Hot Time in the Old Town - Edward Kohn [89]
The following day, in a short talk to reporters, Bryan himself addressed the question of his having read the speech from a manuscript. “I wrote the speech with the distinct purpose of reading it,” he claimed. “I did not care to trust myself to declamatory effect, because I feared I might be tempted to lose sight of the main issue. I knew I was in a gold country, where every word would be analyzed with close scrutiny. I gave my reasons analytically and logically, and I trust my future to that speech, as affording the millions of readers who peruse it an opportunity to judge what the silver question is.”
Bryan was falling back into his old habits. Referring to New York as “gold country” came very close to again labeling the city “enemy’s country.” In fact his next utterances constituted a fairly harsh criticism of the East. “The trouble with many in the East,” he continued, “is that they regard the silver question as a fad, like the measles, to run its course. They will not study it and they regard the West as incapable of forming solid judgment. This is all wrong.”
Bryan was speaking once again as a regional, rather than national, candidate. As he spoke to reporters, he recalled once being quizzed along his train journey by an audience member about the authority for some his statements, when “laboring men” in the audience were able to answer on his behalf. For Bryan, this showed that “ignorance is no characteristic of the West.” While standing in a New York City hotel, he criticized the East while defending the West. As can be imagined, New Yorkers did not appreciate men from west of the Mississippi coming to their city and pointing out their deficiencies.
AS WILLIAM JENNINGS and Mary Bryan, joined by Arthur Sewall, spent part of the day greeting visitors at the Windsor Hotel, their reception revealed New York’s tepid feelings for the Democratic candidate and his ideas of free silver. Expecting a large crowd, William St. John had arranged for Bryan to address the crowd from the front stoop of the hotel, guarded by forty policemen. He was to be disappointed.
One reporter counted “exactly 163 persons” including “several small children, and idle pedestrians, in front of the hotel gazing at the stoop.” With such an embarrassingly small gathering for a street demonstration, the reception moved inside. At this point most of those awaiting Bryan’s arrival simply left. Inside the empty halls, St. John and others paced the rooms with “an air of chill disappointment.” Even after Bryan arrived, very few people approached the candidate and his wife—certainly no one of note attended the reception. Not a single Tammany politician attended.
After the first group of people waiting for Bryan had shaken his hand and greeted Sewall and Mrs. Bryan, there occurred long periods of time when no one entered the reception room at all. Bryan was described as glancing “darkly towards the door,” while Sewall’s “usual gravity would deepen into gloom.” During these stretches the Bryans and Sewall fell into conversation with one another, while just outside the parlor door Bryan supporters tried to entice people into the room in the manner of carnival touts. “Walk right in,” one urged. “Go in and tell him your name and he’ll introduce you to his wife,” said another. “Don’t stand out here; there he is; go right up and speak to him.”
Those who approached Bryan were rewarded with a handshake and a few words. Gone was St. John’s previous warnings against shaking the candidate’s bruised and swollen hands. “Mr. Bryan gave a hearty pressure of the hand to every one as he approached,” one man observed. “His grasp was warm and friendly, and he had a pleasant word for each person.” In the end, only about three hundred people shook hands with the Bryans, and after a short time, St. John called off the reception. Once again the New York trip smelled of failure.