Theodore Roosevelt and His Times | Page 8

champion of social justice, for, as he himself said, it was this case
which first waked him "to a dim and partial understanding of the fact
that the courts were not necessarily the best judges of what should be
done to better social and industrial conditions."
When, a quarter, of a century later, Roosevelt left the Presidency and
became Contributing Editor of The Outlook, almost his first
contribution to that journal was entitled "A Judicial Experience." It told
the story of this law and its annullment by the court. Mr. William
Travers Jerome wrote a letter to The Outlook, taking Roosevelt sharply
to task for his criticism of the court. It fell to the happy lot of the writer
as a cub editor to reply editorially to Mr. Jerome. I did so with gusto
and with particularity. As Mr. Roosevelt left the office on his way to
the steamer that was to take him to Africa to hunt non-political big
game, he said to me, who had seen him only once before: "That was
bully. You have done just what my Cabinet members used to do for me
in Washington. When a question rose that demanded action, I used to
act. Then I would tell Root or Taft to find out and tell me why what I
had done was legal and justified. Well done, coworker." Is it any
wonder that Theodore Roosevelt had made in that moment another
ardent supporter?
Those first years in the political arena were not only a fighting time,
they were a formative time. The young Roosevelt had to discover a
philosophy of political action which would satisfy him. He speedily
found one that suited his temperament and his keen sense of reality. He
found no reason to depart from it to the day of his death. Long
afterward he told his good friend Jacob Riis how he arrived at it. This
was the way of it:
"I suppose that my head was swelled. It would not be strange if it was. I
stood out for my own opinion, alone. I took the best mugwump stand:
my own conscience, my own judgment, were to decide in all things. I
would listen to no argument, no advice. I took the isolated peak on
every issue, and my people left me. When I looked around, before the

session was well under way, I found myself alone. I was absolutely
deserted. The people didn't understand. The men from Erie, from
Suffolk, from anywhere, would not work with me. 'He won't listen to
anybody,' they said, and I would not. My isolated peak had become a
valley; every bit of influence I had was gone. The things I wanted to do
I was powerless to accomplish. What did I do? I looked the ground
over and made up my mind that there were several other excellent
people there, with honest opinions of the right, even though they
differed from me. I turned in to help them, and they turned to and gave
me a hand. And so we were able to get things done. We did not agree in
all things, but we did in some, and those we pulled at together. That
was my first lesson in real politics. It is just this: if you are cast on a
desert island with only a screw-driver, a hatchet, and a chisel to make a
boat with, why, go make the best one you can. It would be better if you
had a saw, but you haven't. So with men. Here is my friend in Congress
who is a good man, a strong man, but cannot be made to believe in
some things which I trust. It is too bad that he doesn't look at it as I do,
but he DOES NOT, and we have to work together as we can. There is a
point, of course, where a man must take the isolated peak and break
with it all for clear principle, but until it comes he must work, if he
would be of use, with men as they are. As long as the good in them
overbalances the evil, let him work with that for the best that can be
got."
>From the moment that he had learned this valuable lesson--and
Roosevelt never needed to learn a lesson twice--he had his course in
public life marked out before him. He believed ardently in getting
things done. He was no theoretical reformer. He would never take the
wrong road; but, if he could not go as far as he wanted to along the
right road, he would go as far as he could, and bide his time for the rest.
He would not compromise a hair's breadth on a principle; he would
compromise cheerfully on a method which did