Theodore Rex - Edmund Morris [97]
The weather turned cold and wet. Inch by inch, seepage mounted in empty mine shafts. Hills of unsold anthracite lay under the beating rain. Public pressure built on George Baer, who seemed at the point of a nervous breakdown before meeting with J. P. Morgan in New York. “He literally ran to the elevator making frantic motions with his right arm, to ward off the reporters,” a UMW observer wrote Mitchell. “He almost hysterically repeated over and over, nothing to say, nothing to say.… He shook and trembled and his face was livid.”
Mitchell, sensing weakness, turned Roosevelt down. “We believe that we went more than half way in our proposal at Washington, and we do not feel that we should be asked to make further sacrifice.” His statement was published on 9 October. Within hours, a striker was shot dead at Shenandoah. Panicking, the mayors of more than one hundred of America’s largest cities called for the nationalization of the anthracite industry.
Roosevelt noted that Poland’s ancient kings had also been hampered by irresponsible subjects. “I must not be drawn into any violent step which would bring reaction and disaster afterward.” He decided to appoint his commission of inquiry, whether Mitchell liked it or not. Congress was entitled to a full report on the situation before he took the law into his own hands. A follow-up letter reached Grover Cleveland on 11 October:
In all the country there is no man whose name would add such weight to this enquiry as would yours. I earnestly beg you to say that you will accept. I am well aware of the great strain I put upon you by making such a request. I would not make it if I did not feel that the calamity now impending over our people may have consequences which without exaggeration are to be called terrible.
Cleveland was sixty-five years old, retired, and chronically short of money. His only substantial investment was in—of all things—the anthracite industry. If he accepted Roosevelt’s invitation, he would be obliged to sell these stocks at current, depressed prices. “You rightly appreciate my reluctance to assume any public service,” he wrote back. However, “I feel so deeply the gravity of the situation, and I so fully sympathize with you in your efforts to remedy present sad conditions, that I believe it is my duty to undertake the service.”
Anticipating an early call, Cleveland sold his coal shares and waited for the President to tell him when he should report for work. But the call never came. Roosevelt’s attention had been diverted by the magic name of J. P. Morgan.
IT WAS ELIHU ROOT who suggested that “Pierpontifex Maximus” might be able to succeed where reason had failed. Morgan was, after all, the financial gray eminence behind the mine operators. Their coal roads slotted into his greater northeastern railway combination, and he had a seat on several of their boards.
Root told the President that he had “some ideas” that Morgan might persuade the operators to accept. Without saying what they were, he requested a temporary leave of absence, so that he could visit New York unofficially. “I don’t want to represent you; I want entire freedom to say whatever I please.”
One of the things Roosevelt liked about Root was his utter self-confidence. He granted leave, but first summoned Philander Knox and made his own attitude clear to both men: as soon as it became necessary for him to send the Army into Pennsylvania, he would do so without consulting them. He would use full force to reopen the mines, so that “the people on the eastern seaboard would have coal and have it right away.” Root and Knox were welcome to submit formal, written protests, but he intended to act as if the nation were in a state of siege.
Far from dissenting,