Meanwhile, he went about the country on artistic commissions, interviewing Progressive leaders on the way for the information of George W. Perkins. He was on his way home from Atlanta in May when he got a mysterious call to stop in Washington. There he learned that Progressives had made overtures to the Republicans asking that a representative acceptable to both sides be chosen to act as a confidential go-between for the inside leaders. An approach had been made to Colonel Roosevelt by Congressman William B. McKinley of Illinois, who asked if Borglum would be acceptable. The colonel had said that he would. Gutzon was notified. And that is not the least fantastic thing that happened at this fantastic convention. Old Guard Republicans would not allow Roosevelt to be nominated, but they knew they couldn’t win without his aid. They were willing to accept Leonard Wood if Roosevelt wanted him, and they were glad to have Borglum to carry such important messages. The sculptor called on McKinley, then interviewed Colonel Roosevelt and General Wood. Their agreement, plainly stated, was that if Roosevelt could not be nominated, he would throw his influence to Wood. Others aware of this agreement were John A. Stewart of New York, and E. B. Johns, correspondent of the _Army and Navy Journal_ in Washington. Gutzon went to Chicago early in June and registered at the Union League Club. There he met Speaker Joe Cannon, Representative McKinley and other high-ranking Republicans with whom he kept in constant touch. Also, he visited Perkins and Governor Hiram Johnson and other Progressive leaders at Progressive headquarters. He was as widely and officially informed of the situation, he thought, as any man could hope to be. Everybody was friendly and straightforward. His great advantage, he felt, was that, as a well-known artist who had no political ties or aspirations, he was to be trusted. Well, maybe.... Most of the lads he was meeting had never in all their lives trusted anybody. What Gutzon seems never to have realized is that he was squarely in the middle of what amounted to a species of civil war. The Republican party was definitely split--make no mistake about that--and its two factions, after giving the Presidency to the Democrats, had been doing well enough in other elections to survive. Neither side was as good as it said it was. Neither side could stand any losses. So the leaders of each side wore broad, confidential smiles in public, and in private they moved in the fashion of morose and wary conspirators. Each side feared the other with a real, practical fear, and each side looked on a messenger from the other as a self-seeking ferret who must be lulled by soft--and wrong--answers.