Politics v. Economics

Torpidly mechanical though the G. 0. P. Convention was, three days passed before observers could be sure that the reputed agricultural unrest beneath it was too watered-down with cheap politics tc be explosive.

Farmers. One of the first duties of alert newsgatherers after their arrival in Kansas City was to visit Electric Park, an abandoned amusement resort on the city's southeastern outskirts, which had been designated as the campground for the widely-advertised farm crusade (TIME, June n). After the convention had been going 24 hours and the fight on the farm plank was at its hottest in the Resolutions Committee, the register at Electric Park bore the signatures of less than 100 farmers. On a grassy hillside behind a weatherworn grandstand were parked 15 cars, most of them expensive-looking Buicks, Steams-Knights, a Packard.

In the compact flag-flown hotel district near Convention Hall a straggling line of men--about 300 of them--with genuine sunburns but guilty smiles, paraded the streets, filed through hotel lobbies, massed outside the convention doors.

Spokesmen. On the convention platform, when the farm debate finally got there after party chieftains had labored two nights long with the farmers' friends, the true nature of the farm problem became apparent.

Delegate Earl C. Smith of Illinois, a tall, dark, quiet-spoken man who had been most persuasive in committee sessions, presented the plea personified by Candidate Lowden: a minority report to amend the farm plank (see page 10) and pledge the party to the McNary-Haugen bill with its equalization fee (TIME, May 14). Like Candidate Lowden, Spokesman Smith did not argue that McNary-Haugenism was infallible or perfect, but that no better remedy had been advanced to date.

Frank Murphy of Minnesota, a rangy figure in a smart tan suit with features of Lincolnian cast, was farm spokesman No. 2. He called the farmer his brother. He reminded the Party that its 1924 promise had yet to be carried out. His eloquence had a noble ring--until he cracked a sacrilegious joke to liven things up, and introduced a huge map portraying the politics of the McNary-Haugen bill.

The Party chieftains' strategy was to let the Farmers' Friends talk themselves out. Third to speak was Dan W. Turner of Iowa, a little man with a curious nose and the nasal, lithurgical intonation of a revivalist. "The farmers will march in November," sang Mr. Turner. Governor Adam McMullen, well-fed, prosaic, contributed a few words of protest which were as the baaing of a lamb compared to his leonine call for the Crusade the previous fortnight. No one discussed the actual provisions of the McNary-Haugen bill, but all used it as a sounding cymbal, clanged and clashed to sway convention politics.

Deliberate, deep-lunged Senator Borah of Idaho, past-master of the final word, made the main rebuttal speech.

He began by stating the farmers' plight more gravely than it had yet been stated. He made it a-national problem rather than a sectional one. Next he examined the McNary-Haugen bill's actual provisions and pictured it in operation. He pronounced it unconstitutional, unworkable, unhelpful. He exhibited the equalization fee as a sales tax paid by the consumer. He demonstrated how the farmer would yield his independence to government officials and become a "bureaucratic rat." Against such a result he said the farmer would be the first to revolt. President Coolidge, he said, had protected the farmer against the folly of the politicians. President Coolidge needed no defense; the Republican Party would not be stampeded politically on an economic issue . . . etc., etc.

It was not precisely an historic debate. The outcome was too clear beforehand, the speakers too unequal. Nevertheless, Senator Borah's ponderous diction and statesmanlike air gave the occasion at least the form of an Event. The roll was called when he had finished, and the tally went 807 to 277 against the Farmers' Friends.

Lowden. At his hotel, Candidate Lowden was awaiting the result. When it arrived over the radio he is reported to have turned to Mrs. Lowden and said: "Come on, Mother, let's go home."

Envoi. In front of the farmer headquarters in Kansas City appeared a sign:

"The rooster will fatten and crow in victory on the political kernels the eagle rejects in 1928." It seemed to be nonsense.