recognized him. I had not seen him for 34 years, but I could see that he was the same man, a long, gangling fellow. His hair had turned gray, but it was the same man. We got in the car and drove out home and had lunch. He did not approach the subject until after lunch. Then we went out on the porch and he began to talk about my going to the convention along with him; that he had reservations. He said something about a private car attached to the Pennsylvania Limited; that we could get on at Paoli and go right out with him, and that he had a suite of rooms for me at the Palmer House and he would see that I had a chance to speak.
He said, “You have got the speech?” I said, “Yes. These fellows, Doyle and MacGuire, gave me the speech.” I said, “They wrote a hell of a good speech, too.” He said, “Did those fellows say that they wrote that speech?” I said, “Yes; they did. They told me that that was their business, writing speeches.” He laughed and said, “That speech cost a lot of money.” Clark told me that it had cost him a lot of money.
I said, “The speech has nothing to do with what I am going to Chicago for. The speech urges the convention to adopt the resolution that the United States shall return to the gold standard.” MacGuire had said, “We want to see the soldiers’ bonus paid in gold. We do not want the soldier to have rubber money or paper money. We want the gold. That is the reason for this speech.”
“Yes,” I said, “but it looks as if it were a big-business speech. There is something funny about that speech, Mr. Clark.”
The conversations were almost the same with both of them.
That was the end of that and we talked pleasantly on personal matters after that. I took him to the train about 6 o’clock and he went home.
The convention came off and the gold standard was endorsed by the convention. I read about it with a great deal of interest. There was some talk about a flood of telegrams that came in and influenced them and I was so much amused, because it happened right in my room.
Then MacGuire stopped to see me on his way back from the convention. This time he came in a hired limousine. It was not a private one this time. He came out to the house and told me that they had been successful in putting over their move.
I said, “Yes, but you did not endorse the soldiers’ bonus.”
He said, “Well, we have got to get sound currency before it is worthwhile to endorse a bonus.”
He then went away and the campaign here in New York started. They were electing municipal officers, a political campaign. A marine was running for public office over here in Brooklyn and I came over to make a speech for him.
I was met at the train by MacGuire. He seemed to know just where I was going and he said he wanted to go with me, and he did.
I think there was one other visit to the house because he (MacGuire) proposed that I go to Boston to a soldiers’ dinner to be given
I said, “I never got a thousand dollars for making a speech.”
He said, “You will get it this time.”
“Who is going to pay for this dinner and this ride up in the private car?”
“Oh, we will pay for it out of our funds.
So he said, “Well, then, we will think of something else.”
[…]
“… cannot keep this racket up much longer. He has got to do something about it. He has either got to get more money out of us or he has got to change the method of financing the Government, and we are going to see to it that he does not change that method. He will not change it.”
I said, “The idea of this great group of soldiers, then, is to sort of frighten him, is it?”
“No, no, no; not to frighten him. This is to sustain him when others assault him.”
I said, “Well, I do not know about that. How would the President explain it?”
He said: “He will not necessarily have to explain it, because we are going to help him out. Now, did it ever occur to you that the President is overworked? We might have an Assistant President somebody to take the blame; and it things do not work out, he can drop him.”
He went on to say that it did not take any constitutional change to authorize another Cabinet official, somebody to take over the details of the office—take them off the President’s shoulders. He mentioned that the position would be a secretary of general affairs—a sort of a super secretary.
The CHAIRMAN. A secretary of general affairs?
General BUTLER. That is the term used by him—or a secretary of general welfare—I cannot recall which. I came out of the interview with that name in my head. I got that idea from talking to both of them, you see. They had both talked about the same kind of relief that ought to be given the President, and he said: “You know the American people will swallow that. We have got the newspaper. We will start a campaign that the President’s health is failing. Everybody can tell that by looking at him, and the dumb American people will fall for it in a second.”
And I could see it. They had that sympathy racket, that they were going to have somebody take the patronage off of his shoulders and take all the worries and details off of his shoulders, and then he will be like the President of France. I said, “So that is where you got this idea?”
He said, “I have been traveling around—looking around. Now about this superorganization—would you be interested in heading it?”
I said, “I am interested in it, but I do not know about heading it. I am very greatly interested in it, because you know, Jerry, my interest is, my one hobby is, maintaining a democracy. If you get these 500,000 soldiers advocating anything smelling of Fascism, I am going to get 500,000 more and lick the hell out of you, and we will have a real war right at home. You know that.”
“Oh, no. We do not want that. We want to ease up on the President.”
He is going to ease up on him.