CLEVELAND'S JOHNSON: AT HOME
by EUGENE
C. MURDOCK*
In an earlier article published in this
Quarterly the present author
made an attempt to summarize the
accomplishments of Cleveland's
Tom L. Johnson and to point out his
contributions to the growth
and development of the lake city.1
As mayor of Cleveland from
1901 to 1910, Johnson established and
maintained high admini-
strative standards while pushing
through a broad program of
municipal reform. He attracted wide
attention and was emulated
by many other mayors, similarly caught
up in the floodtide of
progressivism.
The successful battle for a three-cent
street railway fare was
perhaps Johnson's most celebrated
achievement, although the fare
itself was not too important then and
seems utterly ridiculous today
when fares are approaching the
twenty-five cent mark. Yet it had
meaning in that here Johnson compelled
privileged groups, chiefly
the public utility corporations, to
provide cheap and efficient services
for the people; he caused them to think
not only of their own
interests but also of the citizens'
welfare. The principle was the
same in his fight for natural gas,
where he opposed powerful
artificial gas companies; the principle
was the same in his fight
for municipal electric power, where he
broke the monopoly of the
over-charging Cleveland Electric
Illuminating Company. Having
learned the techniques of the
monopolist when in the street rail-
way business himself, Johnson employed
this know-how against his
former fellows. Why did he do it?
As students of Johnson are well aware,
it was his conversion to
the humanitarianism of Henry George
which prompted this change.
From the apostle of the single tax he
learned that monopolists had
caused a great social imbalance, which
had to be rectified. With
* Eugene C. Murdock is chairman of the
department of social science and assistant
dean of the college at Rio Grande
College, Rio Grande, Ohio. Tom L. Johnson was
the subject of his doctoral dissertation (Columbia
University, 1951).
1 "Cleveland's Johnson," Ohio
State Archaeological and Historical Quarterly, LXII
(1953), 323-333.
319
320
Ohio State Archaeological and Historical Quarterly
George as his counselor Johnson carried
the fight into politics. The
skeptics who doubted his sincerity
failed to explain why a man, if
really ambitious for personal power,
would quit a million dollar
business to become a six-thousand
dollar politician.
The "Nine Years' War with
Privilege," as Johnson described his
administration, embraced many other
projects, all in this same
spirit of Georgian reform. Among them
were the Warrensville
Farms for the delinquent, the aged, and
the tubercular; the de-
velopment of the lovely Group Plan on
the Lakefront Mall; the
paving of several hundred miles of city
streets; the construction of
an elaborate park system; the
organization of a city forestry depart-
ment; and the elimination of hazardous
grade crossings.
Aside from the material products of his
work, Johnson left the
Cleveland public a heritage of an
indefinable quality. He taught
it the rudiments of civic
responsibility, he instructed it in the dangers
of government by vested interests, and
he pointed the way to better
things. These lessons were well learned
and long remembered,
although Johnson himself was frequently
forgotten as the first
cause. In substance, his contributions
worked a revolution in
Cleveland and transformed the big
country town into a great in-
dustrial metropolis.
Significant as these deeds were,
however, they by no means tell
the full story of the "Maker of
Modern Cleveland." From them
one learns nothing of the death of the
masculine and personable
"Al," his brother, which left
the mayor with so many debts he
eventually went bankrupt. One learns
nothing of the vivacious and
uninhibited Bessie, his daughter, who
married an Italian fortune-
seeker and brought heartbreak to her
family. One learns little of
fun-loving Loftin, his shiftless son,
who succeeded at nothing and
gambled away his inheritance. One
catches only shadowy glimpses
of tall and dignified Maggie, the
southern belle, who never quite
understood why her husband descended
into politics when he might
well have lived a life of capitalistic
comfort.
Johnson's three-story, stone, Victorian
mansion was located at
Cleveland's Johnson: At Home 321
the northwest corner of East 24th
Street and Euclid Avenue.2 The
porte-cochere, the ivy-clad walls, and
the huge grounds gave it an
appearance of rural magnificence.
Inside the main doorway one
entered upon a large rectangular hall,
replete with fireplace,
couches, and chairs. The music hall
opened off to the left and a
formal parlor to the right. The roomy
dining hall, to the rear of
the parlor, featured an oval-shaped
table, which could accommodate
twenty to thirty people. Innumerable
bedrooms on the second
floor not only satisfied family needs
but also provided for Arthur
Fuller, the chauffeur, James Tyler, the
valet, Bidermann du Pont,
one of Johnson's early benefactors, and
several guests. Music and
laughter from the attic ballroom were
as familiar as the bang of
a hammer from the basement workshop.3
The Johnson family was a devoted,
harmonious unit. They played,
worked, and suffered together, their
diverse personalities nicely
supplementing one another. They enjoyed
life, and save for the
mayor, seldom worried. Yet when a
crisis arose, they linked arms
and looked unflinchingly ahead.
Reared in Arkansas, Mrs. Johnson, or
Maggie, never outgrew her
aristocratic origins. Accustomed to
wealth and a corps of servants,
she could manage a house, be a charming
hostess, and circulate
easily in smart society. For twenty
years after her marriage her
husband remained in business, and she
continued to enjoy this
familiar way of life. Then suddenly
things changed. In the eighties
and nineties Johnson began tinkering
with something called the
single tax, and after a while even
talked about giving up his
profitable street railway lines in
order to promote "the cause." In
time, as he moved on into political
circles, the old friends dropped
away, and new ones of a different cast
took their places.
Although it is safe to say that Maggie
never grasped the basic
purpose behind her husband's new
thinking, she made every effort
2 The house was demolished in the
nineteen-twenties, and the grounds are now
occupied by the Ohio Motor Company.
3 Cleveland Plain Dealer, January 21, 1909, November 11, 1912, February 19, 22,
1920; The Public (Chicago),
January 6, 1906; Frederic C. Howe, The Confessions
of a Reformer (New York, 1925), 127-129; conversations with Mrs.
Frances Bushea,
March 24, 1949, and Arthur Fuller, April 10, 1949.
322
Ohio State Archaeological and Historical Quarterly
to adjust to it. Her home became a
headquarters for the "Johnson
Circle," which, meeting frequently
in the front hall, planned the
foundations for the new Cleveland. She
entered the whirlpool of
politics and even accompanied her
husband across the state when
he ran for governor in 1903. Sitting in
the front seat of the "Red
Devil," she handed out literature
to listeners and passers-by. When
the party was in remote regions, she
prepared noonday snacks for
the exhausted campaigners. Unquestioned
faith in the mayor per-
mitted Maggie to surmount the doubts
which this family revolution
created.4
Loftin, the eldest child,5 inherited
his father's exuberant spirit
along with his mother's distaste for
work. He quit college, toured
the world, made three or four false
starts in business, and was a
correspondent during the Russo-Japanese
War of 1904-5. During
his frequent sojourns in New York City
he received a monthly
allowance of $500, rarely an adequate
amount. The worried father
repeatedly implored the youth,
"Get a job, even if it's only for ten
dollars a week, get a job." Loftin
played the role of a "rich man's
son" to the limit, carrying on as
usual even when his father was
no longer rich.6
Bessie, the other child, was an
exciting eighteen when her father
became mayor in 1901. An attractive
extrovert, this much sought-
after young lady carried herself about
with a sometimes misleading
dignity. As Loftin perhaps drew more
from his mother, Bessie
drew more from her father; his talent,
artistry, energy, and ob-
stinacy, all were reflected in the
girl. The joy which her efferves-
cent spirit and various accomplishments
brought into the family
circle was diminished by her
unfortunate marriage. On the more
pleasant side, she acted successfully
on the local stage, sang, played
4 Plain Dealer, April 28, 1901, September 28, 1903, January 1, 1913,
December 25,
1948; conversations with Mrs. Bushea, March
24, 1949, and Mrs. Charles Unterzuber,
February 28, 1949. She died in Los
Angeles, July 9, 1934, at the age of seventy-six.
Plain Dealer, July
10, 1934.
5 A son who died in infancy was born
several years before Loftin's arrival in 1880.
6 Material on Loftin is not plentiful.
Odd bits can be found in the Plain Dealer,
July 14, 1901, June 8, 1904, November 23, 1906,
November 25, 1909, July 10, 1934.
More precise and personal information
was obtained in conversations with Mrs.
Bushea, March 24, 1949, and Mrs.
Unterzuber, February 28, 1949. There is conflicting
testimony as to the date of Loftin's
death, but it is safe to say that he died in obscurity
in the nineteen-twenties.
Cleveland's Johnson: At Home 323
the piano, wrote plays, gave
recitations, and is even reported to
have written several novels. In
addition to being an expert horse-
back rider, she was the first woman in
Cleveland to drive an
automobile.7
None of this, however, prevented her
from succumbing to the
romantic importunities of Frederico
Mariani, a writer of sorts, who
abandoned his native Milan to seek his
way in the New World.8
When the first rumors of an impending
Bessie-Mariani match
circulated in December 1906, the pair
were night-clubbing it in
New York. Mariani soon came to
Cleveland, pressed his suit in
earnest, and won Bessie completely with
extravagant talk of ocean
trips and Monte Carlo vacations.
Despite parental misgivings, the
marriage took place late in March 1907,
and the two departed for
a New York honeymoon. Within five weeks
Bessie and Mariani
separated, and in spite of frantic
reconciliation attempts by the
Johnsons, Mariani shortly left the
United States and Bessie returned
home. The trouble, it soon came out,
was that Mariani expected
Bessie to support him and when she
refused to do so he abandoned
her. All of this, occurring as the
street railway war was coming to
a climax, only added another weight to
the mayor's already heavy
burden.9
Although the tragedy seemed to mount as
the years passed, and
there was more to come, it was not all
darkness with the Johnsons.
On the contrary, there was so much
gayety and pleasure that the
unhappiness seemed out of place.
Automobile driving, for example,
was the A-1 recreation of the entire
family, and much time was
7 Material
on Bessie has been gathered from the Plain Dealer, June 11, 1903, Sep-
tember 10, October 17, 18, 1904, April
26, July 8, 10, 1906, May 13, 1908; The
Public, April 29, 1910; Town Topics, July 14, 1906; Carl
Lorenz, Tom L. Johnson,
Mayor of Cleveland (New York, 1911), 130-131; conversations with Mrs. Bushea,
March 24, 1949, and Mrs. Unterzuber,
February 28, 1949. She died in New York City,
May 5, 1936. Plain Dealer, May 6,
1936.
8 Reports indicated that Mariani, a
graduate of the University of Geneva, came from
a distinguished Milanese family.
Although occasionally called a "nobleman," he
actually had no title. He served for a
while in the Italian army and then entered
"business." He was said to
possess a deep interest in literature and the drama, which,
supposedly, brought him close to Bessie.
Throughout this tangled tale Mariani re-
mains a hazy figure, difficult to follow
and understand. Plain Dealer, December 22,
1906, February 25, May 10, 1907.
9 Plain Dealer, December 22, 1906, February 25, March 11, 23, 24, May
10, 11, 12,
13, 1907, May 13, December 5, 1908.
324
Ohio State Archaeological and Historical Quarterly
passed in "racing" up and
down Euclid Avenue. Still a novelty at
the turn of the century, the automobile
appealed to Loftin, Bessie,
and the mayor (such a sport, of course,
was too frivolous for
Maggie), much as a new toy appeals to a
child. Loftin's exploits
were regularly reported in the local
press, one episode of note being
a ten-day motor trip he made from New
York to Cleveland, a signal
achievement. Late in 1902 while driving
to Painesville, where his
father was speaking, Loftin was
arrested for exceeding a local speed
limit of twelve miles per hour.10
Bessie too loved to "speed,"
and took particular delight in run-
ning farmers' wagons, horses and all,
into the ditch. One Sunday
afternoon in May 1901 while the
Johnsons were enjoying a leisurely
drive in their carriage along Euclid
Avenue, two cars raced by.
Leaning from the carriage to denounce
the drivers, the mayor
stopped short. "Why it's
Bessie," he ejaculated, "it's my Bessie."
The mayor followed the race to the
finish, while the mortified
Maggie tugged at his coattails. Sinking
exhaustedly back into his
seat he gasped, "She beat him by a
block."11
Mayor Johnson himself naturally was a
devotee of the new sport.
He drove faster than his children and
no doubt his official position
saved him from arrest on more than one
occasion. During his
campaign travels in 1902 and 1903 the
big red Winton announced
his advance through the countryside.
Although it was all great fun,
the mayor and his party experienced so
much difficulty that one
wonders why he failed to travel by more
conventional means.
Driving to Sandusky, they had
breakdowns, flat tires, and ran out
of gas. Later they went into a ditch
near Ravenna and saw the
battery go dead near New Philadelphia.
On another occasion, as
Johnson tried to procure a cigar from
his pocket, he pitched the
machine into a stone culvert. Late in
September 1903 while the
mayor was campaigning near Georgetown
in Brown County, the
Red Devil suffered a general collapse
and was abandoned.12 Arthur
Fuller, who drove the car on many of
these trips, later recalled some
of the hazards of those dangerous days:
10 Ibid., November 4, 1902.
11 Ibid., May 28, 1901.
12 Ibid., September 2, 1902, September 12, 18, 20, 27, 1903.
Cleveland's Johnson: At Home 325
Automobiles were still so new that
folks were half-scared of them. If they
were walking in the road as we
approached they usually jumped over a
rail fence or ran into a barnyard. Some
climbed trees. It was something
awful trying to pass a horse and buggy
or load of hay then. Unless we
wanted to risk an accident I had to
stop and give the farmer time to get
out and hold his horse so it wouldn't
kick out the dashboards or the traces.
We got gas at drugstores or grocery
stores. You always had to guess how
much was in the tank, or else make the
Mayor and the reporters get out in
the road while you took out the front
seat and stuck a yardstick down into
the tank underneath.13
Despite his indifference to the basic
principles of safe driving,
Johnson experienced no accidents and
was in danger only twice.
Once in Chicago he was brushed by a
cable car, but due to what
the news reports called his
"skillful maneuvering," he avoided a
collision. One day in 1907 when the
street railway war with the
Cleveland Electric Railway Company was
rising to a fever pitch, he
was run down on Euclid Avenue, oddly
enough by a Cleveland
Electric streetcar. Johnson at once
arrested the motorman and,
charging him with political motives,
had him jailed. The mayor
soon regained his reason, however, and
after an exchange of apolo-
gies the incident was forgotten.14
Though less dramatic than automobile
racing, some of the other
diversions were enjoyed equally well.
In the winter, for example,
the family ice rink was flooded and
thrown open for skating. Even
Charles Otis, publisher of the Cleveland
News and a bitter opponent
of Johnson, used to skate there with
the children and their friends.
The mayor was proud of his ice rink and
invested considerable
time and money in its construction and
maintenance. As for indoor
entertainment, the masquerade balls
were great favorites. Mrs.
Frances Bushea, then Miss Frances
Fanning, a close friend of
Bessie's, has a vivid recollection of
the mayor's daughter at one of
these affairs. "She appeared in a
white leather cowboy suit and
did a lariat dance." At another
time Mrs. Bushea recalls how
Mayor Johnson was able to conceal his
own identity, incredible as
it seems, by dressing himself in a
clown's suit, with vertical black
13 Ibid., March
12, 1937.
14 Ibid., June 18, 1905, August 16, September 12, 1907.
326
Ohio State Archaeological and Historical Quarterly
and white stripes and a tall hat. When
the grand procession began,
he asked Miss Fanning to march with
him. Taking his left hand,
she noticed the missing ring finger,15
and erupted gleefully, "Why,
Mr. Johnson, it's you."
"Not so loud," cautioned the
mayor, "you'll give me away."16
The basement workshop provided the
greatest solace for Mayor
Johnson. Here he could, and did,
indulge his mechanical propens-
ities without stint. That he had
consummate ability in this direction
is attested by his various inventions,
such as the fareboxes and the
"girder groove rail." Former
Cleveland City Manager William R.
Hopkins comments that a high New York
Central official was not
far wrong when he said, "Tom L.
Johnson can read a blueprint
faster than anybody."17 The
Rev. Harris R. Cooley tells the story
of the time a group of people who were
supposed to know some-
thing of electricity were invited to
meet the scientist Charles
Steinmetz at the Johnson home. To the
amazement of the guests,
however, the conversation soon
outdistanced everyone but Steinmetz
and Johnson.18
The largest project the mayor attempted
in his basement work-
shop was a revolutionary type of
wheel-less street railway car, which
he called the "greased
lightning" or "slipslide." In simple terms,
the car was floated by magnetic force
between sets of rails fixed
above and below. The theory was that
one magnet would keep
the car suspended, while another magnet
would draw it forward.
With friction thus eliminated, Johnson
figured there would be no
limit to the car's speed. One night
when the evening meal was
consumed, the mayor invited his guests
down to the basement,
where they beheld a roughly-finished
car resting on a ninety foot
experimental track, supported by huge
timbers and vertical posts.
15 Mayor Johnson allegedly lost his left
ring finger during his Kentucky youth, but
no one with whom the author has talked
could provide specific details on the matter.
Outside of one or two obscure hints that
an affair of honor was involved, all is
darkness. Complicating the mystery are
several photographs which would seem to
destroy the theory that the finger was
missing. See illustrations in his autobiography,
My Story (New York, 1911), facing pp. 276, 284, and 294.
16 Plain Dealer, January 2, 1903, May 6, 1936; Cleveland News, July
22, 1948;
conversations with Mrs. Bushea, March
24, April 1, 1949.
17 Conversation with Hopkins, August 6,
1949.
18 Plain
Dealer, December 2, 1934.
Cleveland's Johnson: At Home 327
As the mystified group watched, Johnson
turned on the magnetic
current. Nothing happened, and in a
moment the car, track, and
supports went crashing to the floor.
Grimly the mayor restudied
his calculations, and concluding that a
readjustment of the magnetic
force would solve his problem, rebuilt
the track. Frederic C. Howe,
a close friend, described the second
test:
"Greased Lightning" actually
moved. The car was propelled forward and
backward as rapidly as it was safe to
permit in the short ninety-feet of
track in the cellar. It was an
interesting sight to watch the loading of the
car, for as each additional passenger
stepped on there would be a slight
downward movement until the contact finger
touched the lower rail when
it would immediately resume its former
position. The car in motion was
necessarily absolutely noiseless and
without the least vibration. With eyes
closed, at the slight rate of speed at
which it was necessary to move in the
cellar, the occupant could not tell
whether the car was in motion or not.
Had the speed been greater the only
difference would have been the feeling
of the air current.19
Convinced that he had mastered the
practice as well as the theory
of "greased lightning,"
Johnson traveled to Schenectady to interest
General Electric in his project.
Apparently he succeeded, for the
company sent on a crew of experts, who
after weeks of investigation,
submitted a favorable report to the
home office. Although con-
tracts for a two-million dollar
experimental track in Schenectady
were drawn up, the company backed out of
the bargain before
actually signing the papers. Because the
street railway war, which
dominated all phases of Johnson's last
years, now was entering
a critical stage, the mayor failed to
push the matter any further.
In March 1914 an isolated news item
reported that Mrs. Johnson
received a patent for "greased
lightning," but nothing was heard
of it again. It is doubtful if the
invention had real merit, or
certainly General Electric would not
have been so reluctant to
develop it.20
Shortly after becoming mayor, Johnson
purchased some property
near the village of Independence, south
of the city, which he soon
19 Johnson, My Story, xxx-xxxi; Howe, Confessions of a
Reformer, 141.
20 Plain Dealer, March 19, 1914; Howe, Confessions of a Reformer, 142.
328
Ohio State Archaeological and Historical Quarterly
refashioned into a trout farm. For
several summers, when City Hall
pressure became great, he shut his desk
and repaired to this lovely
suburban retreat. In addition to
relaxation it provided ample op-
portunity for scientific
experimentation. When he found his brooks
running dry, he developed a siphon
which drained in water from
surrounding farms. He also built a
mechanical geyser, for a de-
scription of which we are again
indebted to Fred Howe:
He was . . . in high feather and drove
us out to the . . . farm at more
than his usual reckless speed. There,
after some mysterious maneuvering
with machinery, a stream of water
gushed from the ground high into the
air. It ran for a few minutes and then
subsided. Then it started again. Its
periodicity was perfect. The flow could
be timed with a watch.21
Yet Johnson played, as he worked, with
intense vigor. The calm
quiet of the trout farm was
incompatible with his restless energy.
Carl Lorenz writes:
In about three years he sold the farm
and fish, having become tired of it,
yet the farm, with its gully and pond,
was a most picturesque piece of
property. But he had only thought of
the fish and the fresh vegetables of
the farm and not of its beauty.22
Being a man of corpulence, Johnson had
an understandable
distaste for exercise. Still scattered
stories survive of an occasional
interest in hunting, golf, and even
baseball. He took Loftin to
Kentucky in December 1902 for a visit
with relatives and a few days
in the field. However, except for a few
birds the catch was nil. The
trip had other frustrations too, for in
Frankfort father and son were
mistaken for tramps and denied hotel
accommodations.23 Although
Johnson enjoyed golf, his success on
the links was limited. When
running for governor in 1903, he
encountered his rival, Myron T.
Herrick, on the first tee of the Euclid
course. After analyzing the
impact of golf on the single tax and
home rule, the candidates
swung into the game. Following a close
match, Herrick triumphed
one up.24
21 Ibid., 140.
22 Plain Dealer, September 9, 1903; Lorenz, Tom L. Johnson, 127-128.
23 Plain Dealer, December 9, 1902.
24 Ibid., August 3, 1903.
Cleveland's Johnson: At Home 329
A strong baseball enthusiast, Johnson
frequently attended games
and was on close terms with Napoleon
"Larry" Lajoie, the great
second baseman, who managed the
Cleveland club at that time.
One of the best of all the Johnson
photographs shows the mayor
seated next to Peter Witt and Burr
Gongwer in the left field
bleachers of old League Park,
completely absorbed in the action on
the field. One year when the Naps were
faring well, he set up a
bulletin board on Public Square to
record the team's progress.
Without radio and television the fans
had no way of knowing what
happened until the evening baseball
"extras" came out. The last
letter Mayor Johnson ever wrote was
addressed to the Cleveland
manager, extending best wishes for a
successful 1911 season.25
Along intellectual lines he studied
French for many years and
employed a tutor to instruct himself
and his children.26 Lessons
were conducted not only at the
breakfast table but also at City
Hall, and after a while Johnson could
read and speak the language
with a pedestrian facility. He read
some history and philosophy,
seeking that knowledge which a lifetime
of business and politics
had denied him, but mathematics and
scientific works had greater
appeal. Fred Howe, who should know,
tells us that the mayor was
never through learning. "At 50 he
was as eager to know new things
as he had been at 25."27 During
his final illness he turned to
lighter literature, such as the works
of Scott and Kipling. Aside
from reading he enjoyed an occasional
table game. Tom Schmidt
recalls that the mayor frequently
played checkers with a quaint old
shoemaker on Bridge Street, who
regularly defeated his celebrated
guest. Chess too was a game well suited
to his mathematical mind.28
On the other hand, the theater had
little appeal for Johnson, and
only something special, such as a
performance by Bessie, could
induce him to attend.
* * *
25 Ibid., April 11, 1911.
26 The tutor, Louis Devineaux, was an
unlucky choice. To provide a raison d'etre
he was named secretary of the Sinking
Fund Commission in 1903. He demonstrated
his gratitude by absconding with $13,000
in 1909. Although never apprehended (he
went home to France), he was indicted by
a grand jury and convicted in absentia.
Ibid., February 3, 5, 20, 21, March 20, 1909; Lorenz, Tom
L. Johnson, 134-135.
27 Howe,
Confessions of a Reformer, 143; see also Brand Whitlock, Forty Years
of It (New York, 1925), 154-155.
28 Conversation with Schmidt, February
22, 1949.
330
Ohio State Archaeological and Historical Quarterly
It is beyond the range of this review
to relate the story of the
street railway battle. From
inauspicious beginnings in 1903 this
struggle over control of the street
railway system assumed an ever-
growing importance as the years passed.
By 1908 the frustration,
bitterness, and violence which it
engendered had taken a savage
toll on all principals, Johnson in
particular. The mayor's private
misfortunes, which soon became merged
with his public problems,
hurried him to an early grave.
The decline and fall of Tom L. Johnson
can be told in two parts:
one, the financial; and two, the
physical. To understand the first of
these we must look briefly at the
affairs of Albert Loftin Johnson,
the mayor's younger brother. A muscular
six-footer, Al was good-
natured, popular, and capable. He and
his brother were close com-
panions in work and play, and some
sources hint it was he who
induced Tom to make his first run for
congress in 1888.29 They
came to Cleveland together in 1879 and
painstakingly built up
valuable street railway properties.
When Tom left business during
the middle nineties, Al stayed on. By
1900 he had developed the
Lehigh Valley railroad system, and was
toying with such projects
as a London subway, a
Brooklyn-Philadelphia interurban, a three-
cent franchise for Philadelphia, and
the most grandiose scheme of
all, a transcontinental interurban
system. Suddenly, in July 1901,
at the age of thirty-nine, and only
three months after Tom became
mayor, Al died.30
Although this was a tremendous personal
loss to Johnson, the
matter did not end there. As executor
of his brother's estate he soon
realized that the assets came to but a
fraction of the estimated
$20,000,000, and even what remained was
tied up in various trac-
tion enterprises. With no cash
available to meet immediate de-
mands, the mayor was faced with the
difficult problem of whether
or not to remain in politics. By
choosing to carry on his fight for
municipal reform he was unable to
devote the necessary time for
a reordering of his brother's affairs.
Later, when suffering financial
reverses at every turn, he remarked,
"I could go back into business
29 Plain Dealer, July 17, 1929.
30 Ibid., July 3, 4, 5, 8, 10 ,13, 1901, July 17, 1929.
Cleveland's Johnson: At Home 331
and make it all up, but I am not going
to do it." The Rev. Mr.
Cooley commented, "He could not do
it and be true to his vision."31
Seeking to save Al's estate, Johnson
converted his own securities,
chiefly government bonds, and applied
the proceeds to Al's prop-
erties. However, a long-term decline in
their value had already set
in, and the panic of 1907 only hurried
catastrophe along. Without
avail Johnson continued to pour his own
wealth into the breach;
eastern creditors increased their
pressure. As with the street rail-
way war, the crisis here also arrived
in the summer of 1908. The
mayor turned to the Sheffield Land and
Improvement Company of
Lorain for liquid funds. As president
he considered this concern
to be a sort of savings bank, a solid,
substantial corporation which
could be depended upon for help in an
emergency. To his sorrow
he now learned that someone had
squandered over half a million
dollars of the firm's assets. The
Sheffield Land and Improvement
Company was bankrupt, and as the mayor
at once recognized, so
was he.32
Everything now struck at once. The
Depositors' Savings and Trust
Company, organized by Johnson and his
associates to provide bank-
ing facilities for the low-fare street
railway companies, failed late
in 1908.33 A City Hall incident
recalled by Fred Howe pinpoints
the desperateness of the mayor's
situation:
The opposition lawyers served a notice
on him that securities lodged with
a New York bank would be sold on a
certain day to satisfy a loan of
$70,000. Tom listened. Finally he said,
"I hope you will be able to get
more out of them than I have. I can't
sell them, possibly you can." . . .
When the attorney left I asked him what
he meant. "That's the end of
my fortune," he said. "They
can sell these securities for any price and take
a judgment over against me for the
balance. There is nothing left but the
Euclid Avenue home."34
On November 19, 1908, Mayor Johnson,
without bitterness or
31 Ibid., December 2, 1934.
32 Ibid, April
11, 1911.
33 Johnson,
My Story, xxi, 265; Plain Dealer, July 31, August 10, November
10, 13,
December 9, 15, 16, 1906, February 13, 1907, November
16, 1908, January 1, 1909.
34 Howe, Confessions of a Reformer, 144-145.
332
Ohio State Archaeological and Historical Quarterly
regret, announced publicly that his
fortune was gone. Before a
tense press conference he said:
I had entered the fight in the city
with certain ideals before me. I wanted
to fight privilege and special
interests, and I had already decided to give
up working for dollars. So I concluded
to stay right here and do what I
could to help my brother's children at
long distance.35
Preoccupied with the mayoralty,
burdened by his brother's obliga-
tions, and unable to fit his income to
the extravagant demands of
his family, Johnson saw his wealth
vanish. A younger, stronger
Johnson could have recouped the losses,
but this Johnson was
neither young nor strong.
Although hundreds of telegrams and
letters of understanding
poured in from across the country, the
hard fact remained that
this was the end. The servants, the
automobiles, and the Euclid
Avenue home must go. In January 1909
the family rented a suite
in the Knickerbocker Apartments at East
83rd Street and Euclid
Avenue, and about a year later the home
was sold for $200,000,
half of which went to satisfy
outstanding debts. Morris Glauber,
the new owner, clearly recalled the day
he moved into the house.
"There was a large silver key for
the front door, and when Mr.
Johnson handed it over to me, tears
stood in his eyes."36
Johnson's physical decline roughly
paralleled his financial and
political misfortunes. It was about
1905 when doctors first advised
him to eat more sensibly. That this was
not idle talk is attested by
a glance at the mayor's morning menu.
Regularly he broke his
fast with fruit, cereal, ham and eggs,
fried potatoes, flapjacks,
syrup, toast, and coffee.37 On one occasion, while campaigning
downstate, he is reported to have
purchased and consumed twenty-
35 Plain Dealer, November 20, 21,
1908.
36 In addition to the previous
citations, material on the loss of the Johnson fortune
was gleaned from the Plain Dealer, April
11, 1911, November 11, 1912, January 1,
1913, February 22, 1920, December 2,
1934; Lorenz, Tom L. Johnson, 177-178; The
Public, November
27, 1908; conversations with Mrs. Unterzuber, February 28, 1949,
and Thomas Schmidt, February 22, 1949.
37 Conversations with Peter Witt, July
17, 1948, Thomas Schmidt, February 22,
1949, and Mrs. Bushea, April 1, 1949.
Cleveland's Johnson: At Home 333
two cantaloupes for lunch.38 It
is hardly necessary to append
Marvin Harrison's terse comment,
"He ate like a hog and killed
himself."39
In response to these warnings Johnson
did abandon sugars and
starchy foods, but he continued to eat
immoderately. This, com-
bined with his gruelling work schedule,
financial worries, and
political setbacks, caused a sharp
break in his health by mid-1909.
He failed rapidly from this point on,
with the pain increasing and
the body in atrophy. Here photographs
speak far more effectively
than words. While in 1907 we still see
a healthy looking, robust
man, within a year the change has set
in. The collar hangs loose
around the neck, the eyes are sunken,
the features are pinched,
and the power has gone from the jaw.
Soon these characteristics
became accentuated until, on his
deathbed, Johnson is unrecog-
nizable. During his illness his weight
dropped from 230 to 170
pounds.
After nine exhausting years of remaking
his adopted city, Johnson
left office January 1, 1910, and spent
his last year searching for
physical relief. When a five-week
stretch in a New York hospital
proved unavailing,40 he
abandoned the medical men and fought on
alone. He passed more than a month in
Europe,41 and then moved
to Nantucket Island for the summer.42
Returning to Cleveland
late in August, Johnson suffered
through his last seven months, in
and out of bed, dictating his memoirs.
Although he forced himself
to attend four banquets during the
1910-11 winter season, where
incidentally even former enemies joined
in the warm response, his
days were clearly numbered.43 A
sharp sinking spell occurred the
night of March 14, and although he
rallied once or twice thereafter,
he remained immovable in bed with his
eyes closed. Frequently he
38 Plain Dealer, September 20, 1903.
39 Conversation with Harrison, August 2,
1949.
40 Johnson, My Story, 296.
41 Plain Dealer, March 22, 23, 24, April 17, May
7, 8, 1910; Johnson, My Story,
297-299.
42 Johnson, My Story, 302-304.
43 Plain Dealer, October 12, November 2, 1910, January 7, March 12,
1911; Johnson,
My Story, 305-312.
334
Ohio State Archaeological and Historical Quarterly
lapsed into unconsciousness. A more
serious sinking spell, on
April 4, hastened the end. Thirteen
minutes before nine o'clock
on Monday night, April 10, 1911,
"a faint smile on his wasted
face," Tom L. Johnson breathed his
last.44
Wednesday dawned gray and ominous. A
damp spring chill was
in the air and there was the threat of
rain. The sun broke through
the clouds early in the afternoon, but
shortly thereafter it again
became overcast and a light drizzle
began. About three o'clock a
crowd gathered in front of the
Knickerbocker. While solemn lines
of policemen formed the silent
thousands into symmetric patterns
on either side of the sidewalk and
across the street, the brief
funeral rites were performed inside.
Only the most intimate friends
attended the private services in the
family's fourth floor suite. The
Rev. Mr. Cooley presided, assisted by
the weeping Rev. Herbert S.
Bigelow. Shortly after four o'clock the
rose-blanketed casket ap-
peared in the doorway, borne by eight
of Mayor Johnson's closest
associates. Cooley and Bigelow led the
way to the waiting hearse.
Six mounted policemen preceded the
hearse and a procession of
eight carriages came after it. Police
Chief Fred Kohler, who had
directed crowds at so many of the
mayor's meetings, rode in an
automobile some distance ahead. As the
cortege set out on its five-
mile journey to Union Depot, rain
continued to fall.
Estimates vary as to how many people
lined Cleveland's main
thoroughfares that dreary April
afternoon. Some said 100,000,
others 300,000. The impressiveness of
the occasion, however, was
not owing to the numbers in attendance.
It was impressive by the
silence, by the bared heads, by the
moistened eyes, by the way the
thousands waited, taking what positions
they could without push-
ing and jostling, and by their quiet
departures once the procession
had passed. The cortege moved by Mayor
Johnson's former home
at East 24th Street. That once stately
mansion, the scene of so many
happy triumphs, was closed up and
dilapidated from disuse. At
East 9th Street the procession turned
north to Superior and then
down Superior past the City Hall at
East 3rd Street.
44 Plain Dealer, March
19, 20, 21, 22, 24, 26, 28, 31, April 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9,
10, 11, 12, 1911; Johnson, My Story, 312-313.
Cleveland's Johnson: At Home 335
The City Hall closed at three o'clock
and members of council
and many city employees waited on the
front steps for over an
hour to pay their respects. Upstairs,
Mayor Herman Baehr, who
had defeated Johnson in November 1909,
stood quietly by the
south window, his head bowed. The
waning daylight illuminated
a photograph of Mayor Johnson on the
opposite wall. Although
Public Square was jammed, the same
quiet order obtained. The
procession moved on to West 3rd Street,
north to Front Street, and
down the hill to the old Union Depot.
There the casket was placed
aboard a waiting train, and the small
group of family and friends
who were to accompany it to New York
entered a private car. The
train reached Grand Central Station
early the following morning,
April 13, 1911, where another group of
friends waited. Little
noticed in the swirling metropolis, the
casket was taken through
a side exit to the hearse and thence
across the Williamsburg Bridge
to Brooklyn's Greenwood Cemetery. Here
in the Johnson family
plot, only a few feet from the remains
of Henry George, Tom L.
Johnson was laid to rest.45
45 Plain Dealer, April 13, 14, 1911; Cleveland Press, April
14, 1911; Johnson, My
Story, 313;
Lorenz, Tom L. Johnson, 202-203.
CLEVELAND'S JOHNSON: AT HOME
by EUGENE
C. MURDOCK*
In an earlier article published in this
Quarterly the present author
made an attempt to summarize the
accomplishments of Cleveland's
Tom L. Johnson and to point out his
contributions to the growth
and development of the lake city.1
As mayor of Cleveland from
1901 to 1910, Johnson established and
maintained high admini-
strative standards while pushing
through a broad program of
municipal reform. He attracted wide
attention and was emulated
by many other mayors, similarly caught
up in the floodtide of
progressivism.
The successful battle for a three-cent
street railway fare was
perhaps Johnson's most celebrated
achievement, although the fare
itself was not too important then and
seems utterly ridiculous today
when fares are approaching the
twenty-five cent mark. Yet it had
meaning in that here Johnson compelled
privileged groups, chiefly
the public utility corporations, to
provide cheap and efficient services
for the people; he caused them to think
not only of their own
interests but also of the citizens'
welfare. The principle was the
same in his fight for natural gas,
where he opposed powerful
artificial gas companies; the principle
was the same in his fight
for municipal electric power, where he
broke the monopoly of the
over-charging Cleveland Electric
Illuminating Company. Having
learned the techniques of the
monopolist when in the street rail-
way business himself, Johnson employed
this know-how against his
former fellows. Why did he do it?
As students of Johnson are well aware,
it was his conversion to
the humanitarianism of Henry George
which prompted this change.
From the apostle of the single tax he
learned that monopolists had
caused a great social imbalance, which
had to be rectified. With
* Eugene C. Murdock is chairman of the
department of social science and assistant
dean of the college at Rio Grande
College, Rio Grande, Ohio. Tom L. Johnson was
the subject of his doctoral dissertation (Columbia
University, 1951).
1 "Cleveland's Johnson," Ohio
State Archaeological and Historical Quarterly, LXII
(1953), 323-333.
319