Woodrow Wilson As I Know Him | Page 8

discomfiture of Boss Davis when he finally
learned the facts as to Moses Taylor Pyne's real feelings toward
Woodrow Wilson. Previous to the gubernatorial campaign I asked Boss
Davis if he thought Woodrow Wilson would make a good governor.
His reply was characteristic of the point of view of the boss in dealing
with these matters of moment to the people of the state. "How the hell
do I know whether he'll make a good governor?" he replied; "he will
make a good candidate, and that is the only thing that interests me."
Shortly after, those of us who banded together to oppose the bosses in
their efforts to force Doctor Wilson upon us began to the feel pressure
of the organization's influence. Many of our friends left us in despair
and in fear of the power of the machine. The movement toward
Woodrow Wilson in the state was soon in full swing. The
Davis-Smith-Nugent-Ross machine was in fine working order on the
day and the night of the Convention.
I was not even a delegate to the Convention, but I was present and kept
in close touch by contact with my friends with every phase of the
convention fight. Colonel Harvey was again on the scene as the
generalissimo of the Wilson forces, quietly and stealthily moving about,
lining up his forces for the memorable battle of the morrow. There was
bitter but unorganized opposition to the favourite son of the state

machine, Woodrow Wilson. The Convention itself presented an
unusual situation and demonstrated more than anything I ever saw the
power of the "Old Gang" to do the thing its masters had in mind. As I
look back upon the great event of this convention, the nomination of
Woodrow Wilson for the governorship of New Jersey, I feel that
destiny was inscrutably engaged there, working in mysterious ways its
wonders to perform, working perhaps through strange, incongruous
instrumentalities to bring the man of destiny into action, led by those
who were opposed to everything Woodrow Wilson stood for, opposed
by those who were yearning for and striving for just the dawn of
political liberalism that his advent in politics heralded. The conflict of
the Trenton Convention about to be enacted was an illustration of the
poet's line, "Where ignorant armies clash by night." The successful side
of the Convention was fighting for what they least wanted; the defeated
against what they most wanted. Here in this convention, in truth, were
in aggressive action the incongruities of politics and in full display
were witnessed the sardonic contrasts between the visible and the
invisible situations in politics. All the Old Guard moving with Prussian
precision to the nomination of the man who was to destroy for a time
the machine rule in New Jersey and inaugurate a new national era in
political liberalism while all the liberal elements of the state, including
fine old Judge Westcott of Camden and young men like myself were
sullen, helpless. Every progressive Democrat in the Convention was
opposed to the nomination of the Princetonian, and every standpatter
and Old Guardsman was in favour of Woodrow Wilson. On the
convention floor, dominating the whole affair, stood ex-Senator James
Smith, Jr., of New Jersey, the spokesman of the "highbrow" candidate
for governor, controlling the delegates from south and west Jersey.
Handsome, cool, dignified, he rose from the floor of the convention
hall, and in rich, low tones, seconded the nomination of the man "he
had never met," the man he would not "presume" to claim acquaintance
with, the man whose life had lain in other fields than his. Very close to
him, "taking his orders," and acting upon every suggestion that came to
him, sat Jim Nugent, grim, big-jawed, the giant full-back of Smith's
invincible team, the rising star of machine politics in New Jersey.
Down the aisle sat the "Little Napoleon" of Hudson County, Bob Davis,
wearing a sardonic smile on his usually placid face, with his big eyes

riveted upon those in the Convention who were fighting desperately
and against great odds the effort of the state machine to nominate
President Wilson. Across the aisle from me sat "Plank-Shad"
Thompson, of Gloucester, big and debonair, a thoroughly fine fellow
socially, but always ready to act upon and carry out every tip that came
to him from the master minds in the Convention--Davis and Smith.
These were the leading actors in this political drama. Behind the lines,
in the "offing," was the Insurgent Group, young men like Mark
Sullivan and John Treacy of Hudson, stout defenders of the liberal
wing in the Convention, feeling sullen, beaten, and hopelessly impotent
against the mass attack of the machine forces. What a political medley
was present in this convention--plebeian and patrician, machine man
and political idealist--all gathered together and fighting