Title And Trust: Newspapers as Comms Shops
Once Newspaper's Caucus is Another Newspaper's Incarceration
Saturday, April 20, 2024. Good morning, and Happy 420 Day to all those who celebrate.
We're getting there. You may have gotten an inkling that the matter of the mayor pro tem selection was not going to be settled according to plan on Monday. Among other things, there was a good chance that Republicans were not going to attend the adjourned meeting at 11 a.m., the meeting that was to settle the pro tem issue before their regular council meeting that night.
The Republicans’ reasoning for waiting until the regular meeting at 7:30 was that, with a quorum, they could vote in their own Chair and get McGillen out of the way and Swift swiftly elected. As long as the adjourned meeting was open, Mcgillen was still Chair.
But first…
Where were we?
Here is a link to the home page to read past issues.
• Saturday night, October 28: Mayor of Chicago Carter Harrison is assassinated. A process to succeed the mayor does not exist.
• October 29: Newspapers start promoting mayoral candidates.
• Monday, October 30: The World’s Fair closes. The City Council meets to prepare for the mayor’s funeral.
• Tuesday, October 31: Newspapers and politicians plan for a fight over the mayor’s seat. Attorneys continue to look for a succession plan.
• Wednesday, November 1: Harrison’s funeral. A succession plan is announced: Aldermen will elect a temporary mayor to serve until a special election in December.
• Thursday, November 2: Republican aldermen nominate George B. Swift over Martin Madden. Epstean casts a blank ballot. Republicans call for a special meeting on Saturday morning to vote for mayor pro tem.
• Friday, November 3. The Democrats nominate Alderman John McGillen, Chair of the Democratic Campaign Committee. Democrat Johnny Powers plans to pay five Republica aldermen to vote for McGillen.
• Saturday, November 4: The City Council meeting. McGillen makes himself Chair of the meeting. A blank ballot leaves Swift without a majority of total votes. The Republicans claim Swift won, and the Democrats say he lost. They adjourn until Monday to determine what law and politics dictate next.
Sunday, November 5: Republicans and Democrats strategize for the Monday council meetings. Republicans are counseled not to attend the adjourned meeting on Monday morning if they want to avoid a second round of voting.
Monday morning, November 6, 1893. The Adjourned 11 am meeting.
As the meeting neared, Democrats began to trickle into the City Council chamber at City Hall. Not trickling in were any of the spectators who customarily filled the gallery. The aldermen had closed this meeting to all but the press and necessary officials. Police still guarded entrances to enforce this.
Also not trickling in were any Republicans—except, maybe, Louis Epstean. The Times reported glimpsing the dime museum impresario in an antechamber at City Hall, though other newspapers did not see him there. They did not see him anywhere else, either. He was most significantly missing from the Title and Trust building, where the Republicans had sequestered themselves at 9 a.m., or had been sequestered, depending on which newspaper you read.
We’ll get to them in a bit.
For those who like their parliamentary trivia, when several Democrats requested a roll call, Chairman McGillen said it was unnecessary since they were in an adjourned meeting and thus in continuous session. Nevertheless, the Chair bowed to the masses, and the roll was called. No Republicans, of course, were there to answer.
There was also some question about whether any business could be conducted since a quorum was absent.
“The Chair understands that a minority can prolong an adjourned meeting,” said the Chair. “Am I not right, Ald. Ryan?”
“Yes,” answered the Alderman from the Fifteenth.
Then Ald. Ryan began making a speech. Quoth he:
“There was no intention of the Democrats to enter into a conflict. We have pledged ourselves to observe the law and to do what is best for the best interest of the people. It is necessary that a Mayor pro tem should be elected. We are law-abiding citizens and will insist that the Republicans be as respectful of the law. We are here to respect the law. We are not here to violate it. I believe, therefore, as there is no quorum present, we should adjourn the meeting." —Chicago Tribune, November 7, 1893
I love this lingo - it's completely unnecessary to record this exchange and yet it’s the kind of detail that makes reading these accounts so entertaining. Then again, the gamesmanship that the two parties were engaged in to win this seat was extraordinary even for Chicago, and Chicago’s reporters were covering all of it as if they were writing for the sports page.
McGillen elected not to call for an adjournment just yet. He had a statement to make and directed it at the press. I’ll note that each paper had very different wordings of his speech. This contrasts with other coverage that was sometimes published verbatim, which suggested that some kind of pool reporting was available. This time each paper wanted to put their spin on what he said. Notably, the Daily News, the nonpartisan newspaper, chose not to record his speech.
McGillen protested that all the newspapers had painted the Democrats as having been responsible for the unseemly proceedings of Saturday, when he felt the blame lay squarely with the Republicans. It was a convenient time to make this statement to the press when the Republicans weren’t in attendance to provide their point of view.
The main difference in the reporting of the Republican and Democratic newspapers was in how the Republicans were characterized. The Inter Ocean and Trib quoted McGillen as calling out the actions of "friends who we esteem very much,” while the Times omitted any such positive descriptors from their accounting.
McGillen concluded his speech by asking the press to please print the facts. Then Ald. Mulvihill rose and asked to speak on a point of personal privilege. McGillen allowed it. Mulvihill then began a rant, apparently so upset that he began referring to himself in the third person, about how everyone thought Mulvihill had cast the blank ballot when, in fact, Mulvihill hadn’t. McGillen assured him that no one thought that.
After other statements had been made and McGillen had had a chance to confer with attorneys, the Chair moved that they adjourn until 5 p.m. Sergeant-at-Arms Powell was ordered to locate the Republicans and escort them back to City Hall at 5 p.m.
This turned out to be much, much easier said than done. In fact, it wasn’t done.
Wait, What?
The Republicans had been in the Title and Trust building all day, since 9 a.m. (All except Epstean, who could not be found.) They were still there when Sergeant-At-Arms Powell arrived shortly before 5 p.m. It depends on which newspaper you read and whether you understood the Republicans to be “caucusing” voluntarily or not.
The aldermen weren’t allowed to leave because Swift and others worried that some of them were still open to being bribed. However, the Republican newspapers dutifully reported that republicans didn’t want to risk being arrested by Powell, whose search was known to them, and who was lurking nearby.
While McGillen and his inner circle must have known where the Republicans were and what they were up to - meetings had been going on all day, trying to resolve the impasse - he couldn’t resist having his own fun at the preposterous situation. Here is the Trib’s reporting of McGillen’s statement at the opening of the 5 p.m. meeting:
“Is there any truth in the statement that our colleagues are locked up, and if so what is the charge?” asked the Chair. “It may be that there are some property owners among us who might go on their bonds. Can you direct us as to what magistrate we should appear before to secure their release?”
“I have just received a dispatch saying their bonds have been signed and they will be with us at tonight’s meeting,” Said Ald. Carey.
“The dear fellows,” exclaimed the Chair. An adjournment was taken.
Here are some of the more amusing snippets from some of the newspapers:
The Inter Ocean
The aldermen did not object in the least to spending the day at headquarters. In fact they rather liked the experience. It was something new to the to be locked up. Every one of the thirty-eight, except Epstean, was on hand, and it was known that he would turn up at the council at 7:30 and not before. The men sang songs, read newspapers, played cards, and otherwise amused themselves. Not a soul except themselves and members of the executive committee was allowed in the room. Dinner and supper were brought to them.
The Herald
The ante-room was filled all day with friends of the imprisoned aldermen, but it was with difficulty they could even send a note to their friends who were in limbo. Henry Wulff and "Billy" Lorimer flitted in and out, and in answer to inquiries as to whether it was not visiting day at the jail they said it was not, and that the prisoners could not be seen. At 1 o'clock dinner was brought to the incarcerated ones, and the following was the bill of fare:
Crawfish on the shell.
Noodle soup.
Calves' brains.
Stuffed goose.
Crow a la Republican.
Bitter almonds and sour grapes.
Swift punch.
The Herald also published a political cartoon that left no doubt as to its opinion as to who was behind the scheme. (Casting Swift as a “receiver” also referred to the fact that Swift had once been a Treasury Agent.)
Behind all the fun and games, many conferences were being held to figure out how to resolve the stalemate. The Herald published a rumor that both men might make a claim to be mayor “…the city would have a dual government that would bring about most perplexing and possibly disastrous complications. “
A Tragedy Occurs.
I need to mention that one Republican alderman was allowed to leave the caucus. That alderman was Albert H. Kleinecke. During the day, he’d been informed that his seven-year-old daughter had died. I won’t print this coverage, which is chilling, verging on appalling, to a 21st-century sensibility. The reporting on the little girl’s death is an acute reminder that as much as the political maneuvering seems so familiar to us, death was all too common in the nineteenth century.
Next week: The Final Installment.
Next week, I’ll wrap up the story—the pro-tem election, anyway. (Then, I’m to take a two-week break to work on the book and figure out what to cover next in the substack.)
Thanks for reading!
Jen
Thanks Jen. This represents that epitome of "hiding in plain sight!" The newspapers left out how many times the republican men used the men's room during this sit-in. Knowing what their meals were, I suggest in fact they did use the facilities!
I think this might be the first occasion where the concept of "reality shows" really began!
Lydia Bornick