Reporters questioned how any pressing matters arising in his absence would be handled. “Oh, things will be all right,” he emphatically responded. “I have left Taft sitting on the lid.” The vivid phrase instantly inspired cartoons and commentary. One widely reprinted caricature depicted Taft wielding a big stick while seated on the lid of a boiling cauldron. Even his impressive bulk appears scarcely able to stem the “grave and exacting problems of the highest interest”—Panama, Santo Domingo, Venezuela, and Morocco—threatening to burst forth. In another cartoon, an outsized Taft spans three chairs. He is firmly planted on the widest, the “Chair of the President,” but his legs extend on either side, occupying both the “Chair of the Sec’y of State” and the “Chair of the Sec’y of War.”
In the absence of both President Roosevelt and Secretary of State John Hay, who was on a long cruise attempting to recover his health, official Washington considered Taft “acting President” and “the real head of all executive departments.” Little mention was made in the press of the sitting vice president, Charles A. Fairbanks, as the press focused all attention on Taft. Reporters noted “the unusual sight” of “foreign diplomats going to the War Department instead of to the State Department to conduct business.” Such a proliferation of responsibilities might well have intimidated a weaker man, an Ohio paper commented, but “William Howard Taft is a very large man, mentally and physically.”
Panama soon emerged as the most pressing of the trouble spots threatening to boil over. Taft had been 8,000 miles away in November 1903 when Roosevelt sent U.S. ships to support a Panamanian uprising against Colombia. Recognition was swiftly granted to the newly formed Republic of Panama, and a treaty was negotiated that guaranteed Panamanian independence. In return, the United States was allowed to purchase land to build a canal. “I took the Canal Zone,” Roosevelt later boasted.
When word first arrived at the McClure’s office “that Roosevelt had snitched Panama,” Viola Roseboro remembered, “there were gasps,” accompanied by “amusement and excitement.” Ida Tarbell, however, “was very grave.” Tarbell considered the president’s seizure of the Canal Zone “a dishonorable outrage,” according to Roseboro. Ida “got a line on Teddy that she never lost sight of.” While she considered him “a delight and a wonderful person and of great value to the country,” Tarbell could not overlook the despotic side of Roosevelt’s leadership. “You cannot conceive of Lincoln’s trifling with his conscience,” she had admonished, “even for the sake of an international canal.”
Taft had also been absent during the fierce senatorial debate surrounding the treaty that granted the United States permanent rights to a ten-mile strip in exchange for $10 million and a significant annual payment. Assuming responsibility for overseeing the Panama Commission shortly after his return, Taft proved a quick study. “He had an enormous capacity for mastering official detail,” one historian observed, “content that the overall direction came from his superior.” Under Taft’s command, the commission was authorized to establish official guidelines for the Canal Zone; make all engineering, construction, and sanitary contracts; acquire private lands; tabulate all monies spent; and institute a civil service system. This complex supervisory job was “really enough to occupy the whole time of any average executive,” Taft’s biographer maintains, yet it was just one among the many tasks that fell to Secretary Taft during these “crowded years.”
As construction of the Canal got under way in the fall of 1904, a wave of popular discontent swept through Panama. Panamanians began to suspect that the United States intended to establish “an independent colony” within their country, compromising their own sovereignty and economic well-being. A small band of soldiers threatened to seize power. Endeavoring to defuse tensions, Roosevelt dispatched Taft to the isthmus.
Conscious of the need to project goodwill and friendship, Taft asked Nellie to accompany him. Their arrival in Colón, Nellie recalled, felt like coming home. “The whole atmosphere and surroundings, the people, the language they spoke, the houses and streets, the rank earth odours and the very feel of the air reminded me so strongly of the Philippines as to give me immediately a delightful sense of friendly familiarity with everything and everybody,” she later wrote. They remained in Panama for two weeks. During the day, Taft held private conferences with Panamanian officials; in the evenings, he and Nellie socialized at receptions, dinners, and balls. As in the Philippines, Taft charmed the local citizens with his surprising skill on the dance floor. Finally, an agreement was forged that encompassed a range of political and economic issues. Panamanian citizens greeted the published text with delight. As small boys hawking newspapers shouted “Extras” from every street corner, Nellie recalled, “excited groups stood about here and there wreathed in smiles and talking with great animation. Everybody seemed wholly satisfied and wherever we went we were met with cheers and cries of ‘Viva!’ ”
A number of problems regarding the construction of the Canal required attention before Roosevelt returned from his hunting trip. A serious dispute had arisen between John Wallace, the chief engineer, and William Gorgas, the chief sanitary officer. Wallace remained highly skeptical of his colleague’s work to contain the spread of mosquitoes on the theory that the insect transmitted yellow fever. Castigating Gorgas’s ideas as merely “experimental,” Wallace failed to carry out safety protocols that recommended mosquito-proof screens in all government offices. When a virulent outbreak of yellow fever sent a majority of American workers retreating back to the States, Gorgas demanded greater independent authority from both Wallace and the commission. “Here again I must trust your judgment,” Roosevelt wrote to Taft from Glenwood Springs, Colorado. Taft wisely threw his support to Gorgas and eventually called for Wallace to resign.
With equal insight and acumen, Taft resolved conflicts in Santo Domingo that threatened U.S. interests in Morocco and Venezuela. “You are handling everything just right,” Roosevelt praised him on April 8. Two weeks later, Roosevelt again assured Taft he was “keeping the lid on in great shape!” Each letter expressed unconditional confidence and support: “You are on the ground,” he reiterated, “you see the needs of the situation, and I shall back up whatever you do.” Invariably, Roosevelt’s letters reflect profound respect and gratitude for his friend’s service. “I wish you knew Taft, whom I have had acting as Secretary of State as well as Secretary of War in Hay’s absence,” he told George Trevelyan. “To strength and courage, clear insight, and practical common sense, he adds a very noble and disinterested character. I know you would like him. He helps me in every way more than I can say.” And to John Hay, Roosevelt confided: “Taft, by the way, is doing excellently, as I knew he would, and is the greatest comfort to me.”
ROOSEVELT FINALLY RETURNED TO WASHINGTON on May 12; six weeks later, Taft left for a journey of his own—a three-month cruise to the Philippines and the Far East. Recalling his pledge that the Filipino people would always remain first in his heart, Taft had been troubled by reports from Dr. Pardo de Tavera, one of the three Filipino members of the Philippine Commission. When Taft had departed two years earlier, Tavera wrote, “everything was in good order and every Filipino was confident in the future,” but the commission had since lost its “Pole star”—the policy of working together with the Filipino people to shape their destiny. Under Luke Wright, Taft’s successor, “discontent [was] general, resentment profound and well-founded.” Tavera implored Taft to return to the islands for a visit. The Filipino people regarded the former governor general as “the only man who can and will reestablish justice and liberty here.”
Convinced that he must return to assess the situation in person, Taft assembled a party of eighty people to accompany him, including seven senators, twenty-three congressman, and a dozen journalists. His guest list was inclusive and bipartisan, embracing Democrats and Republicans, pro–tariff reduction men and “standpatters,” strong supporters of the administration’s policy and fierce opponents alike. He hoped that firsthand expe
rience of the islands’ rich potential and personal encounters with the Filipino people would beget a more supportive attitude toward legislation to reduce tariffs, build railroads, and speed agricultural development. “I doubt if so formidable a Congressional representation ever went so far,” he proudly noted.
Not long after Taft’s party embarked for Southeast Asia, Secretary of State John Hay lost his long battle with illness. “Just heard sad news,” Taft cabled Roosevelt, wondering if he should postpone his journey and return to Washington. “If it were not that I feel so keenly the great importance of having you in the Philippines,” Roosevelt replied, “I should have been tempted to keep you over here, for I shall miss you greatly.” He informed Taft that he would likely ask Elihu Root to take Hay’s place. Although he confided to Lodge that he “hesitated a little between Root and Taft,” noting that Taft was “very close” to him, the prospect of having both men by his side left “no room for doubt.” Taft dispelled any qualms Roosevelt might have felt, urging the president to appoint Root to the premier post. “My dear fellow,” Roosevelt replied, “I could say nothing higher of you than that it was just exactly characteristic of you, I do not believe that you will ever quite understand what strength and comfort and help you are to me.”
Under the sway of Taft’s amicable leadership, everyone who had joined the expedition got along surprisingly well. “I do not think that I have ever known any one with the equanimity, amiability, and kindliness of Mr. Taft,” Alice Roosevelt reported. “During all that summer, I never once saw him really cross or upset. He was always beaming, genial, and friendly, through all his official duties, and the task of keeping harmony among his varied and somewhat temperamental army of trippers.” In the evenings, guests enjoyed formal dances, sleight-of-hand performances, mock trials, and pillow fights. “The party has been a very jolly one,” Taft related to Roosevelt, “and Democrats and Republicans have joined alike in praising the fine weather and really delightful voyage.”
Friends and family had warned Taft that dealing with Alice—or “Princess Alice,” as she had been dubbed by the press—would prove challenging; despite such admonitions, he found her unspoiled and delightfully forthright. “She is quite amenable to suggestion and I have seen nothing about the girl to indicate conceit or a swelled head,” he told Nellie, who had elected to spend “a quiet summer in England” with the children following their hectic year. At times, she could be “oblivious to the comforts of other people,” he explained, but considering “what she has gone through and who she is,” the young woman managed to make herself extremely popular with the entire party. Nevertheless, he remained troubled by Alice’s flamboyant flirtation with Nicholas Longworth, a worldly thirty-five-year-old congressman from Cincinnati with a reputation for numerous dalliances.
Taft was aware that Alice and Nick had been seeing one another before the cruise. He had heard stories about the “fast set” to which they belonged. “She seems to be so much taken up with Nick,” he reported to Nellie, that she “pays little attention to anybody else.” They took meals together, sat side by side on deck, and partnered on the dance floor, where Alice reportedly “looked almost unreal in her clinging gown, which matched the sea. As she glided through the dance, her long, spangled scarf wound itself around her, serpent like.” Noting that the young couple appeared to revel in conversations “usually confined to husband and wife,” Taft finally confronted Alice. “I think I ought to know if you are engaged to Nick,” he suggested in a gently paternal manner. Alice cryptically replied: “More or less, Mr. Secretary, more or less.”
The arrival of the Taft party in Manila on August 4 inspired widespread celebration. Guns boomed and thousands filled the streets as the official delegation progressed to the Malacañan Palace for the welcoming ceremony. From the outset, Taft was determined to remedy the growing animosity between the Filipino people and the current insular government. The policy of the Roosevelt administration, he reiterated at every stop, was “the Philippines for the Filipinos. If the American officials were not in sympathy with this policy,” he assured the islanders, “they would be recalled.” While he continued to believe the Filipinos needed to prepare for independence, Taft officially announced that the long-anticipated popular assembly would be established in April 1907. The Filipino people, the New York Tribune reported, greeted this definitive proclamation with great enthusiasm.
Informed that the colonial administration considered Filipino families not “of sufficient rank to entertain Senators and Congressmen,” Taft decided that he and Alice would move immediately from the palace to the home of a Filipino member of the commission, Benito Legarda. “I knew no way, but the direct way,” he explained, “to show that we had no sympathy with the apparent desire to exclude Filipino hosts from those who should entertain the party.” At a “very handsome ball” hosted by the Legardas, Taft and Alice delighted the Filipinos by joining in the native rigadon square dance. Taft had taken care to practice the complex steps with Alice and several other young ladies during the long ocean voyage. A number of similar receptions in the homes of local citizens went “a long way in cementing friendships.”
Lodging with the Legardas also allowed Taft to meet with scores of disaffected Filipinos who would never have visited him at the palace with Governor General Wright present. “All day long,” one observer recorded, “the great hall was occupied, the men sitting by the open windows disposing of one long cigar after another.” Hearing their grievances, Taft reluctantly concluded that the majority of the commission—including the governor general—were “utterly lacking in the proper spirit” toward the native population. “They seem to think it does not make much difference whether they have the support of the Filipinos or not,” he lamented. “To me it makes every difference in the success of the government.” Indeed, he wrote to Nellie, many Filipinos insisted that if only the Tafts returned to Manila, they would soon “restore the old condition of things.” The current situation was dispiriting, for it necessitated the removal of the governor general and possibly two other commission members, whom he considered friends.
Taft and his entourage “made the round” of the archipelago, traveling by small boats, bamboo rafts, carriages, and on horseback. They surveyed agricultural conditions where sugar, hemp, and rice were grown, meeting with tradesmen, government officials, educators, manufacturers, and farmers. Correspondents who accompanied the party noted “a happy sea change” in the attitudes of several protectionist congressmen, particularly Sereno Payne, chairman of the House and Ways Committee, and General Charles Grosvenor of Ohio. “It is already apparent,” the Tribune editorialized, “that Sec. Taft’s plan of enlarging the political and mental horizons of leading men of both parties as respects Philippine questions is working out admirably.” Several legislators personally expressed their amazement and gratitude to Taft. “It was a great trip and cannot be otherwise than helpful to the Government,” one member told him. “I never realized until this journey the magnitude of the Philippine problem, nor did I realize your devotion to the cause. I have heard a great many speeches made in my time, but never heard a series of better ones than were made by you while touring the islands. It is a miracle that so large a party was so harmonious, and the credit is due to your example.”
Although Taft’s primary mission was to the Philippines, the expedition also made stops in China and Japan, where Taft secretly met with Japan’s prime minister, Taro Katsura. Undisclosed for the next twenty years, this meeting would have lasting consequences for the region. Long-standing hostilities between Russia and Japan had flared into war over competing territorial interests in Korea and China. Roosevelt had closely followed the evolution of this conflict, hoping he might mediate between the two warring powers. From the start, he had sympathized with Japan’s desire to oversee affairs in Korea, to keep a strong hold on Port Arthur, and to return Manchuria to China. Still, he recognized that mounting Japanese victories would expand the imperial government’s demands, upsetting
the balance of power in the Far East. He was delighted, therefore, when Taft contacted him in late April to affirm that the Japanese were interested in having the U.S. president facilitate peace talks. In fact, Roosevelt was so enthusiastic that he curtailed his hunting expedition by a week to commence dialogue with the Japanese and Russian ministers.
Concealing the fact that the Japanese had initiated the process, Roosevelt sent identical letters to both sides. He requested that they “open direct negotiations for peace,” offering his services “in arranging preliminaries as to time and place of meeting.” When both the belligerents agreed, Roosevelt received accolades: “It is recognized all the world over as another triumph of Roosevelt the man,” the New York Tribune editorialized. “It was America alone that assumed the responsibility. It is to America alone that the world will give the credit.”
As preparations for a peace conference in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, began, Taft sailed into Yokohama, where his party received “a demonstrative welcome.” Fireworks heralded the arrival of the ship, and thousands of citizens lined gaily decorated streets. From the harbor city, Taft journeyed to Tokyo for his confidential talk with Count Katsura. Taft assured Katsura that while he did not officially speak for the president, he was certain of Roosevelt’s position. Katsura made it clear that “Korea being the direct cause of our war with Russia,” it was “of absolute importance” that after the war, Japan should control Korea “to the extent of requiring that Korea enter into no foreign treaties without the consent of Japan.” In return, Taft sought assurance that Japan did “not harbor any aggressive designs whatever on the Philippines.”
Having reached agreement on both points, Taft informed Katsura that without the U.S. Senate’s consent, the president could not enter into a formal alliance or even “a confidential informal agreement.” Nevertheless, he expressed certainty that the two countries were in such fundamental accord on the issues discussed that the conversation could be treated “as if” a treaty had been signed. Taft promptly telegraphed a memo of the entire exchange to the president. “If I have spoken too freely or inaccurately or unwittingly,” he concluded, “I know you can or will correct it.” Roosevelt immediately dismissed his concerns, replying, “Your conversation with Count Katsura absolutely correct in every respect. Wish you would state to Katsura that I confirm every word you have said.”
The Bully Pulpit: Theodore Roosevelt, William Howard Taft, and the Golden Age of Journalism Page 62
