PRE-CAUCUS DAYS IN AMERICA.

Once home again it didn't take a Solomon to tell Colonel Roosevelt that he had a man's size job on his hands in starting the American Legion on its way in the United States. Dispatches more or less accurate had told the service men on this side something about the Legion activities of the A.E.F. in France. As late as mid-April, however, a great many men in this country knew nothing whatever about the American Legion, while the majority of those who did were not at all sure it was to be The Veteran's Organization. What I have said previously about the "spontaneous opinion" of the men in France on the question of a veteran's organization proved to be equally true among service men on this side of the water. Consequently, it wasn't long after the armistice before several veteran's organizations and associations were in the process of formation. As it was a pertinent news topic, the newspapers gave a great deal of prominence in their columns to several of these organizations. They were of various types and characters. One was for enlisted men only. Another was for officers only. There was an organization for officers who had fought in France, Italy, or Russia and there was one or more organizations which had the breadth of vision to see that men of all ranks and all branches of the military and naval establishments must be eligible.

Such was the situation confronting Colonel Roosevelt when he arrived home to help start the American Legion in its own country. The fact of his arrival and his announced intention to aid in the organization of the Legion was duly heralded in the press of the United States.

At first the army and navy men were inclined to say, "Here is another of those mushroom Veteran's Associations bobbing up." In fact I heard one officer make just that remark, but another was quick to correct him by saying, "Its bound to be a straight and honest organization or a Roosevelt wouldn't stand for it." That was the crux of the initial success of the Legion, because just that was true. Every man who wore the uniform had known Theodore Roosevelt, Sr., and although he may not have agreed with him in all of his political opinions still he knew that neither he nor any member of his family would back any organization or proposition that was not morally sterling.

There were those who did not like the American Legion. There were those who were willing to let a past political prejudice deter them from aiding in the most important movement in American life to-day. There were those who stated that Theodore Roosevelt, Jr., was prominent in organizing the American Legion for his own political advancement. The answer to that misapprehension will develop later and will prove one of the most striking incidents in this story.

Colonel Roosevelt has a peculiarly happy faculty of keeping those who work with him cheerful and optimistic. He gathered around him, to launch the movement in America, a set of cheerful, competent optimists, prominent among whom were Colonel Richard Derby, Colonel Franklin D'Olier, who figured in the Paris Caucus, Major Cornelius W. Wickersham, Assistant Chief of Staff of the Twenty-seventh Division, Captain Henry Fairfield Osborne, Lieutenant Colonel Granville Clark, Lieutenant Colonel Leslie Kincaide, Lieutenant Colonel Eric Fisher Wood and Captain H.B. Beers. One of Colonel Roosevelt's first duties as temporary chairman of the Legion over here was to create the nation wide organization. He needed committeemen in every State to work the State organization up, and to start the machinery for the election of delegates to the St. Louis Caucus, for it had been decided that the representation in St. Louis must be by duly elected representatives from congressional districts in so far as that was possible. Each such district was awarded double its congressional representation, in addition to the delegates at large. It was no easy task to pick these committeemen. The decision of the Paris gathering that the organization must be non-partisan and non-political had to be adhered to in its fullest sense. There were soldiers and sailors enough in all the States who would have been willing to have started the organization in their respective localities, but how not to get politicians of the lower order, men who would gladly prostitute the Legion, its aims and ambitions to their own selfish advantage—that was the problem which faced the temporary committee in America.

About three weeks before the St. Louis Caucus the following names were chosen from the various States as committeemen:

OFFICERS

Alabama

Arizona

Arkansas

California

Colorado

Connecticut

District of Columbia

Delaware

Florida

Georgia

Idaho

Illinois

Indiana

iowa

Kansas

Kentucky

Louisiana

Maine

Maryland

Massachusetts

Michigan

Minnesota

Mississippi

Missouri

Montana

Nebraska

Nevada

New Hampshire

New Jersey

New Mexico

New York

North Carolina

NORTH DAKOTA

Ohio

Oklahoma

Oregon

Pennsylvania

Rhode Island

South Carolina

South Dakota

Tennessee

Texas

Utah

Virginia

Vermont

Washington

West Virginia

Wisconsin

Wyoming

Just about this time it became most necessary to properly present the Legion to those men who had remained at home and who had gotten out of the Service, and to those who were incoming from France and rapidily being demobilized, as it was upon them that the success of the Legion depended. Furthermore, their opinions were the soil upon which the various State organizations had to work, and at that particular time it was vital that the Legion should be widely known and thoroughly understood; that its aims and ambitions should not be misconstrued either willfully or unintentionally, nor its precepts perverted. To this end the temporary Chairman proceeded to publicize it in the most thorough fashion. One-page bulletins briefly outlining the Legion's aims and ambitions were distributed in every center where soldiers and seamen gathered. Such places as Y.M.C.A. and K. of C. huts and War Camp Community recreation centers were thoroughly informed, and bulletins also were sent to every ship in the navy with the request that they be placed on the ship's bulletin board.

Literature about the Legion was placed on transports when they left empty for France so that the men might read it in their leisure hours returning home. In order to make sure that every soldier and sailor would have the opportunity to know about the Legion this literature was again placed on the transports as they arrived in New York harbor. Various demobilization camps throughout the country were widely placarded and in each instance the names of the Temporary State Secretaries were given, and service men were invited to write to the Secretaries in their particular States. Camp publications, newspapers, and periodicals published for service men throughout the country were bountifully supplied with Legion information and scores of them carried special stories in regard to it. Bulletins and pamphlets were distributed in hospitals, placed on bulletin boards, and given to the patients. Every mayor of a town or city with a population above nine hundred got a letter containing literature about the Legion with a request that it be given publicity in the local press and then turned over to the Chairman of the Welcome Home Committee. Certain national magazines devoted a great deal of space to special articles explaining the Legion.

Three or four times a week the Foreign Press Bureau of the United States Government sent stories about the Legion and its activities by wireless to the ships on sea and to the men of the A.E.F. in connection with its "Home News Service." In addition to the foregoing, articles appeared almost daily in the press throughout the entire country, and by the time the convention was ready to meet those who ran and cared to read were fully informed that the American Legion was an organization for veterans of the army, navy, and marine corp; that it was non-partisan and non-political; that it stood for law and order, decent living, decent thinking, and true Americanism.

The wide publicity given to the Legion and its aims brought into the Temporary Committee many amusing letters. Scores of them complained of the published statement that it was non-partisan and non-political. "Damn it all, we want it to be political and partisan," one angry Westerner wrote. Another correspondent insisted that in view of the fact that sons of Theodore Roosevelt, and Speaker Champ Clark were interested, the Legion must be bi-partisan and bi-political. But most of the letters were of a highly commendatory character, expressing the deepest and widest possible interest. I recall that one of them came from Junction City, Kansas, another from Old Town, Maine; one from Delray, Texas, and others from Wolf Creek, Montana, Orlando, Florida, and Ray's Crossing, Indiana, while a postal card making frantic inquiries was dated Nome, Alaska, and arrived a week after the caucus at St. Louis. I have mentioned these towns and localities because they indicate how widespread and deep is the interest in the Legion. No matter where a man came from to go into the army, the Legion will go to him in his home now. Its members will range from fishermen on the Florida Keys to the mail carriers on the Tanana in Alaska, from the mill hands of New England to the cotton planters of the Mississippi delta. All who wore the uniform may enroll just so long as the word Americanism was inscribed in their hearts between April 6, 1917, and November 11, 1918.

THE ADVANCE COMMITTEE

When the St. Louisian puffed its way into the big smoke-begrimed station in Missouri's largest city I looked about me for Bill, who was going to meet me at the station. We had not met since our prep. school and college days when Bill had been a thin, wizened little fellow, so hollow-chested that he had to be sent to Colorado for almost two years for his health. He came back to school looking better but before his diploma was handed to him announcing to the world that he was a full-fledged Bachelor of Arts, he had fallen apparently permanently into the rut of ill-health. In fact I wondered, when we all sang Auld Lang Syne in the fraternity house at the close of college, if I'd ever see Bill again.

From time to time I had heard from him in the years that followed, and one day in the summer of 1917 he wrote me that he was on the way to France.

While I gazed up and down the smoke-laden platform, I got a slap on the shoulder that sent me spinning, and there was the once emaciated Bill, who seemed to have grown three inches and to have put on seventy-five pounds.

As we walked toward the taxicab stand I began to realize that instead of an old friend, a stranger was beside me. True enough, he had the same name and the same colored eyes, and his hair hadn't changed. But the rather dreamy eye had cleared, the pale face of old was tanned, and Bill's chest—the one he had gone to Colorado for—was bulging out as he carried my two heavy suit cases like a pouter pigeon's at a poultry show.

What had happened to Bill? The little, quiet, timid youth of the past was now a big, burly, strong-bodied, clear-minded man. As we entered the taxi he was telling me that he "intended to raise hell if they didn't take some action against this blank Bolshevism, and furthermore that this new Legion was going to be the most tremendous organization that the U.S.A. had ever seen." If he had told me that Swinburne's Faustine was written in iambic hexameter it would have sounded more like old times. But here was a new man, strong and virile, intensely interested in the future of his nation.

What had happened to Bill? Eighteen months in the army was the answer.

The advanced delegation began to arrive in St. Louis, the afternoon of May 5th. The Statler and Jefferson Hotels were packed because there were two other conventions in progress. But our delegates needed no badge to be distinguished from the others; there was a difference between them and the other conventionites. There was the same difference between the two as between the old Bill and the new Bill. They too had had eighteen months in the army, and a coat of tan on each one's face, his ruddy frame, and general atmosphere of a healthy mind and a healthy body were unmistakable emblems.

This advanced delegation, two from each State, had been requested to come beforehand to meet on the morning of Tuesday, May 6th, so as to formulate a working order of business on which the caucus might proceed as soon as it assembled. There was another reason for this meeting also. The temporary committee wanted to avoid any appearance of having "framed up the caucus." By this it is meant that the committee wanted to be able to say to the caucus that its working procedure had been determined by a thoroughly representative body, a democratic, advanced delegation composed of men from every State in the Union. There were those critics of the Legion, who, had the temporary committee formulated the caucus procedure, would have been only too glad to have attempted to make trouble by saying it was a controlled and made-to-order caucus—controlled and made-to-order by the men who had taken the lead in it. In fact, during the early morning of the first day the advanced committee met one delegation arrived with blood in its eyes determined to wage a fight against universal military training. One of the stories circulated at the time was to the effect that the entire Legion was nothing but a blind whereby a mysterious "Military Clique" was to gain supreme power over the Legion's policies. It took but a very short while to convince the would-be obstreperous delegation that the caucus was not the convention and was empowered solely to organize a veterans' association and not to adopt policies.

The temporary committee in America determined at the very beginning that no policies would be adopted at the caucus, that the Legion at this time should follow in the footsteps of its comrades abroad in stating that neither the men here nor the men there could, as different units, adopt broad policies until a convention could be held truly representing all men who had fought in the Great War.

Colonel Roosevelt called the advanced committee to order a little after two o'clock in the afternoon, in a small and very noisy parlor in the Hotel Statler. The gavel which he used was made from wood from the rudder of Admiral Peary's North Pole steamship The Roosevelt, which had been presented to him by Colonel E. Lester Jones of Washington, D.C.

"The idea underlying the formation of the American Legion is the feeling among the great mass of the men who served in the forces of this country during the war, that the impulse of patriotism which prompted their efforts and sacrifices should be so preserved that it might become a strong force in the future for true Americanism and better citizenship," Colonel Roosevelt said. He spoke very slowly and measured his words carefully but emphasized them in a tone of deepest conviction. "We will be facing troublous times in the coming years," he continued "and to my mind no greater safeguard could be devised than those soldiers, sailors, and marines formed in their own association, in such manner that they could make themselves felt for law and order, decent living and thinking, and truer 'nationalism.'"

In this opening sentence, Colonel Roosevelt foreshadowed the spirit of the entire caucus. These service men wanted an organization not for their own special benefit, not that they might obtain pensions or offices, but that they might become a power for truer Americanism and better citizenship!

Colonel Wood, the secretary, explained in greater detail the purpose of the proposed Legion. He broached the subject of the reemployment for soldiers, a legal department for the handling of insurance claims, allotments, etc., and sketched the fundamental principles of the organization as follows:

First, its non-partisanship.

Second, that this society should be equally for those whose duty called them overseas and for those who were held by circumstances on this side.

Third, that it is fundamentally a civilian organization, one in which all ranks, be they private or general, admiral or seaman, should have an equal share and participation.

Then the advance committeemen began themselves to talk. Each one, no matter on what subject and regardless of the side he took upon it, was permitted to air his feelings to the full satisfaction of himself at least. Like the Paris Caucus, the discussion grew heated at times and every now and then the chair was forced to remind overly fervid orators that this was an advanced meeting of the caucus and not the convention. There were those present who wanted to obligate the caucus to go on record for or against universal military training, woman suffrage, prohibition, permanent headquarters, and to elect permanent officers, and each of these had to be shown that it would be unfair to the men still in the A.E.F. to take such preëminently vital steps without consulting them. Then there were those present who wanted to exclude members of the regular army and navy from the Legion; that is, to limit eligibility in the organization to those who could show discharge papers from either the army, navy, or marine corps. This measure was voted down and it was given as the sense of the advanced committee meeting that those who served in the Great War would have perfect liberty to join regardless of whether their service continued in the military establishment after the armistice or after peace was formally declared.

The advanced committee outlined the order of business upon which the caucus could proceed, named the various committees to be organized, and discussed the resolutions which were deemed wise and expedient topics for discussion.

On Wednesday afternoon, delegates from every district in the country began to arrive, almost one thousand new Bills, husky of frame, some still in uniform with the red discharge chevron on their left sleeves; others who had manifestly tried to get the new Bill into the old Bill's 1916 suit of clothes, and still others in new bib and tucker, looking exceedingly comfortable after almost two years in putties, heavy shoes, and tight blouses.

Every man came with one deep-rooted determination and that was to see that no one "put anything over" which might make an organization so embryonically useful take a fatal or selfish step. Each came, perhaps imbued to a certain extent with his own particular ideas on how everything should be conducted; but the radicalism, sectionalism, and partisanship which would have marked a gathering of these same men three years before was not present. The men who had thought that nothing good could come except from south of the Mason and Dixon line had fought side by side with woodsmen from Maine. The man who had thought the East effete had done duty on a destroyer with a boy from Harlem. Everybody realized full well that sectionalism must be abandoned whenever it clashed with nationalism; and abandoned it was, with right good will.

The meeting of the advance committeemen justified itself as a very wise and judicious action on the part of the temporary committee. Any suspicion of a particular delegation that anything was "framed" was quickly allayed after a conference with its advance committeemen. If a man from Pennsylvania suspected that anything was on foot not to the liking of the Keystone State he had only to ask his advance committeeman, Colonel D'Olier, about it. Incidentally the personnel of the advance committee was not so numerous that everybody couldn't know what everybody else was doing. As a matter of fact, everybody did know what everybody else was doing. One of the most peculiar facts of this most interesting caucus was that when it came to "pussy footing" pussy seemed to foot it on piano keys so far as secrecy was concerned and in such a fashion that usually the Star Spangled Banner was played. I know that the night and the morning before the caucus met that there were many and various powwows and conferences, a great many of which I attended, but there wasn't a one that I knew of or ever heard about, the full details of which could not have been printed in bold-faced type on the front page of every St. Louis newspaper and have reflected credit on the powwowers as well as on the American Legion.

THE ST. LOUIS CAUCUS, MAY 8, 9, AND 10

All during the morning of May 8th that delegation was constantly getting together with this delegation; this leader conferring with that one; was this question going to come up, and what would be done if that question was tabled? Everybody interested, everybody excited, everybody waiting to see the other fellow's hand at the show-down, which was scheduled for the Shubert-Jefferson Theater at half-past two o'clock in the afternoon. Of course, everybody had found out the previous evening that every card in the pack was red, white, and blue, and that, from the very beginning of the game, an attempt had been made to keep the knaves out. As a matter of fact, they'd never been in, but the new Bills who made up the delegations to this caucus were going to look everybody over mighty carefully before any serious playing was done.

Suppressed excitement doesn't describe at all the half-hour preceding the opening of the caucus, because the excitement was not suppressed in the least. Eager, shining, tanned faces, eyes alert, heads erect, straight-bodied and straight-talking men one by one took seats which were assigned to them by delegations.

A flashlight photograph of the gathering was made, but this caucus was not one that could be pictured by the camera at all accurately. The outstanding feature of this great get together was the spirit of the men, and that no camera could catch.

Three large wooden tiers of seats, the kind the circus has under canvas, were built in a sort of semicircular fashion around the large stage. The New York delegation occupied one of these tiers; the Ohioans another, while the third was built for distinguished guests. If any distinguished guests came they were entirely put out of the limelight by the audience, for this was one show which was enacted before the footlights rather than behind them, and, with one or two exceptions the star performing took place where the spectators usually sit. In fact, the only spectators that I saw were the newspaper men, seated at tables within the corral formed by the tiers. All of them had been in the army or navy or had seen the big show abroad as war correspondents.

When Theodore Roosevelt, as temporary chairman jammed that gaveled bit of the rudder of the North Pole ship down hard on the table and called the meeting to order he got what he had never received while in the army: that is, direct disobedience. He commanded order, and there was utter disorder. It was rank insubordination, distinctly requiring court-martial of everyone present, from a military point of view—but the American Legion isn't military! And so the delegates howled joyously. Roosevelt, demanding order at this time, had just about as much chance of getting it as the Kaiser has of making Prince Joachim King of the Bronx. Somebody started a cheer, and the crowd didn't stop yelling for two minutes and a half.

"Young Teddy," as they called him, was manifestly surprised at the ovation and tried repeatedly to get the crowd quiet. He wanted to be pleasant and yet he wanted order and so between knocks with his gavel he smiled. And a very engaging smile it was, too.

"Gentlemen," he pleaded. "Gentlemen, a little order." Finally there was comparative quiet. "Now let's proceed to the business of the meeting. The floor is open for nominations for permanent chairman of this caucus."

Sergeant Jack Sullivan of the State of Washington got the floor. Sergeant Jack is a husky northwesterner who did his bit in the intelligence section in Seattle and has seen a lot of the Bolsheviki out there.

"In behalf of the State of Washington and representing the men of the rank and file of the Pacific Northwest, it gives me pleasure at this time to place for your consideration the name of a sterling patriot," he shouted. "The man I am going to place in nomination proved himself to be a one hundred per cent. true blooded American when his country's honor was assailed. He was among the first who placed himself in the front-line trenches, he was wounded twice, he was ready and willing to make the supreme sacrifice in order that this world might be made safe for democracy. I deem it an honor and a privilege, and the Pacific Northwest deems it an honor and a privilege to place in nomination the worthy son of a worthy sire—Theodore Roosevelt."

The crowd seemed to know all along who Jack meant and it held its enthusiasm in tether as best it could. But when Sullivan got to the word Theodore, the Roosevelt was drowned out in the mightiest cheer that is possible for eight or nine hundred throats to utter. The second to the motion, made by Colonel Luke Lea of Tennessee, wasn't heard at all. This time it took Colonel Roosevelt more than two minutes to get order.

"Gentlemen, I want to speak on that now," he shouted and during a lull in the cheering managed to make himself heard. "I wish to say that I want to withdraw my name from nomination—"

But the "gang wouldn't hear to it." Somebody raised the old cry:

"We want Teddy!" "We want Teddy!" "We want Teddy!" they chanted in unison. Bedlam broke loose at that. Men stood on their seats and waved their hats and handkerchiefs; some took their collars and neckties off; some wept, some cursed for sheer joy and others—I believe that when Gabriel blows his horn and all the dead arise that some of the men who attended that caucus will try to make a speech! These speeches were going on four and five at a time during the entire hullabaloo. It didn't seem to matter in the least to the speakers that they weren't being heard. They couldn't hear themselves. They added a little to the noise and that satisfied the crowd and seemed to satisfy them.

"Please, please let me talk," pleaded Colonel Roosevelt. He finally got his plea over by means of the sign language.

"I want to withdraw my name for a number of reasons," he continued. "The first is that I want the country at large to get the correct impression of this meeting here. We are gathered together for a very high purpose. I want every American through the length and breadth of this land to realize that there isn't a man in this convention who is seeking anything for himself personally; that all of us are working simply for the good of the entire country. I believe, furthermore, that what we want here is someone who has been connected with the movement only since it started on this side of the water, someone who originates from the convention."

The din started again.

"No, no, gentlemen," shouted the Colonel. "I want to withdraw. It is my earnest wish. It is my absolute determination."

But the caucus seemed equally determined. "We want Teddy!" "We're going to have Teddy!" "You got this thing going, you ought to run it." Colonel Roosevelt paced up and down the stage, trying his best to silence them. Then, during the din, one by one some of his oldest friends went to him and begged him to accede to the crowd's wish. "Take it Ted," they urged. "Take it." That underslung jaw of the young Colonel's became rigid.

"I won't do it. I can't do it," he answered.

Then someone managed to make a motion that the nomination of Colonel Roosevelt be made unanimous. It was seconded and made extremely unanimous.