Portland Thorn

At Portland, famed for roses,* the American Legion last week plucked a large political thorn and handed it to the country. Convened in its 14th national convention the Legion, as expected, declared for full, immediate, unconditional payment of the Soldier Bonus at a cost of some $2,300,000,000 to the Treasury. Public esteem for the Legion throughout the land instantly, visibly ebbed, changed to alarm.

Outwardly one Legion convention is much like another. Some 18,000 middle-aging legionaries were in Portland to fight the War over again in hotel lobbies. Their parade, sprinkled with 75 bands, took nearly four hours to pass through Multnomah Stadium. In the reviewing stand under heavy guard were Secretary of War Hurley who yelled "Yah-hoo!" when the Oklahoma delegation filed by, onetime Secretary of the Navy Daniels, Veterans' Administrator Hines, Admiral Leigh, commander-in-chief of the U. S. fleet, Oregon's Governor Meier and Portland's celebrated, bushy-browed Mayor Baker. In the line of march were clowns, drum-&-bugle corps, an automobile that had crossed the continent with the Bonus Expeditionary Force, a cage full of pretty girls on a truck, a French box car, lowans armed with ears of corn, cowboys from Wyoming.

There was, as usual, plenty of drinking, but very little disorder. Hotels as a precaution stripped their lobbies of furniture and planked over their skylights. Boston's Mayor Curley was disturbed at 3 a. m. by two intoxicated legionaries who kept putting their heads out of the window on the floor below and shouting: "We want Bonus!" Finally he doused them with a pitcher of ice water and the remark: "There's a bonus for you." Special agents sent from Washington raided five headquarters in two days, seized a good supply of liquor. Members of the gist Division, incensed, wired a protest to Washington, began to campaign against President Hoover. Legionaries were struck with the number of tipsy women on the streets.

Behind such familiar externals this year's meeting was different. The rank & file of the Legion's million members are feeling the pinch of hard times. They, as veterans, think the Government owes them something. They have collected 50% on their Bonus certificates as loans. Now they want the balance. With the instinct of buck privates they are tired of being led by well-to-do officers who seem to be taking orders from the White House. Organized originally as an explicitly non-political body, they have, through the exhortations of ambitious leaders and the promises of office-seeking politicians, become conscious of their political power. Throughout the land they this year elected to the Portland convention an overwhelming number of delegates pledged to put the Legion on record for Bonus cashing. The B. E. F. episode only served to intensify their demand. Their attitude was emotional, not rational. Inside the Portland auditorium many of their representatives put aside courtesy and good manners, descended to rowdy catcalls and boos in overriding the opposition. Their behavior reflected a deep, unruly ferment in the Legion itself.

As a legionary, Veterans' Administrator Hines, addressing the convention, tried to make it see error in its ways. He spoke tactfully, soothingly, avoided specific mention of the Bonus. General Hines's speech, though respectfully received, made no dent on the legionaries' determination to go the whole hog on the Bonus. Three thousand miles away in Washington, President Hoover was as completely opposed to whole-hogging as he was to the 50% loan law he unsuccessfully vetoed last year. Aside from damage to the Treasury, his objection was based on the fact that the Bonus is a legal debt to veterans not payable until 1945. When issued as endowment insurance policies in 1925. Bonus certificates were figured as follows: $1 for each day of military service ($1.25 with A. E. F.) plus 25% of the total for postponed payment plus 4% interest compounded over the 20-year period. By asking full payment now veterans were asking for 13 years of unaccrued interest as well as the 25% increase for postponement.

Just before the Legion's vote, President Hoover issued from the White House one more statement of warning, of protest, almost of indignation. Excerpts:

"I have the duty not alone to see that justice and a sympathetic attitude is taken toward the 4,000,000 veterans and their families, but also to exert myself for justice to the other 21,000,000 families to whom consummation of this proposal at this time would be a calamity. . . .

"No one who began life in the humble circumstances that I did and who learned the meaning of poverty from actual experience can be lacking in feeling and understanding of the problems and sufferings of these men and their families. I have seen war at first hand, I know the courage, the sacrifice of our soldiers. But there are many million others in the same circumstances. They too must be entitled to consideration. The welfare of the nation as a whole must take precedence over the demands of any particular group. . . .

"Let us not forget that while we have lost much in this depression we still have much more to lose. ... As long as I am President I shall continue to oppose with all of the strength and influence at my command any demand that runs counter to the common welfare."

Next day the President's statement was frontpaged in the Portland Oregonian and the Portland Journal. Some legionaries, on their way to the auditorium to vote, read it, shrugged their shoulders. Others glanced only at headlines. It carried no weight with them. Their minds were long ago made up.

From the convention's legislative committee by a vote of 21-to-9 came the following: The American Legion endorses and urges the full and immediate payment of the adjusted service certificates and that the national officers be instructed immediately to proceed before Congress toward enactment of this legislation.

Debate was begun by Delegate Wright Patman, the plump Texas Representative who sponsored Bonus cashing in the House. He was loudly cheered when he declared that his is the only relief plan "that will place purchasing power in the hands of the consumers in every section."

Legionaries booed angrily when Sam Reynolds of Nebraska took the platform to fight the Bonus resolution. National Commander Stevens had warned: "The first man who hisses or heckles will be ejected." But when he felt the convention's temper he decided not to enforce this rule. He only said: "Come on, boys, let's hear both sides of this question."

Reynolds: For 13 years we've marched down the middle of the road--

A Legionary: In the gutter!

Reynolds: Down the middle of the road, heads up, a million strong. . . . The people of America are waiting to see how this boasted Legion of ours performs under fire. (Murmurs of dissent). . . . Any man who reads the newspapers knows we're under fire. Pick up any paper, any magazine and feel the sting of the shot. But, fellows, they haven't even started this antiveteran campaign. When they cut loose, there'll be a withering blast. Unless we stop that storm we'll see the day when men will run for office on the slogan "Stop the Veteran."

Galleries: Booo-Booo-BOOOOOO

Commander Stevens: For God's sake, let's have order.

Reynolds: Fellows, we've got to go into this fight with clean hands. How can we raise our right hand in defense of the disabled man while sticking out our left, palm up, begging gratuities for ourselves?

The Bonus resolution was adopted by a vote of 1,167-to-109.

Smoldering beneath the surface of the four-day convention was the B. E. F. and its evacuation from Washington. Floyd Gibbons, one-eyed war correspondent, stirred the Legion to a frenzy of approval by extolling the bonuseers and denouncing the Administration for calling out troops to dislodge them, then branding them as Communists and criminals. The resolutions committee with difficulty smothered an attempt to get out to the floor a censure of President Hoover.

Following along in the Wet procession, the Legion by a vote of 1,144-to-133 declared for repeal of the 18th Amendment.

From among seven candidates Louis Arthur ("Louie") Johnson, 41. was elected national commander for next year. A Democrat, Mr. Johnson is an attorney at Clarksburg, W. Va. who has served in his State's House of Delegates. He was once his State's department commander. In 1917 he went through an officer's training school, was commissioned a captain, served a year with the A. E. F. in the Meuse-Argonne offensive. Large (220 lb.), bald, jovial, a Mason. Elk, Shriner. Odd Fellow, he is married, has two daughters, is rated a "good fellow." He will have no qualms about the state of the Treasury while pressing the Legion's bonus fight before Congress.

* Municipal slogan: "For you a rose in Portland grows."

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