HE WAS ANXIOUS NOW to hurry East and console Bamie, who was in agony over the prospect of losing her surrogate daughter. But an urgent matter at Elkhorn detained him. Sewall and Dow had decided, in his absence, that they wanted to terminate their contract and go back to Maine. They had been unable to sell the fall shipment of beeves profitably: the best price Chicago would offer was ten dollars less than the cost of raising and transporting each animal. Both men felt that they were "throwing away his money," and that "the quicker he got out of there the less he would lose." to hurry East and console Bamie, who was in agony over the prospect of losing her surrogate daughter. But an urgent matter at Elkhorn detained him. Sewall and Dow had decided, in his absence, that they wanted to terminate their contract and go back to Maine. They had been unable to sell the fall shipment of beeves profitably: the best price Chicago would offer was ten dollars less than the cost of raising and transporting each animal. Both men felt that they were "throwing away his money," and that "the quicker he got out of there the less he would lose."92 Roosevelt, as it happened, had reached much the same conclusion. Although he was no businessman, simple figuring told him that his $85,000 investment in the Badlands was eroding away as inexorably as the grass on the range. In any case, he was fast losing his enthusiasm for ranching. Bill Merrifield and Sylvane Ferris could take the Elkhorn herd over; in future he would use the ranch house only as a stopover when checking on his cattle, or as a hunting base. His reaction to Sewall's ultimatum, therefore, was mild. "How soon can you go?"93 While the three friends sat squaring their accounts that last week of September, a strange, soft haze settled over the Badlands, reducing trees and cattle to pale blue silhouettes.94 Weathermen dismissed the haze as an accumulation of fumes from the grass-fires that had smoldered all summer on the tinder-dry plains. Yet its strangeness made cowboys and animals uneasy. Although the heat was still tremendous, old-timers began to lay in six months' supply of winter provisions, muttering that "nature was fixin' up her folks for hard times." Weathermen dismissed the haze as an accumulation of fumes from the grass-fires that had smoldered all summer on the tinder-dry plains. Yet its strangeness made cowboys and animals uneasy. Although the heat was still tremendous, old-timers began to lay in six months' supply of winter provisions, muttering that "nature was fixin' up her folks for hard times."95 Beavers worked double shifts cutting and storing their lengths of willow brush; muskrats grew extra-thick coats and built their reed houses twice the usual height. Roosevelt, casting his ornithologist's eye out of the window, noticed that the wild geese and songsters were hurrying south weeks earlier than usual. He may have heard rumors that the white Arctic owl had been seen in Montana, but only the Indians knew what that sign portended. Beavers worked double shifts cutting and storing their lengths of willow brush; muskrats grew extra-thick coats and built their reed houses twice the usual height. Roosevelt, casting his ornithologist's eye out of the window, noticed that the wild geese and songsters were hurrying south weeks earlier than usual. He may have heard rumors that the white Arctic owl had been seen in Montana, but only the Indians knew what that sign portended.96

SEWALL AND D DOW were not ready to move their wives, babies, and baggage out of the ranch before 9 October. By then their impatient boss had already departed for the East. It was left to Sewall to close up the great log cabin and slam the door on what even he, in later life, would recall as "the happiest time that any of us have ever known." were not ready to move their wives, babies, and baggage out of the ranch before 9 October. By then their impatient boss had already departed for the East. It was left to Sewall to close up the great log cabin and slam the door on what even he, in later life, would recall as "the happiest time that any of us have ever known."97 And so silence returned to the Elkhorn bottom, broken only by the worried chomping of beavers down by the river.

CHAPTER 14.

The Next Mayor of New York It is accepted,The angry defiance,The challenge of battle!

THE MORNING OF 15 October 1886 was drizzly, and the East River heaved dull and gray as Roosevelt's ferry pushed out from Brooklyn. On Bedloe's Island, far across the Bay, he could mistily make out the silhouette that had been tantalizing New Yorkers for months: an enormous, headless Grecian torso, with half an arm reaching heavenward. October 1886 was drizzly, and the East River heaved dull and gray as Roosevelt's ferry pushed out from Brooklyn. On Bedloe's Island, far across the Bay, he could mistily make out the silhouette that had been tantalizing New Yorkers for months: an enormous, headless Grecian torso, with half an arm reaching heavenward.1 But he probably gave it no more than a glance. His mind was on politics, and on this evening's Republican County Convention in the Grand Opera House. He was curious to see who would be nominated for Mayor of New York. The forthcoming campaign promised to be unusually interesting-so much so he had delayed his departure to England until 6 November, four days after the election. But he probably gave it no more than a glance. His mind was on politics, and on this evening's Republican County Convention in the Grand Opera House. He was curious to see who would be nominated for Mayor of New York. The forthcoming campaign promised to be unusually interesting-so much so he had delayed his departure to England until 6 November, four days after the election.

For the first time in the city's history, a Labor party had been organized to fight the two political parties. What was more, it had nominated as its candidate the most powerful radical in America. Roosevelt had met Henry George before-on 28 May 1883, the same night he first met Commander Gorringe2-and the little man had hardly seemed formidable. Balding, red-bearded, and runtlike, he was just the sort of "emasculated professional humanitarian" Roosevelt despised.3 Yet George was famous as the author of Yet George was famous as the author of Progress and Poverty Progress and Poverty (1879), one of those rare political documents which translate sophisticated social problems into language comprehensible to the ghetto. So simple was the book's language, so inspirational its philosophy to the poor, that millions of copies had been sold all over the world. (1879), one of those rare political documents which translate sophisticated social problems into language comprehensible to the ghetto. So simple was the book's language, so inspirational its philosophy to the poor, that millions of copies had been sold all over the world.4

"A pale young Englishman...with a combination of courtliness and inquisitiveness."

Cecil Arthur Spring Rice at thirty-five. (Illustration 14.1) Henry George argued that because it takes many poor men to make one rich man, progress in fact creates poverty. The only way to solve this, "the great enigma of our times," was to have a single tax on land, as the most ubiquitous form of wealth. Thus, the more a landlord speculated on Property, the more he would enrich Government, and the more Government would repay Labor, which had produced the wealth in the first place.5 Up until 1886, George had been content to propound his single-tax philosophy in print and on lecture platforms (for all his lack of glamour, he was a blunt and effective orator). But the recent rash of angry strikes across the country6 persuaded him that it was time to submit his principles to the ballot. New York, with its abnormally wide gulf between rich and poor, was the obvious place to start. George let it be known that if thirty thousand workingmen pledged to support him for Mayor, he would run on an independent Labor ticket. Thirty-four thousand pledges flowed in, to the amazement of politicians all over the country. "I see in the gathering enthusiasm [of labor] a power that is stronger than money," George crowed delightedly in his acceptance speech, "something that will smash the political organizations and scatter them like chaff before the wind." persuaded him that it was time to submit his principles to the ballot. New York, with its abnormally wide gulf between rich and poor, was the obvious place to start. George let it be known that if thirty thousand workingmen pledged to support him for Mayor, he would run on an independent Labor ticket. Thirty-four thousand pledges flowed in, to the amazement of politicians all over the country. "I see in the gathering enthusiasm [of labor] a power that is stronger than money," George crowed delightedly in his acceptance speech, "something that will smash the political organizations and scatter them like chaff before the wind."7 That had been on 5 October, and both Republicans and Democrats had scoffed at the little man's hyperbole. Pledges of support bore, they knew, but fickle relation to actual voting figures: the most George could hope for was fifteen thousand. But now, only ten days later, George's strength was increasing at a truly phenomenal rate. Professional politicians were seriously alarmed. If George, by some political fluke, captured City Hall, he would wield greater power than any former Mayor-thanks to legislation sponsored in 1884 by none other than Assemblyman Theodore Roosevelt.8 The latter's first question, when he stepped off the ferry into a group of New York reporters, was about their latest estimate of George's voting strength. The answer, "20,000, and probably much more," surprised and flurried him. After remarking, irrelevantly, that he himself was "not a candidate" for Mayor (not even the most imaginative journalist thought that he might be), Roosevelt hurried uptown to the Union League Club.9

DOUBTLESS HE INTENDED to attend the Republican County Convention as an observer. But during the afternoon he was visited by a group of influential Republicans, who, on behalf of party bosses, asked if he would accept the nomination for Mayor. This bombshell took him completely by surprise. to attend the Republican County Convention as an observer. But during the afternoon he was visited by a group of influential Republicans, who, on behalf of party bosses, asked if he would accept the nomination for Mayor. This bombshell took him completely by surprise.10 As a loyal party man, he could not refuse the honor; as a loyal (and still secret) fiance, he could not reveal that he had a transatlantic steamship ticket in his pocket. Edith was looking forward to a leisurely, three-month honeymoon in Europe after their wedding, and would surely resent being hurried back to New York so that he could prepare to take office on 1 January. Moreover she was hardly the type to spend the next two years shaking ill-manicured hands at municipal receptions. All this was assuming he won, of course. If he As a loyal party man, he could not refuse the honor; as a loyal (and still secret) fiance, he could not reveal that he had a transatlantic steamship ticket in his pocket. Edith was looking forward to a leisurely, three-month honeymoon in Europe after their wedding, and would surely resent being hurried back to New York so that he could prepare to take office on 1 January. Moreover she was hardly the type to spend the next two years shaking ill-manicured hands at municipal receptions. All this was assuming he won, of course. If he lost... lost...

But the party bosses were expecting an answer. Roosevelt agreed, "with the most genuine reluctance," to allow his name to be put before the convention.11 The emissaries departed, leaving him alone. Night came on. He remained ensconced in his club, waiting for the inevitable news from the Opera House. The emissaries departed, leaving him alone. Night came on. He remained ensconced in his club, waiting for the inevitable news from the Opera House.

HE HAD A LOT to think about during those solitary hours. Why had Johnny O'Brien, Jake Hess, Barney Biglin, and all the rest of the machine men offered him this unexpected honor? He was, after all, their ancient enemy. Perhaps they wished to reward him for his support of James G. Blaine in 1884; more likely they hoped he would lure the Independents back into the Republican fold, in order to have a united party behind Blaine-again-in 1888. Or perhaps they imagined (as many did) that he was a millionaire, and might contribute a liberal assessment to the campaign chest. to think about during those solitary hours. Why had Johnny O'Brien, Jake Hess, Barney Biglin, and all the rest of the machine men offered him this unexpected honor? He was, after all, their ancient enemy. Perhaps they wished to reward him for his support of James G. Blaine in 1884; more likely they hoped he would lure the Independents back into the Republican fold, in order to have a united party behind Blaine-again-in 1888. Or perhaps they imagined (as many did) that he was a millionaire, and might contribute a liberal assessment to the campaign chest.12 They would soon learn the likelihood of They would soon learn the likelihood of that: that: half his capital was tied up in Dakota, and the interest on the remainder would barely support him and Edith at Sagamore Hill. half his capital was tied up in Dakota, and the interest on the remainder would barely support him and Edith at Sagamore Hill.13 A cynical hypothesis which he did not want to consider, but which would come up in the press, was that the party bosses had decided no Republican could win a three-way contest for the mayoralty, and merely wanted a few thousand votes to trade on Election Day.14 Certainly the campaign odds were against him. The Democrats had just nominated Representative Abram S. Hewitt, a man of mature years, vast wealth, moderate opinions, and impeccable breeding. Certainly the campaign odds were against him. The Democrats had just nominated Representative Abram S. Hewitt, a man of mature years, vast wealth, moderate opinions, and impeccable breeding.15 Hewitt also happened to be an industrialist, famous for his enlightened attitude to labor (during the depression years 187378 he ran his steel works at a loss in order to safeguard the jobs of his employees). Hewitt also happened to be an industrialist, famous for his enlightened attitude to labor (during the depression years 187378 he ran his steel works at a loss in order to safeguard the jobs of his employees).16 He would doubtless attract all but the most extreme George followers, along with those Republicans who felt nervous about Roosevelt's youth. Only yesterday, the He would doubtless attract all but the most extreme George followers, along with those Republicans who felt nervous about Roosevelt's youth. Only yesterday, the Nation Nation had editorialized: "Mr. Hewitt is just the kind of man New York should always have for Mayor," and Roosevelt's instinct told him the voters would agree on 2 November had editorialized: "Mr. Hewitt is just the kind of man New York should always have for Mayor," and Roosevelt's instinct told him the voters would agree on 2 November.17 All in all, he concluded, it was "a perfectly hopeless contest, the chance of success being so very small that it may be left out of account...I have over forty thousand majority against me." However, there was was that chance; he had taken on older men before, and beaten them: his pugnacious soul rejoiced at the overwhelming challenge. He would make "a rattling good canvass" for the mayoralty, and would not be disgraced if he ran second. The only disaster would be to run third. But that seemed unlikely: in his opinion Henry George was "mainly wind." that chance; he had taken on older men before, and beaten them: his pugnacious soul rejoiced at the overwhelming challenge. He would make "a rattling good canvass" for the mayoralty, and would not be disgraced if he ran second. The only disaster would be to run third. But that seemed unlikely: in his opinion Henry George was "mainly wind."18

SEVEN BLOCKS AWAY, in the bakingly hot, tobacco-blue auditorium of the Grand Opera House, Chauncey Depew, the Republican party's most unctuous orator, was persuading delegates that the idea of a young mayor for this, "the third city of the world," was a brilliant one. "Every Republican here tonight asks for young blood. I would select a young man whose family has long been identified with good government... [cheers and shouts for Roosevelt]...He came out of the Legislature with a reputation as wide as the confines of this nation itself." A senior Republican leaped up to protest that the young man was a Free Trader.19 "If in his experience he has made a mistake," grinned Depew, "he has had the courage to acknowledge it." The protester was booed and hissed out of the hall, and the convention unanimously nominated Theodore Roosevelt for Mayor. "If in his experience he has made a mistake," grinned Depew, "he has had the courage to acknowledge it." The protester was booed and hissed out of the hall, and the convention unanimously nominated Theodore Roosevelt for Mayor.20

RIGHT FROM THE START the candidate made it clear that he was going to run his own campaign. Establishing himself in luxurious headquarters at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, he informed the party bosses that he would pay "no assessment whatsoever" and would be "an adjunct to nobody." the candidate made it clear that he was going to run his own campaign. Establishing himself in luxurious headquarters at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, he informed the party bosses that he would pay "no assessment whatsoever" and would be "an adjunct to nobody."21 These declarations aroused flattering comments in the press. "Mr. Roosevelt is a wonderful young man," remarked the Democratic These declarations aroused flattering comments in the press. "Mr. Roosevelt is a wonderful young man," remarked the Democratic Sun Sun. Even E. L. Godkin of the Post Post admitted: "If Roosevelt is elected, we have not a word to say against him." admitted: "If Roosevelt is elected, we have not a word to say against him."22 Roosevelt remained sure that he could not win at least through the first four days of the campaign. He explained to Lodge that he was only running "on the score of absolute duty," and hoped to enjoy, if nothing else, "a better party standing" afterward. "The George vote will be very large...undoubtedly thousands of my should-be supporters will leave me and vote for Hewitt to beat him."23 But this did not prevent him from campaigning with all his strength. He worked eighteen-hour days, addressing three to five meetings a night, pumping hands, signing circulars, repudiating bribes, plotting strategy, and on at least one occasion dictating letters and holding a press conference simultaneously. But this did not prevent him from campaigning with all his strength. He worked eighteen-hour days, addressing three to five meetings a night, pumping hands, signing circulars, repudiating bribes, plotting strategy, and on at least one occasion dictating letters and holding a press conference simultaneously.24 As usual Roosevelt never minced words. He was determined to meet every issue head-on, even the touchy one of Labor v. Capital. George was so articulate on the left, and Hewitt so persuasive in the center, that Roosevelt might have been well advised to keep his own right-wing views tacit, and concentrate on other subjects; but that was not his style. When a Labor party official accused him of belonging to "the employing and landlord class, whose interests are best served when wages are low and rents are high,"25 Roosevelt shot back with a contemptuous public letter, dated 22 October 1886. Roosevelt shot back with a contemptuous public letter, dated 22 October 1886.

"The mass of the American people," he wrote, "are most emphatically not in the deplorable condition of which you speak." As for the accusation that he, Roosevelt, belonged to the landlord class, "if you had any conception of the true American spirit you would know that we do not have 'classes' at all on this side of the water." In any case, "I own no land at all except that on which I myself live. Your statement that I wish rents to be high and wages low is a deliberate untruth...I have worked with both hands and with head, probably quite as hard as any member of your body. The only place where I employ many wage-workers is on my ranch in the West, and there almost every one of the men has some interest in the profits."

Roosevelt conceded that "some of the evils of which you complain are real and can be to a certain degree remedied, but not by the remedies you propose." But most would disappear if there were more of "that capacity for steady, individual self-help which is the glory of every true American." Legislation could no more do away with them "than you could do away with the bruises which you receive when you tumble down, by passing an act to repeal the laws of gravitation."26 To this the Labor man could only reply, "If you were compelled to live on $1 a day, Mr. Roosevelt, would you not also complain of being in a deplorable condition?"27 But by then Roosevelt's campaign was going so well-to everybody's surprise-that the mournful question was ignored. But by then Roosevelt's campaign was going so well-to everybody's surprise-that the mournful question was ignored.

ON THE NIGHT of Wednesday, 27 October, Roosevelt's twenty-eighth birthday, bonfires belched in the street outside Cooper Union, reddening the huge building's facade until it glowed like a beacon. For almost an hour, rockets soared into the murky sky, casting showers of light over Lower Manhattan and attracting thousands of curious sightseers. By of Wednesday, 27 October, Roosevelt's twenty-eighth birthday, bonfires belched in the street outside Cooper Union, reddening the huge building's facade until it glowed like a beacon. For almost an hour, rockets soared into the murky sky, casting showers of light over Lower Manhattan and attracting thousands of curious sightseers. By 7:30 P.M 7:30 P.M. every seat in the hall was filled, and standing room was at a premium as Republican citizens of New York gathered to ratify the nomination of Theodore Roosevelt for Mayor. One old politician marveled that he had never seen such a crowd since Lincoln spoke at the Union in 1860.28 The guest of honor did not appear until shortly before eight o'clock. He had long ago learned the dramatic effect of delayed entry. In the meantime the audience could feast their eyes on his large crayon portrait, surrounded by American flags and a gilt eagle, and hung around with rich silk banners. It was, as one reporter observed, "a millionaires' meeting." Astors, Choates, Whitneys, Peabodys, and Rockefellers fondled each other's lapels, and discussed "the boy Roosevelt's" remarkable progress in the campaign so far.29 They had been impressed to read, in various daily papers, such headlines as the following: They had been impressed to read, in various daily papers, such headlines as the following: (22 Oct.) PIPING HOT PIPING HOT-Roosevelt Busy as a Beaver (23 Oct.) RED HOT POLITICS RED HOT POLITICS-The Fight Going on Merrily All Over the City (24 Oct.) THE ROOSEVELT TIDAL WAVE THE ROOSEVELT TIDAL WAVE-Growing Strength of the Candidate (25 Oct.) ROOSEVELT STILL LEADING ROOSEVELT STILL LEADING.

(26 Oct.) CHEERS FOR ROOSEVELT, THE BOY CHEERS FOR ROOSEVELT, THE BOY.

(27 Oct.) ALL SOLID FOR ROOSEVELT ALL SOLID FOR ROOSEVELT30.

Not only Republicans were impressed by him. Abram Hewitt himself admitted he would have liked Roosevelt on his team, as president of the Board of Aldermen.31 The editors of the The editors of the Sun- Sun-Democrats to a man-had been moved to print these prophetic words on the eve of the Cooper Union meeting: THEODORE ROOSEVELT has gone into the fight for the Mayoralty with his accustomed heartiness. Fighting is fun for him, win or lose, and perhaps this characteristic of his makes him as many friends as anything else. He makes a lot of enemies too, but so does anybody who is fit to live...He is getting to be somewhat a shrewder politician...and though he is somewhat handicapped by the officious support of the Union League Club, he may do well. It cannot be denied that his candidacy is attractive in many respects, and he is liable to get votes from many sources. He has a good deal at stake, and it's no wonder that he is working with all the strength of his blizzard-seasoned constitution. It is not merely the chance of being elected Mayor that interests him. There are other offices he might prefer. To be in his youth the candidate for the first office in the first city of the U.S., and to poll a good vote for that office, is something more than empty honor.... He cannot be Mayor this year, but who knows what may happen in some other year? Congressman, Governor, Senator, President?32

"BLUSHING LIKE a schoolgirl," Roosevelt bounces onstage to brass fanfares and a standing ovation. a schoolgirl," Roosevelt bounces onstage to brass fanfares and a standing ovation.33 Somebody shouts, "Three cheers for the next Mayor of New York!" and the auditorium vibrates with noise. It is some minutes before Elihu Root, chairman of the Republican County Committee and the only calm man in the room (with his slit eyes, bangs, and waxlike cheeks, he resembles a Chinese mandarin), introduces Thomas C. Acton as chairman of the meeting. The silver-haired banker steps forward. Somebody shouts, "Three cheers for the next Mayor of New York!" and the auditorium vibrates with noise. It is some minutes before Elihu Root, chairman of the Republican County Committee and the only calm man in the room (with his slit eyes, bangs, and waxlike cheeks, he resembles a Chinese mandarin), introduces Thomas C. Acton as chairman of the meeting. The silver-haired banker steps forward.

"You are called here tonight to ratify the nomination of the youngest man who ever ran as candidate for the Mayor of New York," says Acton. "I knew his father, and wish to tell you that his father did a great deal for the Republican party, and the son will do more...[Applause] He is young, he is vigorous, he is a natural reformer. He is full, not of the law, but of the spirit of the law..." The chairman begins to flounder, then hits upon a crowd-pleasing phrase. "The Cowboy of Dakota!" he cries. "Make the Cowboy of Dakota the next Mayor!"

This brings about a roar so prolonged that the band has to strike up "Marching Through Georgia" to quell it. Roosevelt, showing all of his teeth, approaches the lectern.

His speech is typically short, blunt, and witty. He begins by noting that Abram Hewitt has predicted "every honest and respectable voter" will support the Democrats. "I think," says Roosevelt, "that on Election Day Mr. Hewitt will find that the criminal classes have polled a very big vote." When the laughter from that dies down, he goes on to counter the outgoing Mayor's charge that he is "too radical" a reformer. "The time for radical reform has arrived," he shouts, "and if I am elected you will have it."

A VOICE You will be elected. You will be elected.

ROOSEVELT I think so, myself! I think so, myself! (Great applause.) (Great applause.) He castigates his habitual targets, "the dull, the feeble, and the timid good," and proclaims himself a strong man, careless of class, color, or party politics. "If I find a public servant who is dishonest, I will chop his head off if he is the highest Republican in this municipality!"34 An effective follow-up speech is made by Richard Watson Gilder, editor of Century Century magazine. He confesses that he has never stood on a political platform before, but is doing so now in order to praise "the best municipal nomination that has been made in my time...Mr. Roosevelt is, in my opinion, the pluckiest, the bravest man inside of politics in the whole country." magazine. He confesses that he has never stood on a political platform before, but is doing so now in order to praise "the best municipal nomination that has been made in my time...Mr. Roosevelt is, in my opinion, the pluckiest, the bravest man inside of politics in the whole country."35 Amid thunderous applause, the nomination is declared ratified. Amid thunderous applause, the nomination is declared ratified.

The candidate shakes hands for twenty minutes until aides drag him from the platform. Outside, in the rain, a large crowd is waiting to serenade him. "I hope to see you all down in the City Hall after January 1, when I am Mayor," says Roosevelt. He bows and he smiles.36

AN EXTRAORDINARY HUSH descended on the city's political headquarters next day, 28 October. Everybody except Roosevelt, it seemed, was aboard sight-seeing boats in the Bay, or fighting for a foothold on Bedloe's Island, where, that afternoon, President Cleveland was due to unveil the great Statue of Liberty. descended on the city's political headquarters next day, 28 October. Everybody except Roosevelt, it seemed, was aboard sight-seeing boats in the Bay, or fighting for a foothold on Bedloe's Island, where, that afternoon, President Cleveland was due to unveil the great Statue of Liberty.37 Roosevelt, therefore, had a few hours alone at his desk, undisturbed except by a distant thumping of drums, to ponder press reports of his birthday rally, and review his chances for the mayoralty. Roosevelt, therefore, had a few hours alone at his desk, undisturbed except by a distant thumping of drums, to ponder press reports of his birthday rally, and review his chances for the mayoralty.

While the reports were generally flattering, there was no change in the partisan attitudes of any newspaper. The Times, Tribune, Commercial Advertiser Times, Tribune, Commercial Advertiser, and Mail & Express Mail & Express were for him; the were for him; the Herald, Sun, World Herald, Sun, World, and Daily News Daily News were for Hewitt. Only a few smudgy ethnic sheets were for George. The balance, in other words, was fairly even: while Hewitt's newspapers had more readers, Roosevelt's reached more influential people. With his popular momentum increasing, and only five days left to go, it was tempting to believe the were for Hewitt. Only a few smudgy ethnic sheets were for George. The balance, in other words, was fairly even: while Hewitt's newspapers had more readers, Roosevelt's reached more influential people. With his popular momentum increasing, and only five days left to go, it was tempting to believe the Times Times's headline: "ROOSEVELT SURE TO WIN-THAT'S WHAT LAST NIGHT'S MEETING INDICATES." The Tribune Tribune carried even more encouraging news, under the headline, " carried even more encouraging news, under the headline, "MR. ROOSEVELT'S PROSPECTS-HIS ELECTION NOW DEEMED CERTAIN." It reported that the U.S. Chief Supervisor of Elections, after making an independent survey, projected a total vote of 85,850 for Roosevelt, 75,000 for Hewitt, and 60,000 for George.38 Even as he rejoiced in these figures, Roosevelt must have felt a threat in George's amazing total. For a political virgin with no charisma and eccentric, not to say revolutionary views, George had proved to be a redoubtable campaigner. His platform, representing the aspirations of "the disinherited class," was high-toned and reassuringly democratic. Businessmen as well as laborers nodded their heads over such sentences as "The true purpose of government is, among other things, to give everyone security that he shall enjoy the fruits of his labor, to prevent the strong from oppressing the weak, and the unscrupulous from robbing the honest...The ballot is the only method by which in our Republic the redress of political and social grievances can be sought."39 There was no doubt as to George's sincere identity with the working class, nor to his personal honor (he had refused Tammany's offer of a seat in Congress if he would withdraw). One had to admire the dignity with which the little man climbed again and again onto his favorite pedestal, a horse-cart unshackled in the middle of some grimy street. "What we are beginning here," George would yell, at the sea of cloth caps around him, "is the great American struggle for the ending of industrial slavery." Sometimes he would go too far, as when he proclaimed that the French Revolution, "with all its drawbacks and horrors," was "the noblest epoch in modern history," and was "about to repeat itself here." There was no doubt as to George's sincere identity with the working class, nor to his personal honor (he had refused Tammany's offer of a seat in Congress if he would withdraw). One had to admire the dignity with which the little man climbed again and again onto his favorite pedestal, a horse-cart unshackled in the middle of some grimy street. "What we are beginning here," George would yell, at the sea of cloth caps around him, "is the great American struggle for the ending of industrial slavery." Sometimes he would go too far, as when he proclaimed that the French Revolution, "with all its drawbacks and horrors," was "the noblest epoch in modern history," and was "about to repeat itself here."40 Such inflammatory statements delighted his unlettered listeners, not to mention the nation's anarchists, who looked forward to civil war if George was elected. Such inflammatory statements delighted his unlettered listeners, not to mention the nation's anarchists, who looked forward to civil war if George was elected.

Roosevelt had confidence enough in the American democratic system to disbelieve that such a man would ever triumph at the polls. The real danger, as he saw it, was that Henry George's hell-raising image (so like his own, unfortunately) might, come Election Day, turn responsible voters away from both both of them, in favor of the solid and sober Abram S. Hewitt. Already Democratic papers were chanting the ominous refrain, "A vote for Roosevelt is a vote for George." of them, in favor of the solid and sober Abram S. Hewitt. Already Democratic papers were chanting the ominous refrain, "A vote for Roosevelt is a vote for George."41 However it was not in his nature to think negatively. Hope lay in positive action. From now on he must campaign at an increasing rate, to offset any possible attrition in his lead. By late afternoon, when Republican Committee members began to arrive back from Bedloe's Island, he was already hard at work on his evening's speeches, and autographing colored lithographs of himself.42

"IT IS SUCH HAPPINESS to see him at his very best once more," Bamie wrote to Edith in London. "This is the first time since the [1884] Investigation days that he has had enough work to keep him exerting all his powers. Theodore is the only person who has the power (except Father who possessed it in a different way) of making me almost worship him...I would never say, or, write this except to you, but it is very restful to feel how you care for him and how happy he is in his devotion to you..." to see him at his very best once more," Bamie wrote to Edith in London. "This is the first time since the [1884] Investigation days that he has had enough work to keep him exerting all his powers. Theodore is the only person who has the power (except Father who possessed it in a different way) of making me almost worship him...I would never say, or, write this except to you, but it is very restful to feel how you care for him and how happy he is in his devotion to you..."43

A FAIR IMPRESSION FAIR IMPRESSION of the pace of Roosevelt's candidacy for Mayor may be gained by following him through one night of his campaign-Friday, 29 October. of the pace of Roosevelt's candidacy for Mayor may be gained by following him through one night of his campaign-Friday, 29 October.44 At 8:00 P.M. 8:00 P.M., having snatched a hasty dinner near headquarters, he takes a hansom to the Grand Opera House, on Twenty-third Street and Eighth Avenue, for the first of five scheduled addresses in various parts of the city. His audience is worshipful, shabby, and exclusively black. (One of the more interesting features of the campaign has been Roosevelt's evident appeal to, and fondness for, the black voter.) He begins by admitting that his campaign planners had not allowed for "this magnificent meeting" of colored citizens. "For the first time, therefore, since the opening of the campaign I have begun to take matters a little in my own hands!" Laughter and applause. "I like to speak to an audience of colored people," Roosevelt says simply, "for that is only another way of saying that I am speaking to an audience of Republicans." More applause. He reminds his listeners that he has "always stood up for the colored race," and tells them about the time he put a black man in the chair of the Chicago Convention. Apologizing for his tight schedule, he winds up rapidly, and dashes out of the hall to a standing ovation.45 A carriage is waiting outside; the driver plies his whip; by 8:30 Roosevelt is at Concordia Hall, on Twenty-eighth Street and Avenue A. Here he shouts at a thousand well-scrubbed immigrants, "Do you want a radical reformer?" "YES WE DO!" comes the reply. A carriage is waiting outside; the driver plies his whip; by 8:30 Roosevelt is at Concordia Hall, on Twenty-eighth Street and Avenue A. Here he shouts at a thousand well-scrubbed immigrants, "Do you want a radical reformer?" "YES WE DO!" comes the reply.46 At 9:00 P.M 9:00 P.M. he is in a ward hall at 438 Third Avenue, where the local boss introduces him as "the Cowboy Candidate." He has had time to get used to this phrase-not that he dislikes it-and jokes that "as the cowboy vote is rather light in this city I will have to appeal to the Republicans." But the audience is more interested in his experiences as deputy sheriff than his views on municipal reform, and Roosevelt makes his escape. He promises to return, as Mayor, with many stories about cowboys, bears, "and other associates in the West."47 Now he rattles uptown to Grand Central Station, where a special locomotive (courtesy of New York & Harlem Railroad President Chauncey Depew) is waiting, with steam up, to speed him to Morrisania, in the Bronx. Roosevelt climbs into the observation cab over the boiler; the engine leaps north at sixty miles an hour. For thirteen minutes, red and green lights flash by: all railroad traffic has been halted in his favor. He arrives at Tremont Station only one minute late, and runs into the neighboring hall. Ladies of the 24th Ward present him with an immense floral horseshoe. He says that it is appropriate for a youthful candidate to come to this "young" district of the city. "Three times three cheers for the Boy!" yells someone. Not forgetting his bouquet, Roosevelt jumps back on the train and hurries south across the Harlem River. He reaches the 22nd Assembly District Roosevelt Club in time for his final address of the evening at 10:30 P.M 10:30 P.M. Then, at last, he can walk home to Bamie's house, where Baby Lee lies sleeping.48 Somebody asked him the following morning, Saturday, if he was not exhausted by the pace he was setting himself. "Not in the least!" Roosevelt replied.49 His wellsprings of energy continued to bubble through the last night of the campaign, but close observers noticed a gradual decline in his confidence of victory. "The 'timid good,'" he exasperatedly wrote Lodge, "are for Hewitt." The word "if" crept frequently into his speeches: "If I am not knifed in the house of my friends I shall win." His wellsprings of energy continued to bubble through the last night of the campaign, but close observers noticed a gradual decline in his confidence of victory. "The 'timid good,'" he exasperatedly wrote Lodge, "are for Hewitt." The word "if" crept frequently into his speeches: "If I am not knifed in the house of my friends I shall win."50

KNIVES FLEW thick and fast in those final days, and he could not be sure whether some of the throwers might be his fellow Republicans. A sudden rumor went around that James G. Blaine was coming to lend a hand in the campaign, just when Roosevelt thought he had at last explained away his support of the Plumed Knight in 1884. He was obliged to issue an angry statement that Blaine "had not and would not be invited to speak here." thick and fast in those final days, and he could not be sure whether some of the throwers might be his fellow Republicans. A sudden rumor went around that James G. Blaine was coming to lend a hand in the campaign, just when Roosevelt thought he had at last explained away his support of the Plumed Knight in 1884. He was obliged to issue an angry statement that Blaine "had not and would not be invited to speak here."51 At a large downtown rally for Hewitt, exState Senator David L. Foster made a devastating analysis of ex-Assemblyman Roosevelt's democratization of the Board of Aldermen: "The result of this change in the first year of its adoption was that two of them died, five left the country, and about seventeen of them were indicted for crime." At a large downtown rally for Hewitt, exState Senator David L. Foster made a devastating analysis of ex-Assemblyman Roosevelt's democratization of the Board of Aldermen: "The result of this change in the first year of its adoption was that two of them died, five left the country, and about seventeen of them were indicted for crime."52 Uptown, meanwhile, moonlighting newsboys delivered Democratic newspapers to Republican subscribers, and the slogan "A Vote for Roosevelt is a Vote for George" penetrated into the heart of his traditional constituency. Uptown, meanwhile, moonlighting newsboys delivered Democratic newspapers to Republican subscribers, and the slogan "A Vote for Roosevelt is a Vote for George" penetrated into the heart of his traditional constituency.53 These same newspapers shrewdly caricatured the "boy" image, knowing that thousands of voters felt nervous about putting a twenty-eight-year-old in charge of America's largest city. "It has been objected that I am a boy," said Roosevelt wearily-he had been hearing the charge for years-"but I can only offer the time-honored reply, that years will cure me of that." He must have been humiliated by a full, front-page cartoon in the Daily Graphic Daily Graphic, entitled "The Two Candidates," showing Henry George and Abram Hewitt squaring off at each other like giants: only after close inspection did readers perceive the tiny, bespectacled head of Roosevelt peeping out of George's tote-bag.54 Most damaging, perhaps, was the Star's Star's publication (on Sunday, 31 October, when the whole city was at home with the papers) of a remark President Cleveland had made as Governor, after vetoing Roosevelt's Tenure of Office Bill: "Of all the defective and shabby legislation which has been presented to me, this is the worst and the most inexcusable." publication (on Sunday, 31 October, when the whole city was at home with the papers) of a remark President Cleveland had made as Governor, after vetoing Roosevelt's Tenure of Office Bill: "Of all the defective and shabby legislation which has been presented to me, this is the worst and the most inexcusable."55 The The World World reprinted this statement on Monday morning, aggravating Roosevelt's embarrassment as his campaign entered its penultimate twenty-four hours. reprinted this statement on Monday morning, aggravating Roosevelt's embarrassment as his campaign entered its penultimate twenty-four hours.

Evidently sensing defeat now, Roosevelt dropped his hitherto courteous attitude to the opposition. Henry George was "a galled jade," E. L. Godkin was "that peevish fossil," Hewitt's backers were "the same old gang of thieves who have robbed the city for years."56 Those telltale signs of Rooseveltian frustration, the angry Those telltale signs of Rooseveltian frustration, the angry f's f's and popping and popping p's p's, reappeared in his oratory: "They [the Democrats] are men who fatten on public plunder-I shall make no promises before election that I will not keep when in office: I propose to turn the plunderers out."57 But for the most part he managed to preserve his dignity, as did Hewitt and George in their own contrasting ways. Observers were agreed on Monday night that it had been a splendid contest, fought by men of exceptional quality, inspiring the public to a degree hitherto only seen in presidential years. Substantive issues had been raised and discussed-municipal reform by Roosevelt, social injustice by George, and the dangers of unionized politics by Hewitt. The two latter candidates had, moreover, exchanged a stately series of open letters which expounded the philosophies of Labor v. Capital so brilliantly that Roosevelt himself suggested they should be published in book form. The fact that he could make such a generous proposal, at a time when his own strength was in doubt, is testimony to the elevated mood of all three men. To this day the mayoral campaign of 1886 is regarded as one of the finest in the history of New York.58

THE LAST FORECASTS varied widely, with newspapers as usual differing along partisan lines. The varied widely, with newspapers as usual differing along partisan lines. The Journal Journal came nearest to an accurate reflection of the city's enigmatic atmosphere: "Seldom has an election for Mayor of New York presented greater uncertainties on the eve of the voting than the one that will be decided tomorrow. The leaders...are at sea." came nearest to an accurate reflection of the city's enigmatic atmosphere: "Seldom has an election for Mayor of New York presented greater uncertainties on the eve of the voting than the one that will be decided tomorrow. The leaders...are at sea."59 Through most of the campaign the weather had been cold and drizzly, with curtains of fog drifting around Manhattan, seeming to seal the island off from the outside world. It was still murky when Roosevelt (looking fatigued at last) went to bed on Monday night, but early next morning a meteorological "break" took place. Shortly after dawn, the Statue of Liberty revealed herself above the low fog lying across the Bay. She glowed brilliantly as the sun struck her, and for a while seemed to be standing on a pedestal of cloud.60 Then a mild breeze whisked the fog away, and New York awoke to Indian summer. The streets, washed clean by weeks of rain, steamed dry in the warmth, and the people turned out en masse to vote. Then a mild breeze whisked the fog away, and New York awoke to Indian summer. The streets, washed clean by weeks of rain, steamed dry in the warmth, and the people turned out en masse to vote.61 Peace and good humor prevailed around the ballot boxes. Since the taverns were shut, and the sunshine luxurious, thousands spent the entire day out-of-doors. Rumors as to how the voting was going flashed with near-telegraphic speed from one street corner to another.62 As early as 2:00 P.M. 2:00 P.M., secret messages came to Republican headquarters that George's vote was going to be very high and Roosevelt's very low. While the candidate sat innocently by, the party bosses shot back their secret reply: Republicans must vote for Hewitt. At all costs George must be stopped.63 The secret, of course, could not long be kept from Roosevelt. His emotions on discovering that he was being "sold out"-even for honorable political reasons-can be imagined. But he maintained a good-humored front, and tried to cheer his drooping staff by telling funny stories. About six o'clock he went out into the bonfire-lit night for dinner with friends. He seemed as buoyant as ever when he returned two hours later. By then it was plain that his defeat had become a rout.64 The only good news to come his way that evening was a telegram from Boston, announcing that Henry Cabot Lodge had been elected to the Congress of the United States. He shouted with joy, and sent his congratulations by return wire: The only good news to come his way that evening was a telegram from Boston, announcing that Henry Cabot Lodge had been elected to the Congress of the United States. He shouted with joy, and sent his congratulations by return wire: AM MORE DELIGHTED THAN I CAN SAY. DO COME ON THURSDAY.AM BADLY DEFEATED. WORSE EVEN THAN I FEARED.THEODORE ROOSEVELT.65.

AFTER A LATE BREAKFAST next morning, Roosevelt went back to his headquarters and found it taken over by "a small army of scrub women." But he seemed reluctant to leave, and sat around until a lone newspaperman poked his head in through the door. "I thought I'd look in to see what they had done with the corpse." Roosevelt responded with a most uncorpselike grin. next morning, Roosevelt went back to his headquarters and found it taken over by "a small army of scrub women." But he seemed reluctant to leave, and sat around until a lone newspaperman poked his head in through the door. "I thought I'd look in to see what they had done with the corpse." Roosevelt responded with a most uncorpselike grin.66 By rights the final returns, as headlined that day, should have made him wince. Hewitt had scored 90,552; George, 68,110; Roosevelt, 60,435.67 These figures were unassailable: the polls had been rigorously supervised. The turnout had been prodigious-20,000 more ballots were cast than during last year's gubernatorial election-yet Roosevelt's votes were 20 percent These figures were unassailable: the polls had been rigorously supervised. The turnout had been prodigious-20,000 more ballots were cast than during last year's gubernatorial election-yet Roosevelt's votes were 20 percent fewer fewer than the Republican total on that occasion. To compound his humiliation, he found that he had run far behind every state and city candidate on the Republican ticket, including those for minor posts on the Judiciary and Board of Aldermen. The than the Republican total on that occasion. To compound his humiliation, he found that he had run far behind every state and city candidate on the Republican ticket, including those for minor posts on the Judiciary and Board of Aldermen. The Post Post sadistically pointed out that "Mr. Roosevelt's vote is lower than any other Republican vote in the last six years." sadistically pointed out that "Mr. Roosevelt's vote is lower than any other Republican vote in the last six years."68 The main reason for his poor showing was, of course, the Republican defection to Hewitt, which he estimated at 15,000, and the Democrats at 10,000. What must have rankled was the fact that this defection took place not in the sleazy wards of the East and West Sides (where he proved surprisingly popular) but in the wealthier "brownstone district" he had always regarded as his natural constituency. "I have been fairly defeated," he told a Tribune Tribune reporter later in the day, as he watched portraits of himself being ripped off the wall and thrown away. "But to tell the truth I am not disappointed at the result." reporter later in the day, as he watched portraits of himself being ripped off the wall and thrown away. "But to tell the truth I am not disappointed at the result."69 The evidence is that he was-deeply so.70 This third political defeat in just over two years became one of those memories which he ever afterward found too painful to dwell on. It rates just one sentence in his This third political defeat in just over two years became one of those memories which he ever afterward found too painful to dwell on. It rates just one sentence in his Autobiography Autobiography. He talked often in later years of his various campaigns, but that of 1886 was rarely, if ever, mentioned. Once, when he was telling one of his "gory stories," about killing a bear, somebody sympathized out loud for the unfortunate animal: "He must have been as badly used up as if he had just run for Mayor of New York." Roosevelt overreacted. "What do you mean?" he roared, slamming his fists down on the table. It was some time before he could recover himself.71

ON THE WHOLE, the press of the day treated him kindly. Republican papers noted that if there had not been a panic swing to Hewitt, Roosevelt would have won. The opposition expressed admiration for his courage against impossible odds. Few editorials displayed any contempt. Even the Daily Graphic Daily Graphic, which had often poked cruel fun at him, quoted the consolatory lines, Men may rise on stepping stonesOf their dead selves to higher things...

and added: "Reflect on this Tennysonian thought, Mr. Roosevelt, and may your slumbers be disturbed only by dreams of a nomination for the Governorship, or perhaps the Presidency in the impending by and by."72 A "Mr. and Miss Merrifield" sneaked up the gangplank of the Cunard liner Etruria Etruria early on Saturday morning, 6 November. No social reporters were prowling the decks at that hour, or it might have been noticed that the couple bore a marked resemblance to Theodore and Bamie Roosevelt. They had sat up all night writing announcement notes of the engagement and forthcoming wedding; by the time those notes reached their destinations, the early on Saturday morning, 6 November. No social reporters were prowling the decks at that hour, or it might have been noticed that the couple bore a marked resemblance to Theodore and Bamie Roosevelt. They had sat up all night writing announcement notes of the engagement and forthcoming wedding; by the time those notes reached their destinations, the Etruria Etruria would be heading out to sea. would be heading out to sea.73 Nobody bothered them that day, and the great ship sailed on schedule at 1:00 P.M. 1:00 P.M.74 It was not until next morning that a fellow passenger penetrated their disguise. He was a pale young Englishman who approached them with a combination of courtliness and inquisitiveness which they ever afterward associated with the White Rabbit in It was not until next morning that a fellow passenger penetrated their disguise. He was a pale young Englishman who approached them with a combination of courtliness and inquisitiveness which they ever afterward associated with the White Rabbit in Alice Alice. Might "Miss Merrifield" by any chance be Miss Roosevelt? Bamie, "being well out of sight of land," admitted she was. The young man promptly introduced himself, in the accents of Eton, Oxford, and the Foreign Office, as Cecil Arthur Spring Rice, former assistant private secretary to Lord Rosebery. He said that he was on his way home to England, after spending some "leave" with a brother in Canada.75 Spring Rice, generally known as "Springy" or "Sprice," was a born diplomat, and would soon become a professional one. He had a particular way with women. His sharp eye and social instinct had been honed in the best drawing rooms; he invariably picked out and cultivated the most important person in any place, whether it be a Tuscan hill-town or the heaving deck of a transatlantic steamer. Roosevelt, who (despite his ludicrous attempt to look anonymous) emitted an unmistakable glow of power and good breeding, was just such a person. Somehow Spring Rice had found out, through mutual friends in New York, that he would be on board, and had obtained letters of introduction to Bamie.76 The Englishman's charm was, in any case, such that he could make friends without any conventional formalities. Roosevelt fell victim to it, while beaming his own charm in return-apparently with even greater effect. Spring Rice was to be, for the rest of his life, one of Roosevelt's most ardent-if amused-admirers. Not only was this American cultured, talkative, and well-connected, he had a certain raw physical force, and a sense of personal direction (for all his recent rejection at the polls) that transcended Spring Rice's own petty ambitions at the Foreign Office. Although Roosevelt was only four months older, he seemed to have lived at least a decade longer. Here was a man worth introducing to his friends at the Savile Club.

By the time the Etruria Etruria arrived in Liverpool on 13 November, "Springy" had agreed to act as Roosevelt's best man. arrived in Liverpool on 13 November, "Springy" had agreed to act as Roosevelt's best man.77

LOOKING BACK on the eighteen days he spent in London and the Home Counties before his wedding on 2 December, Roosevelt said he felt "as if I were living in one of Thackeray's novels." on the eighteen days he spent in London and the Home Counties before his wedding on 2 December, Roosevelt said he felt "as if I were living in one of Thackeray's novels."78 Romantically foggy weather added a dreamlike quality to his adventures. Romantically foggy weather added a dreamlike quality to his adventures.79 Spring Rice's connections afforded him easy entry into British society: he was "treated like a prince...put down at the Athenaeum and the other swell clubs...had countless invitations to go down in the country and hunt or shoot." For every invitation he accepted there were at least three he turned down-some, such as lunch with the Duke of Westminster or weekends with Lords North and Caernarvon, with real regret. "But I was anxious to meet some of the intellectual men, such as Goschen, John Morley, Bryce, Shaw-Lefevre...I have dined or lunched with them all." Spring Rice's connections afforded him easy entry into British society: he was "treated like a prince...put down at the Athenaeum and the other swell clubs...had countless invitations to go down in the country and hunt or shoot." For every invitation he accepted there were at least three he turned down-some, such as lunch with the Duke of Westminster or weekends with Lords North and Caernarvon, with real regret. "But I was anxious to meet some of the intellectual men, such as Goschen, John Morley, Bryce, Shaw-Lefevre...I have dined or lunched with them all."80 So busy was he that he found no time to pay his respects to the American Ambassador, and that gentleman let his displeasure be known. So busy was he that he found no time to pay his respects to the American Ambassador, and that gentleman let his displeasure be known.81 But Roosevelt had his priorities. No doubt he took frequent strolls through Mayfair to the Bucklands Hotel on Brook Street, where Edith was staying with her mother and sister. No doubt she returned these calls, and sat with him in his rooms in Brown's Hotel on Dover Street; here they discovered "how cosy and comfortable one could be, with a small economical handful of coal in the grate and heavy fog outside."82 "You have no idea how sweet Edith is," Roosevelt wrote Corinne in a defensive tone wholly new to him. "I don't think even I had known how wonderfully good good and unselfish she was; she is naturally reserved and finds it especially hard to express her feelings on paper." and unselfish she was; she is naturally reserved and finds it especially hard to express her feelings on paper."83 He had never had to explain his first wife to anybody, but then Alice Lee had needed no explanation. The complicated, mysterious person who was now preparing to marry him had depths and secrets and silences, like this very fog enshrouding London; it would be years before she disclosed herself fully to him, and even then he might not altogether understand her. He had never had to explain his first wife to anybody, but then Alice Lee had needed no explanation. The complicated, mysterious person who was now preparing to marry him had depths and secrets and silences, like this very fog enshrouding London; it would be years before she disclosed herself fully to him, and even then he might not altogether understand her.

Visibility was so bad on the morning of 2 December that link-bearers had to be hired to guide Roosevelt's carriage to St. George's, Hanover Square. Bamie, arriving separately, found the church itself full of fog. She could not see her brother at the far end of the nave, much less the altar. When she moved into close range she noticed that Spring Rice had, for inscrutable reasons, persuaded him to wear bright orange gloves.84 The church was almost empty. Even if hundreds had been in the congregation, the fog would have muffled their whispering. This wedding, unlike Theodore's first, was to be quiet-"as the wedding of a defeated mayoralty candidate should be."85 He stood there alone with his orange gloves, waiting for Edith to walk out of the mists behind him.

INTERLUDE:.

Winter of the Blue Snow, 18861887

THE HAZE WHICH HAD HUNG over the Badlands all autumn rose to high altitudes in late October, causing weird "dogs" to glow around the sun and the moon. over the Badlands all autumn rose to high altitudes in late October, causing weird "dogs" to glow around the sun and the moon.1 Then, late on the afternoon of 13 November, it turned white and began to sink again, very slowly, cushioned on the dead still air. Only when it touched the Elkhorn bottom, and sent an icy sting into the nostrils of the cattle, did the whiteness prove to be snow-snow powdered so fine and soft that it hovered for hours before settling. Then, late on the afternoon of 13 November, it turned white and began to sink again, very slowly, cushioned on the dead still air. Only when it touched the Elkhorn bottom, and sent an icy sting into the nostrils of the cattle, did the whiteness prove to be snow-snow powdered so fine and soft that it hovered for hours before settling.2 That night the temperature fell below zero, and a sudden gale came down from Canada, blowing curtains of thicker snow before it. By morning the drifts were piling up six or seven feet deep, and the air was so charged with snow that the cattle coughed to breathe it. Some cows stupidly faced north until the blizzard plugged their noses and throats, asphyxiating them.3 The beavers, meanwhile, snuggled down philosophically in their burrows. Thanks to six weeks of overtime chewing, they had cut and stored enough willow-brush to last them several seasons. They could not hear the wind, but as the mud around them froze it resonated with the growling of ice in the river. When the growling stopped they knew that the Little Missouri had glaciated, and that wolves and lynxes were now patrolling it.4

"Their hoofs were locked in ice, and they froze like so many statues."

Dying cow, December 1886. Painted by Charles Russell. (Illustration col.1) All through November the snow continued to fall-whirling, sifting, billowing across the prairie as rhythmically as waves in the ocean. Lines of violet shadow separated each "roller" from the next. Ever afterward pioneers would call this the Winter of the Blue Snow,5 the worst in frontier history. the worst in frontier history.

One day in mid-December there was a brief spell of Indian summer. The temperature jumped to 50 degrees Fahrenheit, melting the snow to a depth of six inches. But then subzero weather returned, and the slush became a slabby crust of ice. Cattle hungry for buried grass had to gnaw through it until their muzzles were raw and swollen. Sometimes the crust would split beneath a very heavy steer, and he would drop through it on all fours, lacerating his legs and bleeding to death in the soft snow beneath.6 It grew colder and colder. On Christmas Day the mercury stood at minus 35 degrees; on New Year's Day it was minus 41, and still sinking.7 The first month of the year is traditionally cruel in Dakota-local Indians call it "Moon of Cold-Exploding Trees"-and January 1887 proved to be the coldest in the memory of any man, white or red. Blustery storms alternated with periods of aching calm, but the snowfall rarely ceased. Soon the prairie was covered to a depth of three or four feet. While the lower snow compacted, the powdery flakes on top responded to the slightest breeze. They rolled across the flat country like fog, and on reaching the Badlands tumbled slowly down into cuts and coulees. There they settled in great drifts which piled up, a hundred feet or more, to prairie level, making the broken country seem as smooth as any plain. Ranches-especially the dugout variety-disappeared overnight, with their owners asleep inside them. Thousands of cattle were buried alive. The first month of the year is traditionally cruel in Dakota-local Indians call it "Moon of Cold-Exploding Trees"-and January 1887 proved to be the coldest in the memory of any man, white or red. Blustery storms alternated with periods of aching calm, but the snowfall rarely ceased. Soon the prairie was covered to a depth of three or four feet. While the lower snow compacted, the powdery flakes on top responded to the slightest breeze. They rolled across the flat country like fog, and on reaching the Badlands tumbled slowly down into cuts and coulees. There they settled in great drifts which piled up, a hundred feet or more, to prairie level, making the broken country seem as smooth as any plain. Ranches-especially the dugout variety-disappeared overnight, with their owners asleep inside them. Thousands of cattle were buried alive.8 Beasts nimble enough to escape suffocation emerged wild-eyed on the open range, and began to search for herbage in places where the wind had kept the snow fairly thin. But last summer's drought, aggravated by overstocking, had reduced the grass to stubble. The starving cattle were forced to tear it out and eat the frozen, sandy roots. Then they browsed the bitter sagebrush, gnawing every shred of bark off until the twigs were naked, finally chomping the twigs themselves. When there was nothing left but stumps, the cattle huddled along the railroad, waiting for dropped garbage, and staring at every passing train as if about to stampede aboard.9 Then, on 28 January, a blizzard struck which made all previous storms that winter seem trivial. "For seventy-two hours," wrote one survivor, "it seemed as if all the world's ice from Time's beginnings had come on a wind which howled and screamed with the fury of demons."10 Children wandering out of doors froze to death within minutes, bent by the wind into the fetal position. Women in isolated ranches went mad; men shot themselves and each other. Many cattle exposed on the prairie were too weak to withstand the gale: they simply blew over and died. Others kept their footing, until their hoofs were locked in ice, and they froze like so many statues. Dogies from Texas and yearlings from Iowa, who had not yet experienced the savagery of a northern winter, perished almost without exception, as did bulls and cows heavy with calf. Older range steers, whose coats were shaggier and whose flesh was tougher, survived through February, but they became so mad with cold and hunger that they invaded the streets of Medora, and began to eat tar paper from the sides of the buildings. Children wandering out of doors froze to death within minutes, bent by the wind into the fetal position. Women in isolated ranches went mad; men shot themselves and each other. Many cattle exposed on the prairie were too weak to withstand the gale: they simply blew over and died. Others kept their footing, until their hoofs were locked in ice, and they froze like so many statues. Dogies from Texas and yearlings from Iowa, who had not yet experienced the savagery of a northern winter, perished almost without exception, as did bulls and cows heavy with calf. Older range steers, whose coats were shaggier and whose flesh was tougher, survived through February, but they became so mad with cold and hunger that they invaded the streets of Medora, and began to eat tar paper from the sides of the buildings.11 Townspeople had to nail planks across their windows to prevent desperate steers from thrusting their heads through the glass. Every night the streets echoed with agonized bellowing. There was nothing to do but watch the carcasses pile up in vacant lots, until the snow mercifully shrouded them from view. Townspeople had to nail planks across their windows to prevent desperate steers from thrusting their heads through the glass. Every night the streets echoed with agonized bellowing. There was nothing to do but watch the carcasses pile up in vacant lots, until the snow mercifully shrouded them from view.

At last, on 2 March, when it seemed the Badlands could not possibly hold any more snow, a balmy chinook stole in from the west. Sunshine burned away the haze, and revealed a sky whose bright blue color, coming after a hundred days of monochrome visibility, was a shock to the eyes. Within hours the white landscape began to twinkle with thaw. Rivulets trickled down the slopes, carving cracks in the ice, exposing bits of yellow earth. Gullies and washouts flowed into each other, then sought out the creeks leading down to the river. The air was filled with the sound of running water.12 About the middle of the month it became a roar. Lincoln Lang hurried to a vantage point near the river, and saw a sight which haunted him through life. About the middle of the month it became a roar. Lincoln Lang hurried to a vantage point near the river, and saw a sight which haunted him through life.

A flood-wave was hurtling down the valley, so full of heavy debris that it battered the cottonwoods like reeds. At first Lincoln could not make out what the debris was: then he understood. "Countless carcasses of cattle [were] going down with the ice, rolling over and over as they went, so that at times all four of the stiffened legs of a carcass would point skyward, as it turned under the impulsion of the swiftly moving current and the grinding ice-cakes. Now and then a carcass would become pinched between two ice-floes, and either go down entirely or else be forced out on top of the ice, to be rafted along...carcasses continuously seemed to be going down while others kept bobbing up at one point or another to replace them."13 This river of death roared on for days, and still the carcasses jostled and spun. Ranchers estimated their numbers in the thousands, then tens of thousands, then gave up guessing in despair. When the last drifts of snow melted away, and the flood abated, cowboys went out onto the range to look for survivors. Bill Merrifield was among them. "The first day I rode out," he reported, "I never saw a live animal."14 In the wake of the cowboys trundled a ghoulish convoy of wagons, not seen in the Badlands since the buffalo massacre of 1883. The wagons were driven by bone pickers in the employ of fertilizer companies. For such men alone the winter had brought wealth. Patiently they began to sort and stack the skeletons of what had been one of the greatest range herds in the world.15

CHAPTER 15.

The Literary Feller Sing me a song divineWith a sword in every line!

ON 28 M MARCH 1887, New York newspapers headlined the return of Theodore Roosevelt and his "charming young wife" to the United States, after a fifteen-week tour of England, France, and Italy.1 Every reporter commented on how well Roosevelt looked, in contrast to the drained and defeated mayoral candidate of last fall. His face was "bronzed," even "handsome," and he gave off "a rich glow of health" as he strode down the gangplank of the Every reporter commented on how well Roosevelt looked, in contrast to the drained and defeated mayoral candidate of last fall. His face was "bronzed," even "handsome," and he gave off "a rich glow of health" as he strode down the gangplank of the Etruria Etruria. A certain bearish heaviness was noticeable in his physique (he had put on considerable weight in European restaurants), and several friends were seen to wince as he exuberantly hugged them tight.2 Edith's health was rather more delicate than her husband's. In Paris, about halfway through their trip, she had begun to feel "the reverse of brightly," and Theodore had hinted in his next letter home that a honeymoon baby was on its way.3 This had not stopped them accepting a flood of fashionable invitations during their last weeks in London. There had been Parliamentary visits with members of both Houses (Roosevelt remarking sourly, of some Irish Parnellites, that he had met them before-"in the New York legislature"); lunches, dinners, and teas with a variety of British intellectuals; supper with the Prime Minister, Lord Salisbury; and, by way of climax, a sumptuous weekend at Wroxton Abbey in Warwickshire, where the honeymooners slept in the Duke of Clarence's bed and were waited on by powder-wigged servants. This had not stopped them accepting a flood of fashionable invitations during their last weeks in London. There had been Parliamentary visits with members of both Houses (Roosevelt remarking sourly, of some Irish Parnellites, that he had met them before-"in the New York legislature"); lunches, dinners, and teas with a variety of British intellectuals; supper with the Prime Minister, Lord Salisbury; and, by way of climax, a sumptuous weekend at Wroxton Abbey in Warwickshire, where the honeymooners slept in the Duke of Clarence's bed and were waited on by powder-wigged servants.4

"A longing for nobler game soon overwhelmed him."

The Meadowbrook Hunt meeting at Sagamore Hill in the 1880s. (Illustration 15.1) "I have had a roaring good time," Roosevelt told the New York press. Pacing up and down, and tugging excitedly at his pince-nez, he said how glad he was, nevertheless, to be home. Having met "all the great political leaders," and made "as complete a study as I could of English politics," he was convinced that the American governmental system was superior. "Why, Mr. Roosevelt?" asked a Herald Herald reporter. "Because a written constitution is better than an unwritten one. Their whole system seemed clumsy. It might do well enough for a social club, but not for a great legislative body." reporter. "Because a written constitution is better than an unwritten one. Their whole system seemed clumsy. It might do well enough for a social club, but not for a great legislative body."

In answer to the inevitable questions about his political plans, Roosevelt said he had none-at present. "I intend to divide my time between literature and ranching."5

HAD HE OPENED HIS MAIL from Medora before talking to the press that afternoon, he might well have dropped the latter option. Vague news of the Dakota blizzards had reached him in Europe, but the true extent of the devastation had become apparent only during his return voyage. Even now, with the spring thaw still going on, Merrifield and Ferris were unable to tell him how many cattle had been lost. They urged him to hurry West and judge the situation for himself. from Medora before talking to the press that afternoon, he might well have dropped the latter option. Vague news of the Dakota blizzards had reached him in Europe, but the true extent of the devastation had become apparent only during his return voyage. Even now, with the spring thaw still going on, Merrifield and Ferris were unable to tell him how many cattle had been lost. They urged him to hurry West and judge the situation for himself.

Roosevelt was plainly anxious to leave right away, but he had to spend at least a week in New York with his wife and sister and "sweet Baby Lee." It was a period of difficult adjustment among them. The decision had been made in Europe that Bamie might not, after all, keep her adored foster daughter.6 Before remarrying, Theodore had more than once reassured Bamie that the child would stay with her, "I of course paying the expenses." Before remarrying, Theodore had more than once reassured Bamie that the child would stay with her, "I of course paying the expenses."7 But when Edith heard about the arrangement, she had reacted with surprising vehemence. Little Alice was But when Edith heard about the arrangement, she had reacted with surprising vehemence. Little Alice was her her child now, she insisted, and would live at Sagamore Hill, where she belonged. In a rare display of helplessness, Roosevelt had thrown up his hands. "We can decide it all when we meet." child now, she insisted, and would live at Sagamore Hill, where she belonged. In a rare display of helplessness, Roosevelt had thrown up his hands. "We can decide it all when we meet."8 What was decided, in those waning days of March, was that to ease the pain of parting, Baby Lee would remain with Bamie for another month. Meanwhile her father would go West, and Edith visit relatives in Philadelphia. Upon their return to New York at the end of April, they would take over Bamie's new house at 689 Madison Avenue, while its mistress went South for a short vacation. By the time she got back in late May the Roosevelts would have opened Sagamore Hill, and they could all move out there for the summer. Together they would spend June and July supervising the delicate task of transferring the child's affections from aunt to stepmother.9 Not until August, therefore, need Bamie face the prospect of resuming her lonely spinster life. Not until August, therefore, need Bamie face the prospect of resuming her lonely spinster life.

Bamie accepted that Edith's instinct was the right one-she had never felt entirely secure in her surrogate role-but relations between the two women would never be the same now that they were sisters-in-law. For all their determined sweetness to each other, neither could forget that Bamie had nursed little Alice through her first years of life,10 and that Bamie had been the first mistress of Sagamore Hill. Corinne, too, was to learn that she now had a formidable rival to her brother's affections and that access to him would henceforth be strictly controlled. and that Bamie had been the first mistress of Sagamore Hill. Corinne, too, was to learn that she now had a formidable rival to her brother's affections and that access to him would henceforth be strictly controlled.11 It was an ironic reversal for someone who, not so long ago, had served as duenna between Edith and the teenage Theodore. It was an ironic reversal for someone who, not so long ago, had served as duenna between Edith and the teenage Theodore.

Two welcome guests at 689 helped smooth things over while negotiations over Baby Lee went on: Congressman Henry Cabot Lodge and "Springy" Spring Rice, now Secretary of the British Legation in Washington. Roosevelt seized on their masculine company with some relief, and lost no time in returning Spring Rice's hospitality of the previous November. The Englishman became an honorary member of the Century Club, which he found as intellectually exclusive as the Savile, and was introduced to an enormous circle of Rooseveltian acquaintances. One morning Whitelaw Reid, the immensely rich and influential owner of the New York Tribune New York Tribune, invited the three friends to a political breakfast in his mansion. There, in a magnificent dining hall, paneled with inlaid wood and embossed leather, Roosevelt, Lodge, and Reid gravely discussed whether or not James G. Blaine should again be nominated for the Presidency in 1888. Spring Rice listened in utter fascination. "It was the first real piece of political wire-pulling I had come across," he wrote home afterward. "I am getting quite excited over it."12 Not until 4 April was Roosevelt free to go West and find out exactly how poor he was.

HE ALREADY HAD a fairly accurate idea. Or rather, Edith had. That level-headed lady knew that her husband, whatever his other talents, was a financial imbecile. a fairly accurate idea. Or rather, Edith had. That level-headed lady knew that her husband, whatever his other talents, was a financial imbecile.13 Soon after the wedding she had gone over his affairs with him and discovered that, on the basis of last year's figures alone, they should "think very seriously of closing Sagamore Hill." Then had come the first reports of Dakota blizzards, followed by her attacks of morning sickness. Clearly, if they were to rear their family at Oyster Bay, they would have to "cut down tremendously along the whole line." Soon after the wedding she had gone over his affairs with him and discovered that, on the basis of last year's figures alone, they should "think very seriously of closing Sagamore Hill." Then had come the first reports of Dakota blizzards, followed by her attacks of morning sickness. Clearly, if they were to rear their family at Oyster Bay, they would have to "cut down tremendously along the whole line."14 Roosevelt must learn to live within his income for a change, and begin to pay off his debts. He must sell his enormously expensive hunting-horse, grow his own crops and fodder (for Sagamore Hill was a potentially profitable farm), and stop running the house as a summer resort for friends with large appetites, and thirsts to match. Roosevelt must learn to live within his income for a change, and begin to pay off his debts. He must sell his enormously expensive hunting-horse, grow his own crops and fodder (for Sagamore Hill was a potentially profitable farm), and stop running the house as a summer resort for friends with large appetites, and thirsts to match.15 As to his cattle business, the winter's toll was still a matter of guesswork. Roosevelt could only hope that enough cows would survive to produce at least a token number of healthy calves. In the years ahead he would sell as many beeves as possible for whatever price he could get, and so slowly reduce his losses. Given enough time-and no more freak weather-he might be able to dispose of his entire stock and save most of his $85,000 investment.

But now, as he rode once more out of Medora into the devastated Badlands, all such optimism vanished. "The land was a mere barren waste; not a green thing could be seen; the dead grass eaten off till the country looked as if it had been shaved with a razor." Occasionally, in some sheltered spot, he would come across "a band of gaunt, hollow-flanked cattle feebly cropping the sparse, dry pasturage, too listless to move out of the way." Blackened carcasses lay piled up against the bluffs: he counted twenty-three in a single patch of brushwood. Here and there a dead cow perched grotesquely in the branches of a cottonwood tree, the high snow upon which it once stood having melted away.16 Of the once-teeming Elkhorn and Maltese Cross herds, only "a skinny sorry-looking crew" of some few hundred seemed to have survived.17 He could not find out exactly how many had died until after the spring roundup. He could not find out exactly how many had died until after the spring roundup.

But the roundup was never held. The Little Missouri Stockmen's Association, meeting on 16 April with Roosevelt in the chair, decided that losses were too heavy to merit a general mobilization. There were so few cattle left on the range, ranchers might as well sort them out individually. One search party was dispatched to Standing Rock, in the hope that some thousands of cattle may have migrated south, and returned after three weeks, with exactly two steers.18 No official figures, therefore, survive as to the effect of the winter of 188687 on the Badlands cattle industry as a whole, nor on Roosevelt in particular. Estimates of the average loss sustained by local ranchers range from 75 percent to 85 percent.19 Gregor Lang, who began the winter with three thousand head, ended it with less than four hundred. Thanks to the thickly wooded bottoms on both of Roosevelt's properties, his loss was probably about 65 percent. Even so, it was catastrophic. Gregor Lang, who began the winter with three thousand head, ended it with less than four hundred. Thanks to the thickly wooded bottoms on both of Roosevelt's properties, his loss was probably about 65 percent. Even so, it was catastrophic.20 "I am bluer than indigo about the cattle," he wrote Bamie from Medora. "It is even worse than I feared. I wish I was sure I would lose no more than half the money ($80,000) I invested here. "I am bluer than indigo about the cattle," he wrote Bamie from Medora. "It is even worse than I feared. I wish I was sure I would lose no more than half the money ($80,000) I invested here.21 I am planning to get out of it." And on 20 April, after attending another gloomy stockmen's meeting in Montana, he wrote Lodge, "The losses are crippling. For the first time I have been utterly unable to enjoy a visit to my ranch. I shall be glad to get home." I am planning to get out of it." And on 20 April, after attending another gloomy stockmen's meeting in Montana, he wrote Lodge, "The losses are crippling. For the first time I have been utterly unable to enjoy a visit to my ranch. I shall be glad to get home."22

THE SPRING AIR WAS WARM, and blades of grass had begun to stipple the bare hills, when Roosevelt left Medora a few days later. But an air of wintry lifelessness still hung over the little cow-town. Already most of its citizens had departed to seek their fortunes elsewhere. Arthur Packard had abandoned the Bad Lands Cowboy Bad Lands Cowboy, and his office was now a fire-blackened ruin. E. G. Paddock had moved to Dickinson, taking the old Pyramid Park Hotel with him on a flat-car. "Blood-Raw John" Warns offered no more "choice Western cuisine" in his Oyster Grotto, and Genial Jim's Billiard Bar had run dry of Conversation Juice. Sad clouds of steam still floated out of Yach Wah's Chinese Laundry, but he, too, would soon pack up his washboards and go.23 Most symbolic of all was the shuttered-up bulk of the Marquis de Mores's slaughterhouse. Its doors had closed in November 1886, never to reopen. Even when Medora was booming, the Marquis had been unable to run his giant scheme at a profit. The supply of local steers was simply insufficient, and rangy, refrigerated beef had never appealed to the Eastern consumer.24 Impatiently shrugging off an estimated loss of $1 million, de Mores had gone off to dig a goldmine in Montana. When last seen-heading East as Roosevelt came West-he had been planning to build a railroad across China. Impatiently shrugging off an estimated loss of $1 million, de Mores had gone off to dig a goldmine in Montana. When last seen-heading East as Roosevelt came West-he had been planning to build a railroad across China.25 In less than two years, Medora would become a ghost town, while Dickinson flourished, and a checkerboard of small, fenced-in ranches spread west across the prairie.26 Roosevelt had foreseen the destruction of Dakota's open-range cattle industry in Roosevelt had foreseen the destruction of Dakota's open-range cattle industry in Hunting Trips of a Ranchman, Hunting Trips of a Ranchman,27 but he had not expected it to come so soon, nor that Nature would conspire to accelerate the process. but he had not expected it to come so soon, nor that Nature would conspire to accelerate the process.

Although his Dakota venture had impoverished him, he was nevertheless rich in nonmonetary dividends. He had gone West sickly, foppish, and racked with personal despair; during his time there he had built a massive body, repaired his soul, and learned to live on equal terms with men poorer and rougher than himself. He had broken horses with Hashknife Simpson, joined in discordant choruses to the accompaniment of Fiddlin' Joe's violin, discussed homicidal techniques with Bat Masterson, shared greasy blankets with Modesty Carter, shown Bronco Charlie Miller how to "gentle" a horse, and told Hell-Roaring Bill Jones to shut his foul mouth.28 These men, in turn, had found him to be the leader they craved in that lawless land, a superior being, who, paradoxically, did not make them feel inferior. These men, in turn, had found him to be the leader they craved in that lawless land, a superior being, who, paradoxically, did not make them feel inferior.29 They loved him so much they would follow him anywhere, to death if necessary-as some eventually did. They loved him so much they would follow him anywhere, to death if necessary-as some eventually did.30 They and their kind, multiplied seven millionfold across the country, became his natural constituency. They and their kind, multiplied seven millionfold across the country, became his natural constituency.31 "If it had not been for my years in North Dakota," he said long afterward, "I never would have become President of the United States." "If it had not been for my years in North Dakota," he said long afterward, "I never would have become President of the United States."32