(5 of 7)
The other nominating speeches, the other demonstrations, the other seconding calls lasted far into the morning—until 4:03 a.m. Back at his hotel, Tom Dewey had long since gone to bed.
First Ballot. He was up early for his big day, ate some bacon & eggs and began seeing the people who were already streaming up to the eighth floor. Charlie Halleck dropped by to see Herb Brownell. News came that Senator Leverett Saltonstall was releasing the Massachusetts votes which he controlled.
The report was being spread that Michigan was about to break up and desert Vandenberg. The story, under an eight-column headline in the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, confronted delegates hurrying out to Convention Hall. Walter Hallanan, national committeeman from West Virginia and a staunch Taft man, announced that he would vote for Dewey instead.
Dewey had a chicken sandwich and a glass of milk and sat down again before the television set. Across the land, listening at radios, people sat with their score cards, waiting to play the game of Presidential Bingo.
There was a short delay. An angry Sigler, in shirtsleeves and plastic suspenders, got up to deny the truth of the Michigan rumor. Michigan had not deserted Vandenberg, he said. The voting began. The score on the first ballot: Dewey, 434; Taft, 224; Stassen, 157; Vandenberg, 62; Warren, 59. Dewey had not made it. Bingo was 548.
Second Ballot. The second ballot began. This was when favorite sons would drop out and the real business of voting would begin. Taft got 50 of the 56 Illinois votes which had gone to Favorite Son Green. Dewey got 24 of the 35 New Jersey votes which had gone to Driscoll. Most of Dewey's gain was in dribs & drabs—a vote here, a vote there, demonstrating the value of the Dewey camp's attention to details.
Before the count was announced by the chair the convention knew full well what had happened. Dewey had 515 votes, 33 short of the nomination. But the coalitionists, desperate as they were, would not give in yet. They had agreed to ask for a recess after the second ballot. But now, while the official count was being tallied, there was confusion on the floor. Restless delegates from the coalition states saw the Dewey bandwagon rolling right past their door. Should they switch now?
The blitz continued to work right on the floor. It manifested itself in a hundred hurried, private conferences—New Jersey's Driscoll arguing with Delegate Horace Tantum, Charlie Halleck bending an ear to Kansas Chairman Harry Darby, Ed Jaeckle giving friendly advice to Connecticut's Governor James C. Shannon (see cuts).
Ordeal of Mr. Sigler. The Michigan delegation sat in indecision and suspense, looking to Sigler and National Committeeman Arthur Summerfield for advice. They began waving their hands at Sigler, who stood like a man transfixed. He had only minutes to make up his mind. Connecticut was ready to break for Dewey. Where the hell was Baldwin, so Sigler could talk to him? Trapped in a pack of sweating pages, newsmen, photographers and delegates crowding the aisles, Sigler could not move. James Powers, a Michigan delegate and Detroit auto dealer, grabbed Sigler's arm and shouted: "Go on, go on, don't be a fool."