Pulitzer_ A Life in Politics, Print, and Power - James McGrath Morris [101]
With the preliminaries out of the way, the convention turned to its main business on the morning of June 24. Though stifling heat made the convention hall almost unbearable for the delegates, they began to sift through the many candidates. Tilden gracefully bowed out, and on the first ballot the new leading candidate, General Winfield Hancock, took 23 percent of the vote. It looked as though it could be a long day. But when the second ballot began, delegates abandoned their first choices and formed a bandwagon for Hancock.
Pulitzer faced a quandary. He had promised to speak on behalf of the candidacy of William English, a former Indiana congressman who was now a dark horse. The changing developments on the floor made this impossible, however. “I saw before Missouri was called that the nomination would sweep through the convention like wildfire,” Pulitzer later told English. “I did not think it wise to interrupt the room, and sacrificed my own inclination and pleasure rather than do what seemed needless.”
Pulitzer’s judgment was sound. His own state, which had split its votes among five men on the first ballot, now gave Hancock all but two of those votes. The counting of the ballots would be only a formality. “The mob howled and shrieked, so that for some time no business could be done,” said a reporter on the floor. “But while the disorder prevailed there were hurried consultations among the delegates and unmistakable signs of a stampede.” It would be for General Hancock.
With that decision made, the convention chair asked for a recess until later in the day. But Pulitzer instead moved that the convention immediately select the “next vice president,” with an assurance that caused some laughter. At this moment, Pulitzer’s friend English was more fortunate. His status as a former congressman from the important battleground state of Indiana made him an easy choice for the convention, and he was given the second spot on the ticket.
The Republicans, meeting in Chicago, had a harder time making their selection. It took them thirty-six ballots before they settled on U.S. Representative James Garfield, from Ohio, and on the New Yorker Chester Arthur as his running mate.
The Democrats’ choice of Hancock meant that Pulitzer had to do some rapid editorial backpedaling. On the eve of the convention, he had warned that selecting a general as a candidate would be a “stupendous mistake” because putting a military man in the White House would be inherently dangerous to liberty. Now he did an about-face. Of all the soldier-politicians, he assured his readers, Hancock was the one most devoted to civilian rule, habeas corpus, and strict interpretation of the Constitution.
On his return to St. Louis, Pulitzer spoke to a large, enthusiastic Democratic rally at the courthouse. Most men would have been physically exhausted by the travel and the long hours of the convention, but Pulitzer displayed dazzling energy, sustained by the adrenaline surge elections gave him. He had not been home for even a day before he wrote to a political operative in Indiana, “Is there anything I can do in your state on the stump? I shall be glad to serve as in 76, of course, at my expense.”
Back at his desk, Pulitzer found that his paper had recovered from the fire and had prevailed in a dozen libel suits, including one brought by the famous Italian soprano Carlotta Patti—the Post-Dispatch had insinuated that she was very well, perhaps too well, acquainted with liquor. But now a different danger arose. On the streets in late July, newsboys were hawking a new paper, the Evening