The Principled Politician: The Ralph Carr Story - Hardcover

Schrager, Adam

 
9781555916541: The Principled Politician: The Ralph Carr Story

Inhaltsangabe

The inspiring story of Governor Ralph Carr and his fight for Japanese-American rights.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Adam Schrager covers politics for KUSA-TV, the NBC affiliate in Denver, Colorado. In more than 15 years in the business, he has won numerous broadcast journalism accolades, including more than a dozen Emmy awards. He teaches an introductory class on broadcast journalism at the University of Denver.

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The Principled Politician

Governor Ralph Carr and the Fight Against Japanese American Internment

By Adam Schrager

Fulcrum Publishing

Copyright © 2008 Adam Schrager
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-55591-654-1

CHAPTER 1

Summer 1938

The imposing black Union Pacific streamliner slowed as it approached Denver before coming to a stop with its familiar hiss, screech, and acrid smell. George Robinson, a tall, straight-backed, and trim man, couldn't wait to step down, stretch his legs, and figure out how to explain himself to his wife, Dolores.

As a white-coated dining-car attendant, he earned ninety-eight dollars a month serving hot cakes and pouring coffee in the seventy-two-foot dining car. He said "yes, sir" and "no, ma'am," dignified and invisible in his serving role.

His boss, Mr. Hansen, let Robinson know he had a future as a "Union Pacific man." But that wasn't appealing to Robinson.

He swung down and strode under the welcoming arch of Union Station, headed toward his home about two miles away in the city's predominantly black Five Points neighborhood.

One of the most prosperous communities of its kind in the West, many of the homes had electrical wiring, plumbing, and garages. Black doctors, lawyers, engineers, and dentists joined cooks, janitors, domestic servants, and railroad workers like George Robinson in a neighborhood a little northwest of the white part of the city. Five Points could boast about the Rossonian Hotel, which had one of the most important jazz clubs between Chicago and Los Angeles. Segregation dictated that while Charlie Parker, Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong, and Count Basie might play at other Denver hotels, they could only stay at the Rossonian.

Robinson, a lifelong Republican, had been reading in the Denver Post about the party's new gubernatorial candidate. Ralph L. Carr was preaching fiscal responsibility and ethical leadership, and Robinson liked that. During his last trip home, he didn't tell Dolores, but he went to see the short, curly-haired, impassioned white man speak in person. Carr was funny and fiery, personable and professional.

"The state is broke," Carr shouted, banging on the lectern and laying out the state's dire financial situation. As he finished his speech, he let the audience know that fixing the problem would take the consent and the cooperation of the public. "This is a job for all the people," he said pointing to the crowd. Robinson felt the finger settle upon him. "When elected, I intend to represent all of the people, all of the sections of the state."

Robinson thought, "Jesus, that's a brilliant man."

That morning, on his train route in the wee hours somewhere west of Nebraska, Robinson scribbled Ralph Carr a note. "After you get elected," he wrote, "I wish you'd give me an opportunity to work in your office. I understand a colored fella can have a job there and I'd appreciate it much if you gave me a chance."

He dropped it in the mail on his trip home, unsure what to expect from Carr, but absolutely sure what he'd hear from his wife. Dolores would ask him if he didn't already have a good job. On the walk home, he settled on his answer.

"I'm just a railroad worker [now], but if I get with the governor of Colorado, who knows what I might do."

Although George Robinson seemed sure Ralph Carr would make a good governor, Carr himself had come kicking and screaming to his candidacy.

He had only begun to build up a law practice and hoped to make enough money to pay off his mortgage and send his two teenagers to his alma mater, the University of Colorado in Boulder (CU). He had recently served as U.S. attorney for Colorado, an exciting job and one that gained him an excellent reputation, but the pay was low.

Carr had negotiated a number of water compacts with neighboring states as an assistant attorney general in the mid-1920s. He successfully argued the legality of compacts before the U.S. Supreme Court in the Hinderlider v. La Plata River & Cherry Creek Ditch Company case. Carr represented the state engineer in his fight with private companies on how to handle diversions from the river. This 1938 ruling dramatically altered water law throughout the West and reinforced the rights of states to decide for themselves how to allocate the waters of interstate streams. Hands down, Carr was considered the preeminent water rights attorney in Colorado.

Colorado was the only state in the country with no water source flowing into its borders, and the people who lived and worked there considered water liquid gold. People died fighting for it, over it, and about it. Water decisions were guaranteed front-page coverage and analysis by nearly all of the state's newspapers.

As a result of Carr winning the Supreme Court case, he was soon being mentioned in political conversations. Two friends and fellow attorneys wrote him, suggesting that he run for governor.

Carr chuckled at the suggestion and responded, "The only time I care to run for governor is in the springtime when the authorities are not aware of it and no one will call it to their attention. I feel that there should be a change at the State House, but I do not think that I am the man for the place. I would alienate 50 percent of the voters the first day and the other 125 percent of them the next day when I expressed my views."

Colorado's Republicans knew the upcoming November election offered an opportunity they hadn't had in more than a decade. The state's budget was in shambles, as was the reputation of the current governor, Teller Ammons, who was known for doling out favors to political friends.

The budget mess was obvious, but Ammons couldn't understand how people were finding out what he was doing. Day after day he got hammered in the Denver Post about his deals, despite dire warnings to those inside his office who might be leaking secrets. It was a big mystery, how news got out about one job after another going to a Democratic Party donor. What was going on? Infuriated, Ammons demanded to know who in his inner circle had violated his trust.

The truth proved even more scandalous.

Once the secret was discovered, Time magazine dramatized what happened for readers. "Colorado's loud, semibald, profane Governor Teller Ammons shoved himself back from his desk, whisked his office chair aside, stepped to the nearest wall ventilator grill, stared into the dimness of the shaft and emitted an angry oath," according to the September 20, 1937, issue. "There, suspended three feet above the floor, was a crystal microphone."

Further investigation showed two microphones dangling in the ventilator shafts, hooked up to a telephone line that led to the apartment of a private detective five blocks away. They had been installed months before and were the conduits spilling the governor's private conversations to the newspaper.

The private eye, a Denver Post reporter, and an attorney were indicted by a grand jury and eventually convicted on eavesdropping charges. Ammons was not charged with anything. Later he commented that the worst thing to come out of the mess was that his mother heard about it and said, "I didn't know Teller used that kind of language." Republicans said the tapes revealed the way Ammons rewarded his friends at any cost. The average Coloradan tended to agree.

Even Ammons's fellow Democrats were beginning to take him on in public.

State senator A. Elmer Headlee complained to reporters that the entire state was being run "by the Denver city hall and the [Democrat political machine]." Critics argued that during Ammons's two...

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