First direct elections of U.S. senators were heated
It’s kind of too bad that Pennsylvanians did not elect a United States senator in 2014. That way we could have properly commemorated — celebrated seems too strong a word — the 100th anniversary of the direct election of senators.
From the first Senate late in the 18th century until the fateful year of 1914, the men (the first elected woman senator, Maine’s Margaret Chase Smith, didn’t take her seat until 1949) who served in the so-called upper chamber were all appointed by their respective state legislatures.
In 1914 — year two (of eight) of the administration of President Woodrow Wilson — this all changed. The ratification of the 17th amendment ushered in a new era in American politics.
Well, not right away. The first Pennsylvania senator selected by voters was incumbent Boies Penrose, the “boss” of Republican state politics, a notorious anti-populist, and about as venal a man as ever served in Washington, which, of course, is saying something.
Penrose, who died in 1922 while still a senator, could trade votes with the best of them, although he had the virtue of never enriching himself at the public trough. The native Philadelphian was interested in power, not money.
In an era of nearly complete Republican dominance in Pennsylvania, he ran a tight political ship. Asked which he preferred, an occasional Democrat snatching victory from the jaws of defeat or a reform-minded Republican knocking off an establishment favorite, Penrose had no qualms: better a Democrat than a renegade Republican.
Following the 1914 elections for the Senate, The New Republic commented that Senate elections were not panaceas for what ailed democracy. The “triumph of political and social democracy” was unlikely “as long as partisan allegiance remains the dominant fact in the voter’s mind,” the magazine said.
I’m not sure what this means exactly in the context of 100 years of experience.
True, party allegiance is rampant in today’s Senate.
The results are plain to see — gridlock — but the cause is not always easy to understand. While many people say we have a deficit problem in the United States, I say we have a trust problem. Especially in the Senate. Neither the Harry Reid side nor the Mitch McConnell side trusts the other not to blow things up.
That’s why majority votes in the Senate no longer suffice to pass legislation and why the 60-vote “super-majority” isn’t going away anytime soon.
So the partisan lines could hardly be more rigid. But partisanship was pretty high 100 years ago, as The Nation reminds us, and the Senate of that day didn’t require 60 votes to get things done.
Maybe political chieftains like Penrose weren’t the unmitigated horrors reformists made them out to be. Maybe they served the purpose of keeping the old political train on the tracks. They could pass budgets, and then some, things which are extraordinarily difficult in today’s Washington.
A lot has changed in the last 100 years. In 1914, Fayette County was the coal and coke capital of the world, and as such, flexed considerable political muscle.
Serving along side Penrose in the Senate was Philander Knox of Brownsville, a veteran Washington insider. He was attorney general under Teddy Roosevelt and secretary of state under William Howard Taft.
Knox was considered H.C. Frick’s man in the Senate, despite having prosecuted the first Republican anti-trust suit, the government vs. Northern Securities, for TR.
On his death in 1921, Knox’s appointed successor was Republican William Crow of Uniontown.
Crow was villified year after year by Fayette County Democrats. In the 1914 election, when he was a state senator, Crow was accused of vote-rigging, protecting a Uniontown cocaine ring, thwarting passage of a state workers’ compensation law, and precipitating a fatal car-train collision on Fayette Street — all of which makes the Kula-Stefano campaign look like patty-cake.
Crow also served as Republican state chairman.
Hand-picked by Penrose, his duties included promoting party harmony, quelling party disorder, talking up Republicans and bludgeoning Democrats.
It sounds like a job description that would work today. Although it was a long time ago and the rules were different, the objective of politics was the same. Then, as now, it was to win elections.
Richard Robbins lives in Uniontown and is the author of two books of local history: Grand Salute: Stories of the World War II Generation and Our People. He can be reached at grandsalutebook@gmail.com.