THE NOMINATION OF WOODROW WILSON for the presidency in the summer of 1912 remains significant. As the nations chief executive, Wilson brought the progressive movement to a climax with his New Free- dom that saw the creation of the Federal Reserve and the expansion of federal anti-trust powers and regulatory authority. Indeed, it is his administration to which most historians trace the beginnings of centralized control characterizing American society in the twentieth century. As a world leader, he took the responsibility for cobbling together a peace following World War I designed to create an international order of cooperation and disarmament, introducing in the process notions of self-determination. That he failed so miserably in this has only added a patina of tragic heroism to an image that has remained intact despite recent trends towards a more critical analysis. Whether as an object of adoration or antipathy, however, his importance as president remains unquestioned.1Remarkably, for all his historical prominence and the breathless accounts of his many biographers, Wilson's elevation to the presidential nomination was neither preordained, nor in the end especially the result of his own qualities and endeavors. Though assembling an impressive campaign team that labored mightily on his behalf, his selection was to come about largely through dynamics within his party over which he exercised relatively little influence. Rather than Wilson's noble ideals or the devotion he inspired, his nomination resulted from William Jennings Bryan's efforts to manage the 1912 convention and the fears this caused about his intentions among the conservative Democrats led by Roger C. Sullivan of Illinois.By 1912, Bryan was one of the giants of his age (Figure 1). To many, he was the embodiment of the Jeffersonian spirit, sent as a champion of the people and of American rural values to confront the encroachments of industrialization, urbanization, and modernity. To others, he was but a small-minded and ignorant bigot, who was perfectly willing to stoke and take advantage of the fears of farmers and others to promote his own ambitions. However, for nearly two decades none questioned his impor- tance as the dominant figure of the Democratic Party.He was born in 1861 in Salem, Illinois, and was raised and educated in the Sucker State (towards which he always maintained a proprietary interest). As a young man, he took his law degree to Nebraska's green acres. From there he was elected to two terms as a United States representative. He then became editor of the Omaha World-Herald. Gifted with great energy, a rich baritone voice, an impressive appearance, a flare for both composing and delivering speeches, and a burning conviction of the righteousness of his causes, he dedicated himself to becoming one of thecountry's leading advocates of free silver. By the 1896 Democratic convention, he was widely known but not considered a serious presidential possibility (Illinois' reform governor, lohn Altgeld, among others, thought him a damn fool). Everything changed when he delivered his famous Cross of Gold speech that brought him the nomination. Though campaigning indefatigably, he lost to William McKinley. Four years later, he was again nominated and defeated. By 1904, he and the populist wing of the party he led were widely judged (wrongly, as it proved) to be spent forces.2Where William Jennings Bryan made himself a living symbol of the rural experience and values so central to the early growth of the nation, Roger Charles Sullivan exemplified the possibilities and outlooks of a younger urban and industrial America (Figure 2). Bryan could trace his ancestry to pre-revolutionary Virginia Protestant farmers (it is claimed he was related to Daniel Boone). Sullivans parents were relatively recent immigrants arriving in the 1850s and settling in the small town of Belvidere, Illinois. Roger was born there in 1861, supposedly over his fathers saloon. …