Hot Time in the Old Town - Edward Kohn [48]
In his speeches Bryan continually made reference to the fact that in previous elections eastern and midwestern states had a monopoly on producing presidential nominees. For him this was a clear illustration of the fact that American political and financial power was concentrated in the Northeast of the nation. In fact, this resulted from the practical realities of late-nineteenth-century America, more than from any conspiracy of elites.
The importance of the Northeast and apparent marginalization of the West was primarily the result of simple political geography. By the 1896 election there were still territories in the western United States that had not achieved statehood. Moreover, several states had achieved statehood only in the previous six or seven years: Washington, Montana, and the Dakotas in 1889; Idaho and Wyoming in 1890; and Utah in 1896. Even Bryan’s own Nebraska had not entered the Union until two years after the Civil War. The 1890 census recorded just over a million residents in the entire state, a number that would barely budge over the next decade. By contrast, in 1896 four American cities—New York, Brooklyn, Chicago, and Philadelphia—had populations larger than the entire state of Nebraska. A state like New York, then, simply had more electoral votes and more seats in Congress than western states. This gave New York more say over laws and presidential nominations.
Yet Bryan maintained his simplistic hostility toward eastern interests and their most recent puppet, William McKinley. As his train stopped at the small town of Marengo at 10:20 AM, still only a few hours into the day’s journey, Bryan could not help but draw a connection between the name of the town and his own campaign. In 1800 Napoleon had conquered much of northern Italy in the Battle of Marengo. During the presidential campaign friend and foe alike would often compare Bryan to Napoleon, and Bryan himself compared McKinley to Napoleon in his “Cross of Gold” speech: “Why, the man who was once pleased to think that he looked like Napoleon—that man shudders to-day when he remembers that he was nominated on the anniversary of the battle of Waterloo. Not only that, but as he listens he can hear with ever-increasing distinctness the sound of the waves as they beat upon the lonely shores of St. Helena.”
Now Bryan took the Napoleonic mantle for himself. “I have been told by some of those who met me in the train,” he told the crowd during his brief stop, “that the battle fought at Marengo was not more bitter a struggle than the battle that is going to be fought here for the purpose of restoring the gold and silver standard of the Constitution.” While McKinley stayed at home in Canton, it was Bryan who on August 8 passed within only fifty miles of Waterloo, Iowa. Yet as the crowds clamored for Bryan, there was no hint of defeat in the air.
Bryan’s pace was grueling, but he was driven to speak at every stop. Most of the small towns and villages where his train stopped had probably never hosted so great a celebrity as he, even if only for fifteen minutes. By the time the train crossed the Mississippi River around noon, he had already given about ten speeches.
The character of the towns began to change as they approached Illinois. The cities were getting larger and agriculture less prominent. And Bryan was hot and tired. At Moline, Illinois, he and his wife were escorted to a truck from which he gave a short speech as sweat poured from his brow. Mrs. Bryan was handed a bunch of roses, which she began to distribute to the crowd, causing a “pushing, struggling enthusiasm” among the people. After Moline the train entered the coal-mining towns of the Spring Valley region of north-central Illinois. Only one hundred miles southwest of Chicago, miners with coal-blackened faces and smoky lamps on their hats lined the