"...assumption that remains today that Stimson was forced out at the War Department, or resigned in frustration. The latter is probably closer to the truth, though what led to Stimson's retirement from the Cabinet and return to New York to practice law was less frustration than exhaustion and burnout; Stimson had in the war years been legendary for getting as little as four hours of sleep a night and for having a dedication to his work that likely shaved several years from his life. Stimson's good friend from New York and chief deputy Mayhew Wainwright was appointed as his replacement, and Stimson never ceased regarding Root as not just a colleague but a mentor - a falling out between the men was not what ended Stimson's tenure at War in January of 1918.
The longstanding hearsay and rumors about Stimson's exit find their origin in the times themselves, with stories quickly circulating about Stimson resigning because he had been overruled by Root in favor of Mellon too many times, or his disagreement with how the occupation of the Confederacy was being conducted - Roosevelt's Journal in particular tried to land a salacious interview with the famously reserved Stimson, only to fail. There was a kernel of truth to the idea that not all was well at the War Department, however, though that was not necessarily Stimson's fault, and Wainwright was perhaps unfairly left holding the bag in public perception as well. The fact was that the transition from total war to occupation had not been smooth, despite Stimson and Wainwright's best efforts, and much of that blame can be laid at the feet of Peyton March, the new Army Chief of Staff. March had been an outstanding deputy to Bliss during the war and was an able modernizer and liaison to civilian leadership, which was what he had been primarily tasked with as Deputy Chief of Staff. Once in the main job, however, much of the strategy and logistics of the job were increasingly on his plate, and while he was not without talent and insight, he was found wanting for the task. In particular, March badly underestimated the manpower that would be needed to successfully occupy the Confederacy, and his focus on modernizing and streamlining Army kit and procurement in the wake of the war after the outrages outlined in both LaFollette Reports took up too much of his attention. He was also constitutionally unable to set aside his distaste for John Pershing, now his own Deputy Chief of Staff, whom he resented for having been given more stars than him (thus nominally outranking him) and he suspected that Pershing was, on behalf of a slew of other officers such as John Harbord, the source of the sentiments that he was downplaying the threat that hillboys and NRO militias in Dixie actually posed to the Army.
Wainwright did his best to manage this clash of personalities within the General Staff and, to his credit, halted further demobilization plans, as Stimson on his way out suggested to him that they had indeed under-prepared for the occupation initially. It was not enough, however. Stimson was something of a public hero, the bespectacled and modest technocrat who had rescued the war effort at the nadir of the Hughes Presidency, and with Root's popularity already well in the tank, the sight of his most capable Cabinet Secretary going out the door was taken not just as the ordinary turnover of public office but as a confidence crisis.
Less than a few weeks after Stimson had left, an actual crisis reared its head, one which he may have been better positioned to solve. Stimson had regarded the suspension of the Grain Board the previous spring as a colossal mistake and despite his personal antipathy towards the strikers in Minneapolis, he considered what unfolded over the summer of 1917 across the Upper Midwest as an inevitable and understandable downstream effect of that mistake. Accordingly, Stimson had been the most resistant figure in the Administration to the idea of re-privatizing the railroads, an endeavor in which he found he had unlikely allies in Congressional Democrats; Stimson believed that nationalized railroads through the USRA, which fell under the purview of the War Department, were necessary for the occupation to function. Every time Root debated promulgating an executive order, often encouraged by Mellon, to begin the process, it was Stimson who angrily objected. Wainwright, though Stimson's good friend and ideological fellow traveler in many ways, lacked that same cachet.
Root nonetheless had listened to Stimson enough to understand that a full and total privatization similar to the abolition of the Grain Board would be too much of a shock to the depressed economy and thus devised a plan to gradually wind the USRA down, region by region. Executive Order 1108 was drafted on February 10th, 1918, which would starting on April 30th return rolling stock and locomotives in six states in New England and four states in the Pacific Northwest to private operators while keeping the trackage in public ownership; on July 31st, similar provisions would be made in the Upper Midwest, and on October 31st all trackage in the United States would be open to private operators once again. This on its own was not necessarily controversial, and indeed is how freight rail and some low-budget passenger services in the United States operate today: private rolling stock on public rights-of-way via negotiated contract and rates. What was controversial was a provision of the order which proposed selling the trackage back to private operators in competitive auctions in full by December 31st, 1920 - ten days before Root's term would end.
The contents of the Order were published, as all non-secret executive orders were, and the public reaction was immediately swift and angry. Logistically, after nearly four years, there weren't even private operators left to take over by late April, which meant that trusts and conglomerates would need to be formed on the quick and, considering some of the personalities in Root's orbit, it seemed inevitable that Liberal cronies would quickly snap up ownership of those routes. Beyond simply the practical difficulties and potential for corruption, the idea of the hated rail trusts returning after the war irked millions of Americans, but the biggest obstacle was labor in the ARU and its fiery leader, Eugene Debs.
The ARU had won significant concessions during the war on working hours and conditions in exchange for not striking and for accepting wage caps; Debs was already frustrated with Stimsonite leadership at the USRA for dragging their feet on getting wage controls removed as he had been promised, and despite their frequent and considerable political disagreements Debs was genuinely dismayed to see Stimson go, because at least he was confident the man would keep his word even when he told him what he didn't want to hear. But the deals struck with the USRA had been struck with the USRA, and there was no guarantee that private railroads would honor such agreements, and for as angered as Debs was about the lack of forward progress, what he refused to countenance was backsliding in the rights and privileges of his critical union.
As such, he requested a meeting, personally, with Root on February 18th, 1918 at the Lemon Hill Mansion in Philadelphia's emerging "Federal Quarter." Mellon and Wainwright were present as well; Debs considered it a poor omen that James J. Davis, the Labor Secretary, was not present as well, much as Debs loathed Davis. [1] Debs, despite being vehemently opposed to any form of re-privatization, elected not to start off his meeting with the President with a threat and instead came to "express his concerns" about the contours of the executive order, namely that it did not seem to contain any guarantees of the ARU's wartime privileges. Root was about to answer when Mellon audibly scoffed, which according to Debs made Wainwright rub his face in consternation. Root tried to politely suggest that "war makes for strange bedfellows," which only angered Debs more, and the labor chieftain pointedly stated that "we will not retreat an inch from the ground we have won, as our soldiers would not have retreated an inch at the Susquehanna!"
Had the more diplomatic Stimson still been around, the meeting may have gone better; indeed, Debs could probably have just gone to him directly, or perhaps Stimson would have interceded before Order 1108 was even drafted. It went worse from there, with Mellon dismissing railroad workers as "upjumped rabble" and storming out after telling Debs he should learn his place; Root tried to salvage matters by telling Debs he would "consider" his input, but he declined to guarantee legislation solidifying the ARU's rights and made things worse when he refused to pressure the ICC, which traditionally regulated railroads, into formalizing regulations accordingly if privatization were to forge ahead. Debs stated bluntly at that point that "we shall not go unprotected," and thanked Root for his time. The next day, he announced from the steps of Philadelphia City Hall that the ARU would call a national railroad strike if the proposed privatization moved ahead as planned, and would not cease until "we are either shot by the National Guard, or we have prevailed."
It goes without saying that many ARU locals were less than excited about Debs' proclamation or his militancy on the matter, having grown comfortable and cozy with the establishment during the war, but Debs' centralized, top-down leadership of the industrial syndicate made direct opposition difficult. As such, the clock was ticking down the days until a rail strike would indeed start, a rail strike that would cripple American transport from coast to coast and be the most massive labor action since the 1880s, dwarfing even the Midwestern strikes of the Red Summer - indeed, a national rail strike by the ARU would have likely been one of the largest strike actions in history. It was avoided, albeit narrowly, by Root quickly withdrawing the Order at March's angry demand, with the general stating that the occupation would collapse overnight if the rail system was crippled. More militant laborists proposed proceeding with the strike anyways to rid of wage controls, but Debs did not want to overplay his hand, sensing that he may already have damaged his public credibility as it was.
Indeed, only Democrats came out of the ordeal strengthened, and that was by having not touched it at all. The Rail Crisis of 1918 turned thousands of Americans who were drifting left after the labor actions of 1917 off of Debs specifically and the Socialist Party generally, with Democrats once more cementing their position as the moderate face of organized labor, and the affair also made Root look even more inept and craven than he already did, at crosswinds of being pushed into unpopular positions by Mellon and then stared down immediately thereafter by Debs' threat. Roosevelt's Journal gloated, "Who governs?", a catchphrase that would immediately become part of American lexicon ahead of the 1918 midterms. Root's Presidency was already spiraling from events outside of his control - but as the Rail Crisis reveals, he was nonetheless often his own worst enemy when it came to matters where he could make decisions..."
- The Root of the Problem: The Tumultuous Term of America's 29th President
[1] As did most of organized labor