situation that called for one of the good, old-fashioned "nights
before." For a practical politician knows that speeches and band music
do not make a convention; they merely ratify the real convention; the
real convention is held "the night before," behind closed doors at the
headquarters hotel.

There were two candidates for the gubernatorial nomination. The natural
legatee of the old regime in his party was in line, of course. He had
been in line for ten years, as his predecessors had waited before him.
He had served apprenticeship after the usual fashion: had given his
money and his time; he had won the valuable title which only he who has
suffered and has been bled can win, that of "the logical candidate."

But that seemed not the halcyon year for "the logical candidate."

The inevitable had happened in the matter of political succession. There
had been too long a line of successors. The machine had become too close
a corporation. A machine, over-long in power, by the approved process of
making itself strong makes itself weak. It must pass around the
offices. When it picks the best men it makes enemies of all those it
disappoints. That includes principals and followers. For a time these
"best men" have enough of a personal following to repel boarders. But
party "best men" must make enemies in fortifying themselves and their
friends.

Every time a matter is decided between factions, or a political seeker
wins a subordinate job, a rival and his friends are sent away to sulk.
And so at last, in the process of making the fortress impregnable, the
big wall falls and "the unders" come into the citadel.