Read Online BOSS TWEED: The Corrupt Pol who Conceived the Soul of Modern New York by Kenneth D. Ackerman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kenneth D. Ackerman
Tags: History
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reserved for a great cause—a reform, a burning party issue or a sacred principle. To him love was merely sexual foolishness.” 21
Things had started well for Sam Tilden in 1868; friends had urged him to seek the New York governorship that year as a steppingstone for the future, perhaps even a run at the White House some day. 22 But then things had turned badly. Tilden found himself drawn into the woes of another person, one of his closest and oldest political friends, Horatio Seymour.
Lightning had struck in July 1868. A deadlocked Democratic convention in New York City had stampeded to Seymour on the 22nd ballot and made him its candidate for president. Seymour, who was chairing the convention at the time, had declined the honor at first; he enjoyed his life as retired elder statesman, practicing law in Utica and attending Democratic functions as a popular speaker. 23 In the excitement, he’d turned instantly to his long-time confidante Sam Tilden. By one account, Seymour ran out from the hall to a nearby lobby and found his friend: “My God Tilden, what shall I do?” he’d asked in a panic, to which Tilden had replied coolly: “Your party has called you, and you will accept.” 24
This reliance by Seymour on Tilden reflected a long bond. Both came from rural upstate towns and shared a background in pre-war New York politics. As wartime governor, Horatio Seymour had often turned to Tilden for advice: “Now that you and others have got me into [a] scrape, I wish you would tell me what to do,” he’d written Tilden in 1862. 25 Tilden had been notably absent during the July 1863 draft riots. He later claimed to be sick in bed at the time, but afterwards he rose to face what he described as “many demands for attention and counsel amid ten days of excitement and bustle,” 26 including traveling to Washington, D.C., as Seymour’s agent to try and convince President Lincoln to stop the draft. 27 Now in 1868, saddled with the nomination, Horatio Seymour turned again to his friend to manage the campaign, which became a disaster from the beginning.
Starting soon after the convention, enemies had dragged out Seymour’s wartime Copperhead record and painted him as a weak-willed traitor and possibly insane. Then, after suffering weeks of attacks, Democrats lost contests in all four “October states” F OOTNOTE —key indicators that the ticket was headed toward electoral doom. Party leaders who had forced the presidential nomination down Seymour’s throat in July now panicked. Manton Marble, publisher of the New York World and one of Tilden’s Manhattan Club cronies, led a chorus of demands: either drop Seymour’s running mate, former Union General Frank Blair, from the ticket or drop Seymour himself. Telegrams flooded Tilden’s New York office from across the country: “Call your committee together, withdraw Seymour & nominate [President Andrew] Johnson or [Supreme Court Justice Salmon P.] Chase. Act and win,” wired one frustrated backer from Washington, D.C.; “Patriotism clearly commands withdrawal of Seymour and nomination of Chase,” insisted another. F OOTNOTE 8
Facing collapse of the national campaign, Tilden had rushed to Utica and found Seymour himself willing to step aside. However, both agreed that such a last-minute shuffle would sink the party in local contests coast to coast. They decided to hold firm. “No authority or possibility to change front. All friends consider it totally impracticable, and equivalent to disbanding our forces,” Tilden announced in a public letter cosigned with party leaders August Belmont and Augustus Schell. “We in New York are not panic-stricken.” 29 Privately, Tilden knew the presidency was lost, and with it had gone his own chances for higher office for the foreseeable future.
After Election Day, he faced another indignity—bickering over money. Tilden had sunk $10,000 of his own cash into Seymour’s 1868 defeat—an amount big enough to dent even his
Things had started well for Sam Tilden in 1868; friends had urged him to seek the New York governorship that year as a steppingstone for the future, perhaps even a run at the White House some day. 22 But then things had turned badly. Tilden found himself drawn into the woes of another person, one of his closest and oldest political friends, Horatio Seymour.
Lightning had struck in July 1868. A deadlocked Democratic convention in New York City had stampeded to Seymour on the 22nd ballot and made him its candidate for president. Seymour, who was chairing the convention at the time, had declined the honor at first; he enjoyed his life as retired elder statesman, practicing law in Utica and attending Democratic functions as a popular speaker. 23 In the excitement, he’d turned instantly to his long-time confidante Sam Tilden. By one account, Seymour ran out from the hall to a nearby lobby and found his friend: “My God Tilden, what shall I do?” he’d asked in a panic, to which Tilden had replied coolly: “Your party has called you, and you will accept.” 24
This reliance by Seymour on Tilden reflected a long bond. Both came from rural upstate towns and shared a background in pre-war New York politics. As wartime governor, Horatio Seymour had often turned to Tilden for advice: “Now that you and others have got me into [a] scrape, I wish you would tell me what to do,” he’d written Tilden in 1862. 25 Tilden had been notably absent during the July 1863 draft riots. He later claimed to be sick in bed at the time, but afterwards he rose to face what he described as “many demands for attention and counsel amid ten days of excitement and bustle,” 26 including traveling to Washington, D.C., as Seymour’s agent to try and convince President Lincoln to stop the draft. 27 Now in 1868, saddled with the nomination, Horatio Seymour turned again to his friend to manage the campaign, which became a disaster from the beginning.
Starting soon after the convention, enemies had dragged out Seymour’s wartime Copperhead record and painted him as a weak-willed traitor and possibly insane. Then, after suffering weeks of attacks, Democrats lost contests in all four “October states” F OOTNOTE —key indicators that the ticket was headed toward electoral doom. Party leaders who had forced the presidential nomination down Seymour’s throat in July now panicked. Manton Marble, publisher of the New York World and one of Tilden’s Manhattan Club cronies, led a chorus of demands: either drop Seymour’s running mate, former Union General Frank Blair, from the ticket or drop Seymour himself. Telegrams flooded Tilden’s New York office from across the country: “Call your committee together, withdraw Seymour & nominate [President Andrew] Johnson or [Supreme Court Justice Salmon P.] Chase. Act and win,” wired one frustrated backer from Washington, D.C.; “Patriotism clearly commands withdrawal of Seymour and nomination of Chase,” insisted another. F OOTNOTE 8
Facing collapse of the national campaign, Tilden had rushed to Utica and found Seymour himself willing to step aside. However, both agreed that such a last-minute shuffle would sink the party in local contests coast to coast. They decided to hold firm. “No authority or possibility to change front. All friends consider it totally impracticable, and equivalent to disbanding our forces,” Tilden announced in a public letter cosigned with party leaders August Belmont and Augustus Schell. “We in New York are not panic-stricken.” 29 Privately, Tilden knew the presidency was lost, and with it had gone his own chances for higher office for the foreseeable future.
After Election Day, he faced another indignity—bickering over money. Tilden had sunk $10,000 of his own cash into Seymour’s 1868 defeat—an amount big enough to dent even his
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