The Letters of Franklin K. Lane, Personal and Political
The next letter has been included because it shows Lane's direct
and unequivocal method when defending a subordinate whom he
thought unfairly criticized. He quoted, and in office practised,
Roosevelt's maxim of giving a man his fullest support as long as
he thought him worthy to be entrusted with public business. The
names are omitted here for obvious reasons.
To--
Washington, June 10, 1914
MY DEAR BILLY,--I have your letter of June 9th, relating to summer
residence homesteads, and referring sneeringly several times to
Blank. I wonder if you realize that Blank is my appointee and my
friend. [He] has done you no wrong, and he intends to do the
public no wrong. He is as public-spirited as you are, but you
differ with him as to certain phases of our land policy, though
not so widely as you yourself think. Is that any reason why you
should discredit him? Is it not possible for men to differ with
you on questions of public policy without being crooks? Your talk
has started Chicago talking; nothing definite, just whispers. Is
this fair to Blank? Is it fair to me? ... Is the test of a man's
public usefulness decided by his views as to whether the desert
lands should be leased or homesteaded?
I am saying this to you in the utmost friendliness, because I
think that your attitude is not worthy of your own ideal of
yourself, and it certainly does not comport with my ideal of you,
which I very much wish to hold. Surely honest men may differ as to
whether grazing lands should be leased, and if Blank is not honest
then it is your duty to the public service and to me to show this
fact.
At the bottom of your letter you say, "This report will introduce
you to Mr. Blank." Now it just so happens that that line should
read "This report will introduce you to Mr. Lane," for I am
responsible for that report. It was not written until after he had
consulted with me, and I dictated an outline of its terms. ... As
always, cordially yours,
FRANKLIN K. LANE
To his Brother on his Birthday
Washington, [August, 1914]
... This is somewhere around your birthday time, isn't it? Well,
if it is, you are about forty-nine years of age and I look upon
you as the one real philosopher that I know. I'd trade all that I
have by way of honors and office for the nobility and serenity of
your character. You feel that you have not done enough for the
world. So do we all. But you have done far more than most of us,
for you have proved your own soul. You have made a soul. You have
taught some of us what a real man may be in this devilish world of
selfishness. What other man of your acquaintance has the affection
of men who know him for the nobility of his nature? I don't know
one. You know many who are lovable, like--sympathetic like myself,
brilliant, sweet-tempered,--lots of them. But who are the noble
ones? Who look at all things asking only, "What is worthy?" And
doing that thing only. You tell the world that you will not
conform to all its littlenesses. That, I haven't at all the
courage to do. You tell the world that you are not willing to feed
your vanity with your everlasting soul. Where are the rest of us,
judged by that test?
Ah, my dear boy, you have inspired many a fellow you don't know
anything about, with a desire to emulate you, and always to
emulate something that is genuine and big in you--not a trick of
speech or a small quality of mind or manner. I envy you--and so do
many. Nancy could tell you why you are worth while. She knows the
genuine from the spurious. She knows the metal that rings true
when tests come.
So there, ... put all this inside of your smooth noddle and take a
drink to me--a drink of "cald, cald water."
And I just want you to understand that I am in no self-
deprecatory mood right now, for I am in my office at eight o'clock
of a Saturday evening, working away with all my might on some
damned land cases, having had a dinner at my desk, consisting of
two shredded-wheat biscuits with milk, and one pear. Now you can
realize what a virtuous, self-appreciative mood I am in. No man
denies himself dinner for the sake of work without being really
vain.
And what is this I hear about your having neuritis and going to
the hospital? Damn these nerves, I say! Damn them! I have to
swelter here because I can't let an electric fan play on my face,
nor near me, without getting neuralgia. And swelter is the word,
for it has been 104-5 degrees, with humidity, to boot, this week.
Nerves--that means a wireless system, keen to perceive, to feel,
to know the things hidden to the mass. I look forward to years of
torture with the accursed things. The only thing that relieves,
and of course it does not cure, is osteopathy, stimulating the
nerve where it enters the spine. But never let them touch the sore
place. That is fatal. It raises all the devils and they begin
scraping on the strings at once.
Well, by the time this reaches you I hope you will be quite a bit
fitter. Avoid strain. Don't lift. Don't carry. If you stretch the
infernal wires they curl up and squeal.
May the God of Things as they Are be good to you. ... Mother may
know all about us. How I wish I could know that it was so. You
have the philosophy that says--"Well, if it is best, she does." I
wish I had it. My God, how I do cling to what scraps of faith I
have and put them together to make a cap for my poor head. With
all the love I have.
Frank
To Cordenio Severance
Washington, September 24,1914
My dear Cordy,--I have just received your note. Why don't you come
down here and spend three or four days resting up? Nancy and Anne
will be delighted to cart you around in the victoria and show you
all the beautiful trees and a sunset or two, and we will give you
some home cooking and put you on your feet, and then you will have
an opportunity to beg forgiveness for not having gone up to Essex.
I am mighty sorry that you have been ill. If we had had the
faintest notion that you were, we would have stayed in New York to
see you, but as it was we came down on the Albany boat and we went
directly from the boat to the train. I think that we would have
stopped over two or three hours and seen you anyway if it had not
been for the presence of our dog, who was regarded by the women as
the most important member of the family.
Did you ever travel with a dog? We came down through Lake George,
and the Secretary of the Interior sat on a beer box in the prow of
the steamship, surrounded by automobiles and kerosine oil cans and
cooks and roustabouts, because they would not let a dog go on the
salon deck. Only my sense of humor saved me from beating my wife
and child, and throwing the dog overboard. On the train some
member of the family had to stay with the dog and hold his paw
while he was in the baggage car. The trouble with you and me is
that we are not ugly enough to receive such attention. If we had
undershot jaws and projecting teeth and no nose, we probably would
be regarded with greater tenderness and attention.
Ned is at Phillips-Exeter and is the most homesick kid you ever
heard of. He writes two letters a day and has sent for his Bible,
and tells us he is going to church. If that is no evidence, then I
am no judge of a psychological state.
Come on down. Faithfully yours,
FRANKLIN K. LANE
To Hon. Woodrow Wilson
The White House
Washington, October 1, 1914
DEAR MR. PRESIDENT,--Mother Jones called on me yesterday and I had
a very interesting and enjoyable chat with her. During our talk
some reference was made to the sterling qualities of your
Secretary of Labor, for whom she entertains the highest regard.
She told me this little story about him:--
One evening sometime ago, when there was a strike of some workmen
in Secretary Wilson's town, she was in the Secretary's home
waiting to see him. The Secretary was engaged in another room with
representatives of those opposed to the strikers, and she
overheard their talk. One of the men said, "Mr. Wilson, you have a
mortgage on this house, I believe."
The reply was in the affirmative.
"Then," said the speaker, "if you will see that this strike is
called away from our neighborhood--we don't ask you to terminate
it, but merely to see that the strikers leave our town--if you
will do this, we will take pleasure in presenting you with a large
purse and also in wiping off the mortgage on your home."
Mr. Wilson arose, his voice trembling and his arm lifted, and
said, "You gentlemen are in my house. If you come as friends and
as gentlemen, all of the hospitalities that this home has to offer
are yours. But if you come here to bribe me to break faith with my
people, who trust me and whom I represent, there is the door, and
I wish you to leave immediately."
Mother Jones concluded by saying, "Mr. Wilson never tells this
story, but I heard it with my own ears, and I know what a real man
he is."
I wish that you could have heard the story yourself. I am telling
it to you now, for I know how pleased you will be to hear of it,
even in this indirect way. Faithfully yours, FRANKLIN K. LANE
On November 30, 1914 Colonel Roosevelt wrote to Lane saying,--
"That's a mighty fine poem on Uncle Sam's Thanksgiving! I wish you
would give me a chance to see you sometime.
"I do not know Mr. Garrison and perhaps he would resent my saying
that I think he has managed his Department excellently; but if you
think he would not resent it, pray tell him so. I hear nothing but
good of you--but if I did hear anything else I should not pay any
heed to it. ..."
To Theodore Roosevelt
Washington, December 3, 1914
MY DEAR COLONEL,--I have just received your note of November 30th,
and I am very much gratified at your reference to my Thanksgiving
lines. You may be interested in knowing that the Home Club, before
which I read these lines, is an institution that I organized since
becoming Secretary, for the officers and employees of my
Department. ...
You may rest assured that I shall convey your message to Mr.
Garrison, and I know that he will be just as pleased to receive it
as I am in being able to carry it.
... The work of the Department keeps me pretty closely to my desk,
so that I have few opportunities of getting away from Washington.
I certainly shall not let a chance of seeing you go by without
taking advantage of it.
Cordially yours,
FRANKLIN K. LANE
To Hon. Woodrow Wilson
The White House
Washington, January 9, 1915
MY DEAR MR. PRESIDENT,--That was a bully speech, a corker! You may
have made a better speech in your life but I never have heard of
it. Other Presidents may have made better speeches, but I have
never heard of them. It was simply great because it was the proper
blend of philosophy and practicality. It had punch in every
paragraph. The country will respond to it splendidly. It was
jubilant, did not contain a single minor note of apology and the
country will visualize you at the head of the column. You know
this country, and every country, wants a man to lead it of whom it
is proud, not because of his talent but because of his
personality,--that which is as indefinable as charm in a woman,
and I want to see your personality known to the American people,
just as well as we know it who sit around the Cabinet table. Your
speech glows with it, and that is why it gives me such joy that I
can't help writing you as enthusiastically as I do. Sincerely
yours,
FRANKLIN K. LANE
To Lawrence F. Abbott
Outlook
Washington, January 12, 1915
MY DEAR MR. ABBOTT,--I enclose you two statements made with
reference to our public lands water power bill and our western
development bill. The power trust is fighting the power bill,
although as amended by the Senate Committee it is especially