Hell & Close Harmony

(See front cover)

In the Pall Mall room of Washington's Raleigh Hotel there was a grand celebration. All but nine of the Senate's 75 Democrats were present. Outside the door was a little wooden ramp of the kind whose appearance at any Washington hotel indicates that the President himself may arrive at any moment. Over the prandial tablecloth fluttered two perturbed tumbling pigeons, symbols of Peace. The Democratic Party was about to celebrate the accession of a new leader in the Senate, to drown old woes in new harmony.

Such last week was the scene of the convivial dinner tendered to Senator Alben Barkley of Kentucky, boosted last month into the Senate Leadership at an hour when his Democratic colleagues were divided with the greatest bitterness over the Supreme Court issue. Moreover, the celebration was timed to mark the burial of that very bitterness, the hoped-for hour when with his original handicap removed he could lead a reunited majority through a triumphal finale in a closing Congress.

Dissension put aside, every Democratic face beamed friendship. Senator King, head of the subcommittee which drafted the vehement report which recommended that the President's Court Bill be rejected so overwhelmingly that no similar proposal would ever be made "to the free representatives of the free people," came and put his arm affectionately round Alben Barkley's shoulder. Senator Pat Harrison, defeated by one vote for the post which Barkley won, spoke in tribute to his successful rival. Franklin Roosevelt actually did not appear in person but Vice President Garner, wise, red-faced old man of the Senate, read the President's eulogy of the new Leader, a letter ending with the felicitous phrase: "He knows by sound instinct that on occasion party harmony is aided and abetted by close harmony."

Close harmony was not lacking. Abetted by the Shoreham Hotel's blonde Accordionist Ida Clarke, Senator Byrnes, who opposed Barkley's election, intoned When I Grow Too Old To Dream, and in a sentimental mood Alben Barkley himself, without rising from his seat, gave his favorite rendition of his favorite melody, Wagon Wheels. If there were any discords that evening no Democratic ear would hear them.

Hell. The morning after, Leader Barkley tried to continue his harmonious and efficient drive to put through final legislation. To Vice President Garner's desk he sent a memorandum outlining the order in which bills were to be considered. After disposal of a bill for peacetime exports of helium, Senator King was to be recognized to call up the District of Columbia Airport Bill. The Helium Bill was passed as Senator King sat near Leader Barkley. He rustled his papers and prepared to get up with the Airport Bill but was slow on his feet. New York's Senator Robert Wagner rose and said: "Mr. President, I move that the Senate proceed to the consideration of Calendar No. 814, the bill ... to assure persons within the jurisdiction of every State equal protection of the laws and to punish the crime of lynching."

"The question is on agreeing to the motion of the Senator from New York," rapped out the Vice President.

The fat was on the fire. For some 30 years to bring an anti-lynching bill to the floor of the Senate has been the signal for a filibuster by Southern Senators. In an instant Senator Barkley was on his feet protesting that Senator King was to have been next recognized. The Vice President's white eyebrows bristled. It was not his fault that the Leader and his man had been caught napping. He snapped:

"The Senator from Kentucky will permit the present occupant of the Chair to state that he had been so informed. . . . The chair looked around. . . . None was standing but the Senator from New York. ..." The rest of that day was given to the anti-lynching bill and Senator Borah, who believes it quite unconstitutional, proceeded to take it apart at leisure, while Leader Barkley stewed. By the close of the afternoon, Alben Barkley had another maneuver ready. He moved to adjourn (instead of recessing) overnight, which would have automatically cleared the calendar for a fresh start on another bill next day. To his dismay, the harmonious Democrats split and the motion was voted down 35-10-27. A moment later, Republican Leader Charles McNary, missing no tricks, moved to recess. Bells rang again in the corridors and a second roll call was begun. Senators began appearing through the swinging doors to answer to their names. Freshman Senator Josh Lee of Oklahoma came in and rushed to Leader Barkley:

"How shall I vote?" he demanded.

Alben Barkley, overcome with disgust at all his colleagues, snorted: "I don't know! Ask McNary! He's the only real leader round here. That was a hell of a harmony dinner we had last night."

Senator McNary's motion carried. 36-to-23.

Good Intentions. When the 75th Congress met last January the Democratic Party had a bigger majority than any party in the history of the U. S.--75 of 96 Senators, 333 of 435 Representatives. Moreover the great majority of the Majority had goodwill towards Franklin Roosevelt. The only sour note was every politician's knowledge that overwhelming majorities, like oversized amoebas, tend to split. On Feb. 5, Franklin Roosevelt dramatically disclosed his plan for enlarging the Supreme Court and the Majority began to disintegrate. The good intentions of Congress towards the President's legislative program were put on the shelf. The only things which kept the Majority from going completely to pieces were personal loyalties of long standing and the iron will of Senator Joseph T. Robinson, Democratic Leader of the Senate.

Step by step events broke down the unity of the Majority. In the spring, if the President had been willing to accept two instead of six new Justices for the Supreme Court, the greater part of his Majority would have rallied round him. Instead, their overtures rejected, the moderates became irreconcilables. When finally the President yielded, gave Leader Robinson a free hand to work out any compromise possible, the chance of doing so had grown slender. When Congress convened, Leader Robinson predicted that it would have successfully adjourned by June 2.

On July 14, Joe Robinson, still struggling to reunite his Majority, dropped dead of heart failure and therewith the ties of loyalty to a strong Leader dissolved. The final blow to unity was the election of Alben Barkley. For if a 5-to-4 opinion of the Supreme Court is an undesirably close decision, what was the 38-to-37 election by which Barkley was chosen Leader (TIME, Aug. 2)? And every Senator knew that but for the pressure exerted by the New Deal, the choice of the Majority would have been popular Pat Harrison. Thus Alben Barkley not only succeeded to the command of a broken Majority, but succeeded in a way that widened the very split which it was his job to repair.

Man Barkley. "He has two great gifts," wrote Franklin Roosevelt of Alben Barkley in his letter read at the harmony dinner, "for which he ought to be thankful and for which we are truly grateful--a sense of perspective . . . and a sense of humor. ..." Alben Barkley's perspective originated in a log cabin in Graves County, Ky., where he was born in 1877. Son of a poor tobacco farmer, he worked his way through Marvin College, studied at Emory (Ga.) and the University of Virginia Law School, got his first job in 1901 in the Paducah law office of Judge W. S. Bishop, whom his fellow townsman Humorist Irvin S. Cobb fictionized as "Judge Priest." Four years later Lawyer Barkley conducted a muleback campaign that made him a county prosecutor. In 1912, a horse & buggy carried him around on his winning canvass for a seat in the House. Since then, Alben Barkley's home has been in Washington, where he currently drives his own car, entertains moderately but often in his Cleveland Avenue home. Elected to the Senate in 1926, Alben Barkley broke a long Kentucky precedent by getting re-elected in 1932.

The quality in Senator Barkley which President Roosevelt last week designated as a sense of perspective has often drawn, from less fervent admirers, less complimentary estimates. In the House, Barkley's biggest jobs were opposing the lobbyists' demands for railroad subsidies after the War, and defending prohibition to the extent of accepting Anti-Saloon League pay for speeches. When Senator Barkley voted for a protectionist tariff and, in line with his Party's platform, came out for Repeal in 1932, his Republican opponents in Kentucky promised to beat four Barkleys: "the Free Trade Barkley, the Protectionist Barkley, the Dry Barkley, the Wet Barkley." Jibes like this are not taken too seriously by Alben Barkley's Senate colleagues. He is good-natured. He tries hard to turn a wisecrack. He is a careful, dependable speaker, a loyal and devoted follower of the New Deal. In 1928, Alben Barkley proved his political courage in his convictions by stumping vigorously for Al Smith when most of his Southern confreres were making perfunctory campaign gestures. Main questions about Alben Barkley's qualifications as a Leader of the Senate are simply whether: 1) the Senate has once again returned to its normal state as a self-willed, cantankerous collection of statesmen where no great degree of unity can be impressed for long on a majority, and whether 2) Alben Barkley, amiable and courageous though he is, but neither quickwitted nor endowed with the bull-necked determination of Joe Robinson, can drive conservative Democrats once more to lend their votes to the New Deal.

Last Act. The toughest part of any legislative leader's job is seeing Congress through its final week and this week Leader Barkley. harried on all sides, faces that onerous job. Actually he has comparatively little "must" legislation to force through. Except for the bill to plug tax loopholes, most important bills last week had already passed the Senate, gone to the House for conference or disposition. But this was little relief to Alben Barkley for in the final legislative jam, enough damage may be done to spoil not only this session for the Roosevelt Administration but the next as well.

One piece of damage was done last week. Having allowed the anti-lynching agitation to get to the point where it threatened the rest of this year's work, Leader Barkley had to pay dearly to dispose of it. Pay was a promise to reconsider it when Congress meets next January. In their present mood, conservative Southern Democrats have half a mind to speak against it and vote against it, but not to prevent its passage by a last-ditch filibuster. If they do so next spring, Franklin Roosevelt will be faced with the embarrassing prospect of signing or vetoing it. Either course will cost the New Deal votes either in the North or South in the 1938 Congressional elections.

Meantime, Leader Barkley has to be ever watchful for the kind of legislative blows to the Administration which are always best delivered in the crush that takes place when any Congress closes. Sessions of Congress are political tragedies or comedies not according to their first two acts, but according to what happens in their last act, often in their last scene. The exit is the thing, and Alben Barkley, who has set no records for accomplishment in his first month as Leader, still has success within his grasp if he can wind up Congress and march it off the stage without further damage to the prestige of Party and President.

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