A Secret Life_ The Lies and Scandals of President Grover Cleveland - Charles Lachman [117]
Gorman ordered the carriage to return to party headquarters at the Hoffman House, thinking that he should not have spoken so frankly. “Of course, what I have said is confidential,” he told Hudson. “I shall keep whistling until I have passed the graveyard.” That was it, Hudson thought. Blaine was going to win.
Gorman invited Hudson up to his room, where they continued their conversation. They heard some commotion in the hallway, then suddenly, John Tracy, who was in charge of the Democratic Party’s press information bureau, “plunged” into the room. Tracy was out of breath and so excited, he was almost unhinged. He showed Gorman a report which had just been filed by the stenographer who had taken down the speech made by James Blaine that morning at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. (As a rule, a Democratic Party stenographer attended all Republican Party events that were open to the public on the theory that you never knew when something might happen.) Now the stenographer’s account was in Gorman’s hands. He looked up.
“Is this a verbatim report?”
“Every word uttered is there,” Tracy assured the party boss.
Their eyes met; both men realized the great historical impact of what had occurred this morning. When Gorman spoke, his voice cracked like a whip.
“This sentence must be in every daily newspaper in the country tomorrow, no matter how, no matter what it costs. Organize for that immediately.”
Tracy had his orders. He spun on his heels and left the room. Now Gorman turned to Hudson. “If anything will elect Cleveland, these words will do it. The advantages are now with us.” The winds of fate had suddenly shifted in their direction.
The Fifth Avenue Hotel was the social and cultural heart of New York. The palazzo building was five stories tall and made of white marble and brick. It was the first hotel in America with a passenger elevator, powered by a steam engine in the basement and operated by a giant screw in the center of the passenger cab. All the rooms were richly appointed, with rosewood furniture, a fireplace, gilt wood, and crimson and green curtains. The hotel came with a rich history. Abraham Lincoln stayed there when he arrived in New York in 1860 to deliver the triumphant oration at Cooper Union that had set him on the path to the presidency. It was the Prince of Wales’s favorite hotel in America. Stored in the cellar was a dwindling supply of bottled brandy from the vintage year 1799.
James Blaine had awakened that morning in a suite usually reserved for President Arthur and ordered breakfast. He did not want to be there. He had just completed a grueling swing through the battleground state of Ohio. His personal magnetism and statesmanlike command of the issues on the campaign trail had worked magic in the Buckeye State. All signs pointed to an upset Blaine win in Ohio, but the tour had left him exhausted. He just wanted to return to Maine and spend the final days of this epic election at home with his family, but the national committee was imploring him to make one final road trip through New York. It would be his last hurrah before election night, and could be just what was needed to ensure victory on November 4.
In his room, Blaine could hear applause. Five hundred clergymen who had been invited to meet Blaine had gathered in the hotel parlor. Invitations had been extended to all denominations, but only two Catholic priests and one rabbi had shown up. The bulk of the guests were Presbyterians and Methodists. Resolutions were passed, calling Cleveland’s nomination an “insult to Christian civilization,” and declaring that, for the sake of “virtue in the home,” he had to be defeated.
With his wife