Curtis Boom

Among those who came ashore from the presidential yacht Mayflower, after last fortnight's weekend cruise, was the blocky soft-spoken senior U. S. Senator from Kansas, Charles Curtis. Two days later Senator Curtis, smiling seriously, gave out press copies of a letter he had just mailed out to Kansas, where Curtis-for-President clubs have been organizing since August. Senator Curtis' letter said:

"Kansas has honored me by electing me to office under every national administration since 1892. ... If my friends of Kansas desire to send a delegation to the next Republican National Convention favorable to my nomination, I shall be greatly pleased to be their candidate. . . . Even to be considered for the Presidency is a great honor."

It was the first out-&-out Republican candidacy of the season. In August, Senator Curtis had discountenanced the Curtis-for-President clubs. Until last fortnight's developments, when Senator Fess of Ohio was scolded at the White House for excessive enthusiasm (TIME, Oct. 31), Senator Curtis was among those imperturbables who thought President Coolidge could be persuaded to "choose" again. Either some Potomac zephyr had now whispered that no such persuasion was possible or Senator Curtis could no longer resist temptation. In any case, the forthrightness with which he declared himself did credit to his intentions if not to his sagacity.

Senator Curtis was in lively earnest. "I will not consent," he said, "to become a candidate if the delegation is to be selected with a view to voting for me for a few ballots as a 'favorite son.' . . . I will not allow myself to be used as a 'stalking horse' for anyone."

Observers were at a loss to see how Senator Curtis could be anything but a "favorite son" at the national convention. They were surprised that so astute a politician as Senator Curtis could regard himself as a serious contender for the favor of the many sections and factions which must be milled and swept together before 555 votes are accumulated for any one at the G. O. Party's big panjandrum. And yet--and yet-- And yet the earwig that entered many a Senatorial ear with Senator Harding's nomination in 1920, was a most irresistible earwig. Not for a second could any one doubt that this earwig had attached itself to sincere Senator Curtis. Furthermore, obscure though he may seem to the voting public, Senator Curtis is prehaps more familiar to and with all sections and factions of the Republican Party than any other man. For many a year--as Senate whip and Senate floorleader* he has been the Republican Party's attentive, indefatigable housekeeper. Many a widower, despairing of remarrying brilliantly, has married his housekeeper.

Housekeeper Curtis has all the negative virtues and one or two of the positive. His Republicanism is hardy & perennial, having survived all the other "isms" that have swept his native Kansas in 33 years, from Populism to La Follettism. He is honest. He is able. Attending Senate each and every day calls for faithfulness. He is faithful. Remaining unruffled and unhurried when the other Senators come buzzing in from their trips, speechmaking, weekends or committee meetings, calls for patience and tact. Sitting in his back seat, he is a patient as a turtle, as tactful as a cat.

Many men owe him much. He has spent his years giving help, not asking favors. About the only thing he ever asked was to be named for Vice President in 1920. He was hurt when his friends replied then with a mere gesture. Hence his "no stalking horse" proviso this time.

Should Senator Curtis ever enter the White House, it would round off a unique legend. In Kansas, they used to call "Charlie" Curtis names like "The Injun," "the Noble Red Man of the Forest" and "Lo!" His maternal grandmother, Julie Pappan, was an Indian squaw, a Kaw princess, daughter of Chief White Plume of the Kaws and granddaughter of potent Chief Pawhuskie of the Osages.

Julie Pappan had an Indian allotment near Topeka and upon it Charles Curtis was born, nearly 68 years ago.* His grandfather Louis Pappan, was a French trader. His father, of old New England stock, had roamed out to Kansas in 1856 and returned there after becoming a captain in the Civil War. While his father was away at war, small Charles Curtis lived with his Grandmother Pappan.

The story goes that when a band of Cheyenne savages swooped upon the peaceful Kaw village 1868, small Charles Curtis, aged 8, stole bravely past the enemy's pickets at nightfall and travelled 60 miles to Topeka for help. Be that as it may, he lived in Topeka from then on, a small boy with such a passion for horses that he gained fame as a jockey on Midwestern tracks long before he finished high school.

Two old bags of bones that had once been horses, and an old hack, were his first professional property. He became Topeka's favorite hackman. Between calls he studied law, and gained admission to the bar at 21. At 24, he was elected county prosecutor and, when the Kansans denied themselves alcohol, he had to close up the Topeka saloons. His saloon-closing performance sent him to the Legislature. Thence he reached Congress, in 1893. He was a House member for 14 years, a Senator for three six-year terms thereafter.

Lately, Senator Curtis has trimmed up the drooping mustache which, with his black sombrero, used to distinguish him as an old-time politician. But he still works "on the inside," letting his effusive colleague, Senator Arthur Capper, do the handshaking, the rooster-boosting. He would make a quiet nominee and no crowd of political ' creditors would follow him around.

That he will be nominated at all calls, however, for quiet predictions, scarcely to be credited.

*He succeeded the late Henry Cabot Lodge in 1924.

*He is thus the oldest man yet talked about for President.