Several months before the convention, as the number of candidates multiplied and the possibility of complications developed, a number of prominent politicians of a Pacific coast state wrote Senator Kern expressing a desire to launch his candidacy in that state, and to follow it immediately with the organization of “Kern for President” clubs. Assuming of course that a letter of such importance should be answered personally, I placed the letter in his hands. He was seated at his desk writing, and, as usual, smoking. He read it through carefully, a puzzled expression on his face, and then with a quizzical smile he handed it back. “Aren’t you going to answer it?” he was asked. By this time he had resumed his writing. “No--you acknowledge it,” he said, still writing. “What shall I say?” “Say that I am not and will not be a candidate; that Indiana has a candidate and one that would give a good account of himself.” That is the kind of letter, not even bearing Kern’s signature, that went back to men of real political potentiality on the Pacific coast. After that many other people in different parts of the country outside Indiana wrote along the same line. These letters were always shown Kern, but with the exception of the first one not one of these was read through to the end, and in every case a letter similar in character to the one he ordered written in the first instance was sent. After a while he was clearly annoyed and disturbed by the suggestion these letters conveyed. He simply ignored them, refused to seriously consider them, and evidently preferred not to see them. In Indiana he had many importunate friends who insisted on making him a candidate against his will, and with these he dealt directly and always with the stern injunction that they do absolutely nothing that could possibly create the impression outside the state that there was any divided opinion in the state regarding the position the state should take on the presidency.