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It was an historical spot at which the Democratic National Convention assembled. In the middle of Manhattan's Madison Square Garden, in the pit where the delegates sat, only a few days before ardent swimmers had been splashing. The roof, that had often resounded with cheering of prizefight fans and from which circus acrobats had dangled in airy peril, was decked with the colors of the nation. The Convention restaurant, every year, had exhibited the freaks of the circus. The theatre in the building, which ordinarily was the seat of indescribable plays set forth in indescribable Yiddish, had been converted into a "Convention Club," as advertising by a large department store.
Into the great circus hall at midday— sweltering June midday — poured the delegates. They sweltered and chattered and shouted while the band made merry. The performers began to come; George E. Brennan, boss of Illinois; Thomas Taggart, boss of Indiana; a host of McAdoo leaders — Love of Texas, Long of Missouri, Herring of Iowa; Senator Copeland of New York, came in and went around shaking hands with every delegation.
Promptly 45 minutes late, Cordell Hull, Chairman of the National Committee, called the meeting to order and introduced His Eminence Patrick Cardinal Hayes, who publicly ejaculated:
"O Almighty and Loving Father, in whom we live, move and have our being. . . ."
The band struck up The Star Spangled Banner. Small flags rained down from the ceiling. Anna Case, famed singer, repeated the words of the anthem. Then everybody twisted his head around and looked backward while the official photograph was taken.
The call of the Convention was read. Mr. Hull announced the temporary officers—Senator Pat Harrison, Chairman, etc.
Former Senator Hitchcock of Nebraska, Miss Ruutz-Rees (Headmistress of an exclusive Seminary-for-young-ladies in Connecticut) and Newton D. Baker led the Mississippian to the Chair amid cheers.
Keynote. "Chairman Hull, ladies and gentlemen. Forty-eight years ago, in the City of St. Louis, the hosts of Democracy met in convention to dedicate themselves to purging corruption from the public service. We meet today for a rededication to the same service. There was corruption then, there is a saturnalia of corruption now. There were disgraced public officials then, repudiated by their party and under arrest; but today Fall goes unmolested on his ranch in New Mexico, Daugherty sat with Presidential approval in the Convention at Cleveland, and Daugherty's attorney was Chairman of the committee created to oil the steam roller of the worst boss-ridden convention of a generation. . . .
"At the outset let it be understood that this Convention, composed of the militant representatives of the Democracy of the nation, is no cold-storage affair. It is going to be red-hot, highly seasoned, and well prepared. . . .
"The Democratic Party is the friend of business, big and small. . . .
"In the guarded orchards of this Administration the golden apples of special privilege have been gathered by the favored few. . . .
"The American people will know that they are dealing with a system; that even though Hanna, Quay and Penrose are dead, their spirits go marching on in the personages of the Three Musketeers of present-day Republicanism— Butler, Stearns and Slemp. These bosses are 'doing business in the same old way, according to