The Days of a Man 



At the 

 White 

 House 



McKin- 



ley's 



method 



In the early weeks of McKinley's incumbency I had 

 occasion to call at the White House in company 

 with James R. Garfield. The large upstairs room 

 on the east end was crowded with office seekers, 

 one of whom a big, fat fellow could hardly 

 keep from rolling off the sofa. Another, an old 

 gentleman with a patriarchal beard, who wanted to 

 be Minister to Sweden, handed out a document in 

 which McKinley himself, four years before, had 

 urged Harrison to appoint the bearer to the coveted 

 place. "But that was another time," protested the 

 weary President. Mr. Garfield, looking around on 

 the motley assemblage, said: "This room used to be 

 our little school." 



McKinley showed endless patience in dealing with 

 the political job hunter, Roosevelt none at all. 

 When the latter became President, he made quick 

 work of purveyors by repeating in a loud voice 

 their whispered suggestions: 



What, you urge this man on me, and then say confidentially 

 that he isn't fit for the job? What do you mean? 



McKinley's appointments, furthermore, were made 

 for the most part on a purely partisan basis; and 

 as the Republican party includes low-minded as well 

 as high-minded men, he thought it fair that both 

 classes should be represented in the public service. 

 Nevertheless, he took some pains to see that the 

 decent element got the best of the deal. Thus, in a 

 certain district where five judgeships were vacant, 

 he appointed three men above reproach, one of them 

 as presiding justice; but of the other two the less 

 said the better. 



Meanwhile he was mindful of his own political 



