Chapter XVII: In the Role of Senate Leader

I

No single administration since the days of Jefferson has ever approached the record of the first administration of Woodrow Wilson in constructive achievement, either in the quantity or quality of it. One month after assuming office the congress was called in extraordinary session, and from April 7th, 1913, until October 24th, 1914, it was kept continuously at the grind, engaged all the while with administrative and party measures of the first magnitude. During the four years that Senator Kern had the grave responsibility of piloting these measures through the senate, the congress was in session 1,022 days, which means that out of four years there were only eleven months that it was not engaged with a legislative program of vital importance. During the first two years the responsibility upon the senate leader was especially heavy because of the meager Democratic majority and the ever-present possibility that some few Democrats might refuse to work in harness and thus precipitate confusion, embarrassment and defeat. The program throughout was uncompromisingly progressive, and in accord with party sentiment, but there were not a few Democratic senators of reactionary or ultra-conservative tendencies who were not enthusiastic over the program, and it was necessary to cultivate by conciliation the few Republicans of progressive leanings. When after four months the Underwood tariff law was passed, _The Boston Herald_, commenting on the victory, called attention to the fact that a president usually had his wishes reasonably met in the house, but disregarded by the senate, said that “Mr. Wilson with a small majority in the senate has been able to hold it in line.” And yet there were animated discussions and numerous disagreements among the majority senators that had to be ironed out in caucuses; one Democratic senator bolted the caucus and denounced it as being “machine-run” on the senate floor; and during the intolerable sultry days of the mid-summer it was with the greatest difficulty that all the Democrats were kept in Washington and within call in the event of a Republican “surprise.” Even at its best the national capital is not a summer resort. The heat is intensified by the humidity, and the town swelters and steams. The senate chamber, with no outside ventilation, the light streaming gloomily through the glass above, becomes deadening and depressing, and even the great revolving fans fail to make it comfortable. As the tariff fight dragged on into July and August and the call of the seashore and the mountains became insistent, it was with difficulty that the Democratic majority could be maintained in Washington. And even when they remained in Washington it was almost impossible to keep a quorum at the capitol. Walter Johnson was pitching at the ball park, the racing season was on in Maryland, the refreshing shadows of Rock Creek park were an attraction, and after responding to the morning roll call the senators drifted from the chamber and away from the hill, and for days at a time the senate, seen from the gallery, seemed deserted. But some one had to know where to reach them should the enemy plan a surprise attack; some one had to remain in the chamber throughout the day on guard--and that “some one” was Kern. The man who for years had so weakened in mid-summer as to make it necessary for him to seek the breezes of Michigan, was forced to shut himself within the stuffy chamber in one of the most enervating summer cities in the country. This eternal watchfulness and anxiety told upon him, but he was sustained by his joy in seeing the things he had so long sought being realized. At times when the regular Democratic attendance had dwindled to a corporal’s guard his impatience manifested itself in caucus, where on one occasion he supplemented his appeal with sarcastic protests, and a “party whip” was selected to assist him. The “whip” sent out an eloquent letter of appeal, apologizing in advance for the unpleasant necessity of insisting upon a regular attendance, and almost immediately disappeared. On his return Kern accosted him effusively in the cloak room:

“I am delighted to find you have recovered,” he said. “Your appearance is good and I hope you are now feeling better.”

The flabbergasted statesman, taken by surprise, stammered:

“But, Senator, I have not been ill.”

“Not ill?” said Kern. “Well, I had not seen you around for several days and supposed, of course, that you were ill.”

Another senator who had been enjoying the shades of the verandas and wooded spaces of a summer resort was wired by Kern to return to Washington as he was needed. His secretary called upon the Indianian the next day to explain that his chief’s return had been delayed by his inability to get a seat in the chair car. Taking from his vest pocket a number of clippings from _The Washington Post_, Kern dryly observed that the senator had been playing a good game of golf, had attended a number of dances, and given a dinner.

Still another statesman, a popular figure among Democrats because of his impetuous partisan devotion upon the stump, remained in Washington at his home without so much as reporting for the morning roll call, and repeated expostulations failed to persuade him to resume his duties, until he was threatened with a denunciation and caucus action.

When at length the tariff bill was passed, the prevalent sentiment was for adjournment, but the president insisted upon the immediate consideration of the proposed Federal Reserve law. The country applauded, but there were gutteral grumblings in the cloak rooms.

Almost immediately opposition to many features of the administration’s measure asserted itself among Democratic senators; the demand was made for prolonged hearings; Senator Lewis assured _The Chicago Inter Ocean_ that there would be no currency legislation that session; the committee on Banking and Currency found itself deadlocked and a caucus of Democratic senators was called to break it; until finally things were so whipped into shape that a Democratic conference was able to agree after the Thanksgiving holidays that there should be no Christmas recess unless the currency bill had passed by December 24th.

The session merged into the next session without adjournment, and more administration measures calculated, as the president contended, “to destroy private control and set business free” were pressed for immediate consideration. The Trade Commission bill, and then the new trust measures, prolific of infinite contention among Democrats followed. And from time to time the faint shadow of the Mexican situation fell upon the gloomy chamber, and then the great cloud from across the sea, when the German army crossed the Belgium border. But the grind went on.

The temper of the Democrats was not sweetened nor their anxiety diminished by the approach of the fall elections of 1914. The special interest and opposition papers were bitterly assailing the administration measures, business had been temporarily disarranged by uncertainty and in some instances with sinister intent, and the law makers faced the possibility of submitting their political fate to their constituents without an opportunity to mend their fences. An effort was made to postpone action on the trust bills lest the controversy over whether trade unions should be included among the trusts in the meaning of the law should have a disastrous effect. There were some Democratic senators who stoutly insisted that they should, and in addition to his routine work as leader, Kern threw himself passionately into this controversy, indignant that any one should place in the same class the organization of business to arbitrarily fix prices and oppress the public, and the organization of workingmen for the purpose of compelling a living wage and living conditions.

At length, having been in continuous session for 567 days, and written into law the greatest amount of progressive constructive legislation ever written in so short a time in the history of the country, the congress adjourned less than two weeks before the elections. Throughout this period Kern had played a vitally important part, but not a spectacular one. When the senate was not in session he was busily engaged with the Steering committee in efforts to reconcile differences, to conciliate the disgruntled, and owing to the meager majority always in danger of being overthrown, frequent caucuses were called at night, and, when time was pressing, on Sunday mornings. His work was not the sort that strikes the imagination, but it was the kind that counts, and with a less astute, patient, conciliatory and watchful leader the story of the achievements of the Wilson administration during the first two years might never have been written as it was. So completely did he dedicate his time and energy to his work that weeks went by when he never entered his offices in Senate building, and senatorial duties more important than those of routine were performed by his assistants.

When the first congress of the Wilson regime passed into history James Davenport Whepley, writing of the president in _The Fortnightly Review_ (London), said that he had “formed a legislative program which would have staggered a more experienced leader” and predicted that his power over his party in the congress would decline. As a matter of fact there was an undercurrent of rebellion, and it was not always that the comments of statesmen in the cloak room harmonized with their observations on the platform.

In the short session beginning in December, 1914, and ending March 4, 1915, this spirit of rebellion burst into flame but soon smouldered to ashes. The occasion was the president’s Ship Purchase bill, which was bitterly assailed by the special interest press and opposed by the Republicans with more spirit and unanimity than they had displayed before. Democratic opposition of a virulent nature developed. The caucus called by Kern voted to support the bill, but the opposition persisted. The filibuster that resulted has never been equaled since the Force bill days. Men like Senators Root and Lodge remained on duty like soldiers day and night. The forces behind the idea of a subsidy for private interests were never so alert. Senator Penrose, who had been so “ill” in Philadelphia that he could not venture to Washington to appear before the committee on Privileges and Elections which was considering an investigation of charges that a million dollars had been spent to assure his election, reached Washington over night and appeared in the senate chamber a perfect picture of robust health. Kern, who knew that he was in Washington, smoked him out of his retirement through a telegram suggesting that the Philadelphian send a physician’s statement to the effect that he was too ill to appear before the committee on Privileges and Elections. The debate was a mockery--such as those of filibusters always are; with men presumably of presidential caliber consuming hours of the public’s time reading pages from books having no relation to the bill under consideration. Plans were perfected to hold the senate in session day and night until a vote could be had, and Kern had comforts sent to his committee room on the gallery floor with the intention of getting a few winks of sleep from time to time. Then came the revolt. Seven Democratic senators bolted the caucus action and voted with the Republicans to refer the bill back to the committee. It had all been carefully planned, and some of these Democratic senators during the afternoon just before the vote had been observed making numerous trips to the Republican cloak room. It was the only instance during the four years of Kern’s leadership that he was unable to hold his party together behind an administration measure.

When the congress again convened after the summer adjournment of 1915 a better spirit of co-operation had been restored. After the passage of the Rural Credits bill, which is one of the great pieces of constructive legislation to the credit of the party, the greater part of the time was given over to the so-called “preparedness legislation” and the passage of measures recommended by the president to meet the international crisis which was growing more acute because of the short-sighted policy of Berlin. Although not enthusiastic over the preparedness program, and ardently anxious to prevent war, Kern accepted the leadership of his chief and supported him in all his measures. No member of the senate was more intimately identified with the president’s plan to prevent the threatened railroad strike in the late summer of 1916, as we shall see later on.

II

Never for a single moment in four years was a resting place in sight. President Wilson’s program “to destroy private control and set business free” was not concluded with the passage of the four or five great measures that caught the superficial eye, but it reached in its ramifications into all the byways of national life. Time and again when the senate was struggling under a deluge of important administrative measures, with the end far distant, and the members, work-weary and anxious to get back home, Senator Kern was appealed to by the president to add as many as half a dozen bills to the calendar for disposal during the session. These were always important and essential to the president’s purpose of destroying private control and setting business free, but they were not always appreciated at the time by the press or general public at their true value. While always in harmony with the spirit of the pledge of the party they frequently went beyond the specific promises and thus made it possible for Democratic senators sweltering in the heat to question the necessity of their enactment as a party duty. None of these but delighted Kern. And thus he was constantly engaged in feeling out the sentiment of his party colleagues, constantly consulting with the leaders, and reporting to the White House. Not infrequently the prevalent sentiment was in favor of postponement, but on the gentle, tactful but firm insistence of the president he would renew his efforts, usually ending in conferences of the Steering committee and party caucuses and the decision to act. While the machinery in the senate appeared to the casual observer to almost invariably be moving smoothly, there were many tempests in the teapot, occasionally a disposition to revolt. The opposition was always ready with its taunts that the Democrats of the senate had abdicated their senatorial prerogatives to the White House, and some wise observers for the press were fluent with their articles charging degeneracy to the senate and recalling the “good old days” when senators were “strong enough” to set aside presidential programs, but this did not annoy Kern in the least. He was content that some one had been found in high station with enough strength and prescience to point the way to the realization of the things he had fought for for many years, and to lead. But this situation kept him busy at his work of conciliation and ironing out differences. It was here that the personality, the character of Kern counted. He was popular with his colleagues on the Democratic side of the chamber, and no one doubted the sincerity of the man who without pretense had grown gray working for the day that had finally dawned, and no one questioned the soundness of his political judgment. His personal appeals for “harness work” for the sake, not only of the immediate principle involved, but of the party’s future reputation as a constructive force, had effect.

And it was here that his real strength as a leader impressed the superficial as a weakness. He never permitted temporary disagreements over single issues to deprive him of the friendship and confidence of the recalcitrant, or to lead him to hasty words of criticism or denunciation that would return to plague him in the next battle. When the seven senators deserted and bolted the caucus on the Ship Purchase bill he was saddened by the possibilities of serious future disagreements, but he was silent. Other Democratic senators took it upon themselves to bitterly denounce the “bolters” on the floor of the senate, and some thought this presumption an act of leadership of which Kern was incapable. They were right. It did not appeal to him as wise leadership to drive these men into chronic opposition to administration measures.

Kern was too tactful to have broken off relations with all his fellow Democrats who might at times wander from “the reservation.” He was not a bull in the china shop type of leader--fortunately for the Wilson administration and the party.

There were some, too, who could not understand how a leader could really lead and not occupy much of the senate’s time with speeches. During the four years that he was leader he seldom spoke. The program was crowded. It was of vital importance that this program should be written into law. This was particularly important during the first two years, for had the elections of 1914 resulted in a Democratic defeat in the House, the administration would have found itself at the end of its rope. It was of vital importance that the principal reform measures should be enacted. And it was clearly the policy of the opposition to curtail this program as much as possible through the prolongation of discussion. After all differences had been adjusted on the Democratic side, noses counted, and a majority found secure, it was Kern’s idea that the Democrats should let the Republicans “talk themselves out” as soon as possible and force an early vote. This policy was agreed to. But even after the agreement had been reached it was impossible to restrain some talkative Democrats from entering into verbal combat with the opposition and thus consuming precious time unnecessarily.

Thus during the long, weary days, weeks, months that these party and administration measures were pending Kern was at his post in the all but deserted senate chamber, paving the way for the vote; and when all the differences had been ironed out as to details, and the opposition had exhausted its lung power, and noses had been counted, and victory was assured, and the day for the vote was fixed, the orators flocked into the chamber from the ball park and the race courses to thrill the packed galleries with their perfectly useless eloquence and grasp the headlines on the first page of the daily papers to impress the groundlings with the idea that they had contributed mightily to the result. On these grandstand occasions Kern attracted no attention in the galleries.

But with the credit he was not at all concerned. It was enough for him that a victory had been scored and that he had done his full duty.

III

During the four years Kern’s relations with President Wilson were cordial and confidential. His admiration for the president knew no bounds. He never left him after a conference without being impressed anew with his remarkable grasp of affairs, his amazing prescience, his genius for work. “Uncannily wise”--was his verdict on one occasion. His conferences at the White House were so frequent that they became as the regular routine. Very often he went to the White House at night alone. And while some statesmen never failed to capitalize all meetings with the president, one of the rules laid down by Kern for the guidance of his office force was that no publicity should ever be given to his visits to the other end of the avenue. No living man is capable of properly estimating his services to the first administration of Woodrow Wilson but the president himself.

During the trying days of late August and early September, 1916, the country was seriously threatened with a general railroad strike that would have prostrated business and wrought general ruin. There have been a few more important but probably never more dramatic incidents than those surrounding the president’s efforts to save the country from this disaster. When he summoned the railroad presidents and the men to the White House for conferences it was with high hopes that a mere appeal to their patriotism would result in mutual concessions, but it soon developed that the presidents of the roads were indifferent to the public welfare. As the day set for the strike approached everything was laid aside by the president and the congress to concentrate upon the one pressing problem. On the night of the day the railroad presidents refused to accept President Wilson’s plan of settlement calling for an eight-hour day for the men, increased freight rates for the roads and a permanent arbitration commission, some light is thrown on the situation as it appeared to the leaders at the capitol in a letter of Senator Kern to Mrs. Kern:

“I am heartsick to-night that I can not be with you to-morrow
(Sunday), but things are happening so rapidly here that I can’t
leave. Nobody knows what is going to happen the next day. The
railroad situation is alarming. The railroad presidents who are
here seem to be determined not to yield to the president’s
requests, and if they persist it means the greatest strike in the
history of the country--one that will tie up every railroad and
stop every train in the country. The president came to the capitol
to-day and called Senator Newlands, chairman of the Railroad
committee, and myself into his room to talk over a proposition to
amend some of our arbitration laws and the Interstate Commerce law,
so as to make further negotiations possible.... It is difficult
to-night to foretell just what the outcome will be. The men who own
the roads seem to care nothing for the public interests, and if
disaster comes it will largely be their fault. I am calling the
Steering committee together to-morrow (Sunday) and the president
will probably come down to confer with a number of senators and
congressmen Monday morning. I am holding up in health first rate.
The weather has been much better since I last wrote you and is
pleasant to-night. Yesterday morning I woke up at 6 o’clock and
pulled down the blinds and thought I would sleep until 7:30 and
didn’t wake up until 9. Am trying to get at least eight hours sleep
every night.”

The following day the Steering committee met in the morning, the railroad presidents, unbending, left for their various headquarters to prepare for the strike, and that night (Sunday) the president did an unprecedented thing. It was a stormy night, the rain descending in a torrent, and the Finance committee was at work in the room in the basement of the capitol. Suddenly the capitol police, who had deserted the entrances to the capitol for their own room in the basement, were startled by the appearance of the president at their door. He had left the White House in his machine in the storm in search of Senator Kern. The senator was summoned from the committee room, and in the gloomy basement corridors the president and the senator began a conference which ended in the president’s room off the senate chamber after a janitor had been found to open the door. It was that night that President Wilson announced that he would hold the congress in session until the needed railroad legislation was enacted.

On Monday morning the conference of the president with senators took place in Kern’s private room, 249 Senate building. A second conference was held in the same room during the crisis--a history-making conference--at which the president’s line of action was outlined and adopted. The needed legislation was enacted on September 2, the country was spared the most disastrous industrial conflict in its history, and the country will not soon forget the remarkable indifference of the railroad presidents to the public’s interest. Throughout this crisis Senator Kern played a more important part than appeared upon the surface. His popularity with organized labor made it possible for him to bring some influence to bear upon their attitude, and he was kept in touch with all the conferences of the men through reports submitted to him after each meeting by men participating in them.

During the last two years and more of his leadership Senator Kern was greatly concerned with the international situation as it related to the world war. He hated war. He understood the frightful meaning of the struggle should conditions force us in. While not a member of the committee on Foreign Relations, he was in the confidence of the president and knew of the conditions that were tending to make war inevitable to a self-respecting people. So passionately was he opposed to war that he had little patience with Americans on pleasure bent insisting on traveling unnecessarily--through the war zone. He recognized their legal right to do so but was intolerant of their indifference to the possible effect upon the peace of a hundred million people. And yet he supported every move made by the president as justified by the insane policy of Berlin. “The condition is hell,” he wrote a friend in January, 1916. “The cyclone may hit us within a few weeks. Nothing short of a miracle can stop it. I have been up against some pretty knotty propositions, but nothing like this.”

On February 21, 1916, the president called into conference at the White House Senator Kern, Senator Stone, chairman of the Foreign Relations committee of the senate, and Representative Flood, chairman of the Foreign Relations committee of the house--a conference prolific of endless speculation and portentous in its meaning, in which, according to _The Literary Digest_, he announced that he would “prolong negotiations with Germany no longer if the coming communication from Berlin fails to meet the views of the United States.” That crisis passed with the acceptance by Germany of the American view--an acceptance that was to be repudiated by Chancellor von Hollweg a year later with the remarkable explanation that at the time the promise was made in regard to ruthless submarine warfare Germany was not in position to refuse. During the short session of December, 1916-March, 1917, the atmosphere of Washington was charged with electricity. The discovery of the Zimmerman plot in Mexico and the repudiation of the submarine pledge left little ground on which to predicate a hope for peace. At the capitol something was expected to happen at any moment. When the president asked the congress for authorization to arm merchantmen Senator Kern supported the authorization, and the end of his leadership, and of his senatorial career, came at an hour when we could already hear from afar the thunder of the guns.

During the four years of his leadership Senator Kern was thrown into intimate contact with members of the cabinet who were interested in administration measures affecting their departments. His relations with Mr. Bryan continued to be cordial and close, and while he frequently consulted with him on party policy, his official relations with the secretary of state were not so important as with other members of the cabinet. In the nature of things he was more frequently called into consultation by Secretary of the Treasury William G. McAdoo than by any others. With the tariff bill, the currency bill and the ship purchase bill, three of the most important administration measures, the head of the treasury department was deeply concerned. In the course of innumerable conferences Kern formed a high opinion of McAdoo’s statesmanship and capacity for leadership, and the mutual nature of the appreciation is manifest in the letter from Mr. McAdoo, now before me, in which he says:

“John W. Kern served as Democratic leader of the senate during a
period when some of the most important legislation in the history
of the country was enacted into law. With the people’s interest
ever uppermost in his mind, he marshaled the forces of his party
with infinite patience and tact, and always with self-effacement.
He was loved and respected by his colleagues, regardless of party,
and always possessed the confidence of the public and the
administration. He was a patriot and citizen of sterling worth, and
the Democratic party had in him an able, genuine and genial
leader.”

After Bryan and McAdoo, his most intimate relations were with Secretary of the Navy Josephus Daniels and Secretary of Labor William B. Wilson. There was much in common between the secretary of the navy and the senate leader. Their friendship long antedated the triumph of the party. The genuine democracy, the sincerity and simplicity of manner, and the high moral character of Daniels made him peculiarly attractive to Kern; and during the time that the sinister special interests were busy with their propaganda of belittlement of the secretary, when Kern was cognizant of the wonderful record he was making, he took occasion several times to protest from the senate floor. The senator’s estimate has been so overwhelmingly vindicated by events since the United States entered the war that nothing need to be said of the viciousness of the assaults.

It was inevitable, of course, that Kern should have been intimately identified with Secretary Wilson. No member of the senate was so wholeheartedly in harmony with the labor movement or with the policies that the labor department espoused. It will one day be recognized as fortunate that the senate leader during the first days of this department was not only friendly but aggressively so. It did not require more than an occasional hour in the gallery to observe at times a distinct feeling of hostility to the new department, which was not confined by any means to the Republican side of the chamber. This was observable in the matter of appropriations to carry on its work. Kern was ever alert to protect it against injustice and ever ready to actively co-operate with Secretary Wilson in all his plans.

While not thrown into such frequent contact with Secretary of the Interior Franklin K. Lane, he looked upon him as one of the strongest men in the administration, whose uncompromising progressivism was one of the party’s strongest assets, and this feeling was warmly reciprocated by Lane.

Thus, dedicating himself and all his energy to helping put through a progressive program of which he had dreamed for many years, working with administration leaders for whom he had not only admiration but affection, he was happy to serve, to efface himself in serving, and to find his reward in the achievements.

IV

It is significant of his personal popularity with his colleagues that after four years of the most trying, grinding legislative achievement in the history of the republic, he carried from the chamber at the close the confidence and affection of the men with whom he wrought.

This was due in large part to his infinite patience and never-failing tact. He never assumed the rôle of a dictator. It would have been repugnant to his nature, and would have outraged his sense of the proprieties. Had he, or any one else undertaken to lead as Aldrich led for the opposition so many years, he would have invited an inevitable revolt. He carried his points by his insistent pursuasiveness. It was much easier for his colleagues to conform with his wishes than to run counter to them.

I am indebted to Senator Charles S. Thomas, one of the keenest intellects in the senate, for an appraisement of his leadership from the viewpoint of his fellow senators:

“Senator Kern was the most kindly, efficient and practical of men,
and an ideal leader for a majority just coming into control of a
great body like the senate, after an exile of twenty years. No
other member of that majority could, in my judgment, have done the
work so well and so satisfactorily as Senator Kern; hence his
unanimous selection for that position was inevitable when the
sixty-third congress was organized.

“The senate was composed in the main of members from the southern
states, with a large contingent of new men from the north and west,
having comparatively little legislative experience, but all eager
to accomplish the legislation promised the people by the national
Democracy. This desire very naturally aroused ambitions for
chairmanships and other places of distinction upon the great
committees, threatening rivalries and possible conflict that might
prove dangerous to the very slight majority then existing. These
differences were adjusted by Senator Kern after many conferences,
some of them presenting difficult situations, and some apparently
incapable of solution. The senator’s judgment of men, his methods
of appeal and his wonderful tact in dealing with his associates
enabled him in the course of ten or fifteen days to report a plan
of organization absolutely satisfactory to all of his associates
with a solitary exception. Even that exception finally gave way to
Senator Kern’s resourceful, courteous and generous methods of
treatment. I think it can be said with perfect truth that the
enactment of the great program of reform legislation by the
sixty-third congress was due as much to Senator Kern’s splendid
leadership as to any other single influence. An epitaph to that
effect should be written upon his monument.”

To former Senator James A. O’Gorman of New York, for whom Kern had a feeling of admiration and affection, I am indebted for an estimate which emphasizes other points that entered into the making of his leadership efficient:

“My relations with Senator Kern were close and familiar during the
four years that he was chairman of the Democratic caucus. This
position carried with it the Democratic leadership of the senate.
During this period I was a member of the Democratic Steering
committee, of which Senator Kern was chairman. I entered the senate
with him on April 5, 1911, and his selection as Democratic leader
in 1913, after two years’ service in the senate, was a testimonial
of the great respect in which he was then held by his colleagues.
His upright character, his recognized ability and his attractive
personality had already given him a strong hold upon their esteem.
At our conferences, which were frequent, he was wise and
resourceful in suggestion. On these occasions he invited the freest
discussion of legislative plans and policies, and was always
candid, sympathetic, conciliatory and helpful.

“He had a clear and strong mind, a sound judgment, an unbending
integrity, a comprehensive knowledge of our constitution and laws,
and a power of laborious application that enabled him to render
valuable and efficient public service. Patriotism, honor and
loyalty to his friends were his eminent characteristics. He was a
strong partisan, but there was a kindliness about him that turned
aside all feelings of ill will or animosity. He was sociable and
companionable in the intercourse of life, and in his hours of
recreation in Washington he was frequently the center of a group of
devoted and admiring friends, who were attracted to him by those
qualities of mind and heart which in earlier days won him
recognition among the people of his native state, which he
represented so faithfully and efficiently in the senate of the
United States from 1911 to 1917.”

Senator O’Gorman’s reference to his partisanship and “the kindliness which turned aside all feelings of ill will or animosity” suggests the fact that he was personally popular with the most partisan Republicans of the senate. It would have been difficult to have found two more intense partisans than Kern, and Senator Gallenger of New Hampshire, who was the Republican leader, but nothing ever occurred to mar their cordial intercourse.

His self-effacement, his innate modesty, his repugnance to the pose, the fact that his name is not attached to any of the most important legislative measures of the administration, and that for the sake of facilitating the advancement of the program he consumed no time in speeches, may combine to rob him of the credit for the part he played in the general history of the four eventful years, but from the president and his cabinet down through the members of the congress there will never be any other estimate upon his leadership than that it was splendidly efficient.

The relations between Senator Kern and Senator Willard Saulsbury of Delaware, president pro tempore of the senate, were affectionate, and the latter’s estimate of Kern is of special interest:

“I shall never think of Senator Kern except with the affection
implied in the nickname I gave him soon after we became acquainted,
‘Uncle John.’ We sat at the same table for hours each day
practically from April until October, 1913, while the Democrats
were preparing with great labor the Underwood-Simmons tariff bill.
It was the first time for many years that great responsibilities
had been placed upon our party organization. Senator Kern was
unanimously chosen the Democratic leader of the senate after
serving in that body for only two years. In his position as
Democratic leader and chairman of the caucus he displayed great
ability and tact in handling a majority of senators composed of men
whose opinions in some cases differed widely. Every one respected
him and many of us loved him. We felt when he left the senate that
the party to which he belonged and the country had met with an
irreparable loss, and his death, coming so soon after his
retirement, was felt by many of us as though he had indeed been to
each of us an affectionate ‘Uncle John.’ Dignified, upright, able,
I doubt if any one ever impressed himself upon his colleagues more
favorably than he. He was called to the performance of high duties
at a very critical time in the history of our country and performed
them in accordance with the high traditions of the place he filled.
Indiana has produced many statesmen of ability and high ideals, but
none greater, as I believe, has she recognized among her honored
sons than when ‘Uncle John’ came to the senate. The kindly, sweet
and generous character influenced us all in our personal relations
with each other, and when, as he occasionally did, he took a high,
strong stand in favor of a given course, he carried us irresistibly
to the conclusion desired.”

Photograph by Leslie Nagley, of _The Indianapolis Times_, taken at the Indiana Democratic Club]