Candidate Baker

He is a small man and a quiet man, but Washington, D. C., always takes notice when Newton D. Baker comes to town. Last week Mr. Baker was there for three days, to attend sessions of the National Crime Commission. (See CRIME col. 1). He presided over that section of the commission which studies social, educational and industrial conditions to discover crime preventives. Also he functioned, as no one else can, as toastmaster at the commission's banquet.

Washington particularly noticed Baker last week because, in all the talk about Democratic Presidential candidates, his name had been conspicuously inconspicuous. Yet if there is anyone in the late Woodrow Wilson's party who was not a dark horse it was Newton D. Baker. Dark horses trot out of obscurity. Newton D. Baker, though small and quiet, is one of the least obscure and most distinguished men of his time.

He will inevitably loom in Democratic parleys between now and the nominating ballot at the convention. It is only a question of how soon.

It was characteristic of Mr. Baker that, while other crime commissioners were talking last week about sharper juries, harsher laws, fewer pardons and more citizen vigilantes with sawed-off shotguns, he was trying to put criminals into philosophical perspective, where he saw them as sick people whom a humanitarian society ought to cure. A humanitarian philosopher, a man so keen and kindly that he cannot bear to read Mark Twain because that heartless author put his character at such unfair disadvantages--could such a man be nominated to govern a nation? It would not be unheard of, even in the U. S. Observers last week pondered some of the things people would want to know about Mr. Baker apart from his record in public office, which everyone knows--when the Democratic politicians get around to considering him.

Mr. Baker's friend, Secretary Munson Havens of the Cleveland Chamber of Commerce, is the author of a concise and accurate sketch of Mr. Baker: "His resemblance to Charles Lamb, Voltaire and Mephistopheles is amusing; but his eyes, if not finer, are more kindly than Satan's. He works all day and reads all night in law and literature. His garden abuts upon a golf course; but on Sunday (summer) afternoons he weeds, unperturbed by the passing of derisive foursomes. He is an author of the truest quality and his voice--a voice of liquid gold--is lent to every civic cause. He is a trades unionist in principle and practice but believes in the open shop. He is a fighting pacifist. He is the only man of whom the Encyclopedia Britannica reversed its opinion completely within a decade. General Pershing said of him: 'He has made possible what I have done.' He is a loyal friend, a gracious enemy. In his presence conversation is rarely trivial and never low. He is not all things to all men; he is the same thing to all men, a gentleman and a scholar. If a Greek piano-tuner visited his house professionally, Mr. Baker would learn all about the insides of a piano and the piano-tuner would hear about Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides."

An easy way to know more about Mr. Baker--or any man--would be to observe his hour-to-hour, day-to-day activities during a typical week in his life--last week for example.

Last week, Mr. Baker went about life as follows:

Sunday. (Shaker Heights, Cleveland). Rose, shaved and bathed early so that he could see his grandson, John Michael McGean, aged five weeks, during some of the latter's few waking moments. . . . Motored with Mrs. Baker to see the new home of his friend John Stockwell. Showed special interest in John Stockwell's library. . . . Home for Sunday dinner, the best part of which (for Mr. Baker) was ice cream. . . . Changed to old shirt and work trousers, left off hat, coat and waistcoat, rolled up workshirt sleeves and fell to cutting cornstalks in the garden. Carried the corn stalks in armfuls to his vacant side lot. (The stalks were later to be spread on flower beds for winter coverage). Forked up large clods in the back garden with a spading fork. No blisters resulted, his hands being used to such work. . . . Dressed to receive his lawyer-friend John H. Clarke, onetime (1916-24) Associate Justice of the U. S. Supreme Court. They talked League of Nations, World Court, peace movements, until Mr. Clarke could be shown Grandson McGean. Mr. Clarke gave favorable judgment. . . . After supper, read Mother India by Katherine Mayo, about horrid conditions in a backward society. ... To bed at 10:30 o'clock.

Monday. All day at his law office (Baker, Hostetler & Sidlo). Ten or a dozen callers on as many varied cases. . . . Boarded the 8:40 o'clock Baltimore & Ohio sleeper for Washington, D. C. Smoked a pipe (old, well-caked, straight-and-long stemmed, strong tobacco), retired, read in berth.

Tuesday. Breakfast on the train. Registered at the Willard Hotel for a morning of law conferences (the Nickel Plate merger, for the Brothers Van Sweringen of Cleveland, is in his hands). Went to the Supreme Court Chambers at the Capitol. Lunched in the Senate restaurant on pie and buttermilk. . . . Conferred with Assistant Secretary of the Navy in charge of aviation F. Trubee Davison, presiding officer of the Crime Commission; meeting set for next day. Called at the War Department. Secretary Davis at Cabinet meeting. Conferred with General Pershing's secretary, Captain Adamson, about Cleveland's reception for General Pershing on Armistice Day. Dropped in on the Chief of Staff, Major General Summerall, and reminisced for a half-hour about the war. . . . Law conferences all evening.

Wednesday and Thursday. Crime Commission meetings. Made a speech (see p. 14) and introduced other speakers at the banquet. Entrained for Cleveland late that night.

Friday. Reached his office about noon. Read mail and dictated answers. . . . That evening, political meeting--mostly Poles, a people Mr. Baker knows well--about whether or not Cleveland should revert to mayoralty form of government or retain the city-manager plan. Favored city-manager plan, though twice (1912-14; 1914-16) Mayor of Cleveland himself. Quoted his political godfather, the late Tom L. Johnson: "If you'll get a tent and talk sensibly to the people, they'll respond--they'll do what's right--and they can always be trusted to do it." Also said: "I don't think Mayor Thompson [of Chicago] is the most ignorant man in the world. I couldn't prove that. ... I bring this up because I never want to have to blush for Cleveland. ...