A Secret Life_ The Lies and Scandals of President Grover Cleveland - Charles Lachman [72]
A letter from Ball landed on the desk of the editor of the Chicago Advance, where the Democratic National Convention was being held:
Dear Advance—It may be too late to do you any good, and may not be needed, but I feel moved to warn you against saying much to the credit of Grover Cleveland. He is a libertine. No Christian should condone his crimes so far as to commend his candidacy. About seven years ago he seduced the head of the cloak department of Flint & Kent’s, leading merchants here. He kidnapped the woman after the boy was born, sent her to the Catholic Insane Asylum [sic] and took the child from her. She escaped, got Milo A. Whitney to help her, finally settled and gave up the child for $500. This I know to be true, for I have it confirmed by Flint & Kent, by Mr. Whitney, her attorney, and by Mrs. Wm. Baker, where the woman boarded.
Ball’s letter accused Cleveland of having a reputation in Buffalo of the “grossest licentiousness.” He informed the editor of the Advance—a publication of the Congregational church that was said to reach the “very best class of people”—that letters had been sent to the Independent and the Christian Union because both publications had published sycophantic articles about Cleveland that Ball had found “alarming.” Ball wrote that he had detected nothing objectionable in the Advance’s coverage of the presidential election, but “it will do no harm for you to know the facts” before writing another word that could be seen as advancing a Cleveland candidacy.
The rumor mill started churning.
Daniel Manning asked William Hudson to urgently come see him. Hudson found Manning in his office at the bank he owned in Albany, the National Commercial Bank.
“There is more work for you to do, and it is most important work,” Manning told Hudson. He held three lists in his fist.
“I’m enlisted for the war, Mr. Manning, and am subject to your orders.”
“You may not like this, but it must be done by someone.” Manning explained that the first list was of the names of the New York delegates going to the national convention who were committed to Cleveland; on another list were names of those delegates opposed to Cleveland. It was the third list—uncommitted or “doubtful” delegates—that Manning wanted to talk about. There were six or eight names on it. Without their support, Manning said, Cleveland could not win a two-thirds majority—the treasured “super-majority”—and without a crushing victory in New York, Cleveland could be denied the nomination.
“Now, I want you to devote yourself to these doubtful men,” Manning told Hudson. “We must subject them to pressure, but first we must learn the sort of pressure which should be applied. That’s your work.”
Hudson, realizing the importance of the assignment, was overcome with apprehension. “It is something like detective work,” he observed.
“Much like it,” Manning replied, “but detective work that can be done only by a man acquainted with state and local politics.”
Hudson started making inquiries, reaching out to his circle of contacts and using all the research skills he had accumulated as a political journalist at The Brooklyn Eagle. He looked into the background of the delegates in question, probing for vulnerabilities and susceptibilities, which Manning told him in blunt language could be political, commercial, or moral. Hudson was two weeks into the task when Manning summoned him to the bank again.