The Washington times., 1912-07-03
CONVENTION HOSTS
LEAVE BALTIMORE
AND HOPES BEHIND
Home, Sweet Home" Play
ed BY Hurdy Gurdy,
Scores Big Hit.

BALTIMORE, July 3.-Baltimore is
the city of the exodus today. 1t is the
dlsmantled stage of checked political
ambitions, hopes that fed overnight, de-
serted campaign headquarters, collapsed
booms, dropping banners, and jobless
press agents.
The Democratic convention OF 1912 has
passed into history. The station gates
clang behind the departing visitors; the
delegates and other participants in a
memorable struggle drop dejectedly into
the seat Of Pullman car and start the
long journey homeward. Some wear the
badges and the campaign insignia which
bedecked them when they came. The
majority of them have pocketed their
decorations or else have changed the
old button for the new. There were a
dozen candidates, and only one reached
the goal of his ambition. The disappear
ing ones are for the winner-for he's
Democrat-but there still fingers with
the disappointed the thought of the
might have been.
The convention city will be itself again
within the next twenty-four hours. The
hotel lobbies are disgorging the crowds
which have made them place OF bed
which once hung from ceilings and walls
have been swept into the gutter. On the
streets is scattered the refuse of the
carnival crowds-literature extolling the
virtues of "favorite son." pennant
or so, and the confetti remnants of a
wild night.
Street Fakers Gone.
One misses now the rasping voice OF
the street faker, who was a Democrat
for a week. He's gone, with his value
less stock in trade. The "newsies" cry
no extra papers and ribald laughter and
cheers do not float from the corner
cafe.
The "houn' dawg'' sinks down the
alley, dreading another kick from Bryan
and he's followed by Murphy's goat
Over at Convention Hall a half hun
dred men are sweeping out the debris.
Here there was presented for a week a
political drama which will live always ,,
in the memory of those who witnessed
it's climaxes and its final curtain. The
old place lacks life today, however and
Convention Hall signifies only build
of wood and stone.
The hotels present the same scene of
comparative desolation. When the nom-
ination was made yesterday men be-
gan to go silently through the corridors
pictures, the fags, and the notices
which have greeted the eye for nearly
two weeks.
The% bewhiskered countenance OF
Mayor Gaynor no longer peers around a
marble pillar; the stalwart form of Gov
ernor Harmon and the inscription: He
carried Ohio by 100, 000," isn't represent
ed at the head of the stairway; the i'm
mense photograph of Champ Clark
SOSTR Snt Sorn fSSe the osC.r %s aGdrwtns Gd the
doesn't even lend its benedicton to the
And the press agents, where are they?
They have folded their typewriter cases
and silently stolen away. The mimeo-
graph Is giving a rest to the overworked
wax sheets; there are no reams of free
copy: there are no stories of epochal
conferences and midnight trades, and
nobody draws one aside to predict that
tomorrow something will happen.
It's All Over.
It has already happened. The conven-
tton aftermath is here Baltimore is
becoming normal and its hysteria is
passing. Prices in the hotels the bars,
and the cafes are seeking their level.
The rented cots are being returned to
real bed may be had without hypothe-
eating ones earthly possessions. and
meal may be eaten without interruption
by roll call.
For a few days Baltimore will miss
the crowds, and the crowds will miss
the fight he precipitated, everybody got
used to one another before the end A
few more ballots and Baltimore might
have advertised the convention as
summer stock production, playing to
crowded houses.