Tuesday June 24

by


11:30

I am now listening to the
proceedings of the opening of
the democratic convention

I love to listen in to Robert
McN Graham McNamee
Official announcer of W.E.A.F.
He certainly has a beautiful
way of presenting a picture of
everything in the most vivid
language, Before the Convention
opens at 12 now a fine band plays

2pm.

Whether I approve of the Democratic
platform or not their proceeding brings
forward my tears, a mighty party
of a mighty liberal country in convention
to chose a nominee for the Presidency.

——————-

Matt’s Notes

More than any other entry Papa has written about radio programming, this one puts us right in the middle of a hugely important moment in American popular culture. Though some early radio experimenters had taken stabs at live Presidential election coverage (most significantly in 1920, when the Detroit News shared updates from its news desk about the Harding-Cox election through its “radiophone” station, 8MK) live political convention coverage — in fact, any detailed, live look at the American political process — was entirely novel in 1924.

When Papa heard the opening remarks of the convention on WEAF, he was on the receiving end of American Telephone and Telegraph’s most ambitious national radio broadcasting effort to date. AT&T had previously managed large-scale broadcasts by linking its many radio stations by telephone wire (and renting its wires to other stations that wanted to receive and rebroadcast their programming) but the Republican and Democratic conventions “provided sensational stimulus at precisely the time the broadcasters were technically ready for the challenge.”1

According to the New York Times, “twenty radio stations extending from Boston to Kansas City and from Buffalo to Atlanta” broadcast the Democratic convention. Eighteen of these were AT&T’s, while their corporate rivals, RCA and General Electric, connected a couple of other stations through Western Union telegraph lines to carry broadcasts from WJZ, New York’s other station on hand for the convention. Public address systems played radio broadcasts for crowds in various New York parks and squares, and radio set retailers set up their own loudspeakers to draw crowds to their stores. It was, as an advertisement proclaimed in the Democratic Convention Official Program, “indeed a radio summer!”

Papa’s enthusiasm for Graham McNamee also shows him catching the beginning of a cultural wave. McNamee had made a name for himself as a sports broadcaster over the previous year, becoming one of the first practitioners of what would later be known as color commentary. His career continued to grow with the popularity of radio, and before his untimely death in 1942 at 53 he had secured himself a reputation as one of the great voices of radio. He would cover many political conventions during his career, though the 1924 Democratic Conventions may have been his most challenging; as we’ll soon see, the Convention would go on to be the longest and perhaps most contentious in history, and McNamee’s performance bordered on the heroic.

When Papa says “whether I approve of the Democratic platform,” he’s most likely referring to the divisive debate about whether the platform should include language explicitly condemning the Ku Klux Klan (America’s relationship to the League of Nations, prohibition law and immigration law were also important issues of the day, but none were as publicly contentious). The Democratic front runner William McAdoo (it looks like Papa started to write “McAdoo” instead of “McNamee” in the second paragraph of this entry) received support from the Klan and declined to condemn them, while New York Governor Al Smith, the other leading contender, rigorously supported anti-Klan platform language. (The Klan’s influential role in national politics was prominent enough to earn the Grand Wizard, Dr. Hiram Wesley Evans, a Time Magazine cover photo on July 23, 1924.)

As in many other matters, though, Papa’s idealism and romanticism helped him overcome his apprehension. This entry may be filled with interesting historical and political tidbits, but nothing about it is more compelling to me than to read how Papa shed tears of admiration for his adopted country’s political process. Would he still do the same today?

—————–

Update 7/1/07

I just came across an article in the New York Times archive entitled
“Radio Taxi for Delagates; Cab Keeps Tabs on Balloting During Trips to the Waldorf.” It describes the curious and unexpected phenomenon of a car equipped with a radio:

Delegates rushing back and forth between the Garden and the Waldorf-Astoria need no longer fear when stepping into Frank Bagan’s taxicab of being out of touch with the balloting.

Bagan…turned up at the Waldorf yesterday afternoon…with a radio outfit installed in his taxicab.

He and whatever passenger he is carrying are each equipped with ear phones, and the aerial standing about two feed above the roof of the cab is the only grotesque feature to distinguish the cab from hundreds of others.”

Bagan did not charge extra for the “radio service.” Looks like the trend caught on, too. Here’s a photo of a radio-equipped campaign car from 1924, via the Library of Congress:

—————

References

1 – From Erik Barnouw’s A Tower in Babel: A History of Broadcasting in the United States to 1933.

Wednesday June 25

by


not important

—————-

Matt’s Notes

I’m never quite sure what to think when Papa sits down to write in his diary and chooses to say something like “nothing important.” He’s been so sad lately that I read it as “what’s the use of saying anything?” but maybe he was just bored — I think he had some days off due to his factory’s “slack season,” and he never enjoyed being idle.

Meanwhile, the Democratic Convention was on the radio (a showdown was looming over the inclusion of anti-Klan language in the party platform) and the Amalgamated Clothing Workers of America were about to go on strike, so at least the news of the day held plenty of distractions for Papa:

Thursday June 26

by


meeting of Maccabean

Smith got today a tumultuous
ovation when named for the
Presidency at the Democratic
convention, He is a good boy
I hope he will be nominated.

—————-

Matt’s Notes

For those of you just joining us, “The Maccabean” refers to Papa’s chapter of B’Nai Zion (a.k.a. Order Sons of Zion) a Zionist fraternal order and mutual support society closely affiliated with the Zionist Organization of America. Papa was a founding member of “The Maccabean” and served as its master of ceremonies.

“Smith” refers to New York Governor Al Smith, the anti-Prohibition, anti-Klan and anti-McAdoo hometown favorite at the 1924 Democratic Convention. The ovation Papa heard when a young Franklin Roosevelt nominated Smith was, according to the New York Times, “the loudest demonstration ever heard at a national convention” and “lasted an hour an thirteen minutes…it broke out again when later speakers from other States seconded the nomination and ran for twenty-three minutes more.”

Alas, the Times coverage also described how the “outburst” was well-organized by Tammany forces (who brought in a marching band and distributed noisemakers to choice delegates well in advance) and lacked the spontaneity of Smith’s introduction at the 1920 Convention in San Francisco, where he was seen as an up-and-coming star. It’s hard to imagine that today’s national press would even bother to point out the artifice behind the latest Giuliani or McCain or Clinton or Obama appearance, but perhaps back then the Times felt the need to clarify things for the radio audiences who had never before heard a convention broadcast. (I wonder if Papa listened to the demonstration in its entirety.)

Meanwhile, trouble continued to brew at the Convention over the inclusion of anti-Klan language in the Democratic platform. The truly spontaneous outbursts over this issue that were about to occur would make a much bigger impression, and be far more damaging to the Democratic party, than anything Tammany could cook up.

———

References

OUTBURST BEATS M’ADOO’S; Smith Demonstration the Loudest Any Convention Ever Heard.

OUTBURST LACKED THE SPIRIT OF 1920; Tribute to Gov. Smith at San Francisco Was Joyously Spontaneous.

SMITH’S BIG OVATION WELL ORGANIZED; What an Observer on the Floor Saw of the Mechanics of Great Demonstration.

PLATFORM DRAFT SHAPED; Anti-Klan Idea and 34 Other Planks Reach the Main Committee.

M’ADOO MEN SOUGHT RECESS; Wanted Balloting on Nominee Last Night Before Klan Plank Action.

D’ADOO SEES PLOT IN ENTERTAINMENTS; Smith Men Are Accused of Seeking His Delegates by Showing Them Good Time.

———–

Image Source:

“Now step right to the front” by Clifford Kennedy Berryman. Library of Congress # LC-USZ62-10783. LOC says rights “may be restricted,” so I’m looking into it.

Friday June 27

by

Not important

————

The words “not important,” as I noted the last time Papa wrote them in his diary, seem charged with importance. While he has slowly chipped away at the despair he felt in the aftermath of his father’s death, he has not yet figured out exactly how to get on with his life and is still inclined to feel unmoored and lonely. So, I’ll ask again: when he says his day was unimportant, is he expressing his own feeling of unimportance?

————–

I expect Papa spent much of the day listening to the Democratic Convention on the radio. Nominations were finally complete — 18 candidates were officially in the field, according to the New York Times — but intense conflict over the tone of anti-Klan language in the party platform had finally boiled over (committee members had literally come to blows over the issue on the convention floor.) The longest and most contentious balloting in convention history was about to start.

Saturday June 28

by


Went this morning to
Shapiro, and went to
services in a Borough Park
Temple, later visited with
him Harry Eisenkraft
and winded up the day
in Coney Island where
I went to the evening services
in a synagogue there

—————-

Matt’s Notes

Papa hasn’t mentioned his Saturday worship habits that much throughout his diary, so I’m not sure if he typically went to synagogue twice on Saturdays or if this day was an exception for some reason. As far as I can tell it was not a Jewish holiday (Shevuoth was three weeks earlier) or a notable milestone in his mourning process (his father died five weeks ago). If you can enlighten me in any way, please write or drop a comment.

We do know the locations of Coney Island synagogues of the 20’s thanks to the fantastic Coney Island History Project (via a tip on the coneyisland.com message boards) so do yourself a favor and check out some of the site’s maps and information. For a number of reasons I think Papa went to the synagogue at West 31st street (listed on this map as Center Bikur Cholem) with his friends Shapiro and Eisenkraft, though I’d like to confirm this somehow.

Also among the throngs at Coney were 5,000 or so Democratic Convention delegates on an outing organized and led by New York’s Mayor Hyland himself (according to the New York Times, they were “escorted by the Police, Fire and Street Cleaning Departments’ bands to Steeplechast and Luna parks” among other distractions). They probably wished they could have stayed out there, too. The Convention proceedings at at Madison Square Garden had become rather sticky, due in part to 80-plus degree temperatures but mostly to the continuing battle over the influence of the Klan on the party platform. With balloting about to start, the Klan-induced schism was dominating all other Convention story lines, and delegates were digging in for a long fight.

—————-

Update:

Shows you what I know. My mother writes:

Religious Jews say Kaddish for the entire year, morning and night. When Papa died, Cousin Jeanie and Aunt Clara gave money to some organization on the lower east side, where aged men say Kaddish for the designated person, particularly if they are unfortunate enough to have no sons to do it.

And:

I just remembered the name of the lower East side organization that said Kaddish for Papa. It was called The Old Sages of Israel.

—————

The Coney Island History Project also has a photo of a brochure touting Coney Island’s role as an entertainment destination for Democratic Convention Delegates.

—————

Update 10/30/07 – After The New York Times Sunday City section published a story on Papa’s Diary Project on October 14th, I got an e-mail from the grandson of the above-mentioned Harry Eisenkraft. It looks like Papa’s father was the brother of Harry’s mother (making Papa and Harry cousins and the man who called me my own distant cousin). The photo below shows Harry Eisenkraft and his wife, Jennie, on their wedding day.

Sunday June 29

by


Another day in Coney Island
with the boys, another dip
in the ocean.

We took a locker for the
season at Hahns at 31 st. sr
and went back to city with
running board of Rothblum’s
auto.

—————-

Matt’s Notes

I thought Papa wrote “we took a locker for the season at Hahus at 3rd. st.” when I initially transcribed this entry, and I figured it might refer to a street intersection or a public park or something like that. But, thanks to the good people who aided my inquiry into the matter at the coneyisland.com message boards, we now know that Papa was talking about Hahn’s Baths at West 31st Street. This map from The Coney Island History Project shows that Hahn’s was right on the Boardwalk and adjacent to the much larger Roosevelt baths (a housing development now stands in their place).

Interestingly, the Coney Island History Project also features several studio shots of people sitting in prop cars, so I wonder if the photo of Papa below was taken in a Coney Island photo studio:

The real car he rode in was, as we discussed during the first appearance of “Rothblum’s auto” back in March, was probably a Model T sedan like the one below:


I asked my friend Sixto, who earns a fat salary as the Director of Automotive Research for Papa’s Diary Project and is no stranger to New York City history, what it would have been like for Papa to ride the running board of a car all the way from Coney Island to the Lower East Side. Wouldn’t the roads have been less congested and faster-moving than they are today, even with slower cars? Was Papa some kind of crazed daredevil to attempt such a trip? No, says Sixto:

Many cars had running boards (and they were very
sturdy, I’ve stood on several although not while
moving)…

By the mid 20’s the city could be quite congested with
traffic at times so it could have taken a long time. I
wouldn’t be surprised if they sat in a traffic jam or
two leaving the very popular Coney Island area. June
29th was a Sunday, there could have been half a
million people there easily and probably more, and
while most took the subway, I’m sure there were also a
lot of autos on the street.

Good to know. Meanwhile, a world away in midtown Manhattan, the Democratic Convention took a Sunday break from its contentious proceedings. This allowed pundits time to speculate on how damaging the fight over anti-Klan language in the Democratic platform would be (as Will Rogers noted in a New York Times article, “It is a Sunday…so they can’t do anything. If you can keep a Democrat from doing anything, you can save him from making a mistake. “)

I’m sure Papa was distressed, as were many other Democrats, over the convention’s ongoing troubles. By now it was clear to most realistic observers that neither William McAdoo nor Al Smith, the frontrunners who stood on opposite sides of the Klan debate, would be able to muster enough votes to secure the nomination in an early ballot, if at all (as a Herald Tribune editorial pointed out, the whole debate was “portentous of disintegration.”) By contrast, the Zionist Organization of America had just held its twenty-seventh annual convention in Pittsburgh and, without much ado, reelected Louis Lipsky as its chairman. Perhaps, as Papa sat at home that night glowing with sunburn and reading the evening papers, he was happy to know that at least one of the organizations he cared about had managed to behave itself.

————–

Update:

Here are a bunch of cars in the real world (this is a detail from a 1923 photo of Coney Island’s Dreamland parking lot). Check out the groovy motorcycle at left, too:

References:

Monday June 30

by


Listened in to the balloting
at the Democratic con-
vention, all day and
night.

The seem to enjoy killing
time in balloting so many
times for a candidate. There
is a deadlock, and they
will as it seems to be
have to keep on voting for
many more days before
they will come to a conclusion.

—————

Matt’s Notes

The Democratic Convention balloting Papa refers to here started at 8:00 P.M. and went well into the morning, and while he was correct to predict a long deadlock, he probably didn’t expect the convention to go on for nine more days. This kind of thing doesn’t happen today since state primary elections determine the distribution of convention delegates’ votes, but delegates of earlier eras controlled their own votes and could change them at will during the course of balloting. Conventions were therefore known for their furious horse-trading, calculated deals, and long meetings in proverbial smoke-filled rooms, most of which the public never learned about.

So, when Papa listened to the Democratic balloting, he was part of a fascinating cultural experiment in which ordinary Americans got their first intimate look at the quirks of their Presidential nominating system. (The Republican Convention had also been broadcast on the radio, but offered few surprising details since incumbent President Coolidge won the nomination handily; Will Rogers said “it could have been done by postcard.”1) Nowadays we can get all the parliamentary discord we can handle, but Papa’s dismayed tone when he writes “they seem to enjoy killing time in balloting so many times for a candidate,” gives us some idea of how odd such a live spectacle must have been. Presidential politics would, of course, never escape such attention again. Papa was really witnessing the true start of broadcast media’s role in national politics, and more broadly the modern era in which national celebrity and media savvy would become prerequisites for political success.2

That said, the 1924 Democratic Convention was itself firmly entrenched in the old ways, so dark horse candidates and favorite sons could still make a showing. In fact, by the time Papa was done listening to the first night’s balloting, he must have known that neither William McAdoo nor Al Smith would win the two-thirds of delegates’ votes needed to secure the nomination. McAdoo, the frontrunner, would never put a dent in Smith’s blocking control of the Northeastern and Midwestern industrial states, and Smith, with his vocal anti-Klan, anti-Prohibition and populist principles, had no chance with Southerners. (Some say McAdoo accepted this and planned to persuade the delegates, once they were thoroughly exhausted, to consent to a rules change that would let him win the nomination with a simple majority2. Such a rules change did eventually come to a vote, but it never got anywhere.)

Attention was now starting to turn to John W. Davis, an attorney and former ambassador whose views were more akin to Smith’s than McAdoo’s. Stay tuned.

————-

References

1 – From Erik Barnouw’s A Tower in Babel: A History of Broadcasting in the United States to 1933

2 – From “The Revolution in the Presidential Nominating Convention” by William G. Carleton. Political Science Quarterly, June 1957.

⇐ Previous 7 Days|Next 7 Days ⇒