WILLIAM STOKLEY ANTICIPATED A WIN ON ELECTION DAY, Tuesday, November 3, 1874. The mayor’s run for a second term didn’t get much press, even though victory would mean a raise for him when many of his constituents were out of work. In spite of recent articles reminding the public that the Republican advisers kept Stokley on a tight leash, the mayor had remained popular enough to keep his reelection bid from becoming a contest. This didn’t mean that he or the machine had nothing to worry about.
The Republican party was changing. Under Grant’s watch, Lincoln’s messages of liberty were overshadowed by motives of industry. The Democrats, while still unfriendly to freed slaves, identified themselves more with the working man. During the next two decades, both parties become allied with those interests that would define them for generations.
In 1874, America was entering the sixth year of Grant’s presidency, and while ambitious supporters predicted a third term, others were not so sure. People weren’t happy. The Civil War death toll hung over the middle and lower classes. Unemployment numbers were high. Racial and ethnic tensions ignited riots. Critics spoke of the president’s inability to reunite the country.
Of Philadelphia’s Republican ticket running that fall, only the district attorney faced early, strong opposition from the Democrats. Stokley and his advisers knew the people would speak through this high-profile contest. By overthrowing the incumbent, voters could more immediately show their frustration with city government and threaten tighter municipal competitions for the spring. Throughout the country, the machine anticipated the results of races like that of Philadelphia’s district attorney, aware the verdicts would be harbingers of things to come.
Pennsylvania Republicans pushed every member to vote for every party candidate, regardless of one’s personal frustration with any incumbent. Capitalizing on unemployment fears and industry investments, they emphasized the Democrats as “a movement against American industry” that did not acknowledge “the doctrine of protection.” If Democrats had their way, the Republican papers said, they would repeal tariff laws, allowing foreign products to enter the country—just as easily as feared foreigners. “If the wall is broken down so that British goods can enter free, the industries of this State will be paralyzed, the mills will be closed, hundreds of thousands of workmen will be permanently unemployed, the merchants among whom these men spend their earnings will be ruined, the capital which gives them work will be locked up and made unprofitable, and incalculable injury will be done to business in all its departments.”
Philadelphia Police expected political tensions to escalate into fights at voting locations, just as they had on election days past. Chief Jones prepared two omnibuses full of officers ready to respond to any distress signals.
No such messages arrived. In addition to cracking down on fraudulent votes, the election reform of 1874 had led to more voting locations—which meant less people at each station—and to different tallying procedures, which meant delayed results and the potential for fewer angry mobs.
By 7:00 P.M., bonfires flickered into the darkening sky. Hundreds gathered in the news district, waiting around Independence Hall for the returns. Telegraph lines communicated results between state offices in Harrisburg, the Mayor’s office, and the Union League. Hours passed, and when people walked home around 11:00 P.M., at least one Democratic parade partied through the streets. Paperboys grabbed their stacks later than usual the next day and began reciting the headlines. The district attorney had lost.
Nationally, Democrats had gained control of the House of Representatives, denying Republicans their long-held Congressional rule. The New York Herald attributed all blame to the President and his failed Reconstruction plans. “General Grant … has surrendered a precious political inheritance.”
The New York Evening Post refused to acknowledge the results as a Democratic victory. “The Democrats, as a national party, offered the people only one thing. They had no policy to submit. They had no record on which they could ask the people to trust them. They had no carefully matured or coherent measures for the future better than or materially different from Republican measurers. They did offer one thing—a change. The people took the change; they did not take the Democrats. Whether they will take them remains an open question.”
Back in Philadelphia, Mayor Stokley read the signs of the changing political tide. They wouldn’t affect his promised raise, but they did threaten his political advancement beyond a second term as mayor. Stokley needed to assure the machine of his political capital; at the same time, he needed to convince the press and the voters that he wasn’t a pawn. If he was not savvy enough, these goals would contradict each other, and he would look weaker.
What the mayor needed was to become a character in a high-profile story. Something that he could control—better yet, save from possible disaster. Something that would accent his strengths and ensure his legacy.
The year 1874 gave Stokley two such stories: the Charley Ross case and the rapid approach of the Centennial. Both had given him some merit of success, but his police had botched the search for Charley. As a result, they had defaulted the now-famous investigation to the New York Police, rendering themselves impotent in the press. The mayor had earned some praise for offering a reward, but that was only after public pressure—and it too had led to nothing; if anything, it would probably end up in the hands of the New York authorities. Stokley needed to do what he could to maintain a professional presence in the case, yet simultaneously distance himself from it. Otherwise, any blame for its eventual failure—especially if it rendered a dead child—could very well fall on him. The Centennial offered him the perfect distraction.
The celebration’s finances were in trouble, but the engineers were good and the grounds had been attracting positive attention. In their coverage of early July events, the press had portrayed Stokley as the overseer of Centennial plans, allying his image with the upcoming party. By throwing himself into preparations, the mayor could work the machine’s political connections and fight for the financial recognition of New York and New England. He could stake his reputation on this. For such an image campaign to work, however, the press needed to concentrate more on the successful Centennial plans than on the flawed Charley Ross investigation.
Luckily, the mayor had the connections to make this happen.
New York Herald. November 6.
“John, you must change the name of John for personals. It has become too well known.”
PHILA., Nov. 6.—Mr. Ros: we told you in the last positively we would not write you any more. this dozing about puts us to no small amount of trouble we had left phila for New York thinking you were ready to close up the business. we told you positively procrastination is dangerous. had we accomplished what we have been fishing for the last three months your child would now have been dead but we have not yet caught the fish we wanted. yours is but a small item compared with something else. Walter said you owned the two new houses right opposite you or we should never troubled you. Mr. Ros you have asked to keep this negotiation a secret between ourselves it is a wise policy in your doings not that we fear being traped in our own game. This is positively the last from us. if you are sincere you would be anxious to settle this business if you regard the life of your child. we mean to fulfil every promise we made you in good faith. the result depends entirely with yourself whom you appoint to transact this business for yu we want at least two days notice before you come to New York for we may be 500 miles off and we ask for time to get there yu can say tuesday no 10. Saul of Tarsus. (choose your own name say i will be stoping so and so all day. do not leave the hotel wherever you may be stoping for one minute during the day). this thing must come and shall come to a close in a few days.