THE COWBOY PRESIDENT

by Michael F. Blake

  Theodore’s train arrived in Frederick, Oklahoma Territory, on April 5, 1905, to an appreciative crowd. He appealed to the audience not to follow him on his adventure. “Give me a fair deal to have as much fun as even a President is entitled to,” he requested.54 Abernathy had chosen Deep Red Creek, fifteen miles from Frederick, for the campsite, which boasted fifteen tents. After dinner, a large fire was built outside the tents where Theodore told others of his days in the Dakota Territory, where he’d “gained a lasting respect for western life. I was amazed at the President’s knowledge of wild animals, snakes, and even the smallest of reptiles and insects,” Abernathy recalled.55

  Watching Abernathy catch a wolf for the first time, Theodore was like a child at Christmas, uttering “Bully!” numerous times. When he asked the Texan how he got his hand behind the wolf ’s teeth, Abernathy replied, “By practice, Mr. President.”56 Theodore was astonished by the actions of Abernathy in countless chases and catches. Recalling one of Abernathy’s catches, Theodore commented, “I was not twenty yards distant at the time, and as I leaped off the horse he was sitting placidly on the live wolf, his hand between its jaws . . . It was as remarkable a feat of the kind as I have ever seen.”57

  While Theodore did not attempt to catch a wolf himself, the closest he came to danger was when a six-foot rattlesnake lunged at him four times. He killed it by thrashing it with his eighteen-inch quirt.58

  During his stay, Theodore met with Quanah Parker, the famous Comanche chief, about his plans to repopulate the Wichita Mountains with buffalo. Quanah had long held the dream that the buffalo would come back to the Plains. The two men enjoyed a close friendship, riding around the land, sharing stories. Both shared a love of the buffalo, which they had hunted earlier in life. Now they would see them reborn.

  In Colorado Springs, Colorado, Theodore once again asked his well-wishers to give him some privacy as he started another bear hunt. “You cannot combine bear hunting with a brass band,” he noted.59 While Theodore did manage to shoot some bears on his trip in the Rockies, he also gained a new friend. “There was also a funny little black and tan [dog], named Skip, a most friendly little fellow. . . . Skip adopted me as his special master, rode with me whenever I would let him, and slept on the foot of my bed at night, growling defiance at anything that came near. I grew attached to the friendly, bright little fellow.”60 Like Josiah the badger from his previous trip, Skip went home to join the Roosevelt menagerie and became a favorite with Archie.

  In addition to their buffalo project at the Bronx Zoo, Theodore, William Hornaday, and Charles “Buffalo” Jones founded the American Bison Society (ABS) in December 1905.61 The society’s mandate was to increase the numbers of buffalo and return them eventually to the Great Plains and northern Rocky Mountain regions. Fifteen buffalo left the Bronx Zoo on October 18, 1907, traveling in individual padded compartment cars to their destination of Cache, Oklahoma. Waiting for them was Quanah Parker. His steely eyes watched as the buffalo were offloaded from the train onto wagons bound for the Wichita Mountains, where they were released. (The Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge now boasts a herd of 650 buffalo.)

  On May 23, 1908, Theodore signed into law legislation creating the National Bison Range, with the specific intention of maintaining a buffalo refuge.62 For the first time in American history, the US Congress purchased over 18,000 acres for the sole purpose of providing shelter for wildlife. The original herd was donated by the ABS, with additional buffalo coming from the legendary Texas rancher, Charlie Goodnight.

  The American buffalo had begun its comeback.63

  The 1906 Act for the Preservation of American Antiques gave Theodore the freedom to set aside historic landmarks, historic and prehistoric structures, and other objects of historic or scientific interest under the title “National Monument.” The law gave the president nearly unfettered discretion in choosing what to protect, as well as determining the size of these locations. It was just the type of decree Theodore needed when Congress was too slow to act. Between 1906 and 1909, Theodore created eighteen national monuments, including the Grand Canyon, Devils Tower in Wyoming, Petrified Park in Arizona, Jewel Cave in South Dakota, Natural Bridges in Utah, and Mount Olympus in Washington. (The Grand Canyon was granted national park status in 1919, seven and a half weeks after Theodore’s death.)

  By the end of Theodore’s time in office, he had done more for the land and wildlife than any other US president, past or present. In addition to national monuments, Theodore established six national parks and fifty-one federal bird reserves, and created or expanded 150 national forests.

  It is estimated that Theodore preserved 230 million acres during his presidency, equaling half of the land size of Thomas Jefferson’s Louisiana Purchase in 1803.

  Like a cowboy, Theodore’s word was his bond. Despite the emotional pains, he honored his promise not to seek a third term. Friends and supporters urged him to reconsider, and even the majority of the public wanted him to run again. (Historians believe that had Theodore run for a third term, he would have easily won.) Tempting as it was, he wouldn’t go back on his word.

  He convinced his friend, Secretary of War William Howard Taft, to take up where he had left off, carrying on his ideals and policies. Taft was an agreeable sort who honestly had no real desire to be president. His personal desire was to serve as Supreme Court chief justice.64 Between Theodore’s cajoling, and the prodding of Taft’s ambitious wife, he agreed to run, and easily won the presidency.

  Snow blanketed Washington on March 4, 1909. Actually, it was a blizzard. It made the carriage carrying Theodore and Taft from the White House to the Capitol move ever so slowly. People cheered Theodore, and he responded; despite the blowing snow, he lowered his carriage window to wave to the crowd. Because of the weather, the swearing-in ceremony at the Capitol took place inside the Senate chamber.

  Once Taft took the oath of office, Theodore shook the new president’s hand and wished him well. After a few minutes of people expressing their feelings to Theodore, he left the chamber to return to his waiting carriage. Outside the Capitol, the crowd would not let their beloved former president go quietly. Among cheers and well wishes, Theodore made his way to the carriage that took him to the train station where Edith and Quentin were waiting. As his carriage left the Capitol, a band began to play “Auld Lang Syne,” leaving many a face tear-streaked.

  The presidency of Theodore Roosevelt had come to an end.

  The Old Lion’s Autumn

  Every feat of heroism makes us forever indebted to the man who p erformed it.

  “AMERICA EXPECTS EVERY LION TO DO HIS DUTY,” J. P. MORGAN STATED as Theodore headed to Africa, three weeks after leaving office.1

  While Theodore kept up the appearance of his usual “bully” attitude, leaving the presidency left him depressed. For a man used to action and jumping into the fray (and usually, emerging victorious), the sedate life of a former leader all but made him doleful. (He was only fifty when he left the White House.) In typical fashion, when losing something he greatly cared about, Theodore fled into the wilderness. This time, however, he would not go west. He would not return to Medora, Yellowstone, or the Rocky Mountains. On this occasion, he chose the most remote wilderness possible.

  Africa.

  What began as a private hunting trip soon became a massive trek, thanks to the sponsorship of the Smithsonian Institution and Andrew Carnegie. The Smithsonian, wanting to enlarge its collection of wildlife specimens, asked Theodore to bring back as many big-game carcasses as he could shoot, as well as collect as much flora as possible.2 He would be accompanied by his son, Kermit, on the yearlong expedition that would start in Mombasa (coastal town in Kenya). The three-hundred-man expedition would make its way to the Belgian Congo (now the Republic of the Congo) and on to the Nile River, before concluding in Khartoum. On the vast African plains a huge tent city rose, with the Stars and Stripes prominently displayed near Theodore’s tent, which included a rubber bathtub and sixty books.

>   The interior of Africa in 1909 was as far from civilization as one could get. The remoteness delayed news of the world, especially from Washington, from reaching Theodore and his party in a timely manner. When letters and newspapers finally did arrive, they detailed a dismal picture of Taft as an executive. Privately, as frustrating as it was for him, there was little Theodore could do. He told a reporter traveling with the caravan that he was “only focusing” on the current expedition. Between hunting trips, Theodore was busy taking notes and writing a series of articles for Scribner’s Magazine.3

  By February 1910, as the safari was winding down, the various flora and fauna were packed and sent back to the United States. Theodore felt the pangs of homesickness. “I am homesick for my own land and my own people! Of course it is Mrs. Roosevelt I most want to see; but I want to see my two youngest boys; I want to see my own house, my own books and trees, the sunset over the Sound from the window in the north room,” he confessed to Andrew Carnegie in a letter.4

  In another letter to his friend Seth Bullock, Theodore noted how well Kermit had done on the trip, as well as showing his fatherly concern.

  He is not quite as careful as he should be, and keeps my heart in my mouth, but he is a good boy, and although he does not shoot very well, he rides hard, fears no risk, cares nothing for fatigue, and is as keen as mustard. The day before yesterday he killed a charging Leopard in fine style, which had already mauled one of our men.5

  Theodore’s homesickness was eased when their ship arrived in Khartoum on March 14, 1910, as he and Kermit were reunited with Edith and Ethel. The Roosevelts then traveled on to Alexandria and viewed the Great Pyramids. Crossing the Mediterranean Sea, they visited Naples and Rome. Everywhere Theodore went, he was followed by reporters anxious for his opinion about the Taft administration, but Theodore refused to be drawn into a public debate. Privately, the letters continued to paint a grim picture of Taft ignoring, or curtailing, the progressive agenda Theodore had established. Taft was friendlier than Theodore had been to the pro-business side of the Republican Party, often playing golf with many industry executives. Before he’d left office, Theodore had warned Taft to limit his golfing, as it was perceived as a “rich man’s sport,” and would give the wrong impression to the public.

  The Roosevelts’ trip across the European continent was nonstop, with almost every nation and monarch wanting at least a day with the former president. For the next three months, they visited several cities, including Paris (where Theodore gave his famous “Man in the Arena” speech at the Sorbonne), Vienna, Copenhagen, Stockholm, Berlin, and London.

  In Norway, on May 5, he belatedly accepted his Nobel Peace Prize for his 1904 mediation in ending the Russo-Japanese War. “Peace is generally good in itself,” he stated, “but it is never the highest good unless it comes as the handmaid of righteousness.”6 When he was awarded the Nobel Prize, he kept the medal, but he gave the $40,000 to a foundation for industrial peace. Addressing the Nobel Prize committee, Theodore stated that in most situations, the recipient should keep the money. “In this case,” he noted, “while I did not act officially as President of the United States, it was nevertheless only because I was President that I was enabled to act at all; and I felt that the money must be considered as having been given me in trust for the United States. I therefore used it as a nucleus for a foundation to forward the cause of industrial peace, as being well within the general purpose of your committee.”7

  With the death of England’s King Edward VII, Theodore accepted President Taft’s request to represent the United States at the funeral. Every head of Europe attended the funeral, but Theodore had had enough of royalty. He needed to be with his own kind of people. From Nairobi, he sent a letter to Seth Bullock, inviting his friend and his wife to come visit him. “There are few things I should like quite so much as meeting you in London, when I get back from this trip. We shall have a great time together. . . . Do try to come over, Seth.”8

  Bullock sensed that Theodore had sent for him to “help him laugh.” His friend did not let him down. One day, as the two were walking along the Thames River, Bullock strolled up to a pompous-looking Englishman. Pointing to the Thames, Bullock asked “What’s the name of this creek?” It gave Theodore a chuckle that lasted all day. When a reporter asked Bullock how long he had known the former president, he replied, “From the tail of a chuck wagon to the Court of St. James.”9

  It was a true hero’s welcome when Theodore’s ship arrived in New York Harbor on June 18, 1910, escorted by a battleship, five destroyers, and a plethora of smaller vessels. Crowds cheered and waved flags at their beloved Theodore’s return. When he and his company moved to a smaller boat, there was a reunion of the entire family, including Bamie and Corinne, as well as his distant cousin, Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Coming ashore at Battery Park, the loud cheers from the crowd moved him to tears, which he quickly covered up by cleaning his glasses. After giving a brief speech, there was a five-mile ticker-tape parade, escorted by many uniformed Rough Riders. Theodore, standing in the mayor’s carriage, acknowledged the adoring crowd.10

  Settling in at home at Sagamore Hill, Theodore told a reporter that he looked forward to some privacy. He also kept his silence relating to President Taft’s administration. He was deeply disappointed in Taft dismissing Gifford Pinchot as chief forester, scaling back many conservation programs, and simply ignoring others. He was invited by Taft to the White House, but the former chief executive was less than responsive. “I don’t think it well for an ex-President to go to the White House, or indeed go to Washington, except when he cannot help it,” he wrote to Taft.11

  Theodore was reluctant to publicly criticize Taft, wishing to give him the benefit of the doubt as he started out in office. Yet more and more disgruntled progressive members of the Republican Party kept complaining to Theodore, some even suggesting that he should run for the presidency again. Brushing off the hints, Theodore met briefly with Taft near Boston. It was obvious the old friendship had dimmed.

  It was soon to get darker.

  The drumbeats for Theodore to run against Taft began quietly as 1911 started. By the end of the year, those drumbeats were louder, and a strong movement to nominate Theodore had formed. Privately, Theodore became more and more critical of the president and his actions, yet he was conflicted about running against Taft. It was more than exasperating for him to sit idly by and watch the advances he had made be dismantled or weakened. The lion paced his cage, his roars growing louder with his dissatisfaction.

  Theodore sought the opinions of political friends about launching a 1912 campaign. Edith was completely against it. His old friend and closest confidant, Henry Cabot Lodge, urged him to wait until 1916. Lodge told Theodore that if he ran against Taft in 1912, it would split the party in two and allow a Democratic victory. A group drafted a petition to nominate Theodore as the Republican candidate, which he privately indicated he’d accept. Edith, tired of the nonstop visits by politicians to Sagamore Hill, left with Ethel for a trip to Panama and Costa Rica. She knew Theodore’s mind was already made up and whenever he made his announcement, Edith wanted to be far from the circus.

  At the end of February 1912, Theodore stated, “My hat is in the ring. The fight is on and I am stripped to the buff.”12 Theodore wasted no time in criticizing Taft, his actions, or his inertia. Taft fought back, publicly calling Theodore a dangerous egotist. Privately, Taft was deeply hurt by Theodore’s attacks. He could not understand how his best friend could turn on him so viciously. Others questioned why Theodore had chosen to run. Did he truly believe he was fighting the fight for the people, or was his ego running unchecked? The disparity between rich and poor had greatly increased since Theodore had left office, and he knew such a wide gulf could lead to revolt and anarchy. By taking up the cause, he was prepared to risk everything he had accomplished for the good of the people. He would see that the regular people had a voice, a man who would fight for them. Some historians have likened his 1912 political campai
gn to a quixotic experience.

  In 1912, not all states held primaries, but of those that did, Theodore won all but two, even taking Taft’s home state of Ohio. In order for Theodore to secure the nomination, his delegates had to carry the convention, something the old guard of the Republican Party would fight to the bitter end. As the Republican convention opened in Chicago, 250 delegates were up for grabs. Theodore needed only 70 to secure the nomination, but the credentials of delegates were determined by a committee that favored Taft, who easily won the nomination.13 Theodore’s supporters claimed that the nomination had been stolen, and quickly bolted from the party. They formed a third-party ticket, with Theodore as their candidate.

  They called themselves the Progressive Party, but it was commonly referred to as the Bull Moose Party after Theodore stated he was as “strong as a bull moose.” His old friends from Medora, Joe and Sylvane Ferris, Bill Merrifield, and George Myers served as delegates at the first Progressive Party convention held in August in Chicago. Dr. V. H. Stickney, who had treated Theodore’s near-frostbitten feet after the capture of the boat thieves, worked as a county chairman for the party. Bat Masterson, Ben Daniels, and Seth Bullock joined the party. The Progressive Party’s platform supported women’s rights, abolishing child labor, providing a minimum wage for workers, and establishing workers’ compensation. Its goals were lofty, which scared conservative Republicans. The Bull Moose Party believed many progressive Democrats would join them to elect Theodore, but that hope was dashed when Woodrow Wilson, a liberal progressive, won the Democratic nomination. At that point, Theodore knew it was, at best, an uphill battle for the White House.

  October 14, 1912, found Theodore on the campaign trail in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Before heading to an auditorium to deliver a speech, he stood up in his seven-seat vehicle to wave at the crowd, which included a man named John Schrank. Standing next to the car, Schrank raised his hand that held a pistol and fired. The bullet hit Theodore in the right breast, causing him to fall back into the seat without uttering a word. Police and Secret Service agents quickly pounced on the young man. Getting up from his car seat, Theodore asked to see him. Looking at Schrank’s face, he saw nothing but the dead eyes of an insane person. He told those around him to turn the man over to the police.14 Aides believed Theodore was unhurt, but still examined his overcoat for any bullet hole. Looking at his shirt, Theodore found blood. Refusing to be taken to the hospital, he ordered his driver to take him to the auditorium. The audience was told of the attempt on Theodore’s life, and many believed it to be a prank until Theodore came onstage and displayed his bloody shirt. Bellowing “It will take more than that to kill a bull moose,” he asked the audience to remain quiet while he gave his speech. He spoke for ninety minutes before going to the hospital.