For the next six years, McKinley’s reputation would grow in battles over the era’s biggest issue—the protective tariff. He would emerge to take command as the Republican House floor manager on the issue. But having made himself a respected leader, he would be driven abruptly from office by extreme—but routine—partisanship.
He and Ida slipped into Washington with ease, living at Ebbitt House, a white Second Empire building with marble floors and chandeliers. Two blocks from the White House, the Ebbitt was one of Washington’s most fashionable hotels. Because of their friendship with the Hayeses, the McKinleys attended private dinners at the White House and were frequent guests at events there. Ida occasionally traveled and, if she felt up to it, had the Major take her to the theater. Otherwise she was content to entertain lady friends or crochet slippers, booties, and other items to donate to needy children or area hospitals.1
From the start, McKinley preferred work to socializing. He collected papers and mail from the lobby by 7 a.m. and then spent two hours working before breakfasting with Ida. Only committee chairmen were then provided Capitol offices, so he had an office in the hotel across the hall from his and Ida’s fifth-floor suite. There he could work, take meetings, or smoke a cigar with colleagues yet bounce across the hall to check on Ida frequently.2
McKinley was popular with colleagues. His pleasant manner, affable nature, willingness to listen, and personal kindness won friends on both sides of the aisle. He enjoyed humor, as long as it was not vulgar, rarely swore, and displayed what one observer called a “quiet irony and a graceful lightness.” Slow to take offense, he tried giving none in return. Thomas B. Reed of Maine, who entered the House with McKinley, once complained, “My opponents in Congress go at me tooth and nail but they always apologize to William when they are going to call him names.”3
Instead of going out on the town, McKinley carefully read bills, consumed reports and newspapers, collected facts, and became an expert on House rules. Unusual in Congress, he did not rush to speak and became known as a man who spoke only when he had something to say.4
McKinley could have hardly picked a more critical issue to make his own. In the Gilded Age, protective tariffs (as with currency) enflamed political passions and dealt with important questions of how to create jobs in a rapidly industrializing nation and who should benefit most from the country’s economic expansion. Each side in this debate believed its approach would create prosperity and that only its ideas could prevent economic ruin. Those who opposed tariffs—many Southern Democrats—viewed high tariffs as a war tax unjustified in peacetime. They were especially offended when Washington began running large surpluses. They wanted a simple low rate on imports that would yield only enough to pay for government’s essential functions, a concept called “tariff-for-revenue.”
Supporters of protectionism saw it as an instrument of national unity and themselves as defending the interests of American workers, industries, and agriculture. They believed high tariffs promoted the growth of domestic manufacturing and farm production by ensuring there was a robust local market for items produced in the United States and that American wages were higher than those paid in Europe. Both sides considered their opposition devils. Each party had both reformers and protectionists in its ranks, but the GOP’s cadre of tariff reformers was small while the number of Democratic protectionists was much larger.5
The tariff issue was a natural fit for McKinley. His father and grandfather were both ironmongers and his district had a growing industrial sector and farmers—especially wool growers—who depended on the protective system. His focus was also timely, as House Democrats decided to try slashing tariffs before the 1878 midterms, as tax cuts were popular with the Democratic base. Rather than impose tariffs to protect American industries, free trade Democrats called for duties based solely on what revenue was needed to run the federal government, “not for protecting one class of citizens by plundering another.” This meant a low duty on every import, not higher duties on some items made or grown domestically.6
Democratic Ways and Means Committee chairman Fernando Wood of New York responded in January 1878 by cobbling together a bill that sharply cut duties on cotton, glass, hemp, liquor, and iron while keeping tariffs high on coal, chemicals, dyes, and other industrial necessities. Some pro-reform papers criticized its limited cuts and sloppy drafting.7
McKinley gave his maiden House speech on April 15 on Wood’s bill. Unlike tariff defenders who argued protection was needed by a specific factory or industry, McKinley defended high tariffs as economic nationalism that benefited American workers and consumers by keeping wages up, fostering domestic competition, and spreading prosperity by keeping out goods made by poorly paid foreign labor. The Major supported protection because it meant decent wages for laborers, not because it helped wealthy businessmen.
Because of the lingering depression, his speech brought to the surface anxieties about making significant changes to the tariff policy. “Any material adjustment of the tariff system,” McKinley said, was a “delicate and hazardous undertaking” and could further damage manufacturing and mining, deepen the economic panic, and harm job creation.8
Wood had produced a letter from Worthington & Company—a Michigan manufacturer—that said it could still compete against European firms if tariffs were cut. McKinley turned Wood’s argument against him. Worthington, he revealed, hired convict laborers at 32¢ a day. Of course it would remain competitive, but that meant little to honest laborers who needed good wages to support their families. Striking a populist note, McKinley attacked Wood for raising duties on sugar and other staples that ordinary people bought, while lowering duties on silk, satins, and velvet that only the rich purchased.9
Representative William “Pig Iron” Kelley, the ranking Republican on Ways and Means and avid protectionist from iron- and steel-rich Pennsylvania, was impressed by the freshman member’s speech, as were other Republicans. Two months later, a coalition of Democratic protectionists and Republicans killed Wood’s bill. McKinley had played a big role in its defeat, deftly framing the issue in a bipartisan way by focusing on laborers. The bill’s defeat constituted a formative experience—and lasting political achievement.10
Understanding that McKinley was a dangerous foe, congressional Democrats quickly moved to end his career. Speaker Samuel J. Randall of Pennsylvania and his lieutenants demanded the Democratic-controlled Ohio legislature redraw McKinley’s district. The existing lines had been set for a decade, but state Democrats obediently shifted McKinley’s Republican counties into other congressional districts and paired Stark with neighboring Democratic strongholds, giving Democrats an estimated 2,500-vote edge. Not willing to count solely on the gerrymander to deliver the coup de grace, Democrats then fielded Union general Aquila Wiley, who had lost a leg at Missionary Ridge in 1863, hoping he would erase McKinley’s advantage as a veteran.11
Republican papers denounced the Democratic gerrymander as a “fraud” that would backfire. It did. McKinley won by 1,234 votes. Hayes wrote to an old comrade about the Major’s victory, saying, “He was gerrymandered out and then beat the gerrymander. We enjoyed it as much as he did.”12
In 1879, as the tariff battles settled down and with Bland-Allison calming the currency issue, McKinley drew national attention by opposing Democratic efforts to gut voting rights protections in federal elections. From the perspective of McKinley and most Republicans, the issue was first a moral concern: Democrats wanted to remove the few remaining tools Washington had to guarantee fair federal elections. If a black man in the South could not vote, then every American’s right was at risk.
This was also a question of political survival. By using threats, violence, and fraud to deny Southern Republicans—black and white—the right to vote freely and have their ballots honestly counted, Democrats were wiping out the GOP below the Mason-Dixon Line. This made it hard for Republicans to win the popular vote for the presidency or the U.S. House and could cost them the White House whenever Democrats won a handful of Northern swing states to combine with their Solid South.
Despite the outrage of House Democrats, McKinley would not relent on the issue. He returned to it at the 1879 Ohio GOP convention, drafting a plank attacking Democrats for committing “fraud, violence and corruption in National Elections,” and continued to condemn Democrats for stealing elections in the South.13
Before McKinley’s 1880 reelection campaign, Republicans had recaptured control of the legislature and restored his district to its traditional configuration. His opponent was unknown, but the Major still hit the trail hard with speeches virtually every day. As a result he won in October by 55 percent to 45 percent, a large margin for competitive Ohio.14
Garfield and his managers came to believe the White House would be won that year on the protection issue and asked McKinley, the GOP’s most effective advocate for it, to stump in the East after his October victory. The Republican emphasis on the waffling of the Democratic nominee, Winfield Scott Hancock, on the tariff question settled the race in manufacturing states above the Mason-Dixon Line. Garfield carried the Northeast, except New Jersey, and enough of the Midwest and West to decisively win the Electoral College, 214 to 155, while winning the popular vote by 7,368. Republicans also took back the House.15
In December, McKinley was unexpectedly given President-elect Garfield’s spot on the powerful Ways and Means Committee. Speaker Randall picked McKinley—still in his sophomore term—over more senior Republicans. He arrived on the committee just before Garfield triggered the next big tariff battle, in which McKinley again proved his mettle.16
With Washington, D.C., running a large surplus, Garfield was worried that Democratic calls for tariff reductions were hurting the GOP and suggested a commission to recommend revisions to the tariff schedules to reduce the surplus. But on July 2, 1881, before he could advance the idea, he was shot by a deranged office-seeker, lingering painfully until mid-September.17
When the new Congress met in December, Garfield’s successor, President Chester A. Arthur, endorsed the commission, urging “a careful revision” of the schedules. House Ways and Means chairman Pig Iron Kelley began drafting a bill that the Major helped move through the committee and, as Kelley’s lieutenant, spoke in favor of on the House floor on April 6, 1882.18
Again, McKinley gave a powerful speech, this time to reassure protectionists they could vote for an overhaul of tariff schedules. Business should not fear “an intelligent and businesslike” revision of the tariffs as long as protectionists led the review. As the GOP’s most influential voice on tariffs, McKinley’s endorsement carried weight.19
The House and Senate voted to create a nine-member expert committee, with their recommendations due in early December. While McKinley and his colleagues waited for the results of the commission’s hearings, Democrats won back control of the House in the midterms.20
The commission’s report in early December was a surprise. It proposed reducing duties an average of 25 percent on consumer items and raw materials needed for manufacturing that were not available in the United States, while keeping high duties on value-added goods produced domestically, like pig iron, scrap, and steel. Sugar went on the free list, but since the GOP’s loss of the House meant Pig Iron would soon be out as Ways and Means chair, he ignored the report and pushed a bill reducing tariffs overall by just 1.47 percent, while raising them significantly on many critical items.
McKinley didn’t like the measure. He was disappointed that Republicans failed to make reasonable cuts to the tariff schedules and expand the list of items imported free, thereby undercutting Democratic calls for greater reform. Derided as the “Mongrel Tariff” by critics, Kelley’s bill was adopted late on March 3, the 47th Congress’s final day. McKinley was one of a dozen Republican no votes. Arthur quickly signed the bill.21
McKinley was present when the new Democratic Congress met in December 1883. Though the Senate was unlikely to pass tariff reform, the popularity of tax cuts emboldened Democrats to raise the issue again to boost their chances for the 1884 presidential race. For the third time, McKinley would lead the House GOP opposition to another Democratic tariff bill.
Illinois Democrat and Ways and Means Committee chairman William R. Morrison offered a bill reducing duties 20 percent on all manufactured articles and expanding the free list. Speeches on the motion to take up the measure were so dry, it was suggested congressmen conduct debates from their bedrooms by telephone.22
Having just turned seventy and in ill health, Pig Iron deferred to McKinley, who gave the opening speech in opposition targeting Democratic protectionists, torn between party loyalty and their principles. McKinley attacked the bill as too complex. It set duties for too many goods, divided into too many categories, each with its own set of calculations. Morrison interrupted. Would the Major support a 20 percent across-the-board cut in all tariffs? McKinley turned the strength of Morrison’s approach—simplicity—into a weakness. For some goods, the Major replied, a 20 percent cut would be justified but for many goods it would “destroy some of the great manufacturing industries.”
McKinley went after the bill in a way that gave Democrats from working-class districts indigestion. It would “reduce the price of labor in the United States.” He then closed by calling the bill a political document with no chance of becoming law. “No interest is pressing it,” McKinley said. “No national necessity demands it. No true American wants it.” He urged Democratic protectionists to stand firm. “The interests of this great people are higher and greater than the ambitions or interests of any party.”23
After weeks of debate, McKinley announced that at the debate’s end, a motion would be offered to strike the enacting clause, which left the bill in limbo unless another sponsor stepped forward. This clever maneuver gave protectionist Democrats cover to say they could support other versions of the bill with a different sponsor. In reality, it would kill it.24
Knowing the bill’s fate would be settled by keeping Democratic protectionists, McKinley yielded to former Speaker Randall, who had orchestrated the 1878 gerrymander to defeat the Major. Randall spoke to a hushed chamber, explaining it would be “vindictive” to change the rules after businesses had invested in plants and equipment because of protection. Morrison’s bill was “a firm, first step towards free trade.” That question was better taken up after the presidential election, which would be decided by laborers, whose wages would be reduced by protection’s end.
To emphasize the bill’s bipartisan opposition and give Democrats further cover to vote no, McKinley had a Democrat, fellow Ohioan George L. Converse, move to strike the enacting clause. Morrison was named teller for the bill’s supporters while Converse was named teller for its opponents. When Converse stood in front of the Democrats, Morrison snarled, “Get over on the other side where you belong.” The tellers counted 159 to strike the enacting clause to 155 opposed. Forty-one Democrats and 118 Republicans were ayes, while 151 Democrats and only 4 Republicans were nays. Republicans and protectionist Democrats cheered, applauded, and waved papers. Pointing to the Republican side, Morrison said to Randall, “your friends are cheering you.” The man who tried to end McKinley’s career four years earlier with a gerrymander had helped him bring a victory for protection.25
McKinley did not celebrate long. Eighteen months earlier, he had a squeaker in the 1882 midterms. All Republicans faced stiff national headwinds, but there were bigger problems in Ohio. People complained that a Stark man had held the seat for three terms and that was enough. The Buckeye State GOP’s tough anti-liquor stance hurt with German and Irish voters.26
When the ballots were tallied, McKinley defeated Democrat Jonathan H. Wallace, a Columbiana lawyer, by eight votes. The Major grumbled to Treasury secretary Charles J. Folger about his narrow victory. Just beaten for New York governor by the biggest margin in history, Folger responded, “Eight votes is a mighty big Republican majority this fall.”27
But the election was not over. There was no chance Democrats would allow McKinley to remain in the House. It was just routine politics. Since the Civil War, both parties challenged close elections and, if they had a House majority, threw out their opposition and seated their party’s man. So while McKinley was provisionally seated, Wallace announced he would ask the House Elections Committee in a new Democratic Congress to throw the Major out.28
Even though the House Elections subcommittee, with a Democratic majority, rejected Wallace’s claim, on May 14, 1884, the full House Elections Committee overrode the subcommittee and recommended 6-to-5 to oust McKinley and replace him with Wallace. A week later, Elections chairman Henry Turner presented that recommendation to the House. At the day’s end, Turner asked McKinley if he would speak. Members crowded around him, but his clear, strong voice could be heard throughout the chamber. A practical man, McKinley kept his remarks short. He knew with a Democratic majority, there would be only one outcome.29
“I only ask from this House, the majority of which is opposed to me politically, to administer in this case the law and the precedents which they have always administered,” the Major said. No technicalities: if his retention depended upon rejecting ballots where Wallace’s name was misspelled, “then I do not want my seat.” But even counting those, “I still have an unquestioned majority.” He thanked members “on both sides . . . for the attention and courtesy with which they have listened.” After applause subsided and McKinley finished shaking hands, Turner spent an hour talking while every Democrat was rounded up. Then McKinley was ousted. It was no surprise to him, who accepted expulsion with a fatalism afforded by his faith and by the fact his party had done the same to Democrats.
Seven Democrats voted for McKinley, among them some of his greatest adversaries on the tariff issue. Democrats and Republicans crowded around to express their regrets, while “none approached Wallace to congratulate him.” McKinley collected his bags at the Ebbitt, attended an informal reception, and caught the 10 p.m. overnight to Canton. Even Democratic papers acknowledged he had been “one of the ablest and most accomplished members on the Republican side of the House.”30
The political apprentice had risen in skill, leadership, and reputation, but after seven years in the House, his political career appeared finished. Earlier he had advised a friend not to seek office. “Before I went to Congress I had $10,000 and a practice worth $10,000 a year,” McKinley said. “Now I haven’t either.”31
WILLIAM MCKINLEY MAY HAVE been thrown out of the House that May of 1884, but rather than destroy him, it made him a political martyr and helped create a successful political future. McKinley’s opening speech against the Morrison tariff had made him a big star. In large part as a reaction to his ouster from the House, he was elected permanent chairman at the 1884 Ohio GOP convention and nominated as a national convention delegate. The latter was a problem. He supported James G. Blaine for president, but Ohio senator John Sherman was running. McKinley did not want to be put in a place of opposing him. He asked his name be withdrawn, but delegates yelled “no! no!” and “you cannot withdraw!” as he was elected by acclamation. When asked his presidential preference, McKinley dissembled, saying, “I absolutely haven’t any.”32
At the GOP national convention, McKinley would further his relationships with two Ohio men who would have a lot to do with his future. The first was another rising young Republican, whom McKinley met when he was Resolutions chairman at Ohio’s state GOP convention in 1883.
Joseph Benson Foraker was then a thirty-six-year-old Cincinnati lawyer who had served three years as a Superior Court judge before resigning in 1879 for what he called a “temporary illness” (probably a breakdown). The outgoing governor, “Calico Charlie” Foster (a nickname from his career selling dry goods), supported him as his successor.33
Foraker campaigned forcefully, covering Ohio’s eighty-eight counties and delivering three or four speeches a day. His oratorical skills earned him the nickname “Fire Alarm Joe,” but he lost by 12,529 votes as two controversial antiliquor constitutional amendments went down, taking the GOP with them. McKinley stumped extensively, earning Foraker’s gratitude. “I have never known any popular orator able to accomplish more than he,” Foraker later wrote. McKinley returned Foraker’s praise, writing him after the election, “no candidate for Governor has ever made a more brilliant canvass and the friends you made will stick to you through life.” The former might have been true, but not the latter.34
The second relationship was McKinley’s friendship with Mark Hanna. The two men had bonded at the Ohio GOP gathering and were soon trading chatty letters about the upcoming national convention. Hanna told McKinley he was “gratified that we are to be partners in our efforts to name the next President.” As it turns out, their alliance did lead to a future president, but not that year.35
When they arrived at the 1884 Republican National Convention, McKinley and Hanna shared the broadly held sentiment within the party that the incumbent Republican president, Chester A. Arthur, should not be nominated. But there they parted. Hanna was for Sherman. McKinley was for Arthur’s leading challenger—Blaine, Garfield’s secretary of state. Blaine was a reluctant candidate. Some of his political ambition died with Garfield. Arthur was reluctant, too, but pride and animus toward Blaine kept him in the race.36
The convention was held in Chicago’s Exposition Center, its podium draped with Union battle flags, with portraits of Washington, Lincoln, and Garfield over the stage. Delegates were seated in oak chairs with McKinley’s Ohio at the front left. Foraker sat in the first row next to a stanchion with a red, white, and blue shield on top from which hung a blue silk banner that read OHIO, with the state’s motto and insignia. Each delegation had a similar banner. McKinley sat behind Foraker. Immediately at his back was the “Blind Orator,” Judge William H. West, like McKinley a Blaine man.37
Neither Blaine nor Arthur had enough votes to win on the first ballot, so the balance of power rested with favorite sons such as Sherman, but only if Ohio’s delegates were united. They weren’t. Foraker unsuccessfully pleaded with the Ohio Blaine men to support Sherman at the delegation’s meeting. But McKinley had made his commitment and would keep it. Foraker was not happy with his new friend’s refusal.38
While the Blaine men lost the test vote over the temporary chairman, the anti-Blaine forces were themselves divided and unable to coalesce around one candidate. Ohio split on the vote, which killed Sherman’s chances by showing his home state was not united. The New-York Tribune declared, “Sherman is out of the race” and “his friends are charged with treachery,” meaning McKinley and the Buckeye Blaine men. Foraker agreed on both points.39
The Blaine faction elected the remaining convention officials, including McKinley, who was made Resolutions chairman. It was unusual for a first-time delegate to be given such an important role, but smart to name a Blaine man from a critical state, especially when its favorite son was being slow-rolled out of contention. The Major had also handled the platform duties at his state convention well and his expulsion from the House and leadership on protection gave him stature.
McKinley showed that this confidence was well placed as he wrote a strongly protectionist platform that was well received and adopted unanimously. When the convention chairman lost his voice—and with it, control of a heated fight over reducing Southern representation at future conventions—McKinley replaced him and used his strong, calming voice to restore order and guide the debate to a close.40
The convention reconvened that evening for nominations. After two lesser candidates were named, Maine yielded to Ohio. From his seat behind McKinley, Judge West rose and was guided to the stage. The “Blind Orator” whipped the crowd into a frenzy by describing his candidate, then launched a near riot by using Blaine’s name. With McKinley and other Blaine men cheering, the demonstration took twenty minutes to burn out, despite the band’s best efforts to end it. Arthur’s name was then offered, to a much less enthusiastic reception. It was after 11 p.m. when Foraker appeared onstage.41
Foraker undermined Senator Sherman with his nomination speech. “Fire Alarm” Joe opened by saying Republicans would carry Ohio, suggesting it did not matter who the nominee was. Later, apropos of nothing he said, “No man’s admiration is greater than mine for that brilliant genius from Maine.” The gratuitous Blaine tribute had the “effect of a match in a powder magazine,” wrote a reporter. The frenzied mass of delegates cheered and the galleries turned into a swaying, yelling mob, screaming for Blaine. When order was finally restored, Foraker described what Republicans desired in their nominee. Blaine supporters took to chanting their candidate’s name at the end of each sentence.42
When nominations finished, Foraker unwisely moved that the convention vote. It was after midnight. Blaine had momentum and yet as Sherman’s manager, Fire Alarm was trying to speed up the process. Wanting the balloting the next day, the Blaine camp moved to adjourn. By now the hall was chaotic. Order had to be restored. McKinley had had enough of the chaos caused by Foraker’s foolishness. He collected leaders for all the contenders, convinced them voting after midnight was in no one’s interest, got the chair’s attention, and announced, “The gentlemen all around us are willing that the motion to adjourn until 11 o’clock this morning shall prevail.” McKinley suggested a voice vote, which carried at 1:46 a.m. Delegates went to grab a few hours’ sleep.43
That night, Foraker established his national reputation as an orator but made two mistakes. He claimed he “innocently precipitated” the Blaine demonstration by praising the Maine candidate, but there were always suspicions it was deliberate. And he also foolishly tried rushing a late-night vote. By contrast, McKinley exhibited rare poise for a novice, stepping in to calm a floor fight and then saving the convention from picking its nominee in the middle of the night. Here, thought many party leaders, was a young man with judgment and leadership.44
After three days, the anti-Blaine men still had no strategy. It showed when voting began Friday midday. Interrupted by frequent demands for states to be polled, it took twelve hours to cast three ballots, with Blaine gaining on each one. After the third ballot at 1 a.m., Illinois appeared ready to move to Blaine, which would stampede the convention. Foraker moved to adjourn. Blaine’s managers protested and the hall dissolved into chaos, with delegates screaming as the chairman tried organizing a fourth ballot. After nearly half an hour of disarray, McKinley rose, quieted the crowd, and declared, “I hope no friend of James G. Blaine will object to having the roll call of the States made.” Call the roll and “vote the proposition down.” Again, the Major calmed the waters and the motion to adjourn was defeated.45
Unexpectedly, Foraker then rose to nominate Blaine by acclamation. Arthur men screamed “No! No!” while Blaine men cheered this premature surrender. The floor dissolved into a mess, with men screaming motions and making demands. Foraker withdrew his motion. By now guests were stamping their feet and chanting Blaine’s name. Then Senator John “Black Eagle” Logan delivered Illinois’s 31 votes to Blaine and Ohio’s remaining Sherman men abandoned their man. Blaine won with 541, to 207 for Arthur. The hall exploded with delegates and guests cheering and screaming and waving whatever was close at hand. A conga line appeared on the floor, with Coloradoans hoisting a stuffed eagle and Kansans unfurling a large blue state flag displaying sheaves of wheat and bunches of corn. Cannons boomed outside.46
While the Major’s performance won him admirers across the country, Sherman was unhappy, writing Foraker, “The unexpected defection of McKinley . . . made your task difficult.” McKinley had work to do to repair his relationship with his state’s powerful senior senator.47
BUT FIRST, THE MAJOR would have to get himself back in Congress. Democrats had gerrymandered him again, throwing Stark into the adjoining district centered on Summit County and represented by Democratic Representative David R. Paige. It had a comfortable, though not large, Democratic edge of 900 votes.
Republicans made McKinley’s reelection a priority, pouring resources and speakers into it. Hanna, impressed by the Major’s national convention performance, was eager to help his new friend, urging associates in Massillon to reelect McKinley. “All our interests demand it,” he wrote. McKinley focused on laborers, circulating tributes from the strikers he had defended in 1876 that called him “the working man’s friend.” He also stumped with “Uncle” Shelby Cullom, an Illinois U.S. senator popular with farmers.48
In an extraordinary testament to McKinley’s loyalty at the convention and the importance Republicans placed on his return to Congress, Blaine, the GOP presidential nominee, appeared for the Major in late September events in Akron and Stark County. A banner at an Akron parade on one side of the Barber Match Company wagon proclaimed, WE HAVE NO FAITH IN THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY, BECAUSE IT HAS WRONGED THE COUNTRY ONCE AND HAS NOT YET REPENTED THEREFOR. On the other side it promised, WE WILL LIGHT YOU ON TO VICTORY IN OCTOBER.49
All these efforts paid off on October 14 as McKinley defeated Paige, 52 percent to 48 percent, with a 2,019-vote margin despite the district’s Democratic edge. Jonathan H. Wallace, the Democrat seated when McKinley was ejected from the House, was also beaten.50
For the next two years, McKinley enjoyed so much popularity at home that in 1886, Democrats could not recruit a candidate until a month before the election. In what was supposed to be a competitive district, McKinley cruised to a 54 percent to 46 percent victory and became one of the senior Republicans in the House.51
During those years, McKinley also had to navigate Ohio politics, as he became a recognized statewide leader and was urged to run for governor in 1885. He declined. Whatever McKinley thought after the 1884 national convention, he wanted to help elect Foraker. Better to have potential rivals beholden than to deny them help easily given and difficult not to reciprocate.52
Foraker again forcefully stumped in a campaign that revolved around black voting rights, liquor regulation, and charges Standard Oil money was used to elect Democratic U.S. senator Henry B. Payne. As Foraker’s man in northeast Ohio, Hanna served on the campaign’s executive committee while McKinley spoke extensively for the ticket. Foraker won by 17,451 votes. McKinley now had a friend in the governor’s office, but was the state big enough for two rising Republican stars?53
Their difficulties began quickly. The oil inspector was state government’s most lucrative post. Paid big fees by Ohio’s many refineries, the inspector had an army of patronage jobs. McKinley and Hanna both recommended allies for the job. Hanna complained about McKinley’s interest to the governor, saying, “He wants the earth.” Foraker reappointed the incumbent, stinging Hanna, who thought he was close to Fire Alarm.54
AFTER CLEVELAND CAPTURED THE White House for the Democrats in 1884, Hanna decided he wanted to run a presidential campaign and thereby become “a national political luminary.” After settling on Sherman, Hanna set out to make him the nominee in 1888, using business contacts throughout the country and frequently meeting with the Ohio senator in Washington to plot moves. He even attempted to recruit Foraker, asking him to lobby Michigan governor Russell A. Alger to endorse Sherman. Foraker probably received the request cordially but likely seethed in private. He and Alger both saw themselves as candidates.55
As governor, Fire Alarm Joe had begun moving around the country, causing a presidential boomlet he found “gratifying,” but admitted later was “the beginning of trouble.” The trouble was that Sherman wanted to run again and this time, McKinley and Hanna both supported him. Uneasy about the ambitious governor, the Sherman men decided to seek a formal endorsement of the senator at the 1887 state convention. Knowing that could keep him from running, Foraker opposed the move but failed to stop it. Hanna then invited Foraker to a war council with Sherman and McKinley to plot strategy, but Foraker refused. The governor didn’t want to be hot-boxed into closing his options.56
At the meeting in late June 1887 in Canton, whatever animosity Sherman had toward McKinley from the last national convention dissipated. The two men had developed a sincere friendship. Hanna wrote Foraker about the meeting in advance, but still the governor complained to Sherman that it was held “without notice to me” and a hostile war council, where “a lot of political Indians were getting ready for the war path.”57
The Ohio oil inspector’s job came up after Foraker won reelection that fall. Ready to cut ties with both men, Foraker appointed George Cox, a Cincinnati machine Republican. If the governor sought higher office, better to have the oil inspector’s patronage and money controlled by a close ally. This effectively ended Hanna’s once self-described “lively admiration and warm friendship” with Foraker.58
The relationship between these two young, ambitious Ohio Republicans—Foraker and McKinley—would become complicated. They would soon be at odds over more important things than the oil inspector’s patronage.