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Taft and Duff agreed that something had to be done. They decided to call in Harold Stassen and meet again the following night at Hamilton's other apartment at 2031 Locust Street. That night Stassen and Taft—old political enemies—confronted each other and sat down as allies. With Duff they reviewed the whole situation. In anguish they reported to each other that the Dewey camp was spreading stories so fast that by the time one was checked another had cropped up. Delegates were being stampeded. They compared notes. Taft's and Stassen's figures on the estimated strength of each were amazingly similar. Taft and Stassen, companions in distress, began to warm toward each other. But there was no talk of agreeing on a coalition candidate. They were merely appraising their positions. They decided to meet again.
Rooted in Concrete. Next morning, they did, and agreed to expand the coalition. At a meeting the next afternoon (again at 2031 Locust), Duff, Taft and Stassen sat down with Connecticut's national committeeman, Harold Mitchell (representing favorite son Ray Baldwin), and Kim Sigler, governor of Michigan, leader of the Vandenberg forces. California's Earl Warren was represented by a close friend, Preston Hotchkiss. They figured that the coalition could count on 630 votes—more than enough to stop Dewey.
When the meeting broke up, Taft rushed to a press conference at the Benjamin Franklin hotel. His stride was determined ; his face bore a look of hope. In confident tones he said: "The Dewey blitz has been stopped."
But it should have been obvious by now that the only way they could stop the Dewey stampede was with another candidate. Who? Taft was willing to compromise—on Taft. Vandenberg's Sigler was willing to compromise—on Vandenberg. Stassen wanted—Stassen. Earlier, Stassen had been willing to throw his strength to Vandenberg. But now the coalition strategy was for each man to stand firm. Each maintained that he could never hold certain states pledged to him if he threw his support to some other man. What about Warren? Said Duff, who was living in a suite at the Hotel Warwick across from Warren: "The governor of California seems to be rooted in concrete."
"The Greatest Honor." This was the state of things that night as Tom Dewey watched his television set, as the perspiring delegates streamed out to Convention Hall to hear the candidates placed in nomination. Just before the session opened, Pennsylvania caucused. The vote: Dewey, 41; Taft, 27; Vandenberg, 1; Stassen, 1; three not voting. Jim Duff, now backing Taft, had lost some of his strength.
Some time after 9 o'clock, Ed Martin, in white suit and white shoes, rose in the great hall. He was drowned out by boos, some of which came from Pennsylvania's split delegation. But he went doggedly on to his conclusion: "It is the greatest honor of my life to present to this convention . . . Thomas Edmund Dewey."
New York's delegation started the symbolic march along the aisles, blowing tin whistles. It took a long time working up steam, but it was not until 32 minutes later that Joe Martin, barking like the neighbor's old dog to whom no one ever pays any attention, restored order. The seconding speeches began.