First Mate

When the seconding speeches for Nominee Landon turned into a parade of his withdrawing opponents, everyone realized that now the sprint for the Vice-Presidency was under way. First to the platform, Senator Arthur Vandenberg seemed to have the race hands down. It was well known that the Landonites wanted him, and the authoritative ring of his first-person-singular announced his availability with twice the hint and confidence of Frank Knox's self-effacing remarks about this being no time for personal ambition. Iowa's bluff Senator Dickinson, Maryland's fat Governor Nice, New Hampshire's unfortunately named Governor Bridges* and all the other favorite sons were clearly out of the running.

But not everyone knew Senator Vandenberg's stipulation to the Landonites. He, who had had his doubts even about wanting the Presidential nomination before 1940, would be the tail to their 1936 kite only if the Convention drafted him by acclamation. John Hamilton thought that could be done and long after everyone else went to bed that night he and his lieutenants were buzzing around lining up the necessary acclaim. By about 2:30 a. m. they thought they had things fixed. By that time Senator Vandenberg had cut off his telephone. No one thought to go bang on his door with the glad tidings. They could wait until morning. Meantime, weary Mr. Vandenberg had sent a message to John Hamilton and Chairman Snell: "If my name is placed before the Convention, please ask that it be withdrawn. This is conclusive."

Earlier birds than the tired Landonites next day were Attorney General Thomas Cheney of New Hampshire and James Irwin, stanch pluggers for Colonel William Franklin Knox. Right after breakfast they set out to see what last-minute hope there might be for their man. Their reward was a 74-to-1 vote for Knox at the Pennsylvania delegation's morning caucus. That made the Vandenberg acclamation impossible. The rest was easy. At the Convention, Governor Bridges nominated Colonel Knox, Chairman Snell read the Vandenberg message, and the acclaim fixed for the latter went to the former.

Thus it was that, in the first case by good management, in the second by accident, the two strongest candidates were unanimously placed on the Republican ticket, a political believe-it-or-not. There were those who still thought that eloquent Mr. Vandenberg would have made a better first mate for colorless Mr. Landon. Fact remained that, excepting the Landonites, no one had worked so hard, nor got up so much steam and sympathy, as Colonel Knox & friends. The impetus of their bloc could now be merged intact with the Landon movement.

The news reached Colonel Knox and his wife as they stopped at noon in grimy Michigan City, Ind. for lunch.

The Colonel sent his secretary to telephone Cleveland, see if Senator Vandenberg was named yet. Back rushed the secretary into the dining room. "It looks like everything is going your way, Colonel!"

Perplexed at first, the Colonel flung down his napkin, rushed to the telephone, then to the radio, heard New Jersey's Senator Edge nominated, then the roll call all for himself. "It was unanimous, think of that!" he cried as he retired to an upstairs room to see the Press, telephone some more and try, unsuccessfully, to eat his lunch.

Motoring on to Chicago with all speed, Publisher Knox received the Press again in his Chicago Daily News office. Duly reviewed in the write-ups were his Spanish-American War and A.E.F. records, his newspaper career in New Hampshire, and the fact that, like Governor Landon, he had been a Bull Mooser in 1912. Candidate Knox fell into an unhappy but understandable inversion of this last point when he telegraphed his running-mate: ". . . Conditions call for a display of the same great qualities which endeared us both to Theodore Roosevelt."

*As a ticket name, the vulnerability of "Landon-Bridges" was obvious.

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