strongly Democratic, but that Taylor and his ticket had won on the face of the returns by over three thousand votes. This was a signal victory for the Republicans when the fact is considered that Kentucky is a Demo- cratic state ; and that the Republicans were handicapped by the notorious Goebel Election Law, which, it is not difficult to understand, placed the entire election ma- chinery of the whole state in the hands of the Demo- crats. While the Republicans were congratulating themselves upon their victory, their joy was mingled with dread and doubt, for they realized that this elec- tion law might still be the cause of ruin and con- fusion. Its dangerous possibilities had not yet been taxed to their utmost. It had latent powers that might still be used with crushing effect. These, fears were not without foundation, for the Democrats soon announced that both state and coun- ty election boards had the right to pass upon the io8 MY OWN STORY legality of the ballots, even before a contest was instituted, as well as to tabulate the returns of the election. They contended further that in several coun- ties which had given large Republican majorities, the ballots were so thin as to be transparent, and that the voters in the city of Louisville had been intimidated on election day by the presence of the military in that city and that, therefore, none of the votes was valid, but on the contrary, all were null and void, and should not be and would not be counted. The Republicans, on the other hand, maintained that these charges were hollow subterfuges and the emptiest of pretenses, resorted to by desperate and defeated office-seekers for the purpose of reversing the will of the people as expressed at the polls. They pointed out that the military remained in the armory at Louis- ville until three hours after the polls had been closed on election day, that no one raised any objection to the ballot on the day of the election, and that " thin " ballots were confessedly an afterthought. The claim on the part of the Democrats that the election boards had the power to throw out, when acting in their cler- ical capacity, any votes they might desire to cancel was bitterly denounced and denied. The Republicans and anti-Goebel Democrats loudly censured the election law, which gave being to the state board of elec- tion commissioners and clothed that body with supreme power, but gave the citizen, who knew himself to be defrauded, no means of redress. It will be remem- bered that the election law declared that the decision of the board should be final and conclusive. , Three men in the state, according to this provision, held the liberties of the people within the hollow of ELECTION DAY IN KENTUCKY IN 1899 109 their hands. They had the power to declare at will that the defeated had been elected or the elected had been defeated; and this law, which gave the state election board such unbridled authority over the rights of Kentuckians, had been declared constitu- tional by the Democratic majority of the court of appeals. What relief, then, had the people? They could only remonstrate; and this they proceeded to do vigorously. Mass meetings were called and strong pleas were made that the county and state election boards heed the voice of the voters as expressed at the polls. Finally, after much excitement, further delay and the institution of several suits, all the county boards were compelled to tabulate the returns of the election in the various counties, and certify this vote to the secretary of state. These certified returns from all the coun- ties gave the entire Republican ticket a plurality of all the votes cast ; but, despite this fact, it was repeat- edly and freely asserted that the state election board would ignore enough legitimate Republican votes to give the Goebel ticket an illegitimate plurality, and would issue to it certificates of election. This report brought crowds of people to Frankfort, many coming from the mountains of Kentucky to be present when the state election board should meet to tabulate the election returns. When it rendered its decision, contrary to the ex- pectation of many, two of its members, Messrs. Pryor and Ellis, handed down a majority opinion (Mr. Poyntz dissenting) in favor of the Republicans and gave the certificate of election to Taylor and the entire Republican ticket. They had tabulated the returns of the various county boards without change or amend- no MY OWN STORY ment, and certified to the result as they had found it. As can be easily imagined, this was a severe blow and disappointment to Goebel and his ticket, for the elec- tion officers throughout the state, the majority of the members of county boards and all the members of the state election board, were men of their own selection. They decided that more votes had been cast for Tay- lor and his ticket than for Goebel and his ; but in spite of this fact, contests for the various offices from the governorship down were soon instituted by the Dem- ocrats. Goebel had appealed from his own election boards to his own Legislature ; and plans were laid to throw out fifty thousand Republican votes, or more, alleging military intimidation, thin ballots and the like. The Republican officers-elect, however, were regularly inducted into office. CHAPTER XVII THE REPUBLICANS STAND FIRM Goebel contests decision of election board — Democratic caucus — Evidence of Mr. Harrel — Inauguration of Tay- lor — ■ Rules of Contest Committee Soon after Judge Pryor and Captain Ellis had given the certificate of election to the Republicans, they re- signed their positions as members of the state board of election commissioners. Their action was signifi- cant. It is said they did not feel they could afford to soil their records by disfranchising their fellow countrymen, even acting in their judicial capacity. Before entering upon the (^ntest, Mr. Goebel had the Democratic state central committee called in ses- sion to indorse the step. The determination on the part of Mr. Goebel to take his contest before the Leg- islature as a party contest was a shrewd diplomatic move. His cause by this action and by the in- dorsement of the state central committee would then become the party's cause — his success or failure the success or failure of his party. When the contest became a party measure it relieved him then and there of much responsibility, and gave to his contest at the same time an immense amount of influence and strength of which it would otherwise have been di- vested. He proposed, in short, to place the party upon the firing line, and force it to bear the brunt. Ill ,112 MY OWN STORY A few days after the resignation of his colleagues, Mr. Poyntz filled one of the vacancies on the election board by the appointment of Judge John A. Fulton, of Nelson County, and in a few days, Morton K. Yonts, of Muhlenberg County, was appointed the third member of the commission. Yonts is an un- compromising Democrat. Judge Fulton, prior to his appointment, had demonstrated his quahfications and fitness to serve. In a card given to the public, re- ferring to the calling out of the militia at Louis- ville, he said : " What should be done with the vote of a city so dominated by unlawful force? It should unhesitatingly be rejected as a tainted thing." After saying publicly that the vote of Louisville should thus be disposed of. Judge Fulton was certainly well qualified, as far as partizanship and a previously ex- pressed opinion could qualify him, to be a good mem- ber of this Goebelized state board of election com- missioners. With such members on the board as Mr. Poyntz, who had already voted against giving cer- tificates of election to the Republicans, and Judge Fulton, who had expressed his opinion so frankly, it may be readily understood that the prospects of the minor state officials to occupy the offices to which they had been elected were by no means flattering, whatever might be the majority by which they had been voted into office. But since the contest for the office of governor and lieutenant-governor had to be instituted in and decided by the general assembly, Goebel and Beckham were not so sure of victory as were the other contestants, whose rights to the offices were to be determined by Poyntz, Fulton and Yonts. 'As a matter of fact, some of the Democratic members c/) Oi Kl CQ S W S m K (X H W H ? CO ^ a « C/2 D d O t K :z td 12: < S H U en W r i-ri ^ h u <; 5 ~' c w J Oi u D ?: h Q < J J Q