Donkey Doings

As red-robed Roman Catholic Bishop Lamb finished his prayer, James Aloysius Farley stepped forward to the rostrum and said: "I will ask that the Convention stand for one minute in solemn tribute to a great American--Will Rogers." Had National Democratic Chairman Farley paused a moment longer before naming his late "Great American," 3,000 delegates and alternates would doubtless have burst into improper cheers, so brimming were they with enthusiasm. For nearly an hour longer they restrained themselves, until Boss Farley came down upon the words: "that calm, capable and courageous Democrat, Franklin D. Roosevelt!" Then, at the first mention of that magic name, the conventioneers raised their standards, their voices, their feet, proceeded to go crazy and stay crazy for the better part of five days and nights.

Future historians will probably not linger long over the Democratic Convention of 1936. They will record the automatic renomination of Franklin Delano Roosevelt and John Nance Garner, refer briefly to a platform hand-made at the White House (see p. 14), remark on the high spirits of the delegates and pass on to matters of larger moment. But many a young Democrat will long remember his Party's Philadelphia party last week as one of the wildest political jamborees ever staged. Whatever the donkey's doings may have lacked in heavy brain work, it more than made up for with its mighty brays.

Gay Place. Philadelphia paid $200,000 to get the Convention and a chance to make good as a place of gaiety. Its 2 a. m. curfew law was suspended. In direct violation of State liquor laws, downtown restaurants and hotel bars sold liquor on Sunday. An obliging magistrate stayed open all night within three blocks of Convention Hall to release visitors who forced themselves into the hands of police. True to Democratic tradition, the delegates were a far more boisterous, fiery, tempestuous crowd than Republicans ever were. Two out of every three of them were political officeholders or Party workers and they went to Philadelphia looking sleeker, better fed and better dressed than when they went to Chicago four years ago. Not a few of them had money to spend in Philadelphia nightclubs.

But there was a bigger difference in their gathering than in themselves. For the first time in 20 years, a Democratic convention city was not overrun with rival candidates for the nomination. In Philadelphia there was only one headquarters, in the Bellevue-Stratford Hotel. A tight little headquarters it was, with Chairman Farley behind one closed door, Pressagent Charles Michelson behind another, Thomas Corcoran and Benjamin Cohen, New Deal ideologists, behind a third.

The rest of the hotel was bedlam, and wide open for the multitude of delegates to shake hands, slap backs, bend elbows, rub shoulder^ with half-a-dozen Cabinet members, governors by the dozen, Senators by the score. In such a crowd Ambassadors, mayors, Representatives and children of the President were small potatoes indeed.

Quickly delegates got the point that they had no responsibilities, that they were there to use their lungs, not their heads. By the first night they were turning up in the Convention Hall with horns, kazoos, bells, sirens. To make it livelier, whole delegations appeared in fancy dress, West Virginians with a hillbilly band, Rhode Islanders with red sun helmets, lowans with corn stalks, Texans with cowboy hats. Thus they settled down to a fine day of oratorical whoopee.

Keynote. At Cleveland Keynoter Steiwer gave Republicans a phrase: "Three long years!" At Philadelphia, Senator Barkley of Kentucky in his keynote made no phrase for Democrats, tried without notable success to turn "three long years" ironically back upon Republicans. What Keynoter Barkley did succeed in doing was to make out the best possible case in behalf of the New Deal. It took him more than an hour but when he got through the Democrats had a more able defense of their Administration than the Republicans had a critique of it from Keynoter Steiwer.

As the last reverberation of the keynote filled the hall, delegates burst into a half-hour's frenzy, fourth demonstration of the day.

Din, like drink, dulls the senses. After the first day the Convention never was successfully brought to order. Over & over again Senator Robinson as permanent chairman bellowed "Please get quiet and stay quiet," without any appreciable effect on the jabbering, shouting, horn-tooting crowd.

Soon the lobby of the Bellevue-Stratford and the stairs down to its bar were strewn with Democrats so deep in their cups that th consumed, the Republican Convention in Cleveland seemed, by contrast with the Democratic one in Philadelphia, to be a meeting of the W. C. T. U.

Two-Thirds. Nearest thing to a real issue before the Convention was the question of abolishing the 104-year-old Party rule requiring a two-thirds vote to nominate. Adopted on orders from Andrew Jackson to prevent the nomination of John C. Calhoun for Vice President, the two-thirds rule has several times kept the nomination from candidates who had a majority or a near-majority of the convention votes. In 1912 Champ Clark lost to Woodrow Wilson because of this minority veto. Chairman of the Rules Committee last week was Champ Clark's rubicund son, Missouri's Senator Bennett Champ Clark, who had a sentimental interest in destroying the rule that had ruined his father's great chance.

In 1932 at Chicago, Boss Farley first proposed that the two-thirds rule be abolished as a source of constant trouble for the Party. Because Franklin Roosevelt's nomination was then not yet assured, Jim Farley was promptly accused of being a poor sport, of trying to change the rules after the game had already started. Politically wise, he soon dropped his proposed reform, and Mr. Roosevelt was duly nominated by a two-thirds majority on the fourth ballot.

This year, with only one candidate up for nomination, the rule did not matter to anyone. Hence Boss Farley last week took the opportunity to end it. Presumably his purpose was to make sure that in 1940 a recalcitrant Democratic minority would not block the nomination of the man the firm of Roosevelt, Farley & Co. pick to head the New Deal that year. To achieve it, however, he had to deal delicately with a resentful South, which has long regarded the rule as its right to veto candidates. In committee, Southerners put up an argument, were finally brought into line by the promise of a plan to give states representation in future conventions not according to their population, but according to the number of Democratic votes they cast in elections. When the compromise was brought up for adoption by the Convention, the shout of "No" was louder than the shout of "Aye" but Chairman Robinson declared it adopted anyway.

Smith. About the only Convention event not on the Farley program occurred one evening when visitors in the gallery unrolled broad banners proclaiming: "We Are Al Smith Democrats," "We Want Al." In the midst of a floor demonstration of Young Democrats, the Convention stopped and booed. In a moment the gallery was swarming with New Dealers who seized the banners, bloodied the noses of "Al Smith Democrats" in a brief brawl. Police rushed the remnants of the demonstrators from the hall.

Draft Not on the official program either, but well arranged in advance was Boss Farley's adroit use of the Convention to put the screws on Governor Herbert Lehman of New York. Governor Lehman's announced intention to retire from politics would inevitably weaken the Democratic ticket in New York (TIME, June i). Democrats who before going to Philadelphia had never given a thought to Governor Lehman realized, after their arrival, that Governor Lehman and New York's 45 electoral votes might directly concern many hundreds of them who hoped to keep their jobs next January. On the floor Governor Lehman was vigorously wooed whenever he appeared and every mention of his name brought forth a flattering volley of applause. The final persuasion was applied when he made New York's speech seconding the Roosevelt Nomination. The Convention went wild when he took the platform, applauded vigorously, burst into an enthusiastic demonstration when he finished. Placards urging him to run were distributed among all delegations, paraded around the floor under his nose (see p. 11). But Herbert Lehman was not to be so easily won. Mum about his own plans throughout the Philadelphia shindig, he accompanied President Roosevelt afterward to Hyde Park, listened to his great & good friend's prayer that he run for governor a third time, pondered two days before announcing: "I feel that I can no longer resist the pleas of my Party. . . ."

Renomination, It took a whole day and most of one night to renominate Franklin Roosevelt. As in 1932 in Chicago, New York's lean, dry Judge John E. Mack, Roosevelt neighbor and onetime State Supreme Court Justice, plowed dutifully through a long, flowery speech ending up with: "I give you as your candidate for President, no longer a citizen merely of one state, but a son of all the 48 states, Franklin D. Roosevelt!" At that traditional signal all hell broke loose on the convention floor. Delegates danced and pranced, whooped and hollered, marched and capered in a mighty effort to display their enthusiasm for their leader. For a full hour the parade milled round & round the hall, giving off all the noise that lungs and instruments could make, carrying placards with which each state tried to outdo the rest in promises of victory. Sixty-one minutes after the demonstration began Senator Robinson informed the demonstrators that they had broken all endurance records, had exceeded "the estimate." Drunk with their own zeal, the delegates could not stop. Alabama's Governor Bibb Graves was turned loose before the microphones to make what was presumably a seconding speech into a sea of sound.

Planning to outdo the elephant show at Cleveland where vanquished rivals joined in seconding Nominee Landon, Showman Farley had arranged for every state to second Roosevelt's renomination. That meant 48 speeches plus nine more from non-voting areas. It meant more than eight hours of fervid oratory in praise of Franklin Roosevelt. Toward midnight Chairman Robinson requested speakers to be brief but West Virginia's Senator Neely insisted on delivering a full-length speech, to which no one listened. Governor General Frank Murphy of the Philippines did his duty in ten words: "The Philippine Islands gratefully second the nomination of Franklin D. Roosevelt." At 12:42 a.m., two minutes after the roll call of states ended, Franklin Roosevelt was nominated by acclamation, without a ballot. The delegates staggered to their feet, went wild for the last time.

Next morning, less than a quarter of the delegates had reached the hall. Nonetheless Governor Allred of Texas nominated John Nance Garner for Vice President. The convention gave a shout of approval. Pictures of Garner were dragged out for another great demonstration. It collapsed. So did the Convention. The delegates had nothing left to give.

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