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If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Shame of the Cities - -Author: Lincoln Steffens - -Release Date: May 12, 2017 [EBook #54710] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHAME OF THE CITIES *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - THE SHAME OF THE CITIES - - - BY - - LINCOLN STEFFENS - -[Illustration] - - NEW YORK - - McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO. - - MCMIV - - - - - _Copyright, 1904, by_ - - McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO. - - Published, March, 1904 - - Second Impression - - - COPYRIGHT, 1902, 1903, BY S. S. MCCLURE COMPANY - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - INTRODUCTION; AND SOME CONCLUSIONS 3 - - TWEED DAYS IN ST. LOUIS 29 - - THE SHAME OF MINNEAPOLIS 63 - - THE SHAMELESSNESS OF ST. LOUIS 101 - - PITTSBURG: A CITY ASHAMED 147 - - PHILADELPHIA: CORRUPT AND CONTENTED 193 - - CHICAGO: HALF FREE AND FIGHTING ON 233 - - NEW YORK: GOOD GOVERNMENT TO THE TEST 279 - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - INTRODUCTION; AND SOME CONCLUSIONS - - -This is not a book. It is a collection of articles reprinted from -_McClure’s Magazine_. Done as journalism, they are journalism still, and -no further pretensions are set up for them in their new dress. This -classification may seem pretentious enough; certainly it would if I -should confess what claims I make for my profession. But no matter about -that; I insist upon the journalism. And there is my justification for -separating from the bound volumes of the magazine and republishing, -practically without re-editing, my accounts as a reporter of the shame -of American cities. They were written with a purpose, they were -published serially with a purpose, and they are reprinted now together -to further that same purpose, which was and is—to sound for the civic -pride of an apparently shameless citizenship. - -There must be such a thing, we reasoned. All our big boasting could not -be empty vanity, nor our pious pretensions hollow sham. American -achievements in science, art, and business mean sound abilities at -bottom, and our hypocrisy a race sense of fundamental ethics. Even in -government we have given proofs of potential greatness, and our -political failures are not complete; they are simply ridiculous. But -they are ours. Not alone the triumphs and the statesmen, the defeats and -the grafters also represent us, and just as truly. Why not see it so and -say it? - -Because, I heard, the American people won’t “stand for” it. You may -blame the politicians, or, indeed, any one class, but not all classes, -not the people. Or you may put it on the ignorant foreign immigrant, or -any one nationality, but not on all nationalities, not on the American -people. But no one class is at fault, nor any one breed, nor any -particular interest or group of interests. The misgovernment of the -American people is misgovernment by the American people. - -When I set out on my travels, an honest New Yorker told me honestly that -I would find that the Irish, the Catholic Irish, were at the bottom of -it all everywhere. The first city I went to was St. Louis, a German -city. The next was Minneapolis, a Scandinavian city, with a leadership -of New Englanders. Then came Pittsburg, Scotch Presbyterian, and that -was what my New York friend was. “Ah, but they are all foreign -populations,” I heard. The next city was Philadelphia, the purest -American community of all, and the most hopeless. And after that came -Chicago and New York, both mongrel-bred, but the one a triumph of -reform, the other the best example of good government that I had seen. -The “foreign element” excuse is one of the hypocritical lies that save -us from the clear sight of ourselves. - -Another such conceit of our egotism is that which deplores our politics -and lauds our business. This is the wail of the typical American -citizen. Now, the typical American citizen is the business man. The -typical business man is a bad citizen; he is busy. If he is a “big -business man” and very busy, he does not neglect, he is busy with -politics, oh, very busy and very businesslike. I found him buying -boodlers in St. Louis, defending grafters in Minneapolis, originating -corruption in Pittsburg, sharing with bosses in Philadelphia, deploring -reform in Chicago, and beating good government with corruption funds in -New York. He is a self-righteous fraud, this business man. He is the -chief source of corruption, and it were a boon if he would neglect -politics. But he is not the business man that neglects politics; that -worthy is the good citizen, the typical business man. He too is busy, he -is the one that has no use and therefore no time for politics. When his -neglect has permitted bad government to go so far that he can be stirred -to action, he is unhappy, and he looks around for a cure that shall be -quick, so that he may hurry back to the shop. Naturally, too, when he -talks politics, he talks shop. His patent remedy is quack; it is -business. - -“Give us a business man,” he says (“like me,” he means). “Let him -introduce business methods into politics and government; then I shall be -left alone to attend to my business.” - -There is hardly an office from United States Senator down to Alderman in -any part of the country to which the business man has not been elected; -yet politics remains corrupt, government pretty bad, and the selfish -citizen has to hold himself in readiness like the old volunteer firemen -to rush forth at any hour, in any weather, to prevent the fire; and he -goes out sometimes and he puts out the fire (after the damage is done) -and he goes back to the shop sighing for the business man in politics. -The business man has failed in politics as he has in citizenship. Why? - -Because politics is business. That’s what’s the matter with it. That’s -what’s the matter with everything,—art, literature, religion, -journalism, law, medicine,—they’re all business, and all—as you see -them. Make politics a sport, as they do in England, or a profession, as -they do in Germany, and we’ll have—well, something else than we have -now,—if we want it, which is another question. But don’t try to reform -politics with the banker, the lawyer, and the dry-goods merchant, for -these are business men and there are two great hindrances to their -achievement of reform: one is that they are different from, but no -better than, the politicians; the other is that politics is not “their -line.” There are exceptions both ways. Many politicians have gone out -into business and done well (Tammany ex-mayors, and nearly all the old -bosses of Philadelphia are prominent financiers in their cities), and -business men have gone into politics and done well (Mark Hanna, for -example). They haven’t reformed their adopted trades, however, though -they have sometimes sharpened them most pointedly. The politician is a -business man with a specialty. When a business man of some other line -learns the business of politics, he is a politician, and there is not -much reform left in him. Consider the United States Senate, and believe -me. - -The commercial spirit is the spirit of profit, not patriotism; of -credit, not honor; of individual gain, not national prosperity; of trade -and dickering, not principle. “My business is sacred,” says the business -man in his heart. “Whatever prospers my business, is good; it must be. -Whatever hinders it, is wrong; it must be. A bribe is bad, that is, it -is a bad thing to take; but it is not so bad to give one, not if it is -necessary to my business.” “Business is business” is not a political -sentiment, but our politician has caught it. He takes essentially the -same view of the bribe, only he saves his self-respect by piling all his -contempt upon the bribe-giver, and he has the great advantage of candor. -“It is wrong, maybe,” he says, “but if a rich merchant can afford to do -business with me for the sake of a convenience or to increase his -already great wealth, I can afford, for the sake of a living, to meet -him half way. I make no pretensions to virtue, not even on Sunday.” And -as for giving bad government or good, how about the merchant who gives -bad goods or good goods, according to the demand? - -But there is hope, not alone despair, in the commercialism of our -politics. If our political leaders are to be always a lot of political -merchants, they will supply any demand we may create. All we have to do -is to establish a steady demand for good government. The boss has us -split up into parties. To him parties are nothing but means to his -corrupt ends. He “bolts” his party, but we must not; the bribe-giver -changes his party, from one election to another, from one county to -another, from one city to another, but the honest voter must not. Why? -Because if the honest voter cared no more for his party than the -politician and the grafter, then the honest vote would govern, and that -would be bad—for graft. It is idiotic, this devotion to a machine that -is used to take our sovereignty from us. If we would leave parties to -the politicians, and would vote not for the party, not even for men, but -for the city, and the State, and the nation, we should rule parties, and -cities, and States, and nation. If we would vote in mass on the more -promising ticket, or, if the two are equally bad, would throw out the -party that is in, and wait till the next election and then throw out the -other party that is in—then, I say, the commercial politician would feel -a demand for good government and he would supply it. That process would -take a generation or more to complete, for the politicians now really do -not know what good government is. But it has taken as long to develop -bad government, and the politicians know what that is. If it would not -“go,” they would offer something else, and, if the demand were steady, -they, being so commercial, would “deliver the goods.” - -But do the people want good government? Tammany says they don’t. Are the -people honest? Are the people better than Tammany? Are they better than -the merchant and the politician? Isn’t our corrupt government, after -all, representative? - -President Roosevelt has been sneered at for going about the country -preaching, as a cure for our American evils, good conduct in the -individual, simple honesty, courage, and efficiency. “Platitudes!” the -sophisticated say. Platitudes? If my observations have been true, the -literal adoption of Mr. Roosevelt’s reform scheme would result in a -revolution, more radical and terrible to existing institutions, from the -Congress to the Church, from the bank to the ward organization, than -socialism or even than anarchy. Why, that would change all of us—not -alone our neighbors, not alone the grafters, but you and me. - -No, the contemned methods of our despised politics are the master -methods of our braggart business, and the corruption that shocks us in -public affairs we practice ourselves in our private concerns. There is -no essential difference between the pull that gets your wife into -society or a favorable review for your book, and that which gets a -heeler into office, a thief out of jail, and a rich man’s son on the -board of directors of a corporation; none between the corruption of a -labor union, a bank, and a political machine; none between a dummy -director of a trust and the caucus-bound member of a legislature; none -between a labor boss like Sam Parks, a boss of banks like John D. -Rockefeller, a boss of railroads like J. P. Morgan, and a political boss -like Matthew S. Quay. The boss is not a political, he is an American -institution, product of a freed people that have not the spirit to be -free. - -And it’s all a moral weakness; a weakness right where we think we are -strongest. Oh, we are good—on Sunday, and we are “fearfully patriotic” -on the Fourth of July. But the bribe we pay to the janitor to prefer our -interests to the landlord’s, is the little brother of the bribe passed -to the alderman to sell a city street, and the father of the air-brake -stock assigned to the president of a railroad to have this life-saving -invention adopted on his road. And as for graft, railroad passes, saloon -and bawdy-house blackmail, and watered stock, all these belong to the -same family. We are pathetically proud of our democratic institutions -and our republican form of government, of our grand Constitution and our -just laws. We are a free and sovereign people, we govern ourselves and -the government is ours. But that is the point. We are responsible, not -our leaders, since we follow them. We _let_ them divert our loyalty from -the United States to some “party”; we _let_ them boss the party and turn -our municipal democracies into autocracies and our republican nation -into a plutocracy. We cheat our government and we let our leaders loot -it, and we let them wheedle and bribe our sovereignty from us. True, -they pass for us strict laws, but we are content to let them pass also -bad laws, giving away public property in exchange; and our good, and -often impossible, laws we allow to be used for oppression and blackmail. -And what can we say? We break our own laws and rob our own government, -the lady at the custom-house, the lyncher with his rope, and the captain -of industry with his bribe and his rebate. The spirit of graft and of -lawlessness is the American spirit. - -And this shall not be said? Not plainly? William Travers Jerome, the -fearless District Attorney of New York, says, “You can say anything you -think to the American people. If you are honest with yourself you may be -honest with them, and they will forgive not only your candor, but your -mistakes.” This is the opinion, and the experience too, of an honest man -and a hopeful democrat. Who says the other things? Who says “Hush,” and -“What’s the use?” and “ALL’S well,” when all is rotten? It is the -grafter; the coward, too, but the grafter inspires the coward. The -doctrine of “addition, division, and silence” is the doctrine of graft. -“Don’t hurt the party,” “Spare the fair fame of the city,” are boodle -yells. The Fourth of July oration is the “front” of graft. There is no -patriotism in it, but treason. It is part of the game. The grafters call -for cheers for the flag, “prosperity,” and “the party,” just as a -highwayman commands “hands up,” and while we are waving and shouting, -they float the flag from the nation to the party, turn both into graft -factories, and prosperity into a speculative boom to make “weak hands,” -as the Wall Street phrase has it, hold the watered stock while the -strong hands keep the property. “Blame us, blame anybody, but praise the -people,” this, the politician’s advice, is not the counsel of respect -for the people, but of contempt. By just such palavering as courtiers -play upon the degenerate intellects of weak kings, the bosses, -political, financial, and industrial, are befuddling and befooling our -sovereign American citizenship; and—likewise—they are corrupting it. - -And it is corruptible, this citizenship. “I know what Parks is doing,” -said a New York union workman, “but what do I care. He has raised my -wages. Let him have his graft!” And the Philadelphia merchant says the -same thing: “The party leaders may be getting more than they should out -of the city, but that doesn’t hurt me. It may raise taxes a little, but -I can stand that. The party keeps up the protective tariff. If that were -cut down, my business would be ruined. So long as the party stands pat -on that, I stand pat on the party.” - -The people are not innocent. That is the only “news” in all the -journalism of these articles, and no doubt that was not new to many -observers. It was to me. When I set out to describe the corrupt systems -of certain typical cities, I meant to show simply how the people were -deceived and betrayed. But in the very first study—St. Louis—the -startling truth lay bare that corruption was not merely political; it -was financial, commercial, social; the ramifications of boodle were so -complex, various, and far-reaching, that one mind could hardly grasp -them, and not even Joseph W. Folk, the tireless prosecutor, could follow -them all. This state of things was indicated in the first article which -Claude H. Wetmore and I compiled together, but it was not shown plainly -enough. Mr. Wetmore lived in St. Louis, and he had respect for names -which meant little to me. But when I went next to Minneapolis alone, I -could see more independently, without respect for persons, and there -were traces of the same phenomenon. The first St. Louis article was -called “Tweed Days in St. Louis,” and though the “better citizen” -received attention the Tweeds were the center of interest. In “The Shame -of Minneapolis,” the truth was put into the title; it was the Shame of -Minneapolis; not of the Ames administration, not of the Tweeds, but of -the city and its citizens. And yet Minneapolis was not nearly so bad as -St. Louis; police graft is never so universal as boodle. It is more -shocking, but it is so filthy that it cannot involve so large a part of -society. So I returned to St. Louis, and I went over the whole ground -again, with the people in mind, not alone the caught and convicted -boodlers. And this time the true meaning of “Tweed days in St. Louis” -was made plain. The article was called “The Shamelessness of St. Louis,” -and that was the burden of the story. In Pittsburg also the people was -the subject, and though the civic spirit there was better, the extent of -the corruption throughout the social organization of the community was -indicated. But it was not till I got to Philadelphia that the -possibilities of popular corruption were worked out to the limit of -humiliating confession. That was the place for such a study. There is -nothing like it in the country, except possibly, in Cincinnati. -Philadelphia certainly is not merely corrupt, but corrupted, and this -was made clear. Philadelphia was charged up to—the American citizen. - -It was impossible in the space of a magazine article to cover in any one -city all the phases of municipal government, so I chose cities that -typified most strikingly some particular phase or phases. Thus as St. -Louis exemplified boodle; Minneapolis, police graft; Pittsburg, a -political and industrial machine; and Philadelphia, general civic -corruption; so Chicago was an illustration of reform, and New York of -good government. All these things occur in most of these places. There -are, and long have been, reformers in St. Louis, and there is to-day -police graft there. Minneapolis has had boodling and council reform, and -boodling is breaking out there again. Pittsburg has general corruption, -and Philadelphia a very perfect political machine. Chicago has police -graft and a low order of administrative and general corruption which -permeates business, labor, and society generally. As for New York, the -metropolis might exemplify almost anything that occurs anywhere in -American cities, but no city has had for many years such a good -administration as was that of Mayor Seth Low. - -That which I have made each city stand for, is that which it had most -highly developed. It would be absurd to seek for organized reform in St. -Louis, for example, with Chicago next door; or for graft in Chicago with -Minneapolis so near. After Minneapolis, a description of administrative -corruption in Chicago would have seemed like a repetition. Perhaps it -was not just to treat only the conspicuous element in each situation. -But why should I be just? I was not judging; I arrogated to myself no -such function. I was not writing about Chicago for Chicago, but for the -other cities, so I picked out what light each had for the instruction of -the others. But, if I was never complete, I never exaggerated. Every one -of those articles was an understatement, especially where the conditions -were bad, and the proof thereof is that while each article seemed to -astonish other cities, it disappointed the city which was its subject. -Thus my friends in Philadelphia, who knew what there was to know, and -those especially who knew what I knew, expressed surprise that I -reported so little. And one St. Louis newspaper said that “the facts -were thrown at me and I fell down over them.” There was truth in these -flings. I cut twenty thousand words out of the Philadelphia article and -yet I had not written half my facts. I know a man who is making a -history of the corrupt construction of the Philadelphia City Hall, in -three volumes, and he grieves because he lacks space. You can’t put all -the known incidents of the corruption of an American city into a book. - -This is all very unscientific, but then, I am not a scientist. I am a -journalist. I did not gather with indifference all the facts and arrange -them patiently for permanent preservation and laboratory analysis. I did -not want to preserve, I wanted to destroy the facts. My purpose was no -more scientific than the spirit of my investigation and reports; it was, -as I said above, to see if the shameful facts, spread out in all their -shame, would not burn through our civic shamelessness and set fire to -American pride. That was the journalism of it. I wanted to move and to -convince. That is why I was not interested in all the facts, sought none -that was new, and rejected half those that were old. I often was asked -to expose something suspected. I couldn’t; and why should I? Exposure of -the unknown was not my purpose. The people: what they will put up with, -how they are fooled, how cheaply they are bought, how dearly sold, how -easily intimidated, and how led, for good or for evil—that was the -inquiry, and so the significant facts were those only which everybody in -each city knew, and of these, only those which everybody in every other -town would recognize, from their common knowledge of such things, to be -probable. But these, understated, were charged always to the guilty -persons when individuals were to blame, and finally brought home to the -people themselves, who, having the power, have also the responsibility, -they and those they respect, and those that guide them. - -This was against all the warnings and rules of demagogy. What was the -result? - -After Joseph W. Folk had explored and exposed, with convictions, the -boodling of St. Louis, the rings carried an election. “Tweed Days in St. -Louis” is said to have formed some public sentiment against the -boodlers, but the local newspapers had more to do with that than -_McClure’s Magazine_. After the Minneapolis grand jury had exposed and -the courts had tried and the common juries had convicted the grafters -there, an election showed that public opinion was formed. But that one -election was regarded as final. When I went there the men who had led -the reform movement were “all through.” After they had read the “Shame -of Minneapolis,” however, they went back to work, and they have -perfected a plan to keep the citizens informed and to continue the fight -for good government. They saw, these unambitious, busy citizens, that it -was “up to them,” and they resumed the unwelcome duties of their -citizenship. Of resentment there was very little. At a meeting of -leading citizens there were honest speeches suggesting that something -should be said to “clear the name of Minneapolis,” but one man rose and -said very pleasantly, but firmly, that the article was true; it was -pretty hard on them, but it was true and they all knew it. That ended -that. - -When I returned to St. Louis and rewrote the facts, and, in rewriting, -made them just as insulting as the truth would permit, my friends there -expressed dismay over the manuscript. The article would hurt Mr. Folk; -it would hurt the cause; it would arouse popular wrath. - -“That was what I hoped it would do,” I said. - -“But the indignation would break upon Folk and reform, not on the -boodlers,” they said. - -“Wasn’t it obvious,” I asked, “that this very title, ‘Shamelessness,’ -was aimed at pride; that it implied a faith that there was self-respect -to be touched and shame to be moved?” - -That was too subtle. So I answered that if they had no faith in the -town, I had, and anyway, if I was wrong and the people should resent, -not the crime, but the exposure of it, then they would punish, not Mr. -Folk, who had nothing to do with the article, but the magazine and me. -Newspaper men warned me that they would not “stand for” the article, but -would attack it. I answered that I would let the St. Louisans decide -between us. It was true, it was just; the people of St. Louis had shown -no shame. Here was a good chance to see whether they had any. I was a -fool, they said. “All right,” I replied. “All kings had fools in the -olden days, and the fools were allowed to tell them the truth. I would -play the fool to the American people.” - -The article, published, was attacked by the newspapers; friends of Mr. -Folk repudiated it; Mr. Folk himself spoke up for the people. Leading -citizens raised money for a mass meeting to “set the city right before -the world.” The mayor of the city, a most excellent man, who had helped -me, denounced the article. The boodle party platform appealed for votes -on the strength of the attacks in “Eastern magazines.” The people -themselves contradicted me; after the publication, two hundred thousand -buttons for “Folk and Reform” were worn on the streets of St. Louis. - -But those buttons were for “Folk and Reform.” They did go to prove that -the article was wrong, that there was pride in St. Louis, but they -proved also that that pride had been touched. Up to that time nobody -knew exactly how St. Louis felt about it all. There had been one -election, another was pending, and the boodlers, caught or to be caught, -were in control. The citizens had made no move to dislodge them. Mr. -Folk’s splendid labors were a spectacle without a chorus, and, though I -had met men who told me the people were with Folk, I had met also the -grafters, who cursed only Folk and were building all their hopes on the -assumption that “after Folk’s term” all would be well again. Between -these two local views no outsider could choose. How could I read a -strange people’s hearts? I took the outside view, stated the facts both -ways,—the right verdicts of the juries and the confident plans of the -boodlers,—and the result was, indeed, a shameless state of affairs for -which St. Louis, the people of St. Louis, were to blame. - -And they saw it so, both in the city and in the State, and they ceased -to be spectators. That article simply got down to the self-respect of -this people. And who was hurt? Not St. Louis. From that moment the city -has been determined and active, and boodle seems to be doomed. Not Mr. -Folk. After that, his nomination for Governor of the State was declared -for by the people, who formed Folk clubs all over the State to force him -upon his party and theirs, and thus insure the pursuit of the boodlers -in St. Louis and in Missouri too. Nor was the magazine hurt, or myself. -The next time I went to St. Louis, the very men who had raised money for -the mass meeting to denounce the article went out of their way to say to -me that I had been right, the article was true, and they asked me to “do -it again.” And there may be a chance to do it again. Mr. Folk lifted the -lid off Missouri for a moment after that, and the State also appeared -ripe for the gathering. Moreover, the boodlers of State and city have -joined to beat the people and keep them down. The decisive election is -not till the fall of 1904, and the boodlers count much on the fickleness -of public opinion. But I believe that Missouri and St. Louis together -will prove then, once for all, that the people can rule—when they are -aroused. - -The Pittsburg article had no effect in Pittsburg, nor had that on -Philadelphia any results in Philadelphia. Nor was any expected there. -Pittsburg, as I said in the article, knew itself, and may pull out of -its disgrace, but Philadelphia is contented and seems hopeless. The -accounts of them, however, and indeed, as I have said, all in the -series, were written, not for the cities described, but for all our -cities; and the most immediate responses came not from places described, -but from others where similar evils existed or similar action was -needed. Thus Chicago, intent on its troubles; found useless to it the -study of its reform, which seems to have been suggestive elsewhere, and -Philadelphia, “Corrupt and Contented,” was taken home in other cities -and seems to have made the most lasting impression everywhere. - -But of course the tangible results are few. The real triumph of the -year’s work was the complete demonstration it has given, in a thousand -little ways, that our shamelessness is superficial, that beneath it lies -a pride which, being real, may save us yet. And it is real. The grafters -who said you may put the blame anywhere but on the people, where it -belongs, and that Americans can be moved only by flattery,—they lied. -They lied about themselves. They, too, are American citizens; they too, -are of the people; and some of them also were reached by shame. The -great truth I tried to make plain was that which Mr. Folk insists so -constantly upon: that bribery is no ordinary felony, but treason, that -the “corruption which breaks out here and there and now and then” is not -an occasional offense, but a common practice, and that the effect of it -is literally to change the form of our government from one that is -representative of the people to an oligarchy, representative of special -interests. Some politicians have seen that this is so, and it bothers -them. I think I prize more highly than any other of my experiences the -half-dozen times when grafting politicians I had “roasted,” as they put -it, called on me afterwards to say, in the words of one who spoke with a -wonderful solemnity: - -“You are right. I never thought of it that way, but it’s right. I don’t -know whether you can do anything, but you’re right, dead right. And I’m -all wrong. We’re all, all wrong. I don’t see how we can stop it now; I -don’t see how I can change. I can’t, I guess. No, I can’t, not now. But, -say, I may be able to help you, and I will if I can. You can have -anything I’ve got.” - -So you see, they are not such bad fellows, these practical politicians. -I wish I could tell more about them: how they have helped me; how -candidly and unselfishly they have assisted me to facts and an -understanding of the facts, which, as I warned them, as they knew well, -were to be used against them. If I could—and I will some day—I should -show that one of the surest hopes we have is the politician himself. Ask -him for good politics; punish him when he gives bad, and reward him when -he gives good; make politics pay. Now, he says, you don’t know and you -don’t care, and that you must be flattered and fooled—and there, I say, -he is wrong. I did not flatter anybody; I told the truth as near as I -could get it, and instead of resentment there was encouragement. After -“The Shame of Minneapolis,” and “The Shamelessness of St. Louis,” not -only did citizens of these cities approve, but citizens of other cities, -individuals, groups, and organizations, sent in invitations, hundreds of -them, “to come and show us up; we’re worse than they are.” - -We Americans may have failed. We may be mercenary and selfish. Democracy -with us may be impossible and corruption inevitable, but these articles, -if they have proved nothing else, have demonstrated beyond doubt that we -can stand the truth; that there is pride in the character of American -citizenship; and that this pride may be a power in the land. So this -little volume, a record of shame and yet of self-respect, a disgraceful -confession, yet a declaration of honor, is dedicated, in all good faith, -to the accused—to all the citizens of all the cities in the United -States. - - NEW YORK, _December, 1903_. - - - - - TWEED DAYS IN ST. LOUIS - - - (_October, 1902_) - -St. Louis, the fourth city in size in the United States, is making two -announcements to the world: one that it is the worst-governed city in -the land; the other that it wishes all men to come there (for the -World’s Fair) and see it. It isn’t our worst-governed city; Philadelphia -is that. But St. Louis is worth examining while we have it inside out. - -There is a man at work there, one man, working all alone, but he is the -Circuit (district or State) Attorney, and he is “doing his duty.” That -is what thousands of district attorneys and other public officials have -promised to do and boasted of doing. This man has a literal sort of -mind. He is a thin-lipped, firm-mouthed, dark little man, who never -raises his voice, but goes ahead doing, with a smiling eye and a set -jaw, the simple thing he said he would do. The politicians and reputable -citizens who asked him to run urged him when he declined. When he said -that if elected he would have to do his duty, they said, “Of course.” So -he ran, they supported him, and he was elected. Now some of these -politicians are sentenced to the penitentiary, some are in Mexico. The -Circuit Attorney, finding that his “duty” was to catch and convict -criminals, and that the biggest criminals were some of these same -politicians and leading citizens, went after them. It is magnificent, -but the politicians declare it isn’t politics. - -The corruption of St. Louis came from the top. The best citizens—the -merchants and big financiers—used to rule the town, and they ruled it -well. They set out to outstrip Chicago. The commercial and industrial -war between these two cities was at one time a picturesque and dramatic -spectacle such as is witnessed only in our country. Business men were -not mere merchants and the politicians were not mere grafters; the two -kinds of citizens got together and wielded the power of banks, -railroads, factories, the prestige of the city, and the spirit of its -citizens to gain business and population. And it was a close race. -Chicago, having the start, always led, but St. Louis had pluck, -intelligence, and tremendous energy. It pressed Chicago hard. It -excelled in a sense of civic beauty and good government; and there are -those who think yet it might have won. But a change occurred. Public -spirit became private spirit, public enterprise became private greed. - -Along about 1890, public franchises and privileges were sought, not only -for legitimate profit and common convenience, but for loot. Taking but -slight and always selfish interest in the public councils, the big men -misused politics. The riffraff, catching the smell of corruption, rushed -into the Municipal Assembly, drove out the remaining respectable men, -and sold the city—its streets, its wharves, its markets, and all that it -had—to the now greedy business men and bribers. In other words, when the -leading men began to devour their own city, the herd rushed into the -trough and fed also. - -So gradually has this occurred that these same citizens hardly realize -it. Go to St. Louis and you will find the habit of civic pride in them; -they still boast. The visitor is told of the wealth of the residents, of -the financial strength of the banks, and of the growing importance of -the industries, yet he sees poorly paved, refuse-burdened streets, and -dusty or mud-covered alleys; he passes a ramshackle fire-trap crowded -with the sick, and learns that it is the City Hospital; he enters the -“Four Courts,” and his nostrils are greeted by the odor of formaldehyde -used as a disinfectant, and insect powder spread to destroy vermin; he -calls at the new City Hall, and finds half the entrance boarded with -pine planks to cover up the unfinished interior. Finally, he turns a tap -in the hotel, to see liquid mud flow into wash-basin or bath-tub. - -The St. Louis charter vests legislative power of great scope in a -Municipal Assembly, which is composed of a council and a House of -Delegates. Here is a description of the latter by one of Mr. Folk’s -grand juries: - -“We have had before us many of those who have been, and most of those -who are now, members of the House of Delegates. We found a number of -these utterly illiterate and lacking in ordinary intelligence, unable to -give a better reason for favoring or opposing a measure than a desire to -act with the majority. In some, no trace of mentality or morality could -be found; in others, a low order of training appeared, united with base -cunning, groveling instincts, and sordid desires. Unqualified to respond -to the ordinary requirements of life, they are utterly incapable of -comprehending the significance of an ordinance, and are incapacitated, -both by nature and training, to be the makers of laws. The choosing of -such men to be legislators makes a travesty of justice, sets a premium -on incompetency, and deliberately poisons the very source of the law.” - -These creatures were well organized. They had a “combine”—legislative -institution—which the grand jury described as follows: - -“Our investigation, covering more or less fully a period of ten years, -shows that, with few exceptions, no ordinance has been passed wherein -valuable privileges or franchises are granted until those interested -have paid the legislators the money demanded for action in the -particular case. Combines in both branches of the Municipal Assembly are -formed by members sufficient in number to control legislation. To one -member of this combine is delegated the authority to act for the -combine, and to receive and to distribute to each member the money -agreed upon as the price of his vote in support of, or opposition to, a -pending measure. So long has this practice existed that such members -have come to regard the receipt of money for action on pending measures -as a legitimate perquisite of a legislator.” - -One legislator consulted a lawyer with the intention of suing a firm to -recover an unpaid balance on a fee for the grant of a switch-way. Such -difficulties rarely occurred, however. In order to insure a regular and -indisputable revenue, the combine of each house drew up a schedule of -bribery prices for all possible sorts of grants, just such a list as a -commercial traveler takes out on the road with him. There was a price -for a grain elevator, a price for a short switch; side tracks were -charged for by the linear foot, but at rates which varied according to -the nature of the ground taken; a street improvement cost so much; wharf -space was classified and precisely rated. As there was a scale for -favorable legislation, so there was one for defeating bills. It made a -difference in the price if there was opposition, and it made a -difference whether the privilege asked was legitimate or not. But -nothing was passed free of charge. Many of the legislators were -saloon-keepers—it was in St. Louis that a practical joker nearly emptied -the House of Delegates by tipping a boy to rush into a session and call -out, “Mister, your saloon is on fire,”—but even the saloon-keepers of a -neighborhood had to pay to keep in their inconvenient locality a market -which public interest would have moved. - -From the Assembly, bribery spread into other departments. Men empowered -to issue peddlers’ licenses and permits to citizens who wished to erect -awnings or use a portion of the sidewalk for storage purposes charged an -amount in excess of the prices stipulated by law, and pocketed the -difference. The city’s money was loaned at interest, and the interest -was converted into private bank accounts. City carriages were used by -the wives and children of city officials. Supplies for public -institutions found their way to private tables; one itemized account of -food furnished the poorhouse included California jellies, imported -cheeses, and French wines! A member of the Assembly caused the -incorporation of a grocery company, with his sons and daughters the -ostensible stockholders, and succeeded in having his bid for city -supplies accepted although the figures were in excess of his -competitors’. In return for the favor thus shown, he indorsed a measure -to award the contract for city printing to another member, and these two -voted aye on a bill granting to a third the exclusive right to furnish -city dispensaries with drugs. - -Men ran into debt to the extent of thousands of dollars for the sake of -election to either branch of the Assembly. One night, on a street car -going to the City Hall, a new member remarked that the nickel he handed -the conductor was his last. The next day he deposited $5,000 in a -savings bank. A member of the House of Delegates admitted to the Grand -Jury that his dividends from the combine netted $25,000 in one year; a -Councilman stated that he was paid $50,000 for his vote on a single -measure. - -Bribery was a joke. A newspaper reporter overheard this conversation one -evening in the corridor of the City Hall: - -“Ah there, my boodler!” said Mr. Delegate. - -“Stay there, my grafter!” replied Mr. Councilman. “Can you lend me a -hundred for a day or two?” - -“Not at present. But I can spare it if the Z—— bill goes through -to-night. Meet me at F——‘s later.” - -“All right, my jailbird; I’ll be there.” - -The blackest years were 1898, 1899, and 1900. Foreign corporations came -into the city to share in its despoliation, and home industries were -driven out by blackmail. Franchises worth millions were granted without -one cent of cash to the city, and with provision for only the smallest -future payment; several companies which refused to pay blackmail had to -leave; citizens were robbed more and more boldly; pay-rolls were padded -with the names of non-existent persons; work on public improvements was -neglected, while money for them went to the boodlers. - -Some of the newspapers protested, disinterested citizens were alarmed, -and the shrewder men gave warnings, but none dared make an effective -stand. Behind the corruptionists were men of wealth and social standing, -who, because of special privileges granted them, felt bound to support -and defend the looters. Independent victims of the far-reaching -conspiracy submitted in silence, through fear of injury to their -business. Men whose integrity was never questioned, who held high -positions of trust, who were church members and teachers of Bible -classes, contributed to the support of the dynasty,—became blackmailers, -in fact,—and their excuse was that others did the same, and that if they -proved the exception it would work their ruin. The system became loose -through license and plenty till it was as wild and weak as that of Tweed -in New York. - -Then the unexpected happened—an accident. There was no uprising of the -people, but they were restive; and the Democratic party leaders, -thinking to gain some independent votes, decided to raise the cry -“reform” and put up a ticket of candidates different enough from the -usual offerings of political parties to give color to their platform. -These leaders were not in earnest. There was little difference between -the two parties in the city; but the rascals that were in had been -getting the greater share of the spoils, and the “outs” wanted more than -was given to them. “Boodle” was not the issue, no exposures were made or -threatened, and the bosses expected to control their men if elected. -Simply as part of the game, the Democrats raised the slogan, “reform” -and “no more Ziegenheinism.” - -Mayor Ziegenhein, called “Uncle Henry,” was a “good fellow,” “one of the -boys,” and though it was during his administration that the city grew -ripe and went to rot, his opponents talked only of incompetence and -neglect, and repeated such stories as that of his famous reply to some -citizens who complained because certain street lights were put out: “You -have the moon yet—ain’t it?” - -When somebody mentioned Joseph W. Folk for Circuit Attorney the leaders -were ready to accept him. They didn’t know much about him. He was a -young man from Tennessee; had been President of the Jefferson Club, and -arbitrated the railroad strike of 1898. But Folk did not want the place. -He was a civil lawyer, had had no practice at the criminal bar, cared -little about it, and a lucrative business as counsel for corporations -was interesting him. He rejected the invitation. The committee called -again and again, urging his duty to his party, and the city, etc. - -“Very well,” he said, at last, “I will accept the nomination, but if -elected I will do my duty. There must be no attempt to influence my -actions when I am called upon to punish lawbreakers.” - -The committeemen took such statements as the conventional platitudes of -candidates. They nominated him, the Democratic ticket was elected, and -Folk became Circuit Attorney for the Eighth Missouri District. - -Three weeks after taking the oath of office his campaign pledges were -put to the test. A number of arrests had been made in connection with -the recent election, and charges of illegal registration were preferred -against men of both parties. Mr. Folk took them up like routine cases of -ordinary crime. Political bosses rushed to the rescue. Mr. Folk was -reminded of his duty to his party, and told that he was expected to -construe the law in such a manner that repeaters and other election -criminals who had hoisted Democracy’s flag and helped elect him might be -either discharged or receive the minimum punishment. The nature of the -young lawyer’s reply can best be inferred from the words of that veteran -political leader, Colonel Ed Butler, who, after a visit to Mr. Folk, -wrathfully exclaimed, “D—n Joe! he thinks he’s the whole thing as -Circuit Attorney.” - -The election cases were passed through the courts with astonishing -rapidity; no more mercy was shown Democrats than Republicans, and before -winter came a number of ward heelers and old-time party workers were -behind the bars in Jefferson City. He next turned his attention to -grafters and straw bondsmen with whom the courts were infested, and -several of these leeches are in the penitentiary to-day. The business -was broken up because of his activity. But Mr. Folk had made little more -than the beginning. - -One afternoon, late in January, 1903, a newspaper reporter, known as -“Red” Galvin, called Mr. Folk’s attention to a ten-line newspaper item -to the effect that a large sum of money had been placed in a bank for -the purpose of bribing certain Assemblymen to secure the passage of a -street railroad ordinance. No names were mentioned, but Mr. Galvin -surmised that the bill referred to was one introduced on behalf of the -Suburban Railway Company. An hour later Mr. Folk sent the names of -nearly one hundred persons to the sheriff, with instructions to subpœna -them before the grand jury at once. The list included Councilmen, -members of the House of Delegates, officers and directors of the -Suburban Railway, bank presidents and cashiers. In three days the -investigation was being pushed with vigor, but St. Louis was laughing at -the “huge joke.” Such things had been attempted before. The men who had -been ordered to appear before the grand jury jested as they chatted in -the anterooms, and newspaper accounts of these preliminary examinations -were written in the spirit of burlesque. - -It has developed since that Circuit Attorney Folk knew nothing, and was -not able to learn much more during the first few days; but he says he -saw here and there puffs of smoke and he determined to find the fire. It -was not an easy job. The first break into such a system is always -difficult. Mr. Folk began with nothing but courage and a strong personal -conviction. He caused peremptory summons to be issued, for the immediate -attendance in the grand jury room of Charles H. Turner, president of the -Suburban Railway, and Philip Stock, a representative of brewers’ -interests, who, he had reason to believe, was the legislative agent in -this deal. - -“Gentlemen,” said Mr. Folk, “I have secured sufficient evidence to -warrant the return of indictments against you for bribery, and I shall -prosecute you to the full extent of the law and send you to the -penitentiary unless you tell to this grand jury the complete history of -the corruptionist methods employed by you to secure the passage of -Ordinance No. 44. I shall give you three days to consider the matter. At -the end of that time, if you have not returned here and given us the -information demanded, warrants will be issued for your arrest.” - -They looked at the audacious young prosecutor and left the Four Courts -building without uttering a word. He waited. Two days later, -ex-Lieutenant Governor Charles P. Johnson, the veteran criminal lawyer, -called, and said that his client, Mr. Stock, was in such poor health -that he would be unable to appear before the grand jury. - -“I am truly sorry that Mr. Stock is ill,” replied Mr. Folk, “for his -presence here is imperative, and if he fails to appear he will be -arrested before sundown.” - -That evening a conference was held in Governor Johnson’s office, and the -next day this story was told in the grand jury room by Charles H. -Turner, millionaire president of the Suburban Railway, and corroborated -by Philip Stock, man-about-town and a good fellow: The Suburban, anxious -to sell out at a large profit to its only competitor, the St. Louis -Transit Co., caused to be drafted the measure known as House Bill No. -44. So sweeping were its grants that Mr. Turner, who planned and -executed the document, told the directors in his confidence that its -enactment into law would enhance the value of the property from three to -six million dollars. The bill introduced, Mr. Turner visited Colonel -Butler, who had long been known as a legislative agent, and asked his -price for securing the passage of the measure. “One hundred and -forty-five thousand dollars will be my fee,” was the reply. The railway -president demurred. He would think the matter over, he said, and he -hired a cheaper man, Mr. Stock. Stock conferred with the representative -of the combine in the House of Delegates and reported that $75,000 would -be necessary in this branch of the Assembly. Mr. Turner presented a note -indorsed by two of the directors whom he could trust, and secured a loan -from the German American Savings Bank. - -Bribe funds in pocket, the legislative agent telephoned John Murrell, at -that time a representative of the House combine, to meet him in the -office of the Lincoln Trust Company. There the two rented a safe-deposit -box. Mr. Stock placed in the drawer the roll of $75,000, and each -subscribed to an agreement that the box should not be opened unless both -were present. Of course the conditions spread upon the bank’s daybook -made no reference to the purpose for which this fund had been deposited, -but an agreement entered into by Messrs. Stock and Murrell was to the -effect that the $75,000 should be given Mr. Murrell as soon as the bill -became an ordinance, and by him distributed to the members of the -combine. Stock turned to the Council, and upon his report a further sum -of $60,000 was secured. These bills were placed in a safe-deposit box of -the Mississippi Valley Trust Co., and the man who held the key as -representative of the Council combine was Charles H. Kratz. - -All seemed well, but a few weeks after placing these funds in escrow, -Mr. Stock reported to his employer that there was an unexpected hitch -due to the action of Emil Meysenburg, who, as a member of the Council -Committee on Railroads, was holding up the report on the bill. Mr. Stock -said that Mr. Meysenburg held some worthless shares in a defunct -corporation and wanted Mr. Stock to purchase this paper at its par value -of $9,000. Mr. Turner gave Mr. Stock the money with which to buy the -shares. - -Thus the passage of House Bill 44 promised to cost the Suburban Railway -Co. $144,000, only one thousand dollars less than that originally named -by the political boss to whom Mr. Turner had first applied. The bill, -however, passed both houses of the Assembly. The sworn servants of the -city had done their work and held out their hands for the bribe money. - -Then came a court mandate which prevented the Suburban Railway Co. from -reaping the benefit of the vote-buying, and Charles H. Turner, angered -at the check, issued orders that the money in safe-deposit boxes should -not be touched. War was declared between bribe-givers and bribe-takers, -and the latter resorted to tactics which they hoped would frighten the -Suburban people into submission—such as making enough of the story -public to cause rumors of impending prosecution. It was that first item -which Mr. Folk saw and acted upon. - -When Messrs. Turner and Stock unfolded in the grand jury room the -details of their bribery plot, Circuit Attorney Folk found himself in -possession of verbal evidence of a great crime; he needed as material -exhibits the two large sums of money in safe-deposit vaults of two of -the largest banking institutions of the West. Had this money been -withdrawn? Could he get it if it was there? Lock-boxes had always been -considered sacred and beyond the power of the law to open. “I’ve always -held,” said Mr. Folk, “that the fact that a thing never had been done -was no reason for thinking it couldn’t be done.” He decided in this case -that the magnitude of the interests involved warranted unusual action, -so he selected a committee of grand jurors and visited one of the banks. -He told the president, a personal friend, the facts that had come into -his possession, and asked permission to search for the fund. - -“Impossible,” was the reply. “Our rules deny anyone the right.” - -“Mr.——,” said Mr. Folk, “a crime has been committed, and you hold -concealed the principal evidence thereto. In the name of the State of -Missouri I demand that you cause the box to be opened. If you refuse, I -shall cause a warrant to be issued, charging you as an accessory.” - -For a minute not a word was spoken by anyone in the room; then the -banker said in almost inaudible tones: - -“Give me a little time, gentlemen. I must consult with our legal adviser -before taking such a step.” - -“We will wait ten minutes,” said the Circuit Attorney. “By that time we -must have access to the vault or a warrant will be applied for.” - -At the expiration of that time a solemn procession wended its way from -the president’s office to the vaults in the sub-cellar—the president, -the cashier, and the corporation’s lawyer, the grand jurors, and the -Circuit Attorney. All bent eagerly forward as the key was inserted in -the lock. The iron drawer yielded, and a roll of something wrapped in -brown paper was brought to light. The Circuit Attorney removed the -rubber bands, and national bank notes of large denomination spread out -flat before them. The money was counted, and the sum was $75,000! - -The boodle fund was returned to its repository, officers of the bank -were told they would be held responsible for it until the courts could -act. The investigators visited the other financial institution. They met -with more resistance there. The threat to procure a warrant had no -effect until Mr. Folk left the building and set off in the direction of -the Four Courts. Then a messenger called him back, and the second box -was opened. In this was found $60,000. The chain of evidence was -complete. - -From that moment events moved rapidly. Charles Kratz and John K. -Murrell, alleged representatives of Council and House combines, were -arrested on bench warrants and placed under heavy bonds. Kratz was -brought into court from a meeting at which plans were being formed for -his election to the National Congress. Murrell was taken from his -undertaking establishment. Emil Meysenburg, millionaire broker, was -seated in his office when a sheriff’s deputy entered and read a document -that charged him with bribery. The summons reached Henry Nicolaus while -he was seated at his desk, and the wealthy brewer was compelled to send -for a bondsman to avoid passing a night in jail. The cable flashed the -news to Cairo, Egypt, that Ellis Wainwright, many times a millionaire, -proprietor of the St. Louis brewery that bears this name, had been -indicted. Julius Lehmann, one of the members of the House of Delegates, -who had joked while waiting in the grand jury’s anteroom, had his -laughter cut short by the hand of a deputy sheriff on his shoulder and -the words, “You are charged with perjury.” He was joined at the bar of -the criminal court by Harry Faulkner, another jolly good fellow. - -Consternation spread among the boodle gang. Some of the men took night -trains for other States and foreign countries; the majority remained and -counseled together. Within twenty-four hours after the first indictments -were returned, a meeting of bribe-givers and bribe-takers was held in -South St. Louis. The total wealth of those in attendance was -$30,000,000, and their combined political influence sufficient to carry -any municipal election under normal conditions. - -This great power was aligned in opposition to one man, who still was -alone. It was not until many indictments had been returned that a -citizens’ committee was formed to furnish funds, and even then most of -the contributors concealed their identity. Mr. James L. Blair, the -treasurer, testified in court that they were afraid to be known lest “it -ruin their business.” - -At the meeting of corruptionists three courses were decided upon. -Political leaders were to work on the Circuit Attorney by promise of -future reward, or by threats. Detectives were to ferret out of the young -lawyer’s past anything that could be used against him. Witnesses would -be sent out of town and provided with money to remain away until the -adjournment of the grand jury. - -Mr. Folk at once felt the pressure, and it was of a character to startle -one. Statesmen, lawyers, merchants, clubmen, churchmen—in fact, men -prominent in all walks of life—visited him at his office and at his -home, and urged that he cease such activity against his -fellow-townspeople. Political preferment was promised if he would yield; -a political grave if he persisted. Threatening letters came, warning him -of plots to murder, to disfigure, and to blackguard. Word came from -Tennessee that detectives were investigating every act of his life. Mr. -Folk told the politicians that he was not seeking political favors, and -not looking forward to another office; the others he defied. Meantime he -probed the deeper into the municipal sore. With his first successes for -prestige and aided by the panic among the boodlers, he soon had them -suspicious of one another, exchanging charges of betrayal, and ready to -“squeal” or run at the slightest sign of danger. One member of the House -of Delegates became so frightened while under the inquisitorial -cross-fire that he was seized with a nervous chill; his false teeth fell -to the floor, and the rattle so increased his alarm that he rushed from -the room without stopping to pick up his teeth, and boarded the next -train. - -It was not long before Mr. Folk had dug up the intimate history of ten -years of corruption, especially of the business of the North and South -and the Central Traction franchise grants, the last-named being even -more iniquitous than the Suburban. - -Early in 1898 a “promoter” rented a bridal suite at the Planters’ Hotel, -and having stocked the rooms with wines, liquors, and cigars until they -resembled a candidate’s headquarters during a convention, sought -introduction to members of the Assembly and to such political bosses as -had influence with the city fathers. Two weeks after his arrival the -Central Traction bill was introduced “by request” in the Council. The -measure was a blanket franchise, granting rights of way which had not -been given to old-established companies, and permitting the -beneficiaries to parallel any track in the city. It passed both Houses -despite the protests of every newspaper in the city, save one, and was -vetoed by the mayor. The cost to the promoter was $145,000. - -Preparations were made to pass the bill over the executive’s veto. The -bridal suite was restocked, larger sums of money were placed on deposit -in the banks, and the services of three legislative agents were engaged. -Evidence now in the possession of the St. Louis courts tells in detail -the disposition of $250,000 of bribe money. Sworn statements prove that -$75,000 was spent in the House of Delegates. The remainder of the -$250,000 was distributed in the Council, whose members, though few in -number, appraised their honor at a higher figure on account of their -higher positions in the business and social world. Finally, but one vote -was needed to complete the necessary two-thirds in the upper Chamber. To -secure this a councilman of reputed integrity was paid $50,000 in -consideration that he vote aye when the ordinance should come up for -final passage. But the promoter did not dare risk all upon the vote of -one man, and he made this novel proposition to another honored member, -who accepted it: - -“You will vote on roll call after Mr. ——. I will place $45,000 in the -hands of your son, which amount will become yours, if you have to vote -for the measure because of Mr. ——‘s not keeping his promise. But if he -stands out for it you can vote against it, and the money shall revert to -me.” - -On the evening when the bill was read for final passage the City Hall -was crowded with ward heelers and lesser politicians. These men had been -engaged by the promoter, at five and ten dollars a head, to cheer on the -boodling Assemblymen. The bill passed the House with a rush, and all -crowded into the Council Chamber. While the roll was being called the -silence was profound, for all knew that some men in the Chamber whose -reputations had been free from blemish, were under promise and pay to -part with honor that night. When the clerk was two-thirds down the list -those who had kept count knew that but one vote was needed. One more -name was called. The man addressed turned red, then white, and after a -moment’s hesitation he whispered “aye”! The silence was so death-like -that his vote was heard throughout the room, and those near enough heard -also the sigh of relief that escaped from the member who could now vote -“no” and save his reputation. - -The Central Franchise bill was a law, passed over the mayor’s veto. The -promoter had expended nearly $300,000 in securing the legislation, but -within a week he sold his rights of way to “Eastern capitalists” for -$1,250,000. The United Railways Company was formed, and without owning -an inch of steel rail, or a plank in a car, was able to compel every -street railroad in St. Louis, with the exception of the Suburban, to -part with stock and right of way and agree to a merger. Out of this grew -the St. Louis Transit Company of to-day. - -Several incidents followed this legislative session. After the Assembly -had adjourned, a promoter entertained the $50,000 councilman at a -downtown restaurant. During the supper the host remarked to his guest, -“I wish you would lend me that $50,000 until to-morrow. There are some -of the boys outside whom I haven’t paid.” The money changed hands. The -next day, having waited in vain for the promoter, Mr. Councilman armed -himself with a revolver and began a search of the hotels. The hunt in -St. Louis proved fruitless, but the irate legislator kept on the trail -until he came face to face with the lobbyist in the corridor of the -Waldorf-Astoria. The New Yorker, seeing the danger, seized the St. -Louisan by the arm and said soothingly, “There, there; don’t take on so. -I was called away suddenly. Come to supper with me; I will give you the -money.” - -The invitation was accepted, and champagne soon was flowing. When the -man from the West had become sufficiently maudlin the promoter passed -over to him a letter, which he had dictated to a typewriter while away -from the table for a few minutes. The statement denied all knowledge of -bribery. - -“You sign that and I will pay you $5,000. Refuse, and you don’t get a -cent,” said the promoter. The St. Louisan returned home carrying the -$5,000, and that was all. - -Meanwhile the promoter had not fared so well with other spoilsmen. By -the terms of the ante-legislation agreement referred to above, the son -of one councilman was pledged to return $45,000 if his father was saved -the necessity of voting for the bill. The next day the New Yorker sought -out this young man and asked for the money. - -“I am not going to give it to you,” was the cool rejoinder. “My mamma -says that it is bribe money and that it would be wrong to give it to -either you or father, so I shall keep it myself.” And he did. When -summoned before the grand jury this young man asked to be relieved from -answering questions. “I am afraid I might commit perjury,” he said. He -was advised to “Tell the truth and there will be no risk.” - -“It would be all right,” said the son, “if Mr. Folk would tell me what -the other fellows have testified to. Please have him do that.” - -Two indictments were found as the result of this Central Traction bill, -and bench warrants were served on Robert M. Snyder and George J. -Kobusch. The State charged the former with being one of the promoters of -the bill, the definite allegation being bribery. Mr. Kobusch, who is -president of a street car manufacturing company, was charged with -perjury. - -The first case tried was that of Emil Meysenburg, the millionaire who -compelled the Suburban people to purchase his worthless stock. He was -defended by three attorneys of high repute in criminal jurisprudence, -but the young Circuit Attorney proved equal to the emergency, and a -conviction was secured. Three years in the penitentiary was the -sentence. Charles Kratz, the Congressional candidate, forfeited $40,000 -by flight, and John K. Murrell also disappeared. Mr. Folk traced Murrell -to Mexico, caused his arrest in Guadalajara, negotiated with the -authorities for his surrender, and when this failed, arranged for his -return home to confess, and his evidence brought about the indictment, -on September 8, of eighteen members of the municipal legislature. The -second case was that of Julius Lehmann. Two years at hard labor was the -sentence, and the man who had led the jokers in the grand jury anteroom -would have fallen when he heard it, had not a friend been standing near. - -Besides the convictions of these and other men of good standing in the -community, and the flight of many more, partnerships were dissolved, -companies had to be reorganized, business houses were closed because -their proprietors were absent, but Mr. Folk, deterred as little by -success as by failure, moved right on; he was not elated; he was not -sorrowful. The man proceeded with his work quickly, surely, smilingly, -without fear or pity. The terror spread, and the rout was complete. - -When another grand jury was sworn and proceeded to take testimony there -were scores of men who threw up their hands and crying “_Mea culpa!_” -begged to be permitted to tell all they knew and not be prosecuted. The -inquiry broadened. The son of a former mayor was indicted for misconduct -in office while serving as his father’s private secretary, and the grand -jury recommended that the ex-mayor be sued in the civil courts, to -recover interests on public money which he had placed in his own pocket. -A true bill fell on a former City Register, and more Assemblymen were -arrested, charged with making illegal contracts with the city. At last -the ax struck upon the trunk of the greatest oak of the forest. Colonel -Butler, the boss who has controlled elections in St. Louis for many -years, the millionaire who had risen from bellows-boy in a blacksmith’s -shop to be the maker and guide of the Governors of Missouri, one of the -men who helped nominate and elect Folk—he also was indicted on two -counts charging attempted bribery. That Butler has controlled -legislation in St. Louis had long been known. It was generally -understood that he owned Assemblymen before they ever took the oath of -office, and that he did not have to pay for votes. And yet open bribery -was the allegation now. Two members of the Board of Health stood ready -to swear that he offered them $2,500 for their approval of a garbage -contract. - -Pitiful? Yes, but typical. Other cities are to-day in the same condition -as St. Louis before Mr. Folk was invited in to see its rottenness. -Chicago is cleaning itself up just now, so is Minneapolis, and Pittsburg -recently had a bribery scandal; Boston is at peace, Cincinnati and St. -Paul are satisfied, while Philadelphia is happy with the worst -government in the world. As for the small towns and the villages, many -of these are busy as bees at the loot. - -St. Louis, indeed, in its disgrace, has a great advantage. It was -exposed late; it has not been reformed and caught again and again, until -its citizens are reconciled to corruption. But, best of all, the man who -has turned St. Louis inside out, turned it, as it were, upside down, -too. In all cities, the better classes—the business men—are the sources -of corruption; but they are so rarely pursued and caught that we do not -fully realize whence the trouble comes. Thus most cities blame the -politicians and the ignorant and vicious poor. - -Mr. Folk has shown St. Louis that its bankers, brokers, corporation -officers,—its business men are the sources of evil, so that from the -start it will know the municipal problem in its true light. With a -tradition for public spirit, it may drop Butler and its runaway bankers, -brokers, and brewers, and pushing aside the scruples of the hundreds of -men down in blue book, and red book, and church register, who are lying -hidden behind the statutes of limitations, the city may restore good -government. Otherwise the exposures by Mr. Folk will result only in the -perfection of the corrupt system. For the corrupt can learn a lesson -when the good citizens cannot. The Tweed régime in New York taught -Tammany to organize its boodle business; the police exposure taught it -to improve its method of collecting blackmail. And both now are almost -perfect and safe. The rascals of St. Louis will learn in like manner; -they will concentrate the control of their bribery system, excluding -from the profit-sharing the great mass of weak rascals, and carrying on -the business as a business in the interest of a trustworthy few. -District Attorney Jerome cannot catch the Tammany men, and Circuit -Attorney Folk will not be able another time to break the St. Louis ring. -This is St. Louis’ one great chance. - -But, for the rest of us, it does not matter about St. Louis any more -than it matters about Colonel Butler _et al._ The point is, that what -went on in St. Louis is going on in most of our cities, towns, and -villages. The problem of municipal government in America has not been -solved. The people may be tired of it, but they cannot give it up—not -yet. - - - - - THE SHAME OF MINNEAPOLIS - - - (_January, 1903_) - -Whenever anything extraordinary is done in American municipal politics, -whether for good or for evil, you can trace it almost invariably to one -man. The people do not do it. Neither do the “gangs,” “combines,” or -political parties. These are but instruments by which bosses (not -leaders; we Americans are not led, but driven) rule the people, and -commonly sell them out. But there are at least two forms of the -autocracy which has supplanted the democracy here as it has everywhere -democracy has been tried. One is that of the organized majority by -which, as with the Republican machine in Philadelphia, the boss has -normal control of more than half the voters. The other is that of the -adroitly managed minority. The “good people” are herded into parties and -stupefied with convictions and a name, Republican or Democrat; while the -“bad people” are so organized or interested by the boss that he can -wield their votes to enforce terms with party managers and decide -elections. St. Louis is a conspicuous example of this form. Minneapolis -is another. Colonel Ed Butler is the unscrupulous opportunist who -handled the non-partisan minority which turned St. Louis into a “boodle -town.” In Minneapolis “Doc” Ames was the man. - -Minneapolis is a New England town on the upper Mississippi. The -metropolis of the Northwest, it is the metropolis also of Norway and -Sweden in America. Indeed, it is the second largest Scandinavian city in -the world. But Yankees, straight from Down East, settled the town, and -their New England spirit predominates. They had Bayard Taylor lecture -there in the early days of the settlement; they made it the seat of the -University of Minnesota. Yet even now, when the town has grown to a -population of more than 200,000, you feel that there is something -Western about it too—a Yankee with a round Puritan head, an open prairie -heart, and a great, big Scandinavian body. The “Roundhead” takes the -“Squarehead” out into the woods, and they cut lumber by forests, or they -go out on the prairies and raise wheat and mill it into fleet-cargoes of -flour. They work hard, they make money, they are sober, satisfied, busy -with their own affairs. There isn’t much time for public business. Taken -together, Miles, Hans, and Ole are very American. Miles insists upon -strict laws, Ole and Hans want one or two Scandinavians on their ticket. -These things granted, they go off on raft or reaper, leaving whoso will -to enforce the lawn and run the city. - -The people who were left to govern the city hated above all things -strict laws. They were the loafers, saloon keepers, gamblers, criminals, -and the thriftless poor of all nationalities. Resenting the sobriety of -a staid, industrious community, and having no Irish to boss them, they -delighted to follow the jovial pioneer doctor, Albert Alonzo Ames. He -was the “good fellow”—a genial, generous reprobate. Devery, Tweed, and -many more have exposed in vain this amiable type. “Doc” Ames, tall, -straight, and cheerful, attracted men, and they gave him votes for his -smiles. He stood for license. There was nothing of the Puritan about -him. His father, the sturdy old pioneer, Dr. Alfred Elisha Ames, had a -strong strain of it in him, but he moved on with his family of six sons -from Garden Prairie, Ill., to Fort Snelling reservation, in 1851, before -Minneapolis was founded, and young Albert Alonzo, who then was ten years -old, grew up free, easy, and tolerant. He was sent to school, then to -college in Chicago, and he returned home a doctor of medicine before he -was twenty-one. As the town waxed soberer and richer, “Doc” grew gayer -and more and more generous. Skillful as a surgeon, devoted as a -physician, and as a man kindly, he increased his practice till he was -the best-loved man in the community. He was especially good to the poor. -Anybody could summon “Doc” Ames at any hour to any distance. He went, -and he gave not only his professional service, but sympathy, and often -charity. “Richer men than you will pay your bill,” he told the -destitute. So there was a basis for his “good-fellowship.” There always -is; these good fellows are not frauds—not in the beginning. - -But there is another side to them sometimes. Ames was sunshine not to -the sick and destitute only. To the vicious and the depraved also he was -a comfort. If a man was a hard drinker, the good Doctor cheered him with -another drink; if he had stolen something, the Doctor helped to get him -off. He was naturally vain; popularity developed his love of -approbation. His loose life brought disapproval only from the good -people, so gradually the Doctor came to enjoy best the society of the -barroom and the streets. This society, flattered in turn, worshiped the -good Doctor, and, active in politics always, put its physician into the -arena. - -Had he been wise or even shrewd, he might have made himself a real -power. But he wasn’t calculating, only light and frivolous, so he did -not organize his forces and run men for office. He sought office himself -from the start, and he got most of the small places he wanted by -changing his party to seize the opportunity. His floating minority, -added to the regular partisan vote, was sufficient ordinarily for his -useless victories. As time went on he rose from smaller offices to be a -Republican mayor, then twice at intervals to be a Democratic mayor. He -was a candidate once for Congress; he stood for governor once on a sort -of Populist-Democrat ticket. Ames could not get anything outside of his -own town, however, and after his third term as mayor it was thought he -was out of politics altogether. He was getting old, and he was getting -worse. - -Like many a “good fellow” with hosts of miscellaneous friends downtown -to whom he was devoted, the good Doctor neglected his own family. From -neglect he went on openly to separation from his wife and a second -establishment. The climax came not long before the election of 1900. His -wife died. The family would not have the father at the funeral, but he -appeared,—not at the house, but in a carriage on the street. He sat -across the way, with his feet up and a cigar in his mouth, till the -funeral moved; then he circled around, crossing it and meeting it, and -making altogether a scene which might well close any man’s career. - -It didn’t end his. The people had just secured the passage of a new -primary law to establish direct popular government. There were to be no -more nominations by convention. The voters were to ballot for their -party candidates. By a slip of some sort, the laws did not specify that -Republicans only should vote for Republican candidates, and only -Democrats for Democratic candidates. Any voter could vote at either -primary. Ames, in disrepute with his own party, the Democratic, bade his -followers vote for his nomination for mayor on the Republican ticket. -They all voted; not all the Republicans did. He was nominated. -Nomination is far from election, and you would say that the trick would -not help him. But that was a Presidential year, so the people of -Minneapolis had to vote for Ames, the Republican candidate for mayor. -Besides, Ames said he was going to reform; that he was getting old, and -wanted to close his career with a good administration. The effective -argument, however, was that, since McKinley had to be elected to save -the country, Ames must be supported for mayor of Minneapolis. Why? The -great American people cannot be trusted to scratch a ticket. - -Well, Minneapolis got its old mayor back, and he was indeed “reformed.” -Up to this time Ames had not been very venal personally. He was a -“spender,” not a “grafter,” and he was guilty of corruption chiefly by -proxy; he took the honors and left the spoils to his followers. His -administrations were no worse than the worst. Now, however, he set out -upon a career of corruption which for deliberateness, invention, and -avarice has never been equaled. It was as if he had made up his mind -that he had been careless long enough, and meant to enrich his last -years. He began promptly. - -Immediately upon his election, before he took office (on January 7, -1901), he organized a cabinet and laid plans to turn the city over to -outlaws who were to work under police direction for the profit of his -administration. He chose for chief his brother, Colonel Fred W. Ames, -who had recently returned under a cloud from service in the Philippines. -But he was a weak vessel for chief of police, and the mayor picked for -chief of detectives an abler man, who was to direct the more difficult -operations. This was Norman W. King, a former gambler, who knew the -criminals needed in the business ahead. King was to invite to -Minneapolis thieves, confidence men, pickpockets and gamblers, and -release some that were in the local jail. They were to be organized into -groups, according to their profession, and detectives were assigned to -assist and direct them. The head of the gambling syndicate was to have -charge of the gambling, making the terms and collecting the “graft,” -just as King and a Captain Hill were to collect from the thieves. The -collector for women of the town was to be Irwin A. Gardner, a medical -student in the Doctor’s office, who was made a special policeman for the -purpose. These men looked over the force, selected those men who could -be trusted, charged them a price for their retention, and marked for -dismissal 107 men out of 225, the 107 being the best policemen in the -department from the point of view of the citizens who afterward -reorganized the force. John Fitchette, better known as “Coffee John,” a -Virginian (who served on the Jefferson Davis jury), the keeper of a -notorious coffee-house, was to be a captain of police, with no duties -except to sell places on the police force. - -And they did these things that they planned—all and more. The -administration opened with the revolution on the police force. The -thieves in the local jail were liberated, and it was made known to the -Under World generally that “things were doing” in Minneapolis. The -incoming swindlers reported to King or his staff for instructions, and -went to work, turning the “swag” over to the detectives in charge. -Gambling went on openly, and disorderly houses multiplied under the -fostering care of Gardner, the medical student. But all this was not -enough. Ames dared to break openly into the municipal system of vice -protection. - -There was such a thing. Minneapolis, strict in its laws, forbade vices -which are inevitable, then regularly permitted them under certain -conditions. Legal limits, called “patrol lines,” were prescribed, within -which saloons might be opened. These ran along the river front, out -through part of the business section, with long arms reaching into the -Scandinavian quarters, north and south. Gambling also was confined, but -more narrowly. And there were limits, also arbitrary, but not always -identical with those for gambling, within which the social evil was -allowed. But the novel feature of this scheme was that disorderly houses -were practically licensed by the city, the women appearing before the -clerk of the Municipal Court each month to pay a “fine” of $100. Unable -at first to get this “graft,” Ames’s man Gardner persuaded women to -start houses, apartments, and, of all things, candy stores, which sold -sweets to children and tobacco to the “lumber Jacks” in front, while a -nefarious traffic was carried on in the rear. But they paid Ames, not -the city, and that was all this “reform” administration cared about. - -The revenue from all these sources must have been large. It only whetted -the avarice of the mayor and his Cabinet. They let gambling privileges -without restriction as to location or “squareness”; the syndicate could -cheat and rob as it would. Peddlers and pawnbrokers, formerly licensed -by the city, bought permits now instead from the mayor’s agent in this -field. Some two hundred slot machines were installed in various parts of -the town, with owner’s agent and mayor’s agent watching and collecting -from them enough to pay the mayor $15,000 a year as his share. Auction -frauds were instituted. Opium joints and unlicensed saloons, called -“blind pigs,” were protected. Gardner even had a police baseball team, -for whose games tickets were sold to people who had to buy them. But the -women were the easiest “graft.” They were compelled to buy illustrated -biographies of the city officials; they had to give presents of money, -jewelry, and gold stars to police officers. But the money they still -paid direct to the city in fines, some $35,000 a year, fretted the -mayor, and at last he reached for it. He came out with a declaration, in -his old character as friend of the oppressed, that $100 a month was too -much for these women to pay. They should be required to pay the city -fine only once in two months. This puzzled the town till it became -generally known that Gardner collected the other month for the mayor. -The final outrage in this department, however, was an order of the mayor -for the periodic visits to disorderly houses, by the city’s physicians, -at from $5 to $20 per visit. The two physicians he appointed called when -they willed, and more and more frequently, till toward the end the calls -became a pure formality, with the collections as the one and only -object. - -[Illustration: - - FACSIMILE OF THE FIRST PAGE OF “THE BIG MITT LEDGER” -] - -In a general way all this business was known. It did not arouse the -citizens, but it did attract criminals, and more and more thieves and -swindlers came hurrying to Minneapolis. Some of them saw the police, and -made terms. Some were seen by the police and invited to go to work. -There was room for all. This astonishing fact that the government of a -city asked criminals to rob the people is fully established. The police -and the criminals confessed it separately. Their statements agree in -detail. Detective Norbeck made the arrangements, and introduced the -swindlers to Gardner, who, over King’s head, took the money from them. -Here is the story “Billy” Edwards, a “big mitt” man, told under oath of -his reception in Minneapolis: - -[Illustration: - - PAGE FROM “THE BIG MITT LEDGER” - - This shows an item concerning the check for $775, which - the “sucker” Meix (here spelled Mix) wished not to have - honored. -] - -“I had been out to the Coast, and hadn’t seen Norbeck for some time. -After I returned I boarded a Minneapolis car one evening to go down to -South Minneapolis to visit a friend. Norbeck and Detective DeLaittre -were on the car. When Norbeck saw me he came up and shook hands, and -said, ‘Hullo, Billy, how goes it?’ I said, ‘Not very well.’ Then he -says, ‘Things have changed since you went away. Me and Gardner are the -whole thing now. Before you left they thought I didn’t know anything, -but I turned a few tricks, and now I’m It.’ ‘I’m glad of that, Chris,’ I -said. He says, ‘I’ve got great things for you. I’m going to fix up a -joint for you.’ ‘That’s good,’ I said, ‘but I don’t believe you can do -it.’ ‘Oh, yes, I can,’ he replied. ‘I’m It now—Gardner and me.’ ‘Well, -if you can do it,’ says I, ‘there’s money in it.’ ‘How much can you -pay?’ he asked. ‘Oh, $150 or $200 a week,’ says I. ‘That settles it,’ he -said; ‘I’ll take you down to see Gardner, and we’ll fix it up.’ Then he -made an appointment to meet me the next night, and we went down to -Gardner’s house together.” - -There Gardner talked business in general, showed his drawer full of -bills, and jokingly asked how Edwards would like to have them. Edwards -says: - -“I said, ‘That looks pretty good to me,’ and Gardner told us that he had -‘collected’ the money from the women he had on his staff, and that he -was going to pay it over to the ‘old man’ when he got back from his -hunting trip next morning. Afterward he told me that the mayor had been -much pleased with our $500, and that he said everything was all right, -and for us to go ahead.” - -[Illustration: - - PAGE FROM “THE BIG MITT LEDGER” - - This shows the accounts for a week of small transactions. -] - -“Link” Crossman, another confidence man who was with Edwards, said that -Gardner demanded $1,000 at first, but compromised on $500 for the mayor, -$50 for Gardner, and $50 for Norbeck. To the chief, Fred Ames, they gave -tips now and then of $25 or $50. “The first week we ran,” said Crossman, -“I gave Fred $15. Norbeck took me down there. We shook hands, and I -handed him an envelope with $15. He pulled out a list of steerers we had -sent him, and said he wanted to go over them with me. He asked where the -joint was located. At another time I slipped $25 into his hand as he was -standing in the hallway of City Hall.” But these smaller payments, after -the first “opening, $500,” are all down on the pages of the “big mitt” -ledger, photographs of which illuminate this article. This notorious -book, which was kept by Charlie Howard, one of the “big mitt” men, was -much talked of at the subsequent trials, but was kept hidden to await -the trial of the mayor himself. - -The “big mitt” game was swindling by means of a stacked hand at stud -poker. “Steerers” and “boosters” met “suckers” on the street, at hotels, -and railway stations, won their confidence, and led them to the “joint.” -Usually the “sucker” was called, by the amount of his loss, “the -$102-man” or “the $35-man.” Roman Meix alone had the distinction among -all the Minneapolis victims of going by his own name. Having lost $775, -he became known for his persistent complainings. But they all “kicked” -some. To Detective Norbeck at the street door was assigned the duty of -hearing their complaints, and “throwing a scare into them.” “Oh, so -you’ve been gambling,” he would say. “Have you got a license? Well, -then, you better get right out of this town.” Sometimes he accompanied -them to the station and saw them off. If they were not to be put off -thus, he directed them to the chief of police. Fred Ames tried to wear -them out by keeping them waiting in the anteroom. If they outlasted him, -he saw them and frightened them with threats of all sorts of trouble for -gambling without a license. Meix wanted to have payment on his check -stopped. Ames, who had been a bank clerk, told him of his banking -experience, and then had the effrontery to say that payment on such a -check could not be stopped. - -Burglaries were common. How many the police planned may never be known. -Charles F. Brackett and Fred Malone, police captains and detectives, -were active, and one well-established crime of theirs is the robbery of -the Pabst Brewing Company office. They persuaded two men, one an -employee, to learn the combination of the safe, open and clean it out -one night, while the two officers stood guard outside. - -The excesses of the municipal administration became so notorious that -some of the members of it remonstrated with the others, and certain -county officers were genuinely alarmed. No restraint followed their -warnings. Sheriff Megaarden, no Puritan himself, felt constrained to -interfere, and he made some arrests of gamblers. The Ames people turned -upon him in a fury; they accused him of making overcharges in his -accounts with the county for fees, and, laying the evidence before -Governor Van Sant, they had Megaarden removed from office. Ames offered -bribes to two county commissioners to appoint Gardner sheriff, so as to -be sure of no more trouble in that quarter. This move failed, but the -lesson taught Megaarden served to clear the atmosphere, and the -spoliation went on as recklessly as ever. It became impossible. - -Even lawlessness must be regulated. Dr. Ames, never an organizer, -attempted no control, and his followers began to quarrel among -themselves. They deceived one another; they robbed the thieves; they -robbed Ames himself. His brother became dissatisfied with his share of -the spoils, and formed cabals with captains who plotted against the -administration and set up disorderly houses, “panel games,” and all -sorts of “grafts” of their own. - -The one man loyal to the mayor was Gardner; and Fred Ames, Captain King, -and their pals plotted the fall of the favorite. Now anybody could get -anything from the Doctor, if he could have him alone. The Fred Ames -clique chose a time when the mayor was at West Baden; they filled him -with suspicion of Gardner and the fear of exposure, and induced him to -let a creature named “Reddy” Cohen, instead of Gardner, do the -collecting, and pay over all the moneys, not directly, but through Fred. -Gardner made a touching appeal. “I have been honest. I have paid you -all,” he said to the mayor. “Fred and the rest will rob you.” This was -true, but it was of no avail. - -Fred Ames was in charge at last, and he himself went about giving notice -of the change. Three detectives were with him when he visited the women, -and here is the women’s story, in the words of one, as it was told again -and again in court: “Colonel Ames came in with the detectives. He -stepped into a side room and asked me if I had been paying Gardner. I -told him I had, and he told me not to pay no more, but to come to his -office later, and he would let me know what to do. I went to the City -Hall in about three weeks, after Cohen had called and said he was ‘the -party.’ I asked the chief if it was all right to pay Cohen, and he said -it was.” - -The new arrangement did not work so smoothly as the old. Cohen was an -oppressive collector, and Fred Ames, appealed to, was weak and lenient. -He had no sure hold on the force. His captains, free of Gardner, were -undermining the chief. They increased their private operations. Some of -the detectives began to drink hard and neglect their work. Norbeck so -worried the “big mitt” men by staying away from the joint, that they -complained to Fred about him. The chief rebuked Norbeck, and he promised -to “do better,” but thereafter he was paid, not by the week, but by -piece work—so much for each “trimmed sucker” that he ran out of town. -Protected swindlers were arrested for operating in the street by “Coffee -John’s” new policemen, who took the places of the negligent detectives. -Fred let the indignant prisoners go when they were brought before him, -but the arrests were annoying, inconvenient, and disturbed business. The -whole system became so demoralized that every man was for himself. There -was not left even the traditional honor among thieves. - -It was at this juncture, in April, 1902, that the grand jury for the -summer term was drawn. An ordinary body of unselected citizens, it -received no special instructions from the bench; the county prosecutor -offered it only routine work to do. But there was a man among them who -was a fighter—the foreman, Hovey C. Clarke. He was of an old New England -family. Coming to Minneapolis when a young man, seventeen years before, -he had fought for employment, fought with his employers for position, -fought with his employees, the lumber Jacks, for command, fought for his -company against competitors; and he had won always, till now he had the -habit of command, the impatient, imperious manner of the master, and the -assurance of success which begets it. He did not want to be a grand -juryman, he did not want to be a foreman; but since he was both, he -wanted to accomplish something. - -Why not rip up the Ames gang? Heads shook, hands went up; it was useless -to try. The discouragement fired Clarke. That was just what he would do, -he said, and he took stock of his jury. Two or three were men with -backbone; that he knew, and he quickly had them with him. The rest were -all sorts of men. Mr. Clarke won over each man to himself, and -interested them all. Then he called for the county prosecutor. The -prosecutor was a politician; he knew the Ames crowd; they were too -powerful to attack. - -“You are excused,” said the foreman. - -There was a scene; the prosecutor knew his rights. - -“Do you think, Mr. Clarke,” he cried, “that you can run the grand jury -and my office, too?” - -“Yes,” said Clarke, “I will run your office if I want to; and I want to. -You’re excused.” - -Mr. Clarke does not talk much about his doings that summer; he isn’t the -talking sort. But he does say that all he did was to apply simple -business methods to his problem. In action, however, these turned out to -be the most approved police methods. He hired a lot of local detectives -who, he knew, would talk about what they were doing, and thus would be -watched by the police. Having thus thrown a false scent, he hired some -other detectives whom nobody knew about. This was expensive; so were -many of the other things he did; but he was bound to win, so he paid the -price, drawing freely on his own and his colleagues’ pockets. (The total -cost to the county for a long summer’s work by this grand jury was -$259.) With his detectives out, he himself went to the jail to get tips -from the inside, from criminals who, being there, must have grievances. -He made the acquaintance of the jailer, Captain Alexander, and Alexander -was a friend of Sheriff Megaarden. Yes, he had some men there who were -“sore” and might want to get even. - -Now two of these were “big mitt” men who had worked for Gardner. One was -“Billy” Edwards, the other “Cheerful Charlie” Howard. I heard too many -explanations of their plight to choose any one; this general account -will cover the ground: In the Ames mêlée, either by mistake, neglect, or -for spite growing out of the network of conflicting interests and gangs, -they were arrested and arraigned, not before Fred Ames, but before a -judge, and held in bail too high for them to furnish. They had paid for -an unexpired period of protection, yet could get neither protection nor -bail. They were forgotten. “We got the double cross all right,” they -said, and they bled with their grievance; but squeal, no, sir!—that was -“another deal.” - -But Mr. Clarke had their story, and he was bound to force them to tell -it under oath on the stand. If they did, Gardner and Norbeck would be -indicted, tried, and probably convicted. In themselves, these men were -of no great importance; but they were the key to the situation, and a -way up to the mayor. It was worth trying. Mr. Clarke went into the jail -with Messrs. Lester Elwood and Willard J. Hield, grand jurors on whom he -relied most for delicate work. They stood by while the foreman talked. -And the foreman’s way of talking was to smile, swear, threaten, and -cajole. “Billy” Edwards told me afterwards that he and Howard were -finally persuaded to turn State’s evidence, because they believed that -Mr. Clarke was the kind of a man to keep his promises and fulfill his -threats. “We,” he said, meaning criminals generally, “are always -stacking up against juries and lawyers who want us to holler. We don’t, -because we see they ain’t wise, and won’t get there. They’re quitters; -they can be pulled off. Clarke has a hard eye. I know men. It’s my -business to size ‘em up, and I took him for a winner, and I played in -with him against that whole big bunch of easy things that was running -things on the bum.” The grand jury was ready at the end of three weeks -of hard work to find bills. A prosecutor was needed. The public -prosecutor was being ignored, but his first assistant and friend, Al J. -Smith, was taken in hand by Mr. Clarke. Smith hesitated; he knew better -even than the foreman the power and resources of the Ames gang. But he -came to believe in Mr. Clarke, just as Edwards had; he was sure the -foreman would win; so he went over to his side, and, having once -decided, he led the open fighting, and, alone in court, won cases -against men who had the best lawyers in the State to defend them. His -court record is extraordinary. Moreover, he took over the negotiations -with criminals for evidence, Messrs. Clarke, Hield, Elwood, and the -other jurors providing means and moral support. These were needed. -Bribes were offered to Smith; he was threatened; he was called a fool. -But so was Clarke, to whom $28,000 was offered to quit, and for whose -slaughter a slugger was hired to come from Chicago. What startled the -jury most, however, was the character of the citizens who were sent to -them to dissuade them from their course. No reform I ever studied has -failed to bring out this phenomenon of virtuous cowardice, the baseness -of the decent citizen. - -Nothing stopped this jury, however. They had courage. They indicted -Gardner, Norbeck, Fred Ames, and many lesser persons. But the gang had -courage, too, and raised a defense fund to fight Clarke. Mayor Ames was -defiant. Once, when Mr. Clarke called at the City Hall, the mayor met -and challenged him. The mayor’s heelers were all about him, but Clarke -faced him. - -“Yes, Doc Ames, I’m after you,” he said. “I’ve been in this town for -seventeen years, and all that time you’ve been a moral leper. I hear you -were rotten during the ten years before that. Now I’m going to put you -where all contagious things are put—where you cannot contaminate anybody -else.” - -The trial of Gardner came on. Efforts had been made to persuade him to -surrender the mayor, but the young man was paid $15,000 “to stand pat,” -and he went to trial and conviction silent. Other trials followed -fast—Norbeck’s, Fred Ames’s, Chief of Detectives King’s. Witnesses who -were out of the State were needed, and true testimony from women. There -was no county money for extradition, so the grand jurors paid these -costs also. They had Meix followed from Michigan down to Mexico and back -to Idaho, where they got him, and he was presented in court one day at -the trial of Norbeck, who had “steered” him out of town. Norbeck thought -Meix was a thousand miles away, and had been bold before. At the sight -of him in court he started to his feet, and that night ran away. The -jury spent more money in his pursuit, and they caught him. He confessed, -but his evidence was not accepted. He was sentenced to three years in -State’s prison. Men caved all around, but the women were firm, and the -first trial of Fred Ames failed. To break the women’s faith in the ring, -Mayor Ames was indicted for offering the bribe to have Gardner made -sheriff—a genuine, but not the best case against him. It brought the -women down to the truth, and Fred Ames, retried, was convicted and -sentenced to six and a half years in State’s prison. King was tried for -accessory to felony (helping in the theft of a diamond, which he -afterward stole from the thieves), and sentenced to three and a half -years in prison. And still the indictments came, with trials following -fast. Al Smith resigned with the consent and thanks of the grand jury; -his chief, who was to run for the same office again, wanted to try the -rest of the cases, and he did very well. - -All men were now on the side of law and order. The panic among the -“grafters” was laughable, in spite of its hideous significance. Two -heads of departments against whom nothing had been shown suddenly ran -away, and thus suggested to the grand jury an inquiry which revealed -another source of “graft,” in the sale of supplies to public -institutions and the diversion of great quantities of provisions to the -private residences of the mayor and other officials. Mayor Ames, under -indictment and heavy bonds for extortion, conspiracy, and -bribe-offering, left the State on a night train; a gentleman who knew -him by sight saw him sitting up at eleven o’clock in the smoking-room of -the sleeping-car, an unlighted cigar in his mouth, his face ashen and -drawn, and at six o’clock the next morning he still was sitting there, -his cigar still unlighted. He went to West Baden, a health resort in -Indiana, a sick and broken man, aging years in a month. The city was -without a mayor, the ring was without a leader; cliques ruled, and they -pictured one another hanging about the grand-jury room begging leave to -turn State’s evidence. Tom Brown, the mayor’s secretary, was in the -mayor’s chair; across the hall sat Fred Ames, the chief of police, -balancing Brown’s light weight. Both were busy forming cliques within -the ring. Brown had on his side Coffee John and Police Captain Hill. -Ames had Captain “Norm” King (though he had been convicted and had -resigned), Captain Krumweide, and Ernest Wheelock, the chief’s -secretary. Alderman D. Percy Jones, the president of the council, an -honorable man, should have taken the chair, but he was in the East; so -this unstable equilibrium was all the city had by way of a government. - -Then Fred Ames disappeared. The Tom Brown clique had full sway, and took -over the police department. This was a shock to everybody, to none more -than to the King clique, which joined in the search for Ames. An -alderman, Fred M. Powers, who was to run for mayor on the Republican -ticket, took charge of the mayor’s office, but he was not sure of his -authority or clear as to his policy. The grand jury was the real power -behind him, and the foreman was telegraphing for Alderman Jones. -Meanwhile the cliques were making appeals to Mayor Ames, in West Baden, -and each side that saw him received authority to do its will. The Coffee -John clique, denied admission to the grand-jury room, turned to Alderman -Powers, and were beginning to feel secure, when they heard that Fred -Ames was coming back. They rushed around, and obtained an assurance from -the exiled mayor that Fred was returning only to resign. Fred—now under -conviction—returned, but he did not resign; supported by his friends, he -took charge again of the police force. Coffee John besought Alderman -Powers to remove the chief, and when the acting mayor proved himself too -timid, Coffee John, Tom Brown, and Captain Hill laid a deep plot. They -would ask Mayor Ames to remove his brother. This they felt sure they -could persuade the “old man” to do. The difficulty was to keep him from -changing his mind when the other side should reach his ear. They hit -upon a bold expedient. They would urge the “old man” to remove Fred, and -then resign himself, so that he could not undo the deed that they wanted -done. Coffee John and Captain Hill slipped out of town one night; they -reached West Baden on one train and they left for home on the next, with -a demand for Fred’s resignation in one hand and the mayor’s own in the -other. Fred Ames did resign, and though the mayor’s resignation was laid -aside for a while, to avoid the expense of a special election, all -looked well for Coffee John and his clique. They had Fred out, and -Alderman Powers was to make them great. But Mr. Powers wabbled. No doubt -the grand jury spoke to him. At any rate he turned most unexpectedly on -both cliques together. He turned out Tom Brown, but he turned out also -Coffee John, and he did not make their man chief of police, but another -of someone else’s selection. A number of resignations was the result, -and these the acting mayor accepted, making a clearing of astonished -rascals which was very gratifying to the grand jury and to the nervous -citizens of Minneapolis. - -But the town was not yet easy. The grand jury, which was the actual head -of the government, was about to be discharged, and, besides, their work -was destructive. A constructive force was now needed, and Alderman Jones -was pelted with telegrams from home bidding him hurry back. He did -hurry, and when he arrived, the situation was instantly in control. The -grand jury prepared to report, for the city had a mind and a will of its -own once more. The criminals found it out last. - -Percy Jones, as his friends call him, is of the second generation of his -family in Minneapolis. His father started him well-to-do, and he went on -from where he was started. College graduate and business man, he has a -conscience which, however, he has brains enough to question. He is not -the fighter, but the slow, sure executive. As an alderman he is the -result of a movement begun several years ago by some young men who were -convinced by an exposure of a corrupt municipal council that they should -go into politics. A few did go in; Jones was one of these few. - -The acting mayor was confronted at once with all the hardest problems of -municipal government. Vice rose right up to tempt or to fight him. He -studied the situation deliberately, and by and by began to settle it -point by point, slowly but finally, against all sorts of opposition. One -of his first acts was to remove all the proved rascals on the force, -putting in their places men who had been removed by Mayor Ames. Another -important step was the appointment of a church deacon and personal -friend to be chief of police, this on the theory that he wanted at the -head of his police a man who could have no sympathy with crime, a man -whom he could implicitly trust. Disorderly houses, forbidden by law, -were permitted, but only within certain patrol lines, and they were to -pay nothing, in either blackmail or “fines.” The number and the standing -and the point of view of the “good people” who opposed this order was a -lesson to Mr. Jones in practical government. One very prominent citizen -and church member threatened him for driving women out of two flats -owned by him; the rent was the surest means of “support for his wife and -children.” Mr. Jones enforced his order. - -Other interests—saloon-keepers, brewers, etc.—gave him trouble enough, -but all these were trifles in comparison with his experience with the -gamblers. They represented organized crime, and they asked for a -hearing. Mr. Jones gave them some six weeks for negotiations. They -proposed a solution. They said that if he would let them (a syndicate) -open four gambling places downtown, they would see that no others ran in -any part of the city. Mr. Jones pondered and shook his head, drawing -them on. They went away, and came back with a better promise. Though -they were not the associates of criminals, they knew that class and -their plans. No honest police force, unaided, could deal with crime. -Thieves would soon be at work again, and what could Mr. Jones do against -them with a police force headed by a church deacon? The gamblers offered -to control the criminals for the city. - -Mr. Jones, deeply interested, declared he did not believe there was any -danger of fresh crimes. The gamblers smiled and went away. By an odd -coincidence there happened just after that what the papers called “an -epidemic of crime.” They were petty thefts, but they occupied the mind -of the acting mayor. He wondered at their opportuneness. He wondered how -the news of them got out. - -The gamblers soon reappeared. Hadn’t they told Mr. Jones crime would -soon be prevalent in town again? They had, indeed, but the mayor was -unmoved; “porch climbers” could not frighten him. But this was only the -beginning, the gamblers said: the larger crimes would come next. And -they went away again. Sure enough, the large crimes came. One, two, -three burglaries of jewelry in the houses of well-known people occurred; -then there was a fourth, and the fourth was in the house of a relative -of the acting mayor. He was seriously amused. The papers had the news -promptly, and not from the police. - -The gamblers called again. If they could have the exclusive control of -gambling in Minneapolis, they would do all that they had promised -before, and, if any large burglaries occurred, they would undertake to -recover the “swag,” and sometimes catch the thief. Mr. Jones was -skeptical of their ability to do all this. The gamblers offered to prove -it. How? They would get back for Mr. Jones the jewelry recently reported -stolen from four houses in town. Mr. Jones expressed a curiosity to see -this done, and the gamblers went away. After a few days the stolen -jewelry, parcel by parcel, began to return; with all due police-criminal -mystery it was delivered to the chief of police. - -When the gamblers called again, they found the acting mayor ready to -give his decision on their propositions. It was this: There should be no -gambling, with police connivance, in the city of Minneapolis during his -term of office. - -Mr. Jones told me that if he had before him a long term, he certainly -would reconsider this answer. He believed he would decide again as he -had already, but he would at least give studious reflection to the -question—Can a city be governed without any alliance with crime? It was -an open question. He had closed it only for the four months of his -emergency administration. Minneapolis should be clean and sweet for a -little while at least, and the new administration should begin with a -clear deck. - - - - - THE SHAMELESSNESS OF ST. LOUIS - - - (_March, 1903_) - -Tweed’s classic question, “What are you going to do about it?” is the -most humiliating challenge ever delivered by the One Man to the Many. -But it was pertinent. It was the question then; it is the question now. -Will the people rule? That is what it means. Is democracy possible? The -accounts of financial corruption in St. Louis and of police corruption -in Minneapolis raised the same question. They were inquiries into -American municipal democracy, and, so far as they went, they were pretty -complete answers. The people wouldn’t rule. They would have flown to -arms to resist a czar or a king, but they let a “mucker” oppress and -disgrace and sell them out. “Neglect,” so they describe their impotence. -But when their shame was laid bare, what did they do then? That is what -Tweed, the tyrant, wanted to know, and that is what the democracy of -this country needs to know. - -Minneapolis answered Tweed. With Mayor Ames a fugitive, the city was -reformed, and when he was brought back he was tried and convicted. No -city ever profited so promptly by the lesson of its shame. The people -had nothing to do with the exposure—that was an accident—nor with the -reconstruction. Hovey C. Clarke, who attacked the Ames ring, tore it all -to pieces; and D. Percy Jones, who re-established the city government, -built a well-nigh perfect thing. There was little left for the people to -do but choose at the next regular election between two candidates for -mayor, one obviously better than the other, but that they did do. They -scratched some ten thousand ballots to do their small part decisively -and well. So much by way of revolt. The future will bring Minneapolis up -to the real test. The men who saved the city this time have organized to -keep it safe, and make the memory of “Doc” Ames a civic treasure, and -Minneapolis a city without reproach. - -Minneapolis may fail, as New York has failed; but at least these two -cities could be moved by shame. Not so St. Louis. Joseph W. Folk, the -Circuit Attorney, who began alone, is going right on alone, indicting, -trying, convicting boodlers, high and low, following the workings of the -combine through all of its startling ramifications, and spreading before -the people, in the form of testimony given under oath, the confessions -by the boodlers themselves of the whole wretched story. St. Louis is -unmoved and unashamed. St. Louis seems to me to be something new in the -history of the government of the people, by the rascals, for the rich. - -“Tweed Days in St. Louis” did not tell half that the St. Louisans know -of the condition of the city. That article described how in 1898, 1899, -and 1900, under the administration of Mayor Ziegenhein, boodling -developed into the only real business of the city government. Since that -article was written, fourteen men have been tried, and half a score have -confessed, so that some measure of the magnitude of the business and of -the importance of the interests concerned has been given. Then it was -related that “combines” of municipal legislators sold rights, -privileges, and public franchises for their own individual profit, and -at regular schedule rates. Now the free narratives of convicted boodlers -have developed the inside history of the combines, with their -unfulfilled plans. Then we understood that these combines did the -boodling. Now we know that they had a leader, a boss, who, a rich man -himself, represented the financial district and prompted the boodling -till the system burst. We knew then how Mr. Folk, a man little known, -was nominated against his will for Circuit Attorney; how he warned the -politicians who named him; how he proceeded against these same men as -against ordinary criminals. Now we have these men convicted. - -We saw Charles H. Turner, the president of the Suburban Railway Co., and -Philip H. Stock, the secretary of the St. Louis Brewing Co., the first -to “peach,” telling to the grand jury the story of their bribe fund of -$144,000, put into safe-deposit vaults, to be paid to the legislators -when the Suburban franchise was granted. St. Louis has seen these two -men dashing forth “like fire horses,” the one (Mr. Turner) from the -presidency of the Commonwealth Trust Company, the other from his brewing -company secretaryship, to recite again and again in the criminal courts -their miserable story, and count over and over for the jury the dirty -bills of that bribe fund. And when they had given their testimony, and -the boodlers one after another were convicted, these witnesses have -hurried back to their places of business and the convicts to their seats -in the municipal assembly. This is literally true. In the House of -Delegates sit, under sentence, as follows: Charles F. Kelly, two years; -Charles J. Denny, three years and five years; Henry A. Faulkner, two -years; E. E. Murrell, State’s witness, but not tried.[1] Nay, this -House, with such a membership, had the audacity last fall to refuse to -pass an appropriation to enable Mr. Folk to go on with his investigation -and prosecution of boodling. - -Footnote 1: - - See _Post Scriptum_, end of chapter. - -Right here is the point. In other cities mere exposure has been -sufficient to overthrow a corrupt régime. In St. Louis the conviction of -the boodlers leaves the felons in control, the system intact, and the -people—spectators. It is these people who are interesting—these people, -and the system they have made possible. - -The convicted boodlers have described the system to me. There was no -politics in it—only business. The city of St. Louis is normally -Republican. Founded on the home-rule principle, the corporation is a -distinct political entity, with no county to confuse it. The State of -Missouri, however, is normally Democratic, and the legislature has taken -political possession of the city by giving to the Governor the -appointment of the Police and Election Boards. With a defective election -law, the Democratic boss in the city became its absolute ruler. - -This boss is Edward R. Butler, better known as “Colonel Ed,” or “Colonel -Butler,” or just “Boss.” He is an Irishman by birth, a master horseshoer -by trade, a good fellow—by nature, at first, then by profession. Along -in the seventies, when he still wore the apron of his trade, and bossed -his tough ward, he secured the agency for a certain patent horseshoe -which the city railways liked and bought. Useful also as a politician, -they gave him a blanket contract to keep all their mules and horses -shod. Butler’s farrieries glowed all about the town, and his political -influence spread with his business; for everywhere big Ed Butler went -there went a smile also, and encouragement for your weakness, no matter -what it was. Like “Doc” Ames, of Minneapolis—like the “good fellow” -everywhere—Butler won men by helping them to wreck themselves. A priest, -the Rev. James Coffey, once denounced Butler from the pulpit as a -corrupter of youth; at another time a mother knelt in the aisle of a -church, and during service audibly called upon Heaven for a visitation -of affliction upon Butler for having ruined her son. These and similar -incidents increased his power by advertising it. He grew bolder. He has -been known to walk out of a voting-place and call across a cordon of -police to a group of men at the curb, “Are there any more repeaters out -here that want to vote again?” - -They will tell you in St. Louis that Butler never did have much real -power, that his boldness and the clamor against him made him seem great. -Public protest is part of the power of every boss. So far, however, as I -can gather, Butler was the leader of his organization, but only so long -as he was a partisan politician; as he became a “boodler” pure and -simple, he grew careless about his machine, and did his boodle business -with the aid of the worst element of both parties. At any rate, the -boodlers, and others as well, say that in later years he had about equal -power with both parties, and he certainly was the ruler of St. Louis -during the Republican administration of Ziegenhein, which was the worst -in the history of the city. His method was to dictate enough of the -candidates on both tickets to enable him, by selecting the worst from -each, to elect the sort of men he required in his business. In other -words, while honest Democrats and Republicans were “loyal to party” (a -point of great pride with the idiots) and “voted straight,” the -Democratic boss and his Republican lieutenants decided what part of each -ticket should be elected; then they sent around Butler’s “Indians” -(repeaters) by the vanload to scratch ballots and “repeat” their votes, -till the worst had made sure of the government by the worst, and Butler -was in a position to do business. - -His business was boodling, which is a more refined and a more dangerous -form of corruption than the police blackmail of Minneapolis. It -involves, not thieves, gamblers, and common women, but influential -citizens, capitalists, and great corporations. For the stock-in-trade of -the boodler is the rights, privileges, franchises, and real property of -the city, and his source of corruption is the top, not the bottom, of -society. Butler, thrown early in his career into contact with -corporation managers, proved so useful to them that they introduced him -to other financiers, and the scandal of his services attracted to him in -due course all men who wanted things the city had to give. The boodlers -told me that, according to the tradition of their combine, there “always -was boodling in St. Louis.” - -Butler organized and systematized and developed it into a regular -financial institution, and made it an integral part of the business -community. He had for clients, regular or occasional, bankers and -promoters; and the statements of boodlers, not yet on record, allege -that every transportation and public convenience company that touches -St. Louis had dealings with Butler’s combine. And my best information is -that these interests were not victims. Blackmail came in time, but in -the beginning they originated the schemes of loot and started Butler on -his career. Some interests paid him a regular salary, others a fee, and -again he was a partner in the enterprise, with a special “rake-off” for -his influence. “Fee” and “present” are his terms, and he has spoken -openly of taking and giving them. I verily believe he regarded his -charges as legitimate (he is the Croker type); but he knew that some -people thought his services wrong. He once said that, when he had -received his fee for a piece of legislation, he “went home and prayed -that the measure might pass,” and, he added facetiously, that “usually -his prayers were answered.” - -His prayers were “usually answered” by the Municipal Assembly. This -legislative body is divided into two houses—the upper, called the -Council, consisting of thirteen members, elected at large; the lower, -called the House of Delegates, with twenty-eight members, elected by -wards; and each member of these bodies is paid twenty-five dollars a -month salary by the city. With the mayor, this Assembly has practically -complete control of all public property and valuable rights. Though -Butler sometimes could rent or own the mayor, he preferred to be -independent of him, so he formed in each part of the legislature a -two-thirds majority—in the Council nine, in the House nineteen—which -could pass bills over a veto. These were the “combines.” They were -regularly organized, and did their business under parliamentary rules. -Each “combine” elected its chairman, who was elected chairman also of -the legal bodies where he appointed the committees, naming to each a -majority of combine members. - -In the early history of the combines, Butler’s control was complete, -because it was political. He picked the men who were to be legislators; -they did as he bade them do, and the boodling was noiseless, safe, and -moderate in price. Only wrongful acts were charged for, and a right once -sold was good; for Butler kept his word. The definition of an honest man -as one who will stay bought, fitted him. But it takes a very strong man -to control himself and others when the money lust grows big, and it -certainly grew big in St. Louis. Butler used to watch the downtown -districts. He knew everybody, and when a railroad wanted a switch, or a -financial house a franchise, Butler learned of it early. Sometimes he -discovered the need and suggested it. Naming the regular price, say -$10,000, he would tell the “boys” what was coming, and that there would -be $1,000 to divide. He kept the rest, and the city got nothing. The -bill was introduced and held up till Butler gave the word that the money -was in hand; then it passed. As the business grew, however, not only -illegitimate, but legitimate permissions were charged for, and at -gradually increasing rates. Citizens who asked leave to make excavations -in streets for any purpose, neighborhoods that had to have street -lamps—all had to pay, and they did pay. In later years there was no -other way. Business men who complained felt a certain pressure brought -to bear on them from most unexpected quarters downtown. - -A business man told me that a railroad which had a branch near his -factory suggested that he go to the Municipal Legislature and get -permission to have a switch run into his yard. He liked the idea, but -when he found it would cost him eight or ten thousand dollars, he gave -it up. Then the railroad became slow about handling his freight. He -understood, and, being a fighter, he ferried the goods across the river -to another road. That brought him the switch; and when he asked about -it, the railroad man said: - -“Oh, we got it done. You see, we pay a regular salary to some of those -fellows, and they did it for us for nothing.” - -“Then why in the deuce did you send me to them?” asked the manufacturer. - -“Well, you see,” was the answer, “we like to keep in with them, and when -we can throw them a little outside business we do.” - -In other words, a great railway corporation, not content with paying -bribe salaries to these boodle aldermen, was ready, further to oblige -them, to help coerce a manufacturer and a customer to go also and be -blackmailed by the boodlers. “How can you buck a game like that?” this -man asked me. - -Very few tried to. Blackmail was all in the ordinary course of business, -and the habit of submission became fixed—a habit of mind. The city -itself was kept in darkness for weeks, pending the payment of $175,000 -in bribes on the lighting contract, and complaining citizens went for -light where Mayor Ziegenhein told them to go—to the moon. - -Boodling was safe, and boodling was fat. Butler became rich and greedy, -and neglectful of politics. Outside capital came in, and finding Butler -bought, went over his head to the boodle combines. These creatures -learned thus the value of franchises, and that Butler had been giving -them an unduly small share of the boodle. - -Then began a struggle, enormous in its vile melodrama, for control of -corruption—Butler to squeeze the municipal legislators and save his -profits, they to wring from him their “fair share.” Combines were formed -within the old combines to make him pay more; and although he still was -the legislative agent of the inner ring, he had to keep in his secret -pay men who would argue for low rates, while the combine members, -suspicious of one another, appointed their own legislative agent to meet -Butler. Not sure even then, the cliques appointed “trailers” to follow -their agent, watch him enter Butler’s house, and then follow him to the -place where the money was to be distributed. Charles A. Gutke and John -K. Murrell represented Butler in the House of Delegates, Charles Kratz -and Fred G. Uthoff in the Council. The other members suspected that -these men got “something big on the side,” so Butler had to hire a third -to betray the combine to him. In the House, Robertson was the man. When -Gutke had notified the chairman that a deal was on, and a meeting was -called, the chairman would say: - -“Gentlemen, the business before us to-night is [say] the Suburban -Railway Bill. How much shall we ask for it?” - -Gutke would move that “the price be $40,000.” Some member of the outer -ring would move $100,000 as fair boodle. The debate often waxed hot, and -you hear of the drawing of revolvers. In this case (of the Suburban -Railway) Robertson rose and moved a compromise of $75,000, urging -moderation, lest they get nothing, and his price was carried. Then they -would lobby over the appointment of the agent. They did not want Gutke, -or anyone Butler owned, so they chose some other; and having adjourned, -the outer ring would send a “trailer” to watch the agent, and sometimes -a second “trailer” to watch the first. - -They began to work up business on their own account, and, all decency -gone, they sold out sometimes to both sides of a fight. The Central -Traction deal in 1898 was an instance of this. Robert M. Snyder, a -capitalist and promoter, of New York and Kansas City, came into St. -Louis with a traction proposition inimical to the city railway -interests. These felt secure. Through Butler they were paying seven -members of the Council $5,000 a year each, but as a precaution John -Scullin, Butler’s associate, and one of the ablest capitalists of St. -Louis, paid Councilman Uthoff a special retainer of $25,000 to watch the -salaried boodlers. When Snyder found Butler and the combines against -him, he set about buying the members individually, and, opening wine at -his headquarters, began bidding for votes. This was the first break from -Butler in a big deal, and caused great agitation among the boodlers. -They did not go right over to Snyder; they saw Butler, and with Snyder’s -valuation of the franchise before them, made the boss go up to $175,000. -Then the Council combine called a meeting in Gast’s Garden to see if -they could not agree on a price. Butler sent Uthoff there with -instructions to cause a disagreement, or fix a price so high that Snyder -would refuse to pay it. Uthoff obeyed, and, suggesting $250,000, -persuaded some members to hold out for it, till the meeting broke up in -a row. Then it was each man for himself, and all hurried to see Butler, -and to see Snyder too. In the scramble various prices were paid. Four -councilmen got from Snyder $10,000 each, one got $15,000, another -$17,500, and one $50,000; twenty-five members of the House of Delegates -got $3,000 each from him. In all, Snyder paid $250,000 for the -franchise, and since Butler and his backers paid only $175,000 to beat -it, the franchise was passed. Snyder turned around and sold it to his -old opponents for $1,250,000. It was worth twice as much. - -The man who received $50,000 from Snyder was the same Uthoff who had -taken $25,000 from John Scullin, and his story as he has told it since -on the stand is the most comical incident of the exposure. He says -Snyder, with his “overcoat full of money,” came out to his house to see -him. They sat together on a sofa, and when Snyder was gone Uthoff found -beside him a parcel containing $50,000. This he returned to the -promoter, with the statement that he could not accept it, since he had -already taken $25,000 from the other side; but he intimated that he -could take $100,000. This Snyder promised, so Uthoff voted for the -franchise. - -The next day Butler called at Uthoff’s house. Uthoff spoke first. - -“I want to return this,” he said, handing Butler the package of $25,000. - -“That’s what I came after,” said Butler. - -When Uthoff told this in the trial of Snyder, Snyder’s counsel asked why -he returned this $25,000. - -“Because it wasn’t mine,” exclaimed Uthoff, flushing with anger. “I -hadn’t earned it.” - -But he believed he had earned the $100,000, and he besought Snyder for -that sum, or, anyway, the $50,000. Snyder made him drink, and gave him -just $5,000, taking by way of receipt a signed statement that the -reports of bribery in connection with the Central Traction deal were -utterly false; that “I [Uthoff] know you [Snyder] to be as far above -offering a bribe as I am of taking one.” - -Irregular as all this was, however, the legislators kept up a pretense -of partisanship and decency. In the debates arranged for in the combine -caucus, a member or two were told off to make partisan speeches. -Sometimes they were instructed to attack the combine, and one or two of -the rascals used to take delight in arraigning their friends on the -floor of the House, charging them with the exact facts. - -But for the serious work no one knew his party. Butler had with him -Republicans and Democrats, and there were Republicans and Democrats -among those against him. He could trust none not in his special pay. He -was the chief boodle broker and the legislature’s best client; his -political influence began to depend upon his boodling instead of the -reverse. - -He is a millionaire two or three times over now, but it is related that -to someone who advised him to quit in time he replied that it wasn’t a -matter of money alone with him; he liked the business, and would rather -make fifty dollars out of a switch than $500 in stocks. He enjoyed -buying franchises cheap and selling them dear. In the lighting deal of -1899 Butler received $150,000, and paid out only $85,000—$47,500 to the -House, $37,500 to the Council—and the haggling with the House combine -caused those weeks of total darkness in the city. He had Gutke tell this -combine that he could divide only $20,000 among them. They voted the -measure, but, suspecting Butler of “holding out on them,” moved to -reconsider. - -The citizens were furious, and a crowd went with ropes to the City Hall -the night the motion to reconsider came up; but the combine was -determined. Butler was there in person. He was more frightened than the -delegates, and the sweat rolled down his face as he bargained with them. -With the whole crowd looking on, and reporters so near that a delegate -told me he expected to see the conversation in the papers the next -morning, Butler threatened and pleaded, but finally promised to divide -$47,500. That was an occasion for a burst of eloquence. The orators, -indicating the citizens with ropes, declared that since it was plain the -people wanted light, they would vote them light. And no doubt the people -thought they had won, for it was not known till much later that the -votes were bought by Butler, and that the citizens only hastened a -corrupt bargain. - -The next big boodle measure that Butler missed was the Suburban -Traction, the same that led long after to disaster. This is the story -Turner and Stock have been telling over and over in the boodle trials. -Turner and his friends in the St. Louis Suburban Railway Company sought -a franchise, for which they were willing to pay large bribes. Turner -spoke about it to Butler, who said it would cost $145,000. This seemed -too much, and Turner asked Stock to lobby the measure through. Stock -managed it, but it cost him $144,000—$135,000 for the combine, $9,000 -extra for Meysenburg—and then, before the money was paid over and the -company in possession of its privilege, an injunction put a stop to all -proceedings. The money was in safe-deposit vaults—$75,000 for the House -combine in one, $60,000 for the Council combine in the other—and when -the legislature adjourned, a long fight for the money ensued. Butler -chuckled over the bungling. He is said to have drawn from it the lesson -that “when you want a franchise, don’t go to a novice for it; pay an -expert, and he’ll deliver the goods.” - -But the combine drew their own conclusions from it, and their moral was, -that though boodling was a business by itself, it was a good business, -and so easy that anybody could learn it by study. And study it they did. -Two of them told me repeatedly that they traveled about the country -looking up the business, and that a fellowship had grown up among -boodling alderman of the leading cities in the United States. Committees -from Chicago would come to St. Louis to find out what “new games” the -St. Louis boodlers had, and they gave the St. Louisans hints as to how -they “did the business” in Chicago. So the Chicago and St. Louis -boodlers used to visit Cleveland and Pittsburg and all the other cities, -or, if the distance was too great, they got their ideas by those -mysterious channels which run all through the “World of Graft.” The -meeting place in St. Louis was Decker’s stable, and ideas unfolded there -were developed into plans which, the boodlers say to-day, are only in -abeyance. In Decker’s stable the idea was born to sell the Union Market; -and though the deal did not go through, the boodlers, when they saw it -failing, made the market men pay $10,000 for killing it. This scheme is -laid aside for the future. Another that failed was to sell the -court-house, and this was well under way when it was discovered that the -ground on which this public building stands was given to the city on -condition that it was to be used for a court-house and nothing else. - -But the grandest idea of all came from Philadelphia. In that city the -gas-works were sold out to a private concern, and the water-works were -to be sold next. The St. Louis fellows have been trying ever since to -find a purchaser for their water-works. The plant is worth at least -$40,000,000. But the boodlers thought they could let it go at -$15,000,000, and get $1,000,000 or so themselves for the bargain. “The -scheme was to do it and skip,” said one of the boodlers who told me -about it, “and if you could mix it all up with some filtering scheme it -could be done; only some of us thought we could make more than -$1,000,000 out of it—a fortune apiece. It will be done some day.” - -Such, then, is the boodling system as we see it in St. Louis. Everything -the city owned was for sale by the officers elected by the people. The -purchasers might be willing or unwilling takers; they might be citizens -or outsiders; it was all one to the city government. So long as the -members of the combines got the proceeds they would sell out the town. -Would? They did and they will. If a city treasurer runs away with -$50,000 there is a great halloo about it. In St. Louis the regularly -organized thieves who rule have sold $50,000,000 worth of franchises and -other valuable municipal assets. This is the estimate made for me by a -banker, who said that the boodlers got not one-tenth of the value of the -things they sold, but were content because they got it all themselves. -And as to the future, my boodling informants said that all the -possessions of the city were listed for future sale, that the list was -in existence, and that the sale of these properties was only postponed -on account of accident—the occurrence of Mr. Folk. - -Preposterous? It certainly would seem so; but watch the people of St. -Louis as I have, and as the boodlers have—then judge. - -And remember, first, that Mr. Folk really was an accident. St. Louis -knew in a general way, as other cities to-day know, what was going on, -but there was no popular movement. Politicians named and elected him, -and they expected no trouble from him. The moment he took office, on -January 1, 1901, Butler called on him to appoint an organization man -first assistant. When Folk refused, Butler could not understand it. -Going away angry, he was back in three days to have his man appointed -second assistant. The refusal of this also had some effect. The boodlers -say Butler came out and bade them “look out; I can’t do anything with -Folk, and I wouldn’t wonder if he got after you.” They took the warning; -Butler did not. It seems never to have occurred to him that Mr. Folk -would “get after” _him_. - -What Butler felt, the public felt. When Mr. Folk took up, as he did -immediately, election fraud cases, Butler called on him again, and told -him which men he might not prosecute in earnest. The town laughed. When -Butler was sent about his business, and Folk proceeded in earnest -against the repeaters of both parties, even those who “had helped elect -him,” there was a sensation. But the stir was due to the novelty and the -incomprehensibility of such non-partisan conduct in public office. -Incredulous of honesty, St. Louis manifested the first signs of that -faith in evil which is so characteristic of it. “Why didn’t Mr. Folk -take up boodling?” was the cynical challenge. “What do a few miserable -repeaters amount to?” - -Mr. Folk is a man of remarkable equanimity. When he has laid a course, -he steers by it truly, and nothing can excite or divert him. He had said -he would “do his duty,” not that he would expose corruption or reform -St. Louis; and beyond watching developments, he did nothing for a year -to answer the public challenge. But he was making preparations. A civil -lawyer, he was studying criminal law; and when, on January 23, 1902, he -saw in the St. Louis _Star_ a paragraph about the Suburban bribe fund in -bank, he was ready. He sent out summonses by the wholesale for bankers, -Suburban Railway officials and directors, legislators and politicians, -and before the grand jury he examined them by the hour for days and -days. Nobody knew anything; and though Mr. Folk was known to be “after -the boodlers,” those fellows and their friends were not alarmed and the -public was not satisfied. - -“Get indictments,” was the challenge now. It was a “bluff”; but Mr. Folk -took it up, and by a “bluff” he “got an indictment.” And this is the way -of it: the old row between the Suburban people and the boodle combine -was going on in secret, but in a very bitter spirit. The money, lying in -the safe-deposit vaults, in cash, was claimed by both parties. The -boodlers said it was theirs because they had done their part by voting -the franchise; the Suburban people said it was theirs because they had -not obtained the franchise. The boodlers answered that the injunction -against the franchise was not theirs, and they threatened to take the -dispute before the grand jury. It was they who gave to a reporter a -paragraph about the “boodle fund,” and they meant to have it scare -Turner and Stock. Stock really was “scared.” When Mr. Folk’s summons was -served on him, he believed the boodlers had “squealed,” and he fainted. -The deputy who saw the effect of the summons told Mr. Folk, who, seeing -in it only evidence of weakness and guilt, sent for the lawyer who -represented Stock and Turner, and boldly gave him the choice for his -clients of being witnesses or defendants. The lawyer was firm, but Folk -advised him to consult his clients, and their choice was to be -witnesses. Their confession and the seizure of the bribe fund in escrow -gave Folk the whole inside story of the Suburban deal, and evidence in -plenty for indictments. He took seven, and the reputation and standing -of the first culprits showed right away not only the fearlessness of the -prosecution, but the variety and power and wealth of the St. Louis -species of boodler. There was Charles Kratz, agent of the Council -combine; John K. Murrell, agent of the House combine; Emil A. -Meysenburg, councilman and “good citizen”—all for taking bribes; Ellis -Wainwright and Henry Nicolaus, millionaire brewers, and directors of the -Suburban Railway Company for bribery; and Julius Lehmann and Henry A. -Faulkner, of the House combine, for perjury. This news caused -consternation; but the ring rallied, held together, and the cynics said, -“They never will be tried.” - -The outlook was stormy. Mr. Folk felt now in full force the powerful -interests that opposed him. The standing of some of the prisoners was -one thing; another was the character of the men who went on their bail -bond—Butler for the bribe takers, other millionaires for the bribers. -But most serious was the flow of persons who went to Mr. Folk privately -and besought or bade him desist; they were not alone politicians, but -solid, innocent business men, eminent lawyers, and good friends. Hardly -a man he knew but came to him at one time or another, in one way or -another, to plead for some rascal or other. Threats of assassination and -political ruin, offers of political promotion and of remunerative and -legitimate partnerships, veiled bribes—everything he might fear was held -up on one side, everything he might want on the other. “When you are -doing a thing like this,” he says now, “you cannot listen to anybody; -you have to think for yourself and rely on yourself alone. I knew I -simply had to succeed; and, success or failure, I felt that a political -future was not to be considered, so I shut out all idea of it.” - -So he went on silently but surely; how surely may be inferred from the -fact that in all his dealings with witnesses who turned State’s evidence -he has not made one misstep; there have been no misunderstandings, and -no charges against him of foul play. While the pressure from behind -never ceased, and the defiance before him was bold, “Go higher up” was -the challenge. He was going higher up. With confessions of Turner and -Stock, and the indictments for perjury for examples, he re-examined -witnesses; and though the big men were furnishing the little boodlers -with legal advice and drilling them in their stories, there were breaks -here and there. The story of the Central Traction deal began to develop, -and that went higher up, straight into the group of millionaires led by -Butler. - -But there was an impassable barrier in the law on bribery. American -legislators do not legislate harshly against their chief vice. The State -of Missouri limits the liability of a briber to three years, and the -Traction deal was outlawed for most of the principals in it. But the law -excepted non-residents, and Mr. Folk found that in moments of vanity -Robert M. Snyder had described himself as “of New York,” so he had -Snyder indicted for bribery, and George J. Kobusch, president of the St. -Louis Car Company, for perjury, Kobusch having sworn that he knew of no -bribery for the Central Traction franchise, when he himself had paid out -money. Kobusch turned State’s witness against Snyder. - -High as these indictments were, the cry for Butler persisted, and the -skeptical tone of it made it plain that to break up the ring Mr. Folk -had to catch the boss. And he did catch him. Saved by missing the -Suburban business, saved by the law in the Central Traction affair, -Butler lost by his temerity; he went on boodling after Mr. Folk was in -office. He offered “presents” of $2,500 each to the two medical members -of the Health Board for their approval of a garbage contract which was -to net him $232,500. So the “Old Man,” the head of the boodlers, and the -legislative agent of the financial district, was indicted. - -But the ring did not part, and the public faith in evil remained -steadfast. No one had been tried. The trials were approaching, and the -understanding was that the first of them was to be made a test. A defeat -might stop Mr. Folk, and he realized the moral effect such a result -would have. But he was sure of his cases against Murrell and Kratz, and -if he convicted them the way was open to both combines and to the big -men behind them. To all appearances these men also were confident, and -with the lawyers engaged for them they might well have been. Suddenly it -was decided that Murrell was weak, and might “cave.” He ran away. The -shock of this to the community is hard to realize now. It was the first -public proof of guilt, and the first break in the ring of little -boodlers. To Mr. Folk it was the first serious check, for he could not -now indict the House combine. Then, too, Kratz was in Florida, and the -Circuit Attorney saw himself going into court with the weakest of his -early cases, that of Meysenburg. In genuine alarm he moved heavy -increases in the bail bonds. All the lawyers in all the cases combined -to defeat this move, and the fight lasted for days; but Mr. Folk won. -Kratz returned in a rage to find bail. With his connections and his -property he could give any amount, he boasted, and he offered $100,000. -In spite of the protest of the counsel engaged for him, he insisted upon -furnishing $20,000, and he denounced the effort to discredit him with -the insinuation that such as he would avoid trial. He even asked to be -tried first, but wiser heads on his side chose the Meysenburg case. - -The weakness of this case lay in the indirection of the bribe. -Meysenburg, a business man of repute, took for his vote on the Suburban -franchise, not money; he sold for $9,000 some two hundred shares of -worthless stock. This might be made to look like a regular business -transaction, and half a dozen of the best lawyers in the State appeared -to press that view. Mr. Folk, however, met these lawyers point by point, -and point by point he beat them all, displaying a knowledge of law which -astounded them, and an attitude toward the prisoner which won the jury, -and might well reform the methods of haranguing prosecutors all over -this country. Naturally without malice, he is impersonal; he did not -attack the prisoner. He was not there for that purpose. He was defending -the State, not prosecuting the individual. “The defendant is a mere -atom,” he tells his juries; “if we could enforce the law without -punishing individuals, we should not be here; but we cannot. Only by -making an example of the criminal can we prevent crime. And as to the -prisoner, he cannot complain, because his own deeds are his doomsmen.” -At one stage of the Faulkner trial, when ex-Governor Johnson was talking -about the rights of the prisoner, Mr. Folk remarked that the State had -rights also. “Oh, d—— the rights of the State!” was the retort, and the -jury heard it. Many juries have heard this view. One of the permanent -services Mr. Folk has rendered is to impress upon the minds, not only of -juries, but of the people generally, and in particular upon the Courts -of Appeal (which often forget it), that while the criminal law has been -developed into a great machine to preserve the rights, and much more, of -the criminal, the rights of the State also should be guarded. - -Meysenburg was found guilty and sentenced to three years. The man was -shocked limp, and the ring broke. Kratz ran away. He was advised to go, -and, like Murrell, he had promises of plenty of money; unlike Murrell, -however, Kratz stood on the order of his going. He made the big fellows -give him a large sum of cash, and for the fulfillment of their promise -of more he waited menacingly in New Orleans. Supplied there with all he -demanded, this Council leader stepped across into Mexico, and has gone -into business there on a large scale. With Kratz safely away, the ring -was nerved up again, and Meysenburg appeared in court with five -well-known millionaires to give an appeal bond of $25,000. “I could have -got more,” he told the reporters, “but I guess that’s enough.” - -With the way to both boodle combines closed thus by the flight of their -go-betweens, Mr. Folk might well have been stayed; but he wasn’t. He -proceeded with his examination of witnesses, and to loosen their tongues -he brought on the trials of Lehmann and Faulkner for perjury. They were -well defended, but against them appeared, as against Meysenburg, -President Turner, of the Suburban Railway, and Philip Stock, the brewery -secretary. The perjurers were found guilty. Meanwhile Mr. Folk was -trying through both Washington and Jefferson City to have Murrell and -Kratz brought back. These regular channels failing, he applied to his -sources of information in Murrell’s (the House) combine, and he soon -learned that the fugitive was ill, without money, and unable to -communicate with his wife or friends. Money that had been raised for him -to flee with had been taken by others, and another fund sent to him by a -fellow-boodler did not reach him. The fellow-boodler did, but he failed -to deliver the money. Murrell wanted to come home, and Mr. Folk, glad to -welcome him, let him come as far as a small town just outside of St. -Louis. There he was held till Mr. Folk could arrange a _coup_ and make -sure of a witness to corroborate what Murrell should say; for, secure in -the absence of Murrell, the whole House combine was denying everything. -One day (in September, 1902) Mr. Folk called one of them, George F. -Robertson, into his office. - -They had a long talk together, and Mr. Folk asked him, as he had time -and again, to tell what he knew about the Suburban deal. - -“I have told you many times, Mr. Folk,” said Robertson, “that I know -nothing about that.” - -“What would you say if you should see Murrell here?” Mr. Folk asked. - -“Murrell!” exclaimed Robertson. “That’s good, that is. Why, yes, I’d -like to see Murrell.” - -He was laughing as Mr. Folk went to the door and called, “Murrell.” -Murrell walked in. Robertson’s smile passed. He gripped his seat, and -arose like a man lifted by an electric shock. Once on his feet, he stood -there staring as at a ghost. - -“Murrell,” said Mr. Folk quietly, “the jig is up, isn’t it?” - -“Yes,” said Murrell, “it’s all up.” - -“You’ve told everything?” - -“Everything.” - -Robertson sank into his chair. When he had time to recover his -self-control, Mr. Folk asked him if he was ready to talk about the -Suburban deal. - -“Well, I don’t see what else I can do, Mr. Folk; you’ve got me.” - -Robertson told all, and, with Murrell and Turner and Stock and the rolls -of money to support him, Mr. Folk indicted for bribery or perjury, or -both, the remaining members of the House combine, sixteen men at one -swoop. Some escaped. One, Charles Kelly, a leading witness in another -case, fled to Europe with more money than anyone believed he owned, and -he returned after a high time with plenty left. A leading financier of -Missouri went away at about the same time, and when he got back, at -about the same time with Kelly, the statute of limitation in the -financier’s case covered them both. - -With all his success these losses were made the most of; it was remarked -that Mr. Folk had not yet convicted a very rich man. The Snyder case was -coming up, and with it a chance to show that even the power of money was -not irresistible. Snyder, now a banker in Kansas City, did not deny or -attempt to disprove the charges of bribery; he made his defense his -claim to continuous residence in the State. Mr. Folk was not taken -unawares; he proved the bribery and he proved the non-residence too, and -the banker was sentenced to five years’ imprisonment. - -One other trial intervened, that of Edmund Bersch of the House combine, -and he was convicted of bribery and perjury. But all interest centered -now in the trial of Edward Butler, the boss, who, the people said, would -not be indicted; who, indicted, they said, would never be tried. Now -they were saying he would never be convicted. - -When Boss Tweed was tried in New York, his power was broken, his machine -smashed, his money spent, and the people were worked up to a fury -against him. The most eminent members of the New York bar prosecuted -him. The most eminent members of the St. Louis Bar were engaged to -defend Butler. He was still the boss, he had millions of his own, and -back of him were the resources, financial and political, of the leading -men of St. Louis. That the people were against him appeared in only one -sign, that of the special juries, carefully chosen to keep out men -privately known to be implicated. These juries had invariably convicted -the boodlers. Butler asked to be tried in some other town. Mr. Folk -suggested Columbia, the university town of the State of Missouri. - -Columbia was chosen, and Butler’s sons went up there with their heelers -to “fix the town.” They spent money freely, and because the loafers -drank with them plentifully, the Butlerites thought they “had the town -right.” But they did not know Columbia; neither did Butler. When he -stepped off the train, he asked genially what the business of the town -was. - -“Education,” was the answer. - -“Education!” he blurted. “That’s a h—l of a business!” And he conducted -himself as if he did not understand what it meant. His friends having -prepared the way for a “good fellow,” Butler set about proving himself -such, and his reception in the bar-rooms and streets was so flattering -that it was predicted in his crowd that Folk would never leave Columbia -alive. But Mr. Folk understood the people better. Stanch as the leading -interests of St. Louis were against him, he always held that his -unflinching juries meant that the silent people of St. Louis were -against boodlers and out in the State he felt still surer of this. He -was right. There was no demonstration for him. He was welcomed, but in -decorous fashion; and all he saw by way of prejudice was the friendly -look out of kind eyes that went with the warm pressure of strange hands. -When the jury was drawn, every man on it proved to be a Democrat, and -three were members of the Democratic County Committee. Mr. Folk was -urged to challenge these, for, after all, Colonel Butler was at the head -of their machine. He accepted them. He might as well have objected to -the judge, John A. Hockaday, who also was a Democrat. “No, sir,” said -Mr. Folk; “I am a Democrat, and I will try Butler before a Democratic -judge and a Democratic jury.” - -The trial was a scene to save out of all the hideousness before and -after it. The little old court-house headed one end of a short main -street, the university the other; farmers’ mule teams were hitched all -along between. From far and near people came to see this trial, and, -with the significance of it in mind, men halted to read over the -entrance to the court these words, chiseled long ago: “Oh, Justice, when -driven from other habitations, make this thy dwelling-place.” You could -see the appropriateness of that legend take hold of men, and in the -spirit of it they passed into the dingy courtroom. There the rows of -intent faces seemed to express that same sentiment. The jury looked, the -judge personified it. He alone was cold, but he was attentive, -deliberate, and reasonable; you were sure of his common sense; you -understood his rulings; and of his uprightness you were convinced by the -way he seemed to lean, just a little, toward the prisoner. I don’t -believe they will find any errors, however trivial, on which to reverse -John A. Hockaday.[2] Even the prosecutor was fair. It was not Edward -Butler who was on trial, it was the State; and never before did Mr. Folk -plead so earnestly for this conception of his work. Outside, in the -churches, prayer-meetings were held. These were private and -undemonstrative; the praying citizens did not tell even Mr. Folk that -they were asking their God to give him strength. Indirectly it came to -him, and, first fine sign as it was of approval from his client, the -people, it moved him deeply. And when, the plain case plainly stated, he -made his final appeal to the jury, the address was a statement of the -impersonal significance of the evidence, and of the State’s need of -patriotic service and defense. “Missouri, Missouri,” he said softly, -with simple, convincing sincerity, “I am pleading for thee, pleading for -thee.” And the jury understood. The judge was only clear and fair, but -the twelve men took his instructions out with them, and when they came -back their verdict was, “Guilty; three years.” - -Footnote 2: - - See _Post Scriptum_, end of chapter. - -That was Missouri. What of St. Louis? Some years ago, when Butler was -young in corruption, he was caught gambling, and with the charge pending -against him St. Louis rose to challenge him. Meetings were held all over -the city—one in the Exchange downtown—to denounce the political leader, -who, an offense always, had dared commit the felony of gambling. Now, -when he was caught and convicted and sentenced for bribery, what did St. -Louis do? The first comment I heard in the streets when we all got back -that day was that “Butler would never wear the stripes.” I heard it time -and again, and you can hear it from banker and barber there to-day. -Butler himself behaved decently. He stayed indoors for a few weeks—till -a committee of citizens from the best residence section called upon him -to come forth and put through the House of Delegates a bill for the -improvement of a street in their neighborhood; and Butler had this done! - -One of the first greetings to Mr. Folk was a warning from a high source -that now at length he had gone far enough, and on the heels of this came -an order from the Police Department that hereafter all communications -from him to the police should be made in writing. This meant slow -arrests; it meant that the fight was to go on. Well, Mr. Folk had meant -to go on, anyway. - -“Officer,” he said to the man who brought the message, “go back to the -man who sent you, and say to him that I understand him, and that -hereafter all my communications with his department will be in the form -of _indictments_.” - -That department retreated in haste, explaining and apologizing, and -offering all possible facilities. Mr. Folk went on with his business. He -put on trial Henry Nicolaus, the brewer, accused of bribery. Mr. -Nicolaus pleaded that he did not know what was to be the use of a note -for $140,000 which he had endorsed. And on this the judge took the case -away from the jury and directed a verdict of not guilty. It was the -first case Mr. Folk had lost. He won the next eight, all boodle -legislators, making his record fourteen against one. But the Supreme -Court, technical and slow, is the last stand for such criminals, and -they won their first fight there.[3] The Meysenburg case was sent back -for retrial. - -Footnote 3: - - See _Post Scriptum_, end of chapter. - -Mr. Folk has work ahead of him for the two years remaining of his term, -and he is the man to carry it all through. But where is it all to end? -There are more men to be indicted, many more to be tried, and there is -much more corruption to be disclosed. But the people of St. Louis know -enough. What are they going to do about it? - -They have had one opportunity already to act. In November (1902), just -before the Butler verdict, but after the trial was begun, there was an -election. Some of the offices to be filled might have to do with -boodling cases. Mr. Folk and boodling were the natural issue, but the -politicians avoided it. Neither party “claimed” Mr. Folk. Both parties -took counsel of Butler in making up their tickets, and they satisfied -him. The Democrats did not mention Folk’s name in the platform, and they -nominated Butler’s son for the seat in Congress from which he had -repeatedly been ousted for fraud at the polls. - -“Why?” I asked a Democratic leader, who said he controlled all but four -districts in his organization. - -“Because I needed those Butler districts,” he answered. - -“But isn’t there enough anti-boodling sentiment in this town to offset -those districts?” - -“I don’t think so.” - -Perhaps he was right. And yet those juries and those prayers must mean -something. - -Mr. Folk says, “Ninety-nine per cent. of the people are honest; only one -per cent. is dishonest. But the one per cent. is perniciously active.” -In other words, the people are sound, but without leaders. Another -official, of irreproachable character himself, said that the trouble was -there was “no one fit to throw the first stone.” - -However, this may be, here are the facts: - -In the midst of all these sensations, and this obvious, obstinate -political rottenness, the innocent citizens, who must be at least a -decisive minority, did not register last fall. Butler, the papers said, -had great furniture vans going about with men who were said to be -repeaters, and yet the registration was the lowest in many years. When -the Butlerized tickets were announced, there was no audible protest. It -was the time for an independent movement. A third ticket might not have -won, but it would have shown the politicians (whether they counted them -in or out) how many honest votes there were in the city, and what they -would have to reckon with in the force of public sentiment. Nothing of -the sort was done. St. Louis, rich, dirty, and despoiled, was busy with -business. - -Another opportunity is coming soon. In April the city votes for -municipal legislators, and since the municipal assembly has been the -scene of most of the corruption, you would think boodling would surely -be an issue then. I doubt it. When I was there in January (1903), the -politicians were planning to keep it out, and their ingenious scheme was -to combine on one ticket; that is to say, each group of leaders would -name half the nominees, who were to be put on identical tickets, making -no contest at all. And to avoid suspicion, these nominations were to be -exceptionally, yes, “remarkably good.”[4] - -Footnote 4: - - See _Post Scriptum_, end of chapter. - -That is the old Butler non-partisan or bi-partisan system. It emanates -now from the rich men back of the ring, but it means that the ring is -intact, alert, and hopeful. They are “playing for time.” The convicts -sitting in the municipal assembly, the convicts appealing to the higher -courts, the rich men abroad, the bankers down town—all are waiting for -something. What are they waiting for? - -Charles Kratz, the ex-president of the Council, head and go-between of -the Council combine, the fugitive from justice, who, by his flight, -blocks the way to the exposure and conviction of the rich and -influential men who are holding the people of Missouri in check and -keeping boodling from going before the people as a political issue, this -criminal exile, thus backed, was asked this question in Mexico, and here -is the answer he returned: - -“I am waiting for Joe Folk’s term to expire. Then I am going home to run -for Governor of Missouri and vindication.” - - * * * * * - -_Post Scriptum_, December, 1904.—The tickets were not “remarkably good.” -“Boodle” was not in the platform, nor “reform.” The bi-partisan -boodlers, with reformers and “respectable” business men for backers, -faced it out, and Boss Butler reorganized the new House of Delegates -with his man for Speaker and the superintendent of his garbage plant (in -the interest of which he offered the bribes for which he was convicted) -for chairman of the Sanitary Committee. - -And the Supreme Court of Missouri reversed his case and all the other -boodle cases one by one, then by wholesale. The whole machinery of -justice broke down under the strain of boodle pull. - -Meanwhile, however, Mr. Folk uncovered corruption in the State and, -announcing himself a candidate for Governor, has appealed from the Court -to the People, from the City of St. Louis to the State of Missouri. - - - - - PITTSBURG: A CITY ASHAMED - - - (_May, 1903_) - -Minneapolis was an example of police corruption; St. Louis of financial -corruption. Pittsburg is an example of both police and financial -corruption. The two other cities have found each an official who has -exposed them. Pittsburg has had no such man and no exposure. The city -has been described physically as “Hell with the lid off”; politically it -is hell with the lid on. I am not going to lift the lid. The exposition -of what the people know and stand is the purpose of these articles, not -the exposure of corruption, and the exposure of Pittsburg is not -necessary. There are earnest men in the town who declare it must blow up -of itself soon. I doubt that; but even if it does burst, the people of -Pittsburg will learn little more than they know now. It is not ignorance -that keeps American citizens subservient; neither is it indifference. -The Pittsburgers know, and a strong minority of them care; they have -risen against their ring and beaten it, only to look about and find -another ring around them. Angry and ashamed, Pittsburg is a type of the -city that has tried to be free and failed. - -A sturdy city it is, too, the second in Pennsylvania. Two rivers flow -past it to make a third, the Ohio, in front, and all around and beneath -it are natural gas and coal which feed a thousand furnaces that smoke -all day and flame all night to make Pittsburg the Birmingham of America. -Rich in natural resources, it is richest in the quality of its -population. Six days and six nights these people labor, molding iron and -forging steel, and they are not tired; on the seventh day they rest, -because that is the Sabbath. They are Scotch Presbyterians and -Protestant Irish. This stock had an actual majority not many years ago, -and now, though the population has grown to 354,000 in Pittsburg proper -(counting Allegheny across the river, 130,000, and other communities, -politically separate, but essentially integral parts of the proposed -Greater Pittsburg, the total is 750,000), the Scotch and Scotch-Irish -still predominate, and their clean, strong faces characterize the crowds -in the streets. Canny, busy, and brave, they built up their city almost -in secret, making millions and hardly mentioning it. Not till outsiders -came in to buy some of them out did the world (and Pittsburg and some of -the millionaires in it) discover that the Iron City had been making not -only steel and glass, but multimillionaires. A banker told a business -man as a secret one day about three years ago that within six months a -“bunch of about a hundred new millionaires would be born in Pittsburg,” -and the births happened on time. And more beside. But even the bloom of -millions did not hurt the city. Pittsburg is an unpretentious, -prosperous city of tremendous industry and healthy, steady men. - -Superior as it is in some other respects, however, Scotch-Irish -Pittsburg, politically, is no better than Irish New York or Scandinavian -Minneapolis, and little better than German St. Louis. These people, like -any other strain of the free American, have despoiled the -government—despoiled it, let it be despoiled, and bowed to the -despoiling boss. There is nothing in the un-American excuse that this or -that foreign nationality has prostituted “our great and glorious -institutions.” We all do it, all breeds alike. And there is nothing in -the complaint that the lower elements of our city populations are the -source of our disgrace. In St. Louis corruption came from the top, in -Minneapolis from the bottom. In Pittsburg it comes from both -extremities, but it began above. - -The railroads began the corruption of this city. There “always was some -dishonesty,” as the oldest public men I talked with said, but it was -occasional and criminal till the first great corporation made it -businesslike and respectable. The municipality issued bonds to help the -infant railroads to develop the city, and, as in so many American -cities, the roads repudiated the debt and interest, and went into -politics. The Pennsylvania Railroad was in the system from the start, -and, as the other roads came in and found the city government bought up -by those before them, they purchased their rights of way by outbribing -the older roads, then joined the ring to acquire more rights for -themselves and to keep belated rivals out. As corporations multiplied -and capital branched out corruption increased naturally, but the notable -characteristic of the “Pittsburg plan” of misgovernment was that it was -not a haphazard growth, but a deliberate, intelligent organization. It -was conceived in one mind, built up by one will, and this master spirit -ruled, not like Croker in New York, a solid majority; nor like Butler in -St. Louis, a bi-partisan minority; but the whole town—financial, -commercial, and political. The boss of Pittsburg was Christopher L. -Magee, a great man, and when he died he was regarded by many of the -strongest men in Pittsburg as their leading citizen. - -“Chris,” as he was called, was a charming character. I have seen -Pittsburgers grow black in the face denouncing his ring, but when I -asked, “What kind of a man was Magee?” they would cool and say, “Chris? -Chris was one of the best men God ever made.” If I smiled, they would -say, “That is all right. You smile, and you can go ahead and show up the -ring. You may describe this town as the worst in the country. But you -get Magee wrong and you’ll have all Pittsburg up in arms.” Then they -would tell me that “Magee robbed the town,” or, perhaps, they would -speak of the fund raising to erect a monument to the dead boss. - -So I must be careful. And, to begin with, Magee did not, technically -speaking, rob the town. That was not his way, and it would be a -carelessly unnecessary way in Pennsylvania. But surely he does not -deserve a monument. - -Magee was an American. His paternal great-grandfather served in the -Revolution, and settled in Pittsburg at the close of the war. -Christopher was born on Good Friday, April 14, 1848. He was sent to -school till he was fifteen years old. Then his father died, and “Squire” -or “Tommy” Steele, his uncle, a boss of that day, gave him his start in -life with a place in the City Treasury. When just twenty-one, he made -him cashier, and two years later Chris had himself elected City -Treasurer by a majority of 1100 on a ticket the head of which was beaten -by 1500 votes. - -Such was his popularity; and, though he systematized and capitalized it, -it lasted to the end, for the foundation thereof was goodness of heart -and personal charm. Magee was tall, strong, and gracefully built. His -hair was dark till it turned gray, then his short mustache and his -eyebrows held black, and his face expressed easily sure power and -genial, hearty kindness. But he was ambitious for power, and all his -goodness of heart was directed by a shrewd mind. - -When Chris saw the natural following gathering about him he realized, -young as he was, the use of it, and he retired from office (holding only -a fire commissionership) with the avowed purpose of becoming a boss. -Determined to make his ring perfect, he went to Philadelphia to study -the plan in operation there. Later, when the Tweed ring was broken, he -spent months in New York looking into Tammany’s machine methods and the -mistakes which had led to its exposure and disruption. With that -cheerful candor which softens indignation he told a fellow-townsman (who -told me) what he was doing in New York; and when Magee returned he -reported that a ring could be made as safe as a bank. He had, to start -with, a growing town too busy for self-government; two not very unequal -parties, neither of them well organized; a clear field in his own, the -majority party in the city, county, and State. There was boodle, but it -was loosely shared by too many persons. The governing instrument was the -old charter of 1816, which lodged all the powers—legislative, -administrative, and executive—in the councils, common and select. The -mayor was a peace officer, with no responsible power. Indeed, there was -no responsibility anywhere. There were no departments. Committees of -councils did the work usually done by departments, and the councilmen, -unsalaried and unanswerable individually, were organized into what might -have become a combine had not Magee set about establishing the one-man -power there. - -To control councils Magee had to organize the wards, and he was managing -this successfully at the primaries, when a new and an important figure -appeared on the scene—William Flinn. Flinn was Irish, a Protestant of -Catholic stock, a boss contractor, and a natural politician. He beat one -of Magee’s brothers in his ward. Magee laughed, inquired, and, finding -him a man of opposite or complementary disposition and talents, took him -into a partnership. A happy, profitable combination, it lasted for life. -Magee wanted power, Flinn wealth. Each got both these things; but Magee -spent his wealth for more power, and Flinn spent his power for more -wealth. Magee was the sower, Flinn the reaper. In dealing with men they -came to be necessary to each other, these two. Magee attracted -followers, Flinn employed them. The men Magee won Flinn compelled to -obey, and those he lost Magee won back. When the councils were first -under his control Magee stood in the lobby to direct them, always by -suggestions and requests, which sometimes a mean and ungrateful fellow -would say he could not heed. Magee told him it was all right, which -saved the man, but lost the vote. So Flinn took the lobby post, and he -said: “Here, you go and vote aye.” If they disobeyed the plain order -Flinn punished them, and so harshly that they would run to Magee to -complain. He comforted them. “Never mind Flinn,” he would say -sympathetically; “he gives me no end of trouble, too. But I’d like to -have you do what he asked. Go and do it for me, and let me attend to -Flinn. I’ll fix him.” - -Magee could command, too, and fight and punish. If he had been alone he -probably would have hardened with years. And so Flinn, after Magee died, -softened with time, but too late. He was useful to Magee, Magee was -indispensable to him. Molasses and vinegar, diplomacy and force, mind -and will, they were well mated. But Magee was the genius. It was Magee -that laid the plans they worked out together. - -Boss Magee’s idea was not to corrupt the city government, but to be it; -not to hire votes in councils, but to own councilmen; and so, having -seized control of his organization, he nominated cheap or dependent men -for the select and common councils. Relatives and friends were his first -recourse, then came bartenders, saloon-keepers, liquor dealers, and -others allied to the vices, who were subject to police regulation and -dependent in a business way upon the maladministration of law. For the -rest he preferred men who had no visible means of support, and to -maintain them he used the usual means—patronage. And to make his -dependents secure he took over the county government. Pittsburg is in -Allegheny County, which has always been more strongly Republican than -the city. No matter what happened in the city, the county pay-roll was -always Magee’s, and he made the county part of the city government. - -With all this city and county patronage at his command, Magee went -deliberately about undermining the Democratic party. The minority -organization is useful to a majority leader; it saves him trouble and -worry in ordinary times; in party crises he can use it to whip his own -followers into line; and when the people of a city rise in revolt it is -essential for absolute rule that you have the power not only to prevent -the minority leaders from combining with the good citizens, but to unite -the two organizations to whip the community into shape. Moreover, the -existence of a supposed opposition party splits the independent vote and -helps to keep alive that sentiment, “loyalty to party,” which is one of -the best holds the boss has on his unruly subjects. All bosses, as we -have seen in Minneapolis and St. Louis, rise above partisan bias. Magee, -the wisest of them, was also the most generous, and he liked to win over -opponents who were useful to him. Whenever he heard of an able -Democratic worker in a ward, he sent for his own Republican leader. -“So-and-so is a good man, isn’t he?” he would ask. “Going to give you a -run, isn’t he? Find out what he wants, and we’ll see what we can do. We -must have him.” Thus the able Democrat achieved office for himself or -his friend, and the city or the county paid. At one time, I was told, -nearly one-quarter of the places on the pay-roll were held by Democrats, -who were, of course, grateful to Chris Magee, and enabled him in -emergencies to wield their influence against revolting Republicans. Many -a time a subservient Democrat got Republican votes to beat a “dangerous” -Republican, and when Magee, toward the end of his career, wished to go -to the State Senate, both parties united in his nomination and elected -him unanimously. - -Business men came almost as cheap as politicians, and they came also at -the city’s expense. Magee had control of public funds and the choice of -depositories. That is enough for the average banker—not only for him -that is chosen, but for him also that may some day hope to be chosen—and -Magee dealt with the best of those in Pittsburg. This service, moreover, -not only kept them docile, but gave him and Flinn credit at their banks. -Then, too, Flinn and Magee’s operations soon developed on a scale which -made their business attractive to the largest financial institutions for -the profits on their loans, and thus enabled them to distribute and -share in the golden opportunities of big deals. There are ring banks in -Pittsburg, ring trust companies, and ring brokers. The manufacturers and -the merchants were kept well in hand by many little municipal grants and -privileges, such as switches, wharf rights, and street and alley -vacations. These street vacations are a tremendous power in most cities. -A foundry occupies a block, spreads to the next block, and wants the -street between. In St. Louis the business man boodled for his street. In -Pittsburg he went to Magee, and I have heard such a man praise Chris, -“because when I called on him his outer office was filled with waiting -politicians, but he knew I was a business man and in a hurry; he called -me in first, and he gave me the street without any fuss. I tell you it -was a sad day for Pittsburg when Chris Magee died.” This business man, -the typical American merchant everywhere, cares no more for his city’s -interest than the politician does, and there is more light on American -political corruption in such a speech than in the most sensational -exposure of details. The business men of Pittsburg paid for their little -favors in “contributions to the campaign fund,” plus the loss of their -self-respect, the liberty of the citizens generally, and (this may -appeal to their mean souls) in higher taxes. - -As for the railroads, they did not have to be bought or driven in; they -came, and promptly, too. The Pennsylvania appeared early, just behind -Magee, who handled their passes and looked out for their interest in -councils and afterwards at the State Legislature. The Pennsylvania -passes, especially those to Atlantic City and Harrisburg, have always -been a “great graft” in Pittsburg. For the sort of men Magee had to -control a pass had a value above the price of a ticket; to “flash” one -is to show a badge of power and relationship to the ring. The big -ringsters, of course, got from the railroads financial help when -cornered in business deals—stock tips, shares in speculative and other -financial turns, and political support. The Pennsylvania Railroad is a -power in Pennsylvania politics, it is part of the State ring, and part -also of the Pittsburg ring. The city paid in all sorts of rights and -privileges, streets, bridges, etc., and in certain periods the business -interests of the city were sacrificed to leave the Pennsylvania Road in -exclusive control of a freight traffic it could not handle alone. - -With the city, the county, the Republican and Democratic organizations, -the railroads and other corporations, the financiers and the business -men, all well under control, Magee needed only the State to make his -rule absolute. And he was entitled to it. In a State like New York, -where one party controls the Legislature and another the city, the -people in the cities may expect some protection from party opposition. -In Pennsylvania, where the Republicans have an overwhelming majority, -the Legislature at Harrisburg is an essential part of the government of -Pennsylvania cities, and that is ruled by a State ring. Magee’s ring was -a link in the State ring, and it was no more than right that the State -ring should become a link in his ring. The arrangement was easily made. -One man, Matthew S. Quay, had received from the people all the power in -the State, and Magee saw Quay. They came to an understanding without the -least trouble. Flinn was to be in the Senate, Magee in the lobby, and -they were to give unto Quay political support for his business in the -State in return for his surrender to them of the State’s functions of -legislation for the city of Pittsburg. - -Now such understandings are common in our politics, but they are verbal -usually and pretty well kept, and this of Magee and Quay was also -founded in secret good faith. But Quay, in crises, has a way of -straining points to win, and there were no limits to Magee’s ambition -for power. Quay and Magee quarreled constantly over the division of -powers and spoils, so after a few years of squabbling they reduced their -agreement to writing. This precious instrument has never been published. -But the agreement was broken in a great row once, and when William Flinn -and J. O. Brown undertook to settle the differences and renew the bond, -Flinn wrote out in pencil in his own hand an amended duplicate which he -submitted to Quay, whose son subsequently gave it out for publication. A -facsimile of one page is reproduced in this article. Here is the whole -contract, with all the unconscious humor of the “party of the first -part” and “said party of the second part,” a political-legal-commercial -insult to a people boastful of self-government: - -[Illustration: - - FACSIMILE OF THE FAMOUS QUAY-FLINN “MUTUAL POLITICAL AND BUSINESS - ADVANTAGE AGREEMENT.” -] - - “Memorandum and agreement between M. S. Quay of the first part and - J. O. Brown and William Flinn of the second part, the - consideration of this agreement being the mutual political and - business advantage which may result therefrom. - - “First—The said M. S. Quay is to have the benefit of the influence - in all matters in state and national politics of the said parties - of the second part, the said parties agreeing that they will - secure the election of delegates to the state and national - convention, who will be guided in all matters by the wishes of the - said party of the first part, and who will also secure the - election of members of the state senate from the Forty-third, - Forty-fourth, and Forty-fifth senatorial districts, and also - secure the election of members of the house of representatives - south of the Monongahela and Ohio rivers in the county of - Allegheny, who will be guided by the wishes and request of the - said party of the first part during the continuance of this - agreement upon all political matters. The different candidates for - the various positions mentioned shall be selected by the parties - of the second part, and all the positions of state and national - appointments made in this territory mentioned shall be - satisfactory to and secure the indorsement of the party of the - second part, when the appointment is made either by or through the - party of the first part, or his friends or political associates. - All legislation affecting the parties of the second part, - affecting cities of the second class, shall receive the hearty - co-operation and assistance of the party of the first part, and - legislation which may affect their business shall likewise receive - the hearty co-operation and help of the party of the first part. - It bring distinctly understood that at the approaching national - convention, to be held at St. Louis, the delegates front the - Twenty-second congressional district shall neither by voice nor - vote do other than what is satisfactory to the party of the first - part. The party of the first part agrees to use his influence and - secure the support of his friends and political associates to - support the Republican county and city ticket, when nominated, - both in the city of Pittsburg and Allegheny, and the county of - Allegheny, and that he will discountenance the factional fighting - by his friends and associates for county offices during the - continuation of this agreement. This agreement is not to be - binding upon the parties of the second part when a candidate for - any office who [_sic_] shall reside in Allegheny county, and shall - only be binding if the party of the first part is a candidate for - United States senator to succeed himself so far as this office is - concerned. In the Forty-third senatorial district a new senator - shall be elected to succeed Senator Upperman. In the Forty-fifth - senatorial district the party of the first part shall secure the - withdrawal of Dr. A. J. Barchfeld, and the parties of the second - part shall withdraw as a candidate Senator Steel, and the parties - of the second part shall secure the election of some party - satisfactory to themselves. In the Twenty-second congressional - district the candidates for congress shall be selected by the - party of the second part. The term of this agreement to be for —— - years from the signing thereof, and shall be binding upon all - parties when signed by C. L. Magee.” - -Thus was the city of Pittsburg turned over by the State to an individual -to do with as he pleased. Magee’s ring was complete. He was the city, -Flinn was the councils, the county was theirs, and now they had the -State Legislature so far as Pittsburg was concerned. Magee and Flinn -were the government and the law. How could they commit a crime? If they -wanted something from the city they passed an ordinance granting it, and -if some other ordinance was in conflict it was repealed or amended. If -the laws in the State stood in the way, so much the worse for the laws -of the State; they were amended. If the constitution of the State proved -a barrier, as it did to all special legislation, the Legislature enacted -a law for cities of the second class (which was Pittsburg alone) and the -courts upheld the Legislature. If there were opposition on the side of -public opinion, there was a use for that also. - -The new charter which David D. Bruce fought through councils in 1886–87 -was an example of the way Magee and, after him, Quay and other -Pennsylvania bosses employed popular movements. As his machine grew -Magee found council committees unwieldy in some respects, and he wanted -a change. He took up Bruce’s charter, which centered all executive and -administrative power and responsibility in the mayor and heads of -departments, passed it through the Legislature, but so amended that the -heads of departments were not to be appointed by the mayor, but elected -by councils. These elections were by expiring councils, so that the -department chiefs held over, and with their patronage insured the -re-election of the councilmen who elected them. The Magee-Flinn machine, -perfect before, was made self-perpetuating. I know of nothing like it in -any other city. Tammany in comparison is a plaything, and in the -management of a city Croker was a child beside Chris Magee. - -The graft of Pittsburg falls conveniently into four classes: franchises, -public contracts, vice, and public funds. There was, besides these, a -lot of miscellaneous loot—public supplies, public lighting, and the -water supply. You hear of second-class fire-engines taken at first-class -prices, water rents from the public works kept up because a private -concern that supplied the South Side could charge no more than the city, -a gas contract to supply the city lightly availed of. But I cannot go -into these. Neither can I stop for the details of the system by which -public funds were left at no interest with favored depositories from -which the city borrowed at a high rate, or the removal of funds to a -bank in which the ringsters were shareholders. All these things were -managed well within the law, and that was the great principle underlying -the Pittsburg plan. - -The vice graft, for example, was not blackmail as it is in New York and -most other cities. It is a legitimate business, conducted, not by the -police, but in an orderly fashion by syndicates, and the chairman of one -of the parties at the last election said it was worth $250,000 a year. I -saw a man who was laughed at for offering $17,500 for the slot-machine -concession; he was told that it was let for much more. “Speak-easies” -(unlicensed drinking places) pay so well that when they earn $500 or -more in twenty-four hours their proprietors often make a bare living. -Disorderly houses are managed by ward syndicates. Permission is had from -the syndicate real estate agent, who alone can rent them. The syndicate -hires a house from the owners at, say, $35 a month, and he lets it to a -woman at from $35 to $50 a week. For furniture the tenant must go to the -“official furniture man,” who delivers $1000 worth of “fixings” for a -note for $3000, on which high interest must be paid. For beer the tenant -must go to the “official bottler,” and pay $2 for a one-dollar case of -beer; for wines and liquors to the “official liquor commissioner,” who -charges $10 for five dollars’ worth; for clothes to the “official -wrapper maker.” These women may not buy shoes, hats, jewelry, or any -other luxury or necessity except from the official concessionaries, and -then only at the official, monopoly prices. If the victims have anything -left, a police or some other city official is said to call and get it -(there are rich ex-police officials in Pittsburg). But this is blackmail -and outside the system, which is well understood in the community. Many -men, in various walks of life, told me separately the names of the -official bottlers, jewelers, and furnishers; they are notorious, but -they are safe. They do nothing illegal. Oppressive, wretched, what you -please, the Pittsburg system is safe. - -That was the keynote of the Flinn-Magee plan, but this vice graft was -not their business. They are credited with the suppression of disorder -and decent superficial regulations of vice, which is a characteristic of -Pittsburg. I know it is said that under the Philadelphia and Pittsburg -plans, which are much alike, “all graft and all patronage go across one -table,” but if any “dirty money” reached the Pittsburg bosses it was, so -far as I could prove, in the form of contributions to the party fund, -and came from the vice dealers only as it did from other business men. - -Magee and Flinn, owners of Pittsburg, made Pittsburg their business, -and, monopolists in the technical economic sense of the word, they -prepared to exploit it as if it were their private property. For -convenience they divided it between them. Magee took the financial and -corporate branch, turning the streets to his uses, delivering to himself -franchises, and building and running railways. Flinn went in for public -contracts for his firm, Booth & Flinn, Limited, and his branch boomed. -Old streets were repaved, new ones laid out; whole districts were -improved, parks made, and buildings erected. The improvement of their -city went on at a great rate for years, with only one period of -cessation, and the period of economy was when Magee was building so many -traction lines that Booth & Flinn, Ltd., had all they could do with this -work. It was said that no other contractors had an adequate “plant” to -supplement properly the work of Booth & Flinn, Ltd. Perhaps that was why -this firm had to do such a large proportion of the public work always. -Flinn’s Director of Public Works was E. M. Bigelow, a cousin of Chris -Magee and another nephew of old Squire Steele. Bigelow, called the -Extravagant, drew the specifications; he made the awards to the lowest -_responsible_ bidders, and he inspected and approved the work while in -progress and when done. - -Flinn had a quarry, the stone of which was specified for public -buildings; he obtained the monopoly of a certain kind of asphalt, and -that kind was specified. Nor was this all. If the official contractor -had done his work well and at reasonable prices the city would not have -suffered directly; but his methods were so oppressive upon property -holders that they caused a scandal. No action was taken, however, till -Oliver McClintock, a merchant, in rare civic wrath, contested the -contracts and fought them through the courts. This single citizen’s -long, brave fight is one of the finest stories in the history of -municipal government. The frowns and warnings of cowardly -fellow-citizens did not move him, nor the boycott of other business men, -the threats of the ring, and the ridicule of ring organs. George W. -Guthrie joined him later, and though they fought on undaunted, they were -beaten again and again. The Director of Public Works controlled the -initiative in court proceedings; he chose the judge who appointed the -Viewers, with the result, Mr. McClintock reported, that the Department -prepared the Viewers’ reports. Knowing no defeat, Mr. McClintock -photographed Flinn’s pavements at places where they were torn up to show -that “large stones, as they were excavated from sewer trenches, brick -bats, and the débris of old coal-tar sidewalks were promiscuously dumped -in to make foundations, with the result of an uneven settling of the -foundation, and the sunken and worn places so conspicuous everywhere in -the pavements of the East End.” One outside asphalt company tried to -break the monopoly, but was easily beaten in 1889, withdrew, and after -that one of its officers said, “We all gave Pittsburg a wide berth, -recognizing the uselessness of offering competition so long as the door -of the Department of Public Works is locked against us, and Booth & -Flinn are permitted to carry the key.” The monopoly caused not only high -prices on short guarantee, but carried with it all the contingent work. -Curbing and grading might have been let separately, but they were not. -In one contract Mr. McClintock cites, Booth & Flinn bid 50 cents for -44,000 yards of grading. E. H. Bochman offered a bid of 15 cents for the -grading as a separate contract, and his bid was rejected. A -property-owner on Shady Lane, who was assessed for curbing at 80 cents a -foot, contracted privately at the same time for 800 feet of the same -standard curbing, from the same quarry, and set in place in the same -manner, at 40 cents a foot! - -“During the nine years succeeding the adoption of the charter of 1887,” -says Mr. Oliver McClintock in a report to the National Municipal League, -“one firm [Flinn’s] received practically all the asphalt-paving -contracts at prices ranging from $1 to $1.80 per square yard higher than -the average price paid in neighboring cities. Out of the entire amount -of asphalt pavements laid during these nine years, represented by 193 -contracts, and costing $3,551,131, only nine street blocks paved in -1896, and costing $33,400, were not laid by this firm.” - -The building of bridges in this city of bridges, the repairing of -pavements, park-making, and real estate deals in anticipation of city -improvements were all causes of scandal to some citizens, sources of -profit to others who were “let in on the ground floor.” There is no -space for these here. Another exposure came in 1897 over the contracts -for a new Public Safety Building. J. O. Brown was Director of Public -Safety. A newspaper, the _Leader_, called attention to a deal for this -work, and George W. Guthrie and William B. Rogers, leading members of -the Pittsburg bar, who followed up the subject, discovered as queer a -set of specifications for the building itself as any city has on record. -Favored contractors were named or their wares described all through, and -a letter to the architect from J. O. Brown contained specifications for -such favoritism, as, for example: “Specify the Westinghouse -electric-light plant and engines straight.” “Describe the Van Horn Iron -Co.’s cells as close as possible.” The stone clause was Flinn’s, and -that is the one that raised the rumpus. Flinn’s quarry produced Ligonier -block, and Ligonier block was specified. There was a letter from Booth & -Flinn, Ltd., telling the architect that the price was to be specified at -$31,500. A local contractor offered to provide Tennessee granite set up, -a more expensive material, on which the freight is higher, at $19,880; -but that did not matter. When another local contracting firm, however, -offered to furnish Ligonier block set up at $18,000, a change was -necessary, and J. O. Brown directed the architect to “specify that the -Ligonier block shall be of a bluish tint rather than a gray variety.” -Flinn’s quarry had the bluish tint, the other people’s “the gray -variety.” It was shown also that Flinn wrote to the architect on June -24, 1895, saying: “I have seen Director Brown and Comptroller Gourley -to-day, and they have agreed to let us start on the working plans and -get some stone out for the new building. Please arrange that we may get -the tracings by Wednesday....” The tracings were furnished him, and thus -before the advertisements for bids were out he began preparing the -bluish tint stone. The charges were heard by a packed committee of -councils, and nothing came of them; and, besides, they were directed -against the Director of Public Works, not William Flinn. - -The boss was not an official, and not responsible. The only time Flinn -was in danger was on a suit that grew out of the conviction of the City -Attorney, W. C. Moreland, and L. H. House, his assistant, for the -embezzlement of public funds. These officials were found to be short -about $300,000. One of them pleaded guilty, and both went to prison -without telling where the money went, and that information did not -develop till later. J. B. Connelly, of the _Leader_, discovered in the -City Attorney’s office stubs of checks indicating that some $118,000 of -it had gone to Flinn or to Booth & Flinn, Ltd. When Flinn was first -asked about it by a reporter he said that the items were correct, that -he got them, but that he had explained it all to the Comptroller and had -satisfied him. This answer indicated a belief that the money belonged to -the city. When he was sued by the city he said that he did not know it -was city money. He thought it was personal loans from House. Now House -was not a well-to-do man, and his city salary was but $2,500 a year. -Moreover, the checks, two of which are reproduced here, are signed by -the City Attorney, W. C. Moreland, and are for amounts ranging from five -to fifteen thousand dollars. But where was the money? Flinn testified -that he had paid it back to House. Then where were the receipts? Flinn -said they had been burned in a fire that had occurred in Booth & Flinn’s -office. The judge found for Flinn, holding that it had not been proven -that Flinn knew the checks were for public money, nor that he had not -repaid the amount. - -[Illustration: - - FACSIMILES OF CHECKS SHOWING THAT PUBLIC MONEY, EMBEZZLED BY PUBLIC - OFFICIALS, WENT TO BOSS FLINN, WHO EXPLAINED THAT HE DID NOT KNOW - THE CHECKS WERE FOR CITY MONEY. -] - -As I have said before, however, unlawful acts were exceptional and -unnecessary in Pittsburg. Magee did not steal franchises and sell them. -His councils gave them to him. He and the busy Flinn took them, built -railways, which Magee sold and bought and financed and conducted, like -any other man whose successful career is held up as an example for young -men. His railways, combined into the Consolidated Traction Company, were -capitalized at $30,000,000. The public debt of Pittsburg is about -$18,000,000, and the profit on the railway building of Chris Magee would -have wiped out the debt. “But you must remember,” they say in the -Pittsburg banks, “that Magee took risks, and his profits are the just -reward of enterprise.” This is business. But politically speaking it was -an abuse of the powers of a popular ruler for Boss Magee to give to -Promoter Magee all the streets he wanted in Pittsburg at his own terms: -forever, and nothing to pay. There was scandal in Chicago over the -granting of charters for twenty-eight and fifty years. Magee’s read: -“for 950 years,” “for 999 years,” “said Charter is to exist a thousand -years,” “said Charter is to exist perpetually,” and the councils gave -franchises for the “life of the Charter.” There is a legend that Fred -Magee, a waggish brother of Chris, put these phrases into these grants -for fun, and no doubt the genial Chris saw the fun of it. I asked if the -same joker put in the car tax, which is the only compensation the city -gets for the use forever of its streets; but it was explained that that -was an oversight. The car tax was put upon the old horse-cars, and came -down upon the trolley because, having been left unpaid, it was -forgotten. This car tax on $30,000,000 of property amounts to less than -$15,000 a year, and the companies have until lately been slow about -paying it. During the twelve years succeeding 1885 all the traction -companies together paid the city $60,000. While the horse vehicles in -1897 paid $47,000, and bicycles $7,000, the Consolidated Traction -Company[5] (C. L. Magee, President) paid $9,600. The speed of bicycles -and horse vehicles is limited by law, that of the trolley is -unregulated. The only requirement of the law upon them is that the -traction company shall keep in repair the pavement between and a foot -outside of the tracks. This they don’t do, and they make the city -furnish twenty policemen as guards for crossings of their lines at a -cost of $20,000 a year in wages. - -Footnote 5: - - All the street railways terminating in the city of Pittsburg were in - 1901 consolidated into the Pittsburg Railways Company, operating 404 - miles of track, under an approximate capitalization of $84,000,000. In - their statement, issued July 1, 1902, they report gross earnings for - 1901 as $7,081,452.82. Out of this they paid a car tax for 1902 to the - city of Pittsburg of $20,099.94. At the ordinary rate of 5 per cent. - on gross earnings the tax would have been $354,072.60. - -Not content with the gift of the streets, the ring made the city work -for the railways. The building of bridges is one function of the -municipality as a servant of the traction company. Pittsburg is a city -of many bridges, and many of them were built for ordinary traffic. When -the Magee railways went over them some of them had to be rebuilt. The -company asked the city to do it, and despite the protests of citizens -and newspapers, the city rebuilt iron bridges in good condition and of -recent construction to accommodate the tracks. Once some citizens -applied for a franchise to build a connecting line along what is now -part of the Bloomfield route, and by way of compensation offered to -build a bridge across the Pennsylvania tracks for free city use, they -only to have the right to run their cars on it. They did not get their -franchise. Not long after Chris Magee (and Flinn) got it, and they got -it for nothing; and the city built this bridge, rebuilt three other -bridges over the Pennsylvania tracks, and one over the Junction -Railroad—five bridges in all, at a cost of $160,000! - -Canny Scots as they were, the Pittsburgers submitted to all this for a -quarter of a century, and some $34,000 has been subscribed toward the -monument to Chris Magee. This sounds like any other well-broken American -city; but to the credit of Pittsburg be it said that there never was a -time when some few individuals were not fighting the ring. David D. -Bruce was standing for good government way back in the ‘fifties. Oliver -McClintock and George W. Guthrie we have had glimpses of, struggling, -like John Hampden, against their tyrants; but always for mere justice -and in the courts, and all in vain, till in 1895 their exposures began -to bring forth signs of public feeling, and they ventured to appeal to -the voters, the sources of the bosses’ power. They enlisted the -venerable Mr. Bruce and a few other brave men, and together called a -mass-meeting. A crowd gathered. There were not many prominent men there, -but evidently the people were with them, and they then and there formed -the Municipal League, and launched it upon a campaign to beat the ring -at the February election, 1896. - -A committee of five was put in charge—Bruce, McClintock, George K. -Stevenson, Dr. Pollock, and Otto Heeren—who combined with Mr. Guthrie’s -sterling remnant of the Democratic party on an independent ticket, with -Mr. Guthrie at the head for mayor. It was a daring thing to do, and they -discovered then what we have discovered in St. Louis and Minneapolis. -Mr. Bruce told me that, after their mass-meeting, men who should have -come out openly for the movement approached him by stealth and whispered -that he could count on them for money if he would keep secret their -names. “Outside of those at the meeting,” he said, “but one man of all -those that subscribed would let his name appear. And men who gave me -information to use against the ring spoke themselves for the ring on the -platform.” Mr. McClintock in a paper read before a committee of the -National Municipal League says: “By far the most disheartening -discovery, however, was that of the apathetic indifference of many -representative citizens—men who from every other point of view are -deservedly looked upon as model members of society. We found that -prominent merchants and contractors who were ‘on the inside,’ -manufacturers enjoying special municipal privileges, wealthy -capitalists, brokers, and others who were holders of the securities of -traction and other corporations, had their mouths stopped, their -convictions of duty strangled, and their influence before and votes on -election day preempted against us. In still another direction we found -that the financial and political support of the great steam railroads -and largest manufacturing corporations, controlling as far as they were -able the suffrages of their thousands of employees, were thrown against -us, for the simple reason, as was frankly explained by one of them, that -it was much easier to deal with a boss in promoting their corporate -interests than to deal directly with the people’s representatives in the -municipal legislature. We even found the directors of many banks in an -attitude of cold neutrality, if not of active hostility, toward any -movement for municipal reform. As one of them put it, ‘if you want to be -anybody, or make money in Pittsburg, it is necessary to be in the -political swim and on the side of the city ring.’” - -This is corruption, but it is called “good business,” and it is worse -than politics. - -It was a quarrel among the grafters of Minneapolis that gave the grand -jury a chance there. It was a low row among the grafters of St. Louis -that gave Joseph W. Folk his opening. And so in Pittsburg it was in a -fight between Quay and Magee that the Municipal League saw its -opportunity. - -To Quay it was the other way around. The rising of the people of -Pittsburg was an opportunity for him. He and Magee had never got along -well together, and they were falling out and having their differences -adjusted by Flinn and others every few years. The “mutual business -advantage” agreement was to have closed one of these rows. The fight of -1895–96 was an especially bitter one, and it did not close with the -“harmony” that was patched up. Magee and Flinn and Boss Martin of -Philadelphia set out to kill Quay politically, and he, driven thus into -one of those “fights for his life” which make his career so interesting, -hearing the grumbling in Philadelphia and seeing the revolt of the -citizens of Pittsburg, stepped boldly forth upon a platform for reform, -especially to stop the “use of money for the corruption of our cities.” -From Quay this was comical, but the Pittsburgers were too serious to -laugh. They were fighting for their life, too, so to speak, and the -sight of a boss on their side must have encouraged those business men -who “found it easier to deal with a boss than with the people’s -representatives.” However that may be, a majority of the ballots cast in -the municipal election of Pittsburg in February, 1896, were against the -ring. - -This isn’t history. According to the records the reform ticket was -defeated by about 1000 votes. The returns up to one o’clock on the -morning after election showed George W. Guthrie far ahead for mayor; -then all returns ceased suddenly, and when the count came in officially, -a few days later, the ring had won. But besides the _prima facie_ -evidence of fraud, the ringsters afterward told in confidence not only -that Mr. Guthrie was counted out, but how it was done. Mr. Guthrie’s -appeal to the courts, however, for a recount was denied. The courts held -that the secret ballot law forbade the opening of the ballot boxes. - -Thus the ring held Pittsburg—but not the Pittsburgers. They saw Quay in -control of the Legislature, Quay the reformer, who would help them. So -they drew a charter for Pittsburg which would restore the city to the -people. Quay saw the instrument, and he approved it; he promised to have -it passed. The League, the Chamber of Commerce, and other representative -bodies, all encouraged by the outlook for victory, sent to Harrisburg -committees to urge their charter, and their orators poured forth upon -the Magee-Flinn ring a flood of, not invective, but facts, -specifications of outrage, and the abuse of absolute power. Their -charter went booming along through its first and second readings, Quay -and the Magee-Flinn crowd fighting inch by inch. All looked well, when -suddenly there was silence. Quay was dealing with his enemies, and the -charter was his club. He wanted to go back to the Senate, and he went. -The Pittsburgers saw him elected, saw him go, but their charter they saw -no more. And such is the State of Pennsylvania that this man who did -this thing to Pittsburg, and has done the like again and again to all -cities and all interests—even politicians—he is the boss of Pennsylvania -to-day! - -The good men of Pittsburg gave up, and for four years the essential -story of the government of the city is a mere thread in the personal -history of the quarrels of the bosses in State politics. Magee wanted to -go to the United States Senate, and he had with him Boss Martin and John -Wanamaker of Philadelphia, as well as his own Flinn. Quay turned on the -city bosses, and, undermining their power, soon had Martin beaten in -Philadelphia. To overthrow Magee was a harder task, and Quay might never -have accomplished it had not Magee’s health failed, causing him to be -much away. Pittsburg was left to Flinn, and his masterfulness, -unmitigated by Magee, made trouble. The crisis came out of a row Flinn -had with his Director of Public Works, E. M. Bigelow, a man as -dictatorial as Flinn himself. Bigelow threw open to competition certain -contracts. Flinn, in exasperation, had the councils throw out the -director and put in his place a man who restored the old specifications. - -This enraged Thomas Steele Bigelow, E. M. Bigelow’s brother, and another -nephew of old Squire Steele. Tom had an old grudge against Magee, dating -from the early days of traction deals. He was rich, he knew something of -politics, and he believed in the power of money in the game. Going -straight to Harrisburg, he took charge of Quay’s fight for Senator, -spent his own money and won; and he beat Magee, which was his first -purpose. - -But he was not satisfied yet. The Pittsburgers, aroused to fresh hope by -the new fight of the bosses, were encouraged also by the news that the -census of 1900 put a second city, Scranton, into “cities of the second -class.” New laws had to be drawn for both. Pittsburg saw a chance for a -good charter. Tom Bigelow saw a chance to finish the Magee-Flinn ring, -and he had William B. Rogers, a man whom the city trusted, draw the -famous “Ripper Bill”! This was originally a good charter, concentrating -power in the mayor, but changes were introduced into it to enable the -Governor to remove and appoint mayors, or recorders, as they were to be -called, at will until April, 1903, when the first elected recorder was -to take office. This was Bigelow’s device to rid Pittsburg of the ring -office holders. But Magee was not dead yet. He and Flinn saw Governor -Stone, and when the Governor ripped out the ring mayor, he appointed as -recorder Major A. M. Brown, a lawyer well thought of in Pittsburg. - -Major Brown, however, kept all but one of the ring heads of the -departments. This disappointed the people; it was a defeat for Bigelow; -for the ring it was a triumph. Without Magee, however, Flinn could not -hold his fellows in their joy, and they went to excesses which -exasperated Major Brown and gave Bigelow an excuse for urging him to -action. Major Brown suddenly removed the heads of the ring and began a -thorough reorganization of the government. This reversed emotions, but -not for long. The ring leaders saw Governor Stone again, and he ripped -out Bigelow’s Brown and appointed in his place a ring Brown. Thus the -ring was restored to full control under a charter which increased their -power. - -But the outrageous abuse of the Governor’s unusual power over the city -incensed the people of Pittsburg. A postscript which Governor Stone -added to his announcement of the appointment of the new recorder did not -help matters; it was a denial that he had been bribed. The Pittsburgers -had not heard of any bribery, but the postscript gave currency to a -definite report that the ring—its banks, its corporations, and its -bosses—had raised an enormous fund to pay the Governor for his -interference in the city, and this pointed the intense feelings of the -citizens. They prepared to beat the ring at an election to be held in -February, 1902, for Comptroller and half of the councils. A Citizens’ -party was organized. The campaign was an excited one; both sides did -their best, and the vote polled was the largest ever known in Pittsburg. -Even the ring made a record. The citizens won, however, and by a -majority of 8,000. - -This showed the people what they could do when they tried, and they were -so elated that they went into the next election and carried the -county—the stronghold of the ring. But they now had a party to look out -for, and they did not look out for it. They neglected it just as they -had the city. Tom Bigelow knew the value of a majority party; he had -appreciated the Citizens’ from the start. Indeed he may have started it. -All the reformers know is that the committee which called the Citizens’ -Party into existence was made up of twenty-five men—five old Municipal -Leaguers, the rest a “miscellaneous lot.” They did not bother then about -that. They knew Tom Bigelow, but he did not show himself, and the new -party went on confidently with its passionate work. - -When the time came for the great election, that for recorder this year -(1903), the citizens woke up one day and found Tom Bigelow the boss of -their party. How he came there they did not exactly know; but there he -was in full possession, and there with him was the “miscellaneous lot” -on the committee. Moreover, Bigelow was applying with vigor regular -machine methods. It was all very astonishing, but very significant. -Magee was dead; Flinn’s end was in sight; but there was the Boss, the -everlasting American Boss, as large as life. The good citizens were -shocked; their dilemma was ridiculous, but it was serious too. Helpless, -they watched. Bigelow nominated for recorder a man they never would have -chosen. Flinn put up a better man, hoping to catch the citizens, and -when these said they could see Flinn behind his candidate, he said, “No; -I am out of politics. When Magee died I died politically, too.” Nobody -would believe him. The decent Democrats hoped to retrieve their party -and offer a way out, but Bigelow went into their convention with his -money and the wretched old organization sold out. The smell of money on -the Citizens’ side attracted to it the grafters, the rats from Flinn’s -sinking ship; many of the corporations went over, and pretty soon it was -understood that the railroads had come to a settlement among themselves -and with the new boss, on the basis of an agreement said to contain five -specifications of grants from the city. The temptation to vote for -Flinn’s man was strong, but the old reformers seemed to feel that the -only thing to do was to finish Flinn now and take care of Tom Bigelow -later. This view prevailed and Tom Bigelow won. This is the way the best -men in Pittsburg put it: “We have smashed a ring and we have wound -another around us. Now we have got to smash that.” - -There is the spirit of this city as I understand it. Craven as it was -for years, corrupted high and low, Pittsburg did rise; it shook off the -superstition of partisanship in municipal politics; beaten, it rose -again; and now, when it might have boasted of a triumph, it saw -straight: a defeat. The old fighters, undeceived and undeceiving, -humiliated but undaunted, said simply: “All we have got to do is to -begin all over again.” Meanwhile, however, Pittsburg has developed some -young men, and with an inheritance of this same spirit, they are going -to try out in their own way. The older men undertook to save the city -with a majority party and they lost the party. The younger men have -formed a Voters’ Civic League, which proposes to swing from one party to -another that minority of disinterested citizens which is always willing -to be led, and thus raise the standard of candidates and improve the -character of regular party government. Tom Bigelow intended to capture -the old Flinn organization, combine it with his Citizens’ party, and -rule as Magee did with one party, a union of all parties. If he should -do this, the young reformers would have no two parties to choose -between; but there stand the old fighters ready to rebuild a Citizens’ -party under that or any other name. Whatever course is taken, however, -something will be done in Pittsburg, or tried, at least, for good -government, and after the cowardice and corruption shamelessly displayed -in other cities, the effort of Pittsburg, pitiful as it is, is a -spectacle good for American self-respect, and its sturdiness is a -promise for poor old Pennsylvania. - - - - - PHILADELPHIA: CORRUPT AND CONTENTED - - - (_July, 1903_) - -Other American cities, no matter how bad their own condition may be, all -point with scorn to Philadelphia as worse—“the worst-governed city in -the country.” St. Louis, Minneapolis, Pittsburg submit with some -patience to the jibes of any other community; the most friendly -suggestion from Philadelphia is rejected with contempt. The -Philadelphians are “supine,” “asleep”; hopelessly ring-ruled, they are -“complacent.” “Politically benighted,” Philadelphia is supposed to have -no light to throw upon a state of things that is almost universal. - -This is not fair. Philadelphia is, indeed, corrupt; but it is not -without significance. Every city and town in the country can learn -something from the typical political experience of this great -representative city. New York is excused for many of its ills because it -is the metropolis, Chicago because of its forced development; -Philadelphia is our “third largest” city and its growth has been gradual -and natural. Immigration has been blamed for our municipal conditions; -Philadelphia, with 47 per cent. of its population native-born of -native-born parents, is the most American of our greater cities. It is -“good,” too, and intelligent. I don’t know just how to measure the -intelligence of a community, but a Pennsylvania college professor who -declared to me his belief in education for the masses as a way out of -political corruption, himself justified the “rake-off” of preferred -contractors on public works on the ground of a “fair business profit.” -Another plea we have made is that we are too busy to attend to public -business, and we have promised, when we come to wealth and leisure, to -do better. Philadelphia has long enjoyed great and widely distributed -prosperity; it is the city of homes; there is a dwelling house for every -five persons,—men, women, and children,—of the population; and the -people give one a sense of more leisure and repose than any community I -ever dwelt in. Some Philadelphians account for their political state on -the ground of their ease and comfort. There is another class of -optimists whose hope is in an “aristocracy” that is to come by and by; -Philadelphia is surer that it has a “real aristocracy” than any other -place in the world, but its aristocrats, with few exceptions, are in the -ring, with it, or of no political use. Then we hear that we are a young -people and that when we are older and “have traditions,” like some of -the old countries, we also will be honest. Philadelphia is one of the -oldest of our cities and treasures for us scenes and relics of some of -the noblest traditions of “our fair land.” Yet I was told how once, “for -a joke,” a party of boodlers counted out the “divvy” of their graft in -unison with the ancient chime of Independence Hall. - -Philadelphia is representative. This very “joke,” told, as it was, with -a laugh, is typical. All our municipal governments are more or less bad, -and all our people are optimists. Philadelphia is simply the most -corrupt and the most contented. Minneapolis has cleaned up, Pittsburg -has tried to, New York fights every other election, Chicago fights all -the time. Even St. Louis has begun to stir (since the elections are -over), and at the worst was only shameless. Philadelphia is proud; good -people there defend corruption and boast of their machine. My college -professor, with his philosophic view of “rake-offs,” is one Philadelphia -type. Another is the man, who, driven to bay with his local pride, says: -“At least you must admit that our machine is the best you have ever -seen.” - -Disgraceful? Other cities say so. But I say that if Philadelphia is a -disgrace, it is a disgrace not to itself alone, nor to Pennsylvania, but -to the United States and to American character. For this great city, so -highly representative in other respects, is not behind in political -experience, but ahead, with New York. Philadelphia is a city that has -had its reforms. Having passed through all the typical stages of -corruption, Philadelphia reached the period of miscellaneous loot with a -boss for chief thief, under James McManes and the Gas Ring ‘way back in -the late sixties and seventies. This is the Tweed stage of corruption -from which St. Louis, for example, is just emerging. Philadelphia, in -two inspiring popular revolts, attacked the Gas Ring, broke it, and in -1885 achieved that dream of American cities—a good charter. The present -condition of Philadelphia, therefore, is not that which precedes, but -that which follows reform, and in this distinction lies its startling -general significance. What has happened since the Bullitt Law or charter -went into effect in Philadelphia may happen in any American city “after -reform is over.” - -For reform with us is usually revolt, not government, and is soon over. -Our people do not seek, they avoid self-rule, and “reforms” are -spasmodic efforts to punish bad rulers and get somebody that will give -us good government or something that will make it. A self-acting form of -government is an ancient superstition. We are an inventive people, and -we all think that we shall devise some day a legal machine that will -turn out good government automatically. The Philadelphians have -treasured this belief longer than the rest of us and have tried it more -often. Throughout their history they have sought this wonderful charter -and they thought they had it when they got the Bullitt Law, which -concentrates in the mayor ample power, executive and political, and -complete responsibility. Moreover, it calls for very little thought and -action on the part of the people. All they expected to have to do when -the Bullitt Law went into effect was to elect as mayor a good business -man, who, with his probity and common sense, would give them that good -business administration which is the ideal of many reformers. - -The Bullitt Law went into effect in 1887. A committee of twelve—four men -from the Union League, four from business organizations, and four from -the bosses—picked out the first man to run under it on the Republican -ticket, Edwin H. Fitler, an able, upright business man, and he was -elected. Strange to say, his administration was satisfactory to the -citizens, who speak well of it to this day, and to the politicians also; -Boss McManes (the ring was broken, not the boss) took to the next -national convention from Philadelphia a delegation solid for Fitler for -President of the United States. It was a farce, but it pleased Mr. -Fitler, so Matthew S. Quay, the State boss, let him have a complimentary -vote on the first ballot. The politicians “fooled” Mr. Fitler, and they -“fooled” also the next business mayor, Edwin S. Stuart, likewise a most -estimable gentleman. Under these two administrations the foundation was -laid for the present government of Philadelphia, the corruption to which -Philadelphians seem so reconciled, and the machine which is “at least -the best you have ever seen.” - -The Philadelphia machine isn’t the best. It isn’t sound, and I doubt if -it would stand in New York or Chicago. The enduring strength of the -typical American political machine is that it is a natural growth—a -sucker, but deep-rooted in the people. The New Yorkers vote for Tammany -Hall. The Philadelphians do not vote; they are disfranchised, and their -disfranchisement is one anchor of the foundation of the Philadelphia -organization. - -This is no figure of speech. The honest citizens of Philadelphia have no -more rights at the polls than the negroes down South. Nor do they fight -very hard for this basic privilege. You can arouse their Republican ire -by talking about the black Republican votes lost in the Southern States -by white Democratic intimidation, but if you remind the average -Philadelphian that he is in the same position, he will look startled, -then say, “That’s so, that’s literally true, only I never thought of it -in just that way.” And it is literally true. - -The machine controls the whole process of voting, and practices fraud at -every stage. The assessor’s list is the voting list, and the assessor is -the machine’s man. “The assessor of a division kept a disorderly house; -he padded his lists with fraudulent names registered from his house; two -of these names were used by election officers.... The constable of the -division kept a disreputable house; a policeman was assessed as living -there.... The election was held in the disorderly house maintained by -the assessor.... The man named as judge had a criminal charge for a life -offense pending against him.... Two hundred and fifty-two votes were -returned in a division that had less than one hundred legal votes within -its boundaries.” These extracts from a report of the Municipal League -suggest the election methods. The assessor pads the list with the names -of dead dogs, children, and non-existent persons. One newspaper printed -the picture of a dog, another that of a little four-year-old negro boy, -down on such a list. A ring orator in a speech resenting sneers at his -ward as “low down” reminded his hearers that that was the ward of -Independence Hall, and, naming over signers of the Declaration of -Independence, he closed his highest flight of eloquence with the -statement that “these men, the fathers of American liberty, voted down -here once. And,” he added, with a catching grin, “they vote here yet.” -Rudolph Blankenburg, a persistent fighter for the right and the use of -the right to vote (and, by the way, an immigrant), sent out just before -one election a registered letter to each voter on the rolls of a certain -selected division. Sixty-three per cent. were returned marked “not at,” -“removed,” “deceased,” etc. From one four-story house where forty-four -voters were addressed, eighteen letters came back undelivered; from -another of forty-eight voters, came back forty-one letters; from another -sixty-one out of sixty-two; from another, forty-four out of forty-seven. -Six houses in one division were assessed at one hundred and seventy-two -voters, more than the votes cast in the previous election in any one of -two hundred entire divisions. - -The repeating is done boldly, for the machine controls the election -officers, often choosing them from among the fraudulent names; and when -no one appears to serve, assigning the heeler ready for the expected -vacancy. The police are forbidden by law to stand within thirty feet of -the polls, but they are at the box and they are there to see that the -machine’s orders are obeyed and that repeaters whom they help to furnish -are permitted to vote without “intimidation” on the names they, the -police, have supplied. The editor of an anti-machine paper who was -looking about for himself once told me that a ward leader who knew him -well asked him into a polling place. “I’ll show you how it’s done,” he -said, and he had the repeaters go round and round voting again and again -on the names handed them on slips. “But,” as the editor said, “that -isn’t the way it’s done.” The repeaters go from one polling place to -another, voting on slips, and on their return rounds change coats, hats, -etc. The business proceeds with very few hitches; there is more jesting -than fighting. Violence in the past has had its effect; and is not often -necessary nowadays, but if it is needed the police are there to apply -it. Several citizens told me that they had seen the police help to beat -citizens or election officers who were trying to do their duty, then -arrest the victim; and Mr. Clinton Rogers Woodruff, the executive -counsel of the Municipal League, has published a booklet of such cases. -But an official statement of the case is at hand in an announcement by -John Weaver, the new machine mayor of Philadelphia, that he is going to -keep the police out of politics and away from the polls. “I shall see,” -he added, “that every voter enjoys the full right of suffrage and that -ballots may be placed in the ballot box without fear of intimidation.” - -But many Philadelphians do not try to vote. They leave everything to the -machine, and the machine casts their ballots for them. It is estimated -that 150,000 voters did not go to the polls at the last election. Yet -the machine rolled up a majority of 130,000 for Weaver, with a -fraudulent vote estimated all the way from forty to eighty thousand, and -this in a campaign so machine-made that it was called “no contest.” -Francis Fisher Kane, the Democrat, got 32,000 votes out of some 204,000. -“What is the use of voting?” these stay-at-homes ask. A friend of mine -told me he was on the lists in the three wards in which he had -successively dwelt. He votes personally in none, but the leader of his -present ward tells him how he has been voted. Mr. J. C. Reynolds, the -proprietor of the St. James Hotel, went to the polls at eleven o’clock -last election day, only to be told that he had been voted. He asked how -many others from his house had voted. An election officer took up a -list, checked off twelve names, two down twice, and handed it to him. -When Mr. Reynolds got home he learned that one of these had voted, the -others had been voted. Another man said he rarely attempted to vote, but -when he did, the officers let him, even though his name had already been -voted on; and then the negro repeaters would ask if his “brother was -coming ‘round to-day.” They were going to vote him, as they vote all -good-natured citizens who stay away. “When this kind of man turns out,” -said a leader to me, “we simply have two repeaters extra—one to balance -him and one more to the good.” If necessary, after all this, the machine -counts the vote “right,” and there is little use appealing to the -courts, since they have held, except in one case, that the ballot box is -secret and cannot be opened. The only legal remedy lies in the purging -of the assessor’s lists, and when the Municipal League had this done in -1899, they reported that there was “wholesale voting on the very names -stricken off.” - -Deprived of self-government, the Philadelphians haven’t even -self-governing machine government. They have their own boss, but he and -his machine are subject to the State ring, and take their orders from -the State boss, Matthew S. Quay, who is the proprietor of Pennsylvania -and the real ruler of Philadelphia, just as William Penn, the Great -Proprietor, was. Philadelphians, especially the local bosses, dislike -this description of their government, and they point for refutation to -their charter. But this very Bullitt Law was passed by Quay, and he put -it through the Legislature, not for reform reasons, but at the instance -of David H. Lane, his Philadelphia lieutenant, as a check upon the power -of Boss McManes. Later, when McManes proved hopelessly insubordinate, -Quay decided to have done with him forever. He chose David Martin for -boss, and from his seat in the United States Senate, Penn’s successor -raised up his man and set him over the people. Croker, who rose by his -own strength to the head of Tammany Hall, has tried twice to appoint a -successor; no one else could, and he failed. The boss of Tammany Hall is -a growth. So Croker has attempted to appoint district leaders and -failed; a Tammany district leader is a growth. Boss Martin, picked up -and set down from above, was accepted by Philadelphia and the -Philadelphia machine, and he removed old ward leaders and appointed new -ones. Some leaders in Philadelphia own their wards, of course, but -Martin and, after him, Durham have sent men into a ward to lead it, and -they have led it. - -The Philadelphia organization is upside down. It has its root in the -air, or, rather, like the banyan tree, it sends its roots from the -center out both up and down and all around, and there lies its peculiar -strength. For when I said it was dependent and not sound, I did not mean -that it was weak. It is dependent as a municipal machine, but the -organization that rules Philadelphia is, as we have seen, not a mere -municipal machine, but a city, State, and national organization. The -people of Philadelphia are Republicans in a Republican city in a -Republican State in a Republican nation, and they are bound ring on ring -on ring. The President of the United States and his patronage; the -National Cabinet and their patronage; the Congress and the patronage of -the Senators and the Congressmen from Pennsylvania; the Governor of the -State and the State legislature with their powers and patronage; and all -that the mayor and city councils have of power and patronage—all these -bear down upon Philadelphia to keep it in the control of Quay’s boss and -his little ring. This is the ideal of party organization, and, possibly, -is the end toward which our democratic republic is tending. If it is, -the end is absolutism. Nothing but a revolution could overthrow this -oligarchy, and there is its danger. With no outlet at the polls for -public feeling, the machine cannot be taught anything it does not know -except at the cost of annihilation. - -But the Philadelphia machine-leaders know their business. As I said in -“Tweed Days in St. Louis,” the politicians will learn, if the people -won’t, from exposure and reform. The Pennsylvania bosses learned the -“uses of reform”; we have seen Quay applying it to discipline McManes, -and he since has turned reformer himself, to punish local bosses. The -bosses have learned also the danger of combination between citizens and -the Democrats. To prevent this, Quay and his friends have spread -sedulously the doctrine of “reform within the party,” and, from the -Committee of One Hundred on, the reformers have stuck pretty faithfully -to this principle. But lest the citizens should commit such a sin -against their party, Martin formed a permanent combination of the -Democratic with the Republican organization, using to that end a goodly -share of the Federal and county patronage. Thus the people of -Philadelphia were “fixed” so that they couldn’t vote if they wanted to, -and if they should want to, they couldn’t vote for a Democrat, except of -Republican or independent choosing. In other words, having taken away -their ballot, the bosses took away also the choice of parties. - -But the greatest lesson learned and applied was that of conciliation and -“good government.” The people must not want to vote or rebel against the -ring. This ring, like any other, was formed for the exploitation of the -city for private profit, and the cementing force is the “cohesive power -of public plunder.” But McManes and Tweed had proved that miscellaneous -larceny was dangerous, and why should a lot of cheap politicians get so -much and the people nothing at all? The people had been taught to expect -but little from their rulers: good water, good light, clean streets well -paved, fair transportation, the decent repression of vice, public order -and public safety, and no scandalous or open corruption, would more than -satisfy them. It would be good business and good politics to give them -these things. Like Chris Magee, who studied out the problem with him, -Martin took away from the rank and file of the party and from the ward -leaders and office holders the privilege of theft, and he formed -companies and groups to handle the legitimate public business of the -city. It was all graft, but it was to be all lawful, and, in the main, -it was. Public franchises, public works, and public contracts were the -principal branches of the business, and Martin adopted the dual boss -idea, which we have seen worked out by Magee and Flinn in Pittsburg. In -Philadelphia it was Martin and Porter, and just as Flinn had a firm, -Booth & Flinn, Ltd., so Porter was Filbert and Porter. - -Filbert and Porter got all the public contracts they could handle, and -the rest went to other contractors friendly to them and to the ring. -Sometimes the preferred contractor was the lowest bidder, but he did not -have to be. The law allowed awards to be the “lowest and best,” and the -courts held that this gave the officials discretion. But since public -criticism was to be considered, the ring, to keep up appearances, -resorted to many tricks. One was to have fake bids made above the -favorite. Another was to have the favorite bid high, but set an -impossible time limit; the department of the city councils could extend -the time afterwards. Still another was to arrange for specifications -which would make outsiders bid high, then either openly alter the plans -or let the ring firm perform work not up to requirements. - -Many of Martin’s deals and jobs were scandals, but they were safe; they -were in the direction of public service; and the great mass of the -business was done quietly. Moreover, the public was getting something -for its money,—not full value, but a good percentage. In other words, -there was a limit to the “rake-off,” and some insiders have told me that -it had been laid down as a principle with the ring that the people -should have in value (that is, in work or benefit, including a fair -profit) ninety-five cents out of every dollar. In some of the deals I -have investigated, the “rake-off” over and above profit was as high as -twenty-five per cent. Still, even at this, there was “a limit,” and the -public was getting, as one of the leaders told me, “a run for its -money.” Cynical as it all sounds, this view is taken by many -Philadelphians almost if not quite as intelligent as my college -professor. - -But there was another element in the policy of conciliation which is a -potent factor in the contentment of Philadelphia, and I regard it as the -key to that “apathy” which has made the community notorious. We have -seen how Quay had with him the Federal resources and those of the State, -and the State ring, and we have seen how Martin, having the city, mayor, -and councils, won over the Democratic city leaders. Here they had under -pay in office at least 15,000 men and women. But each of these 15,000 -persons was selected for office because he could deliver votes, either -by organizations, by parties, or by families. These must represent -pretty near a majority of the city’s voters. But this is by no means the -end of the ring’s reach. In the State ring are the great corporations, -the Standard Oil Company, Cramp’s Shipyard, and the steel companies, -with the Pennsylvania Railroad at their head, and all the local -transportation and other public utility companies following after. They -get franchises, privileges, exemptions, etc.; they have helped finance -Quay through deals: the Pennsylvania paid Martin, Quay said once, a -large yearly salary; the Cramps get contracts to build United States -ships, and for years have been begging for a subsidy on home-made ships. -The officers, directors, and stockholders of these companies, with their -friends, their bankers, and their employees, are of the organization. -Better still, one of the local bosses of Philadelphia told me he could -always give a worker a job with these companies, just as he could in a -city department, or in the mint, or post-office. Then there are the -bankers who enjoy, or may some day enjoy, public deposits; those that -profit on loans to finance political financial deals; the promoting -capitalists who share with the bosses on franchises; and the brokers who -deal in ring securities and speculate upon ring tips. Through the -exchange the ring financiers reach the investing public, which is a -large and influential body. The traction companies, which bought their -way from beginning to end by corruption, which have always been in the -ring, and whose financiers have usually shared in other big ring deals, -adopted early the policy of bribing the people with “small blocks of -stock.” Dr. Frederick Speirs, in his “The Street Railway System of -Philadelphia,” came upon transactions which “indicate clearly that it is -the policy of the Union Company to get the securities into the hands of -a large number of small holders, the plain inference being that a wide -distribution of securities will fortify the company against possible -attacks by the public.” In 1895 he found a director saying: “Our critics -have engaged the Academy of Music, and are to call an assemblage of -people opposed to the street railways as now managed. It would take -eight Academies of Music to hold the stockholders of the Union Traction -Company.” - -But we are not yet through. Quay has made a specialty all his life of -reformers, and he and his local bosses have won over so many that the -list of former reformers is very, very long. Martin drove down his roots -through race and religion, too. Philadelphia was one of the hot-beds of -“know-nothingism.” Martin recognized the Catholic, and the Irish-Irish, -and so drew off into the Republican party the great natural supply of -the Democrats; and his successors have given high places to -representative Jews. “Surely this isn’t corruption!” No, and neither is -that corruption which makes the heads of great educational and charity -institutions “go along,” as they say in Pennsylvania, in order to get -appropriations for their institutions from the State and land from the -city. They know what is going on, but they do not join reform movements. -The provost of the University of Pennsylvania declined to join in a -revolt because, he said, it might impair his usefulness to the -University. And so it is with others, and with clergymen who have -favorite charities; with Sabbath associations and City Beautiful clubs; -with lawyers who want briefs; with real estate dealers who like to know -in advance about public improvements, and real estate owners who -appreciate light assessments; with shop-keepers who don’t want to be -bothered with strict inspections. - -If there is no other hold for the ring on a man there always is the -protective tariff. “I don’t care,” said a manufacturer. “What if they do -plunder and rob us, it can’t hurt me unless they raise the tax rates, -and even that won’t ruin me. Our party keeps up the tariff. If they -should reduce that, my business would be ruined.” - -Such, then, are the ramifications of this machine, such is its strength. -No wonder Martin could break his own rules, as he did, and commit -excesses. Philadelphia is not merely corrupt, it is corrupted. Martin’s -doom was proclaimed not in Philadelphia, but in the United States -Senate, and his offense was none of this business of his, but his -failure to nominate as successor to Mayor Stuart the man, Boise Penrose, -whom Matt Quay chose for that place. Martin had consented, but at the -last moment he ordered the nomination of Charles F. Warwick instead. The -day that happened Mr. Quay arose on the floor of the Senate and, in a -speech so irrelevant to the measure under consideration that nobody out -of Pennsylvania understood it, said that there was in his town a man who -had given as his reason for not doing what he had promised to do, the -excuse that he was “under a heavy salary from a great corporation (the -Pennsylvania Railroad) and was compelled to do what the corporation -wished him to do. And,” added Senator Quay, “men in such a position with -high power for good or evil ought ... to go about ... with the dollar -mark of the corporation on their foreheads.” Quay named an the new boss -Israel W. Durham, a ward leader under Martin. - -Martin having the city through Mayor Warwick fought Quay in the State, -with Chris Magee for an ally, but Quay beat them both there, and then -prepared to beat them in their own cities. His cry was Reform, and he -soon had the people shouting for it. - -Quay responded with a Legislative committee to investigate abuses in the -cities, but this so-called “Lexow” was called off before it amounted to -much more than a momentary embarrassment to Martin. Martin’s friends, on -the other hand, caught Quay and nearly sent him to prison. The People’s -Bank, James McManes, president, failed. The cashier, John S. Hopkins, -had been speculating and letting Quay and other politicians have bank -funds without collateral for stock gambling. In return Quay and the -State Treasurer left heavy State deposits with the bank. Hopkins lost -his nerve and shot himself. McManes happened to call in friends of -Martin to advise him, and these suggested a Martin man for receiver. -They found among the items money lent to Quay without security, except -the State funds, and telegrams asking Hopkins to buy “1000 Met” -(Metropolitan) and promising in return to “shake the plum tree.” Quay, -his son, Richard R., and Benjamin J. Haywood, the State Treasurer, were -indicted for conspiracy, and every effort was made to have the trial -precede the next election for the Legislature which was to elect a -successor to Quay in the United States Senate; but Quay got stays and -postponements in the hopes that a more friendly District Attorney could -be put in that office. Martin secured the election of Peter F. -Rothermel, who was eager to try the case, and Quay had to depend on -other resources. The trial came in due course, and failed; Judge Biddle -ruled out the essential evidence on the ground that it was excluded by -the statute of limitation. Rothermel went on with the trial, but it was -hopeless; Quay was acquitted and the other cases were abandoned. - -Popular feeling was excited by this exposure of Quay, but there was no -action till the factional fighting suggested a use for it. Quay had -refused the second United States Senatorship to John Wanamaker, and -Wanamaker led through the State and in Philadelphia a fight against the -boss, which has never ceased. It took the form of a reform campaign, and -Quay’s methods were made plain, but the boss beat Wanamaker at every -point, had Penrose made Senator, and through Penrose and Durham was -gradually getting possession of Philadelphia. The final triumph came -with the election of Samuel H. Ashbridge as mayor. - -“Stars-and-Stripes Sam,” as Ashbridge is sometimes called, was a -speech-maker and a “joiner.” That is to say, he made a practice of going -to lodges, associations, brotherhoods, Sunday-schools, and all sorts of -public and private meetings, joining some, but making at all speeches -patriotic and sentimental. He was very popular. Under the Bullitt Law, -as I have said, all that is necessary to a good administration and -complete, though temporary reform, is a good mayor. The politicians feel -that they must nominate a man in whom the people as well as themselves -have faith. They had had faith in Warwick, both the ring and the people, -and Warwick had found it impossible to satisfy two such masters. Now -they put their faith in Ashbridge, and so did Durham, and so did Martin. -All interests accepted him, therefore, and all watched him with hope and -more or less assurance; none more than the good people. And, indeed, no -man could have promised more or better public service than Ashbridge. -The result, however, was distracting. - -Mr. Ashbridge “threw down” Martin, and he recognized Quay’s man, “Is” -Durham, as the political boss. Durham is a high type of boss, candid, -but of few words; generous, but businesslike; complete master of -himself, and a genius at organization. For Pennsylvania politics he is a -conservative leader, and there would have been no excesses under him, as -there have been few “rows.” But Mr. Durham has not been the master of -the Philadelphia situation. He bowed to Quay, and he could not hold -Ashbridge. Philadelphians say that if it should come to a fight, Durham -could beat Quay in Philadelphia, but it doesn’t come to a fight. Another -thing Philadelphians say is that he “keeps his word,” yet he broke it -(with notice) when Quay asked him to stand for Pennypacker for Governor. -As I said before, however, Philadelphia is so constituted that it -apparently cannot have self-government, not even its own boss, so that -the allegiance paid to Quay is comprehensible. But the submission of the -boss to the mayor was extraordinary, and it seemed to some sagacious -politicians dangerous. - -For Mr. Ashbridge broke through all the principles of moderate grafting -developed by Martin. Durham formed his ring—taking in James P. McNichol -as co-ruler and preferred contractor; John M. Mack as promoter and -financier; and he widened the inside circle to include more individuals. -But while he was more liberal toward his leaders, and not inclined “to -grab off everything for himself,” as one leader told me, he maintained -the principle of concentration and strict control as good politics and -good business. So, too, he adopted Martin’s programme of public -improvements, the filtration, boulevards, etc., and he added to it. When -Ashbridge was well settled in office, these schemes were all started, -and the mayor pushed them with a will. According to the “Philadelphia -Plan,” the mayor should not be in the ring. He should be an ambitious -man, and his reward promotion, not riches. If he is “out for the stuff,” -he is likely to be hurried by the fretful thought that his term is -limited to four years, and since he cannot succeed himself as mayor, his -interest in the future of the machine is less than that of a boss, who -goes on forever. - -When he was nominated, Ashbridge had debts of record amounting to some -$40,000. Before he was elected these were satisfied. Soon after he took -office he declared himself to former Postmaster Thomas L. Hicks. Here is -Mr. Hicks’s account of the incident: - -“At one of the early interviews I had with the mayor in his office, he -said to me: ‘Tom, I have been elected mayor of Philadelphia. I have four -years to serve. I have no further ambitions. I want no other office when -I am out of this one, and I shall get out of this office all there is in -it for Samuel H. Ashbridge.’ - -“I remarked that this was a very foolish thing to say. ‘Think how that -could be construed,’ I said. - -“‘I don’t care anything about that,’ he declared. ‘I mean to get out of -this office everything there is in it for Samuel H. Ashbridge.’” - -When he retired from office last April, he became the president of a -bank, and was reputed to be rich. Here is the summary published by the -Municipal League at the close of his labors: - -“The four years of the Ashbridge administration have passed into -history, leaving behind them a scar on the fame and reputation of our -city which will be a long time healing. Never before, and let us hope -never again, will there be such brazen defiance of public opinion, such -flagrant disregard of public interest, such abuse of powers and -responsibilities for private ends. These are not generalizations, but -each statement can be abundantly proved by numerous instances.” - -These “numerous instances” are notorious in Philadelphia; some of them -were reported all over the country. One of them was the attempted -intimidation of John Wanamaker. Thomas B. Wanamaker, John Wanamaker’s -son, bought the _North American_, a newspaper which had been, and still -is, exposing the abuses and corruption of the political ring. Abraham L. -English, Mr. Ashbridge’s Director of the Department of Public Safety, -called on Mr. John Wanamaker, said he had been having him watched, and -was finally in a position to demand that the newspaper stop the attacks. -The merchant exposed the whole thing, and a committee appointed to -investigate reported that: “Mr. English has practically admitted that he -attempted to intimidate a reputable citizen and unlawfully threatened -him in an effort to silence criticism of a public newspaper; that from -the mayor’s refusal to order an investigation of the conduct of Mr. -English on the request of a town meeting of representative citizens, the -community is justified in regarding him as aiding and abetting Mr. -English in the corrupt act committed, and that the mayor is therefore to -be equally censured by the community.” - -The other “instances of brazen abuse of power” were the increase of -protected vice—the importation from New York of the “white slavery -system of prostitution,” the growth of “speak-easies,” and the spread of -gambling and of policy-playing until it took in the school children. -This last the _North American_ exposed, but in vain till it named police -officers who had refused when asked to interfere. Then a judge summoned -the editors and reporters of the paper, the mayor, Director English, -school children, and police officers to appear before him. The mayor’s -personal attorney spoke for the police during the inquiry, and it looked -black for the newspaper till the children began to tell their stories. -When the hearing was over the judge said: - -“The evidence shows conclusively that our public school system in this -city is in danger of being corrupted at its fountain; that in one of the -schools over a hundred and fifty children were buyers of policy, as were -also a large number of scholars in other schools. It was first -discovered about eighteen months ago, and for about one year has been in -full operation.” The police officers were not punished, however. - -That corruption had reached the public schools and was spreading rapidly -through the system, was discovered by the exposure and conviction of -three school directors of the twenty-eighth ward. It was known before -that teachers and principals, like any other office holders, had to have -a “pull” and pay assessments for election expenses. “Voluntary -contributions” was the term used, but over the notices in blue pencil -was written “2 per cent.,” and teachers who asked directors and ward -bosses what to do, were advised that they would “better pay.” Those that -sent less than the amount suggested, got receipts: “check received; -shall we hold for balance or enter on account?” But the exposure in the -twenty-eighth ward brought it home to the parents of the children that -the teachers were not chosen for fitness, but for political reasons, and -that the political reasons had become cash. - -Miss Rena A. Haydock testified as follows: “I went to see Mr. Travis, -who was a friend of mine, in reference to getting a teacher’s -certificate. He advised me to see all of the directors, especially Mr. -Brown. They told me that it would be necessary for me to pay $120 to get -the place. They told me of one girl who had offered $250, and her -application had been rejected. That was before they broached the subject -of money to me. I said that I didn’t have $120 to pay, and they replied -that it was customary for teachers to pay $40 a month out of their first -three months’ salary. The salary was $47. They told me they didn’t want -the money for themselves, but that it was necessary to buy the other -faction. Finally I agreed to the proposition, and they told me that I -must be careful not to mention it to anybody or it would injure my -reputation. I went with my brother to pay the money to Mr. Johnson. He -held out a hat, and when my brother handed the money to him he took it -behind the hat.” - -The regular business of the ring was like that of Pittsburg, but more -extensive. I have space only for one incident of one phase of it: -Widener and Elkins, the national franchise buyers, are Philadelphians, -and they were in the old Martin ring. They had combined all the street -railways of the city before 1900, and they were withdrawing from -politics, with their traction system. But the Pennsylvania rings will -not let corporations that have risen in corruption reform and retire, -and, besides, it was charged that in the Martin-Quay fight, the street -railways had put up money to beat Quay for the United States Senate. At -any rate, plans were laid to “mace” the street railways. - -“Macing” is a form of high blackmail. When they have sold out all they -have, the politicians form a competing company and compel the old -concern to buy out or sell out. While Widener and Elkins were at sea, -bound for Europe, in 1901, the Philadelphia ring went to the Legislature -and had introduced there two bills, granting a charter to practically -all the streets and alleys not covered by tracks in Philadelphia, and to -run short stretches of the old companies’ tracks to make connections. -Clinton Rogers Woodruff, who was an Assemblyman, has told the story. -Without notice the bills were introduced at 3 P. M. on Monday, May 29; -they were reported from committee in five minutes; by 8.50 P. M. they -were printed and on the members’ desk, and by 9 P. M. were passed on -first reading. The bills passed second reading the next day, Memorial -Day, and on the third day were passed from the Senate to the House, -where they were “jammed through” with similar haste and worse trickery. -In six legislative days the measures were before Governor Stone, who -signed them June 7, at midnight, in the presence of Quay, Penrose, -Congressman Foerderer, Mayor Ashbridge’s banker, James P. McNichol, John -M. Mack and other capitalists and politicians. Under the laws, one -hundred charters were applied for the next morning—thirteen for -Philadelphia. The charters were granted on June 5, and that same day a -special meeting of the Philadelphia Select Council was called for -Monday. There the citizens of Philadelphia met the oncoming charters, -but their hearing was brief. The charters went through without a hitch, -and were sent to Mayor Ashbridge on June 13. - -The mayor’s secretary stated authoritatively in the morning that the -mayor would not sign that day. But he did. An unexpected incident forced -his hand. John Wanamaker sent him an offer of $2,500,000 for the -franchises about to be given away. Ashbridge threw the letter into the -street unread. Mr. Wanamaker had deposited $250,000 as a guarantee of -good faith and his action was becoming known. The ordinances were signed -by midnight, and the city lost at least two and one-half millions of -dollars; but the ring made it and much more. When Mr. Wanamaker’s letter -was published, Congressman Foerderer, an incorporator of the company, -answered for the machine. He said the offer was an advertisement; that -it was late, and that they were sorry they hadn’t had a chance to “call -the bluff.” Mr. Wanamaker responded with a renewal of the offer of -$2,500,000 to the city, and, he said, “I will add $500,000 as a bonus to -yourself and your associates personally for the conveyance of the grants -and corporate privileges you now possess.” That ended the controversy. - -But the deal went on. Two more bills, called “Trolley Chasers,” were put -through, to finish off the legislation, too hurriedly done to be -perfect. One was to give the company the right to build either elevated -or underground, or both; the second to forbid all further such grants -without a hearing before a board consisting of the Governor, the -Secretary of the Commonwealth, and the Attorney-General. With all these -franchises and exclusive privileges, the new company made the old one -lease their plant in operation to the company which had nothing but -“rights,” or, in Pennsylvania slang, a “good, husky mace.” - -Ashbridgeism put Philadelphia and the Philadelphia machine to a test -which candid ring leaders did not think it would stand. What did the -Philadelphians do? Nothing. They have their reformers: they have men -like Francis B. Reeves, who fought with every straight reform movement -from the days of the Committee of One Hundred; they have men like -Rudolph Blankenburg, who have fought with every reform that promised any -kind of relief; there are the Municipal League, with an organization by -wards, the Citizens’ Municipal League, the Allied Reform League, and the -Law and Order Society; there are young men and veterans; there are -disappointed politicians and ambitious men who are not advanced fast -enough by the machine. There is discontent in a good many hearts, and -some men are ashamed. But “the people” won’t follow. One would think the -Philadelphians would follow any leader; what should they care whether he -is pure white or only gray? But they do care. “The people” seem to -prefer to be ruled by a known thief than an ambitious reformer. They -will make you convict their Tweeds, McManeses, Butlers, and Shepherds, -and even then they may forgive them and talk of monuments to their -precious memory, but they take delight in the defeat of John Wanamaker -because they suspect that he is a hypocrite and wants to go to the -United States Senate. - -All the stout-hearted reformers had made a campaign to re-elect -Rothermel, the District Attorney who had dared to try Quay. Surely there -was an official to support! But no, Quay was against him. The reformers -used money, some $250,000, I believe,—fighting the devil with fire,—but -the machine used more money, $700,000, from the teachers, -“speak-easies,” office holders, bankers, and corporations. The machine -handled the ballots. Rothermel was beaten by John Weaver. There have -been other campaigns, before and since, led by the Municipal League, -which is managed with political sense, but each successive defeat was by -a larger majority for the machine. - -There is no check upon this machine excepting the chance of a mistake, -the imminent fear of treachery, and the remote danger of revolt. To meet -this last, the machine, as a State organization, has set about -throttling public criticism. Ashbridge found that blackmail was -ineffective. Durham, Quay, and Governor Pennypacker have passed a libel -law which meant to muzzle the press. The Governor was actuated -apparently only by his sufferings from cartoons and comments during his -campaign; the Philadelphia ring has boodling plans ahead which exposure -might make exasperating to the people. The Philadelphia _Press_, the -leading Republican organ in the State, puts it right: “The Governor -wanted it [the law] in the hope of escaping from the unescapable -cartoon. The gang wanted it in hope of muzzling the opposition to -jobs.... The act is distinctly designed to gag the press in the interest -of the plunderers and against the interest of the people.” - -Disfranchised, without a choice of parties; denied, so the Municipal -League declares, the ancient right of petition; and now to lose “free -speech,”—is there no hope for Philadelphia? Yes, the Philadelphians have -a very present hope. It is in their new mayor, John Weaver. There is -nothing in his record to inspire faith in an outsider. He speaks himself -of two notorious “miscarriages of justice” during his term as District -Attorney; he was the nominee of the ring; and the ring men have -confidence in him. But so have the people, and Mr. Weaver makes fair -promises. So did Ashbridge. There is this difference, however: Mr. -Weaver has made a good start. He compromised with the machine on his -appointments, but he declared against the protection of vice, for free -voting, and he stopped some “wholesale grabs” or “maces” that appeared -in the Legislature, just before he took office. - -One was a bill to enable (ring) companies to “appropriate, take, and use -all water within this commonwealth and belonging either to public or to -private persons as it may require for its private purposes.” This was a -scheme to sell out the water works of Philadelphia, and all other such -plants in the State. Another bill was to open the way to a seizure of -the light and power of the city and of the State. Martin and Warwick -“leased” the city gas works. Durham and his crowd wanted a whack at it. -“It shall be lawful,” the bill read, “for any city, town, or borough -owning any gas works or electric light plant for supplying light, heat, -and power, to sell, lease, or otherwise dispose of the same to -individuals or corporations, and in order to obtain the best possible -returns therefor, such municipal body may ... vest in the lessees or -purchasers the exclusive right, both as against such municipal -corporations and against any and all other persons and corporations, to -supply gas or electricity....” As in St. Louis, the public property of -the city is to be sold off. These schemes are to go through later, I am -told, but on Mr. Weaver’s declarations that he would not “stand for -them,” they were laid over. - -It looks as if the Philadelphians were right about Mr. Weaver, but what -if they are? Think of a city putting its whole faith in one man, in the -_hope_ that John Weaver, an Englishman by birth, will _give_ them good -government! And why should he do that? Why should he serve the people -and not the ring? The ring can make or break him; the people of -Philadelphia can neither reward nor punish him. For even if he restores -to them their ballots and proves himself a good mayor, he cannot succeed -himself; the good charter forbids more than one term. - - - - - CHICAGO: HALF FREE AND FIGHTING ON - - - (_October, 1903_) - -While these articles on municipal corruption were appearing, readers of -them were writing to the magazine asking what they, as citizens, were to -do about it all. As if I knew; as if “we” knew; as if there were any one -way to deal with this problem in all places under any circumstances. -There isn’t, and if I had gone around with a ready-made reform scheme in -the back of my head, it would have served only to keep me from seeing -straight the facts that would not support my theory. The only editorial -scheme we had was to study a few choice examples of bad city government -and tell how the bad was accomplished, then seek out, here and abroad, -some typical good governments and explain how the good was done;—not how -to do it, mind you, but how it had been done. Though the bad government -series was not yet complete, since so many good men apparently want to -go to work right off, it was decided to pause for an instance on the -reform side. I have chosen the best I have found. Political grafters -have been cheerful enough to tell me they have “got lots of pointers” -from the corruption articles. I trust the reformers will pick up some -“pointers” from—Chicago. - -Yes, Chicago. First in violence, deepest in dirt; loud, lawless, -unlovely, ill-smelling, irreverent, new; an overgrown gawk of a village, -the “tough” among cities, a spectacle for the nation;—I give Chicago no -quarter and Chicago asks for none. “Good,” they cheer, when you find -fault; “give us the gaff. We deserve it and it does us good.” They do -deserve it. Lying low beside a great lake of pure, cold water, the city -has neither enough nor good enough water. With the ingenuity and will to -turn their sewer, the Chicago River, and make it run backwards and -upwards out of the Lake, the city cannot solve the smoke nuisance. With -resources for a magnificent system of public parking, it is too poor to -pave and clean the streets. They can balance high buildings on rafts -floating in mud, but they can’t quench the stench of the stockyards. The -enterprise which carried through a World’s Fair to a world’s triumph is -satisfied with two thousand five hundred policemen for two million -inhabitants and one hundred and ninety-six square miles of territory, a -force so insufficient (and inefficient) that it cannot protect itself, -to say nothing of handling mobs, riotous strikers, and the rest of that -lawlessness which disgraces Chicago. Though the city has an extra-legal -system of controlling vice and crime, which is so effective that the -mayor has been able to stop any practices against which he has turned -his face—the “panel game,” the “hat game,” “wine rooms,” “safe -blowing”;—though gambling is limited, regulated, and fair, and -prostitution orderly; though, in short, through the power of certain -political and criminal leaders—the mayor has been able to make Chicago, -criminally speaking, “honest”—burglary and cruel hold-ups are tolerated. -As government, all this is preposterous. - -But I do not cite Chicago as an example of good municipal government, -nor yet of good American municipal government; New York has, for the -moment, a much better administration. But neither is Chicago a good -example of bad government. There is grafting there, but after St. Louis -it seems petty and after Philadelphia most unprofessional. Chicago is -interesting for the things it has “fixed.” What is wrong there is -ridiculous. Politically and morally speaking, Chicago should be -celebrated among American cities for reform, real reform, not moral fits -and political uprisings, not reform waves that wash the “best people” -into office to make fools of themselves and subside leaving the machine -stronger than ever,—none of these aristocratic disappointments of -popular government,—but reform that reforms, slow, sure, political, -democratic reform, by the people, for the people. That is what Chicago -has. It has found a way. I don’t know that it is _the_ way. All that I -am sure of is that Chicago has something to teach every city and town in -the country—including Chicago. - -For Chicago is reformed only in spots. A political map of the city would -show a central circle of white with a few white dots and dashes on a -background of black, gray, and yellow. But the city once was pretty -solid black. Criminally it was wide open; commercially it was brazen; -socially it was thoughtless and raw; it was a settlement of individuals -and groups and interests with no common city sense and no political -conscience. Everybody was for himself, none was for Chicago. There were -political parties, but the organizations were controlled by rings, which -in turn were parts of State rings, which in turn were backed and used by -leading business interests through which this corrupt and corrupting -system reached with its ramifications far and high and low into the -social organization. The grafting was miscellaneous and very general; -but the most open corruption was that which centered in the City -Council. It never was well organized and orderly. The aldermen had -“combines,” leaders, and prices, but, a lot of good-natured honest -thieves, they were independent of party bosses and “the organizations,” -which were busy at their own graft. They were so unbusinesslike that -business men went into the City Council to reduce the festival of -blackmail to decent and systematic bribery. These men helped matters -some, but the happy-go-lucky spirit persisted until the advent of -Charles T. Yerkes from Philadelphia, who, with his large experience of -Pennsylvania methods, first made boodling a serious business. He had to -go right into politics himself to get anything done. But he did get -things done. The aldermanic combine was fast selling out the city to its -“best citizens,” when some decent men spoke up and called upon the -people to stop it, the people who alone can stop such things. - -And the people of Chicago stopped it; they have beaten boodling. That is -about all they have done so far, but that is about all they have tried -deliberately and systematically to do, and the way they have done that -proves that they can do anything they set out to do. They worry about -the rest; half free, they are not half satisfied and not half done. But -boodling, with its backing of “big men” and “big interests,” is the -hardest evil a democracy has to fight, and a people who can beat it can -beat anything. - -Every community, city, town, village, State—the United States itself—has -a certain number of men who are willing, if it doesn’t cost anything, to -vote right. They don’t want to “hurt their business”; they “can’t afford -the time to go to the primaries”; they don’t care to think much. But -they will vote. This may not be much, but it is enough. All that this -independent, non-partisan vote wants is leadership, and that is what the -Chicago reformers furnished. - -They had no such definite idea when they began. They had no theory at -all—nothing but wrath, experience, common Chicago sense, and newspapers -ready to back reform, not for the news, but for the common good. -Theories they had tried; and exposures, celebrated trials, even some -convictions of boodlers. They had gone in for a civil-service reform -law, and, by the way, they got a good one, probably the best in any city -in the country. But exposés are good only for one election; court trials -may punish individuals, but even convictions do not break up a corrupt -system; and a “reform law” without reform citizenship is like a ship -without a crew. With all their “reforms,” bad government persisted. -There was that bear garden—the City Council; something ought to be done -to that. Men like William Kent, John H. Hamline, W. R. Manierre, A. W. -Maltby, and James R. Mann had gone in there from their “respectable” -wards, and their presence proved that they could get there; their -speeches were public protests, and their votes, “no,” “no,” “no,” were -plain indicators of wrong. But all this was not enough. The Civic -Federation, a respectable but inefficient universal reforming -association, met without plans in 1895. It called together two hundred -representative men, with Lyman J. Gage at their head, to “do something.” -The two hundred appointed a committee of fifteen to “find something to -do.” One of the fifteen drew forth a fully drawn plan for a new -municipal party, the old, old scheme. “That won’t do,” said Edwin -Burritt Smith to Mr. Gage, who sat beside him. “No, that won’t do,” said -Gage. But they didn’t know what to do. To gain time Mr. Smith moved a -sub-committee. The sub-committee reported back to the fifteen, the -fifteen to the two hundred. And so, as Mr. Smith said, they “fumbled.” - -But notice what they didn’t do. Fumblers as they were, they didn’t talk -of more exposures. “Heavens, we know enough,” said one. They didn’t go -to the Legislature for a new charter. They needed one, they need one -to-day, and badly, too, but the men who didn’t know what, but did know -what not to do, wouldn’t let them commit the folly of asking one corrupt -legislature to legislate another corrupt legislature out of existence. -And they didn’t wait till the next mayoralty election to elect a -“business mayor” who should give them good government. - -They were bound to accept the situation just as it was—the laws, the -conditions, the political circumstances, all exactly as they were—and, -just as a politician would, go into the next fight whatever it was and -fight. All they needed was a fighter. So it was moved to find a man, one -man, and let this man find eight other men, who should organize the -“Municipal Voters’ League.” There were no instructions; the very name -was chosen because it meant nothing and might mean anything. - -But the man! That was the problem. There were men, a few, but the one -man is always hard to find. There was William Kent, rich, young, afraid -of nothing and always ready, but he was an alderman, and the wise ones -declared that the Nine must not only be disinterested, but must appear -so. William Kent wouldn’t do. Others were suggested; none that would do. - -“How about George E. Cole?” - -“Just the man,” said Mr. Gage, and all knew the thought was an -inspiration. - -George E. Cole described himself to me as a “second-class business man.” -Standing about five feet high, he knows he is no taller; but he knows -that that is tall enough. Cole is a fighter. Nobody discovered it, -perhaps, till he was past his fiftieth year. Then one Martin B. Madden -found it out. Madden, a prominent citizen, president of the Western -Stone Company, and a man of tremendous political power, was one of the -business men who went into the Council to bring order out of the chaos -of corruption. He was a Yerkes leader. Madden lived in Cole’s ward. His -house was in sight of Cole’s house. “The sight of it made me hot,” said -Cole, “for I knew what it represented.” Cole had set out to defeat -Madden, and he made a campaign which attracted the attention of the -whole town. Madden was re-elected, but Cole had proved himself, and that -was what made Lyman J. Gage say that Cole was “just the man.” - -“You come to me as a Hobson’s choice,” said Mr. Cole to the committee, -“as a sort of forlorn hope. All right,” he added, “as a last chance, -I’ll take it.” - -Cole went out to make up the Nine. He chose William H. Colvin, a wealthy -business man, retired; Edwin Burritt Smith, publicist and lawyer; M. J. -Carroll, ex-labor leader, ex-typesetter, an editorial writer on a trade -journal; Frank Wells, a well-known real estate man; R. R. Donnelly, the -head of one of the greatest printing establishments in the city; and -Hoyt King, a young lawyer who turned out to be a natural investigator. -These made, with Cole himself, only seven, but he had the help and -counsel of Kent, Allen B. Pond, the architect, Judge Murray F. Tuley, -Francis Lackner, and Graham Taylor. “We were just a few commonplace, -ordinary men,” said one of them to me, “and there is your encouragement -for other commonplace, ordinary men.” These men were selected for what -they could do, however, not for what they “represented.” The One -Hundred, which the Nine were to complete, was to do the representing. -But the One Hundred never was completed, and the ward committee, a -feature of the first campaign, was abandoned later on. “The boss and the -ring” was the model of the Nine, only they did not know it. They were -not thinking of principles and methods. Work was their instinct and the -fighting has always been thick. The next election was to be held in -April, and by the time they were ready February was half over. Since it -was to be an election of aldermen, they went right out after the -aldermen. There were sixty-eight in all—fifty-seven of them “thieves,” -as the League reported promptly and plainly. Of the sixty-eight, the -terms of thirty-four were expiring, and these all were likely to come up -for re-election. - -The thing to do was to beat the rascals. But how? Mr. Cole and his -committee were pioneers; they had to blaze the way, and, without plans, -they set about it directly. Seeking votes, and honest votes, with no -organization to depend upon, they had to have publicity. “We had first -to let people know we were there,” said Cole, so he stepped “out into -the lime-light” and, with his short legs apart, his weak eyes blinking, -he talked. The League was out to beat the boodlers up for re-election, -he said, with much picturesque English. Now Chicago is willing to have -anybody try to do anything worth while in Chicago; no matter who you are -or where you come from, Chicago will give you a cheer and a first boost. -When, therefore, George E. Cole stood up and said he and a quiet little -committee were going to beat some politicians at the game of politics, -the good-natured town said: “All right, go ahead and beat ‘em; but how?” -Cole was ready with his answer. “We’re going to publish the records of -the thieves who want to get back at the trough.” Alderman Kent and his -decent colleagues produced the records of their indecent colleagues, and -the League announced that of the thirty-four retiring aldermen, -twenty-six were rogues. Hoyt King and a staff of briefless young lawyers -looked up ward records, and “these also we will publish,” said Cole. And -they did; the Chicago newspapers, long on the right side and ever ready, -printed them, and they were “mighty interesting reading.” Edwin Burritt -Smith stated the facts; Cole added “ginger,” and Kent “pepper and salt -and vinegar.” They soon had publicity. Some of the committee shrank from -the worst of it, but Cole stood out and took it. He became a character -in the town. He was photographed and caricatured; he was “Boss Cole” and -“Old King Cole,” but all was grist to this reform mill. Some of the -retiring aldermen retired at once. Others were retired. If information -turned up by Hoyt King was too private for publication, the committee -was, and is to-day, capable of sending for the candidate and advising -him to get off the ticket. This was called “blackmail,” and I will call -it that, if the word will help anybody to appreciate how hard these -reform politicians played and play the game. - -While they were talking, however, they were working, and their work was -done in the wards. Each ward was separately studied, the politics of -each was separately understood, and separately each ward was fought. -Declaring only for “aggressive honesty” at first, not competence, they -did not stick even to that. They wanted to beat the rascals that were -in, and, if necessary, if they couldn’t hope to elect an honest man, -they helped a likely rascal to beat the rascal that was in and known. -They drew up a pledge of loyalty to public interest, but they didn’t -insist on it in some cases. Like the politicians, they were -opportunists. Like the politicians, too, they were non-partisans. They -played off one party against another, or, if the two organizations hung -together, they put up an independent. They broke many a cherished reform -principle, but few rules of practical politics. Thus, while they had -some of their own sort of men nominated, they did not attempt, they did -not think of running “respectable” or “business” candidates as such. -Neither were they afraid to dicker with ward leaders and “corrupt -politicians.” They went down into the ward, urged the minority -organization leader to name a “good man,” on promise of independent -support, then campaigned against the majority nominee with circulars, -house-to-house canvassers, mass-meetings, bands, speakers, and parades. -I should say that the basic unstated principle of this reform movement, -struck out early in the practice of the Nine, was to let the politicians -rule, but through better and better men whom the Nine forced upon them -with public opinion. But again I want to emphasize the fact that they -had no finespun theories and no definite principles beyond that of being -always for the best available man. They were with the Democrats in one -ward, with the Republicans in another, but in none were they respecters -of persons. - -Right here appeared that insidious influence which we have seen -defeating or opposing reform in other cities—the interference of -respectable men to save their friends. In the Twenty-second Ward the -Democrats nominated a director (now deceased) of the First National Bank -and a prominent man socially and financially. John Colvin, one of the -“Big Four,” a politician who had gone away rich to Europe and was -returning to go back into politics, also was running. The League -preferred John Maynard Harlan, a son of Justice Harlan, and they elected -him. The bank of which the respectable Democratic candidate was a -director was the bank of which Lyman J. Gage, of the League, was -president. All that the League had against this man was that he was the -proprietor of a house leased for questionable purposes, and his friends, -including Mr. Gage, were highly indignant. Mr. Gage pleaded and -protested. The committee was “sick of pulls” and they made short work of -this most “respectable” pull. They had “turned down” politicians on no -better excuse, and they declared they were not going to overlook in the -friend of their friends what they condemned in some poor devil who had -no friends. - -There were many such cases, then and later; this sort of thing has never -ceased and it never will cease; reform must always “go too far,” if it -is to go at all, for it is up there in the “too far” that corruption has -its source. The League, by meeting it early, and “spotting it,” as Mr. -Cole said, not only discouraged such interference, but fixed its own -character and won public confidence. For everything in those days was -open. The League works more quietly now, but then Cole was talking it -all out, plain to the verge of brutality, forcible to the limit of -language, and honest to utter ruthlessness. He blundered and they all -made mistakes, but their blundering only helped them, for while the -errors were plain errors, the fairness of mind that rejected an Edward -M. Stanwood, for example, was plain too. Stanwood, a respectable -business man, had served as alderman, but his re-election was advised -against by the League because he had “voted with the gang.” A high -public official, three judges, and several other prominent men -interceded on the ground that “in every instance where he is charged -with having voted for a so-called boodle ordinance, it was not done -corruptly, but that he might secure votes for some meritorious measure.” -The League answered in this style: “We regard this defense, which is put -forward with confidence by men of your standing, as painful evidence of -the low standard by which the public conduct of city officials has come -to be measured by good citizens. Do you not know that this is one of the -most insidious and common forms of legislative corruption?” Mr. Stanwood -was defeated. - -The League “made good.” Of the twenty-six outgoing aldermen with bad -records, sixteen were not renominated. Of the ten who were, four were -beaten at the polls. The League’s recommendations were followed in -twenty-five wards; they were disregarded in five; in some wards no fight -was made. - -A victory so extraordinary would have satisfied some reformers. Others -would have been inflated by it and ruined. These men became canny. They -chose this propitious moment to get rid of the committee of One Hundred -respectables. Such a body is all very well to launch a reform, when no -one knows that it is going to do serious work; but, as the Cole -committee had learned, representative men with many interests can be -reached. The little committee incorporated the League, then called -together the big committee, congratulated it, and proposed a -constitution and by-laws which would throw all the work—and all the -power—to the little committee. The little committee was to call on the -big committee only as money or some “really important” help was needed. -The big committee approved, swelled up, adjourned, and that is the last -time it has ever met. - -Thus free of “pulls,” gentlemanly pulls, but pulls just the same, the -“nine” became nine by adding two—Allen B. Pond and Francis Lackner—and -prepared for the next campaign. Their aldermen, the “reform crowd,” in -the City Council were too few to do anything alone, but they could -protest, and they did. They adopted the system of William Kent, which -was to find out what was going on and tell it in Council meetings. - -“If you go on giving away the people’s franchises like this,” Alderman -Harlan would say, “you may wake up some morning to find street lamps are -useful for other purposes than lighting the streets.” Or, “Some night -the citizens, who are watching you, may come down here from the -galleries with pieces of hemp in their hands.” Then he would picture an -imagined scene of the galleries rising and coming down upon the floor. -He made his descriptions so vivid and creepy that they made some -aldermen fidget. “I don’t like dis business all about street lamps and -hemp—vot dot is?” said a German boodler one night. “We don’t come here -for no such a business.” - -“We meant only to make head-lines for the papers,” said one of the -reform aldermen. “If we could keep the attention of the public upon the -Council we could make clear what was going on there, and that would put -meaning into our next campaign. And we certainly did fill the galleries -and the newspapers.” - -As a matter of fact, however, they did much more. They developed in that -year the issue which has dominated Chicago local politics ever since—the -proper compensation to the city for public franchises. These valuable -rights should not be given away, they declared, and they repeated it for -good measures as well as bad. Not only must the city be paid, but public -convenience and interest must be safeguarded. The boodlers boodled and -the franchises went off; the protestation hurried the rotten business; -but even that haste helped the cause. For the sight, week after week, of -the boodle raids by rapacious capital fixed public opinion, and if the -cry raised then for municipal ownership ever becomes a fact in Chicago, -capital can go back to those days and blame itself. - -Most of the early Chicago street railway franchises were limited, -carelessly, to twenty-five years—the first one in 1858. In 1883, when -the earliest franchises might have been terminated, the Council ventured -to pass only a blanket extension for twenty years—till July 30, 1903. -This was well enough for Chicago financiers, but in 1886–87, when Yerkes -appeared, with Widener and Elkins behind him, and bought up the West and -North Side companies, he applied Pennsylvania methods. He pushed bills -through the Legislature, saw them vetoed by Governor Altgeld, set about -having his own Governor next time, and in 1897 got, not all that he -wanted (for the people of Illinois are not like the people of -Pennsylvania), but the Allen bill, which would do—if the Chicago City -Council of 1897 would give it force. - -The Municipal Voters’ League had begun its second campaign in December, -1896, with the publication of the records of the retiring aldermen, the -second half of the old body, and, though this was before the Allen bill -was passed, Yerkes was active, and his men were particularized. As the -campaign progressed the legislation at Springfield gave it point and -local developments gave it breadth. It was a mayoralty year, and -Alderman John Maynard Harlan had himself nominated on an independent, -non-partisan ticket. “Bobbie” Burke, the Democratic boss, brought -forward Carter H. Harrison, and the Republicans nominated Judge -Nathaniel C. Sears. Harrison at that time was known only as the son of -his father. Sears was a fine man; but neither of these had seized the -street railway issue. Mr. Harlan stood on that, and he made a campaign -which is talked about to this day in Chicago. It was brilliant. He had -had the ear of the town through the newspaper reports of his tirades in -the Council, and the people went to hear him now as night after night he -arraigned, not the bribed legislators, but the rich bribers. Once he -called the roll of street railway directors and asked each what he was -doing while his business was being boodled through the State -Legislature. Earnest, eloquent, honest, he was witty too. Yerkes called -him an ass. “If Yerkes will consult his Bible,” said Harlan, “he will -learn that great things have been done with the jaw-bone of an ass.” -This young man had no organization (the League confined itself to the -aldermen); it was a speaking campaign; but he caught the spirit of -Chicago, and in the last week men say you could feel the drift of -sentiment to him. Though he was defeated, he got 70,000 votes, 10,000 -more than the regular Republican candidate, and elected Harrison. And -his campaign not only phrased the traction issue in men’s minds; it is -said to have taught young Mayor Harrison the use of it. At any rate, -Harrison and Chicago have been safe on the city’s side of it ever since. - -The League also won on it. They gave bad records to twenty-seven of the -thirty-four outgoing aldermen. Fifteen were not renominated. Of the -twelve who ran again, nine were beaten. This victory gave them a solid -third of the Council. The reform crowd combined with Mayor Harrison, the -President of the Council, and his followers, and defeated ordinances -introduced to give effect to Yerkes’s odious Allen law. - -Here again the League might have retired in glory, but these -“commonplace, ordinary men” proposed instead that they go ahead and get -a majority, organize the Council on a non-partisan basis, and pass from -a negative, anti-boodling policy to one of positive, constructive -legislation. This meant also to advance from “beating bad men” to the -“election of good men,” and as for the good men, the standard was to be -raised from mere honesty to honesty and efficiency too. With such high -purposes in view, the Nine went into their third campaign. They had to -condemn men they had recommended in their first year, but “we are always -ready to eat dirt,” they say. They pointed to the franchise issue, -called for men capable of coping with the railways, and with bands -playing, orators shouting, and Cole roaring like a sea-captain, they -made the campaign of 1898 the hottest in their history. It nearly killed -some of them, but they “won out”; the League had a nominal majority of -the City Council. - -Then came their first bitter disappointment. They failed to organize the -aldermen. They tried, and were on the verge of success, when defeat -came, a most significant defeat. The League had brought into political -life some new men, shop-keepers and small business men, all with perfect -records, or none. They were men who meant well, but business is no -training for politics; the shop-keepers who knew how to resist the -temptations of trade were untried in those of politics, and the boodle -gang “bowled them over like little tin soldiers.” They were persuaded -that it was no more than right to “let the dominant party make up -committees and run the Council”; that was “usage,” and, what with -bribery, sophistry, and flattery, the League was beaten by its weak -friends. The real crisis in the League had come. - -Mr. Cole resigned. He took the view that the League work was done; it -could do no more; his health was suffering and his business was going to -the dogs. The big corporations, the railroads, great business houses and -their friends, had taken their business away from him. But this boycott -had begun in the first campaign and Cole had met it with the declaration -that he didn’t “care a d—n.” “I have a wife and a boy,” he said. “I want -their respect. The rest can all go to h—l.” Cole has organized since a -league to reform the legislature, but after the 1898 campaign the Nine -were tired, disappointed, and Cole was temporarily used up. - -The Nine had to let Cole and Hoyt King go. But they wouldn’t let the -League go. They had no successor for Cole. None on the committee would -take his place; they all declined it in turn. They looked outside for a -man, finding nobody. The prospect was dark. Then William Kent spoke up. -Kent had time and money, but he wouldn’t do anything anyone else could -be persuaded to do. He was not strong physically, and his physicians had -warned him that to live he must work little and play much. At that -moment he was under orders to go West and shoot. But when he saw what -was happening, he said: - -“I’m not the man for this job; I’m no organizer. I can smash more things -in a minute than I can build up in a hundred years. But the League has -got to go on, so I’ll take Cole’s place if you’ll give me a -hard-working, able man for secretary, an organizer and a master of -detail.” - -Such a secretary was hard to find, but Allen B. Pond, the architect, a -man made for fine work, took this rough-and-tumble task. And these two -with the committee strengthened and active, not only held their own, -they not only met the receding wave of reactionary sentiment against -reform, but they made progress. In 1899 they won a clear majority of the -Council, pledged their men before election to a non-partisan -organization of the Council, and were in shape for constructive -legislation. In 1900 they increased their majority, but they did not -think it necessary to bind candidates before the election to the -non-partisan-committees plan, and the Republicans organized the house. -This party maintained the standard of the committees; there was no -falling off there, but that was not the point. Parties were recognized -in the Council, and the League had hoped for only one line of -demarcation: special interests versus the interests of the city. During -the time of Kent and Pond, however, the power for good of the League was -established, the question of its permanency settled, and the use of -able, conscientious aldermen recognized. The public opinion it developed -and pointed held the Council so steady that, with Mayor Harrison and his -personal following among the Democrats on that side, the aldermen -refused to do anything for the street railway companies until the Allen -bill was repealed. And, all ready to pass anything at Springfield, -Yerkes had to permit the repeal, and he soon after closed up his -business in Chicago and went away to London, where he is said to be -happy and prosperous. - -The first time I went to Chicago, to see what form of corruption they -had, I found there was something the matter with the political -machinery. There was the normal plan of government for a city, rings -with bosses, and grafting business interests behind. Philadelphia, -Pittsburg, St. Louis, are all governed on such a plan. But in Chicago it -didn’t work. “Business” was at a standstill and business was suffering. -What was the matter? I beleaguered the political leaders with questions: -“Why didn’t the politicians control? What was wrong with the machines?” -The “boss” defended the organizations, blaming the people. “But the -people could be fooled by any capable politician,” I demurred. The boss -blamed the reformers. “Reformers!” I exclaimed. “I’ve seen some of your -reformers. They aren’t different from reformers elsewhere, are they?” -“No,” he said, well pleased. But when I concluded that it must then be -the weakness of the Chicago bosses, his pride cried out. “Say,” he said, -“have you seen that blankety-blank Fisher?” - -I hadn’t, I said. “Well, you want to,” he said, and I went straightway -and saw Fisher—Mr. Walter L. Fisher, secretary of the Municipal Voters’ -League. Then it was that I began to understand the Chicago political -situation. Fisher was a reformer: an able young lawyer of independent -means, a mind ripe with high purposes and ideals, self-confident, -high-minded, conclusive. He showed me an orderly bureau of indexed -information, such as I had seen before. He outlined the scheme of the -Municipal Voters’ League, all in a bored, polite, familiar way. There -was no light in him nor anything new or vital in his reform as he -described it. It was all incomprehensible till I asked him how he -carried the Seventeenth Ward, a mixed and normally Democratic ward, in -one year for a Republican by some 1300 plurality, the next year for a -Democrat by some 1800, the third for a Republican again. His face -lighted up, a keen, shrewd look came into his eyes, and he said: “I did -not carry that ward; its own people did it, but I’ll tell you how it was -managed.” And he told me a story that was politics. I asked about -another ward, and he told me the story of that. It was entirely -different, but it, too, was politics. Fisher is a politician—with the -education, associations, and the idealism of the reformers who fail, -this man has cunning, courage, tact, and, rarer still, faith in the -people. In short, reform in Chicago has such a leader as corruption -alone usually has; a first-class executive mind and a natural manager of -men. - -When, after the aldermanic campaign of 1900, Messrs. Kent and Pond -resigned as president and secretary of the League’s executive committee, -Charles R. Crane and Mr. Fisher succeeded in their places. Mr. Crane is -a man with an international business, which takes him often to Russia, -but he comes back for the Chicago aldermanic campaigns. He leaves the -game to Mr. Fisher, and says Fisher is the man, but Crane is a backer of -great force and of persistent though quiet activity. These two, with a -picked committee of experienced and sensible men—Pond, Kent, Smith, -Frank H. Scott, Graham Taylor, Sigmund Zeisler, and Lessing -Rosenthal—took the League as an established institution, perfected its -system, opened a headquarters for work the year around; and this force, -Mr. Fisher, with his political genius, has made a factor of the first -rank in practical politics. Fisher made fights in the “hopeless” wards, -and won them. He has raised the reform majority in the City Council to -two-thirds; he has lifted the standard of aldermen from honesty to a -gradually rising scale of ability, and in his first year the Council was -organized on a non-partisan basis. This feature of municipal reform is -established now, by the satisfaction of the aldermen themselves with the -way it works. And a most important feature it is, too. “We have four -shots at every man headed for the Council,” said one of the League—“one -with his record when his term expires; another when he is up for the -nomination; a third when he is running as a candidate; the fourth when -the committees are formed. If he is bad he is put on a minority in a -strong committee; if he is doubtful, with a weak or doubtful majority on -an important committee with a strong minority—a minority so strong that -they can let him show his hand, then beat him with a minority report.” -Careful not to interfere in legislation, the League keeps a watch on -every move in the Council. Cole started this. He used to sit in the -gallery every meeting night, but under Crane and Fisher, an assistant -secretary—first Henry B. Chamberlain, now George C. Sikes—has followed -the daily routine of committee work as well as the final meetings. - -Fisher has carried the early practice of meeting politicians on their -own ground to a very practical extreme. When tact and good humor failed, -he applied force. Thus, when he set about preparing a year ahead for his -fights in unpromising wards, he sent to the ward leaders on both sides -for their lists of captains, lieutenants, and heelers. They refused, -with expressions of astonishment at his “gall.” Mr. Chamberlain directed -a most searching investigation of the wards, precinct by precinct, block -by block, and not only gathered a rich fund of information, but so -frightened the politicians who heard of the inquiries that many of them -came around and gave up their lists. Whether these helped or not, -however, the wards were studied, and it was by such information and -undermining political work, combined with skill and a fearless appeal to -the people of the ward, that Fisher beat out with Hubert W. Butler the -notorious Henry Wulff, an ex-State Treasurer, in the ward convention of -Wulff’s own party, and then defeated Wulff, who ran as an independent, -at the polls. - -Such experience won the respect of the politicians, as well as their -fear, and in 1902 and 1903 the worst of them, or the best, came -personally to Fisher to see what they could do. He was their equal in -“the game of talk,” they found, and their superior in tactics, for when -he could not persuade them to put up good men and “play fair,” he -measured himself with them in strategy. Thus one day “Billy” Loeffler, -the Democratic leader in the Democratic Ninth Ward, asked Mr. Fisher if -the League did not want to name the Democratic candidate for alderman in -his ward. Loeffler’s business partner, “Hot Stove” Brenner, was running -on the Republican ticket and Fisher knew that the Democratic -organization would pull for Brenner. But Fisher accepted what was a -challenge to political play and suggested Michael J. Preib. Loeffler was -dazed at the name; it was new to him, but he accepted the man and -nominated him. The Ninth is a strong Hebrew ward. To draw off the -Republican and Jewish vote from Brenner, Fisher procured the nomination -as an independent of Jacob Diamond, a popular young Hebrew, and he -backed him too, intending, as he told both Preib and Diamond, to prefer -in the end the one that should develop the greater strength. Meanwhile -the League watched Loeffler. He was quietly throwing his support from -Preib to Brenner. Five days before election it was clear that, though -Diamond had developed unexpected strength, Preib was stronger. Fisher -went to Loeffler and accused him of not doing all he could for Preib. -Loeffler declared he was. Fisher proposed a letter from Loeffler to his -personal friends asking them to vote for Preib. Loeffler hesitated, but -he signed one that Fisher dictated. Loeffler advised the publication of -the statement in the Jewish papers, and, though he consented to have it -mailed to voters, he thought it “an unnecessary expense.” When Fisher -got back to the League headquarters, he rushed off copies of the letter -through the mails to all the voters in the ward. By the time Loeffler -heard of this it was too late to do anything; he tried, but he never -caught up with those letters. His partner, Brenner, was defeated. - -A politician? A boss. Chicago has in Walter L. Fisher a reform boss, and -in the Nine of the Municipal Voters’ League, with their associated -editors and able finance and advisory committees, a reform ring. They -have no machine, no patronage, no power that they can abuse. They -haven’t even a list of their voters. All they have is the confidence of -the anonymous honest men of Chicago who care more for Chicago than for -anything else. This they have won by a long record of good judgments, -honest, obvious devotion to the public good, and a disinterestedness -which has avoided even individual credit; not a hundred men in the city -could name the Committee of Nine. - -Working wide open at first, when it was necessary, they have withdrawn -more and more ever since, and their policy now is one of dignified -silence except when a plain statement of facts is required; then they -speak as the League, simply, directly, but with human feeling, and leave -their following of voters to act with or against them as they please. I -have laid great stress on the technical, political skill of Fisher and -the Nine, not because that is their chief reliance; it isn’t: the study -and the enlightenment of public opinion is their great function and -force. But other reform organizations have tried this way. These -reformers have, with the newspapers and the aldermen, not only done it -thoroughly and persistently; they have not only developed an educated -citizenship; they have made it an effective force, effective in -legislation and in practical politics. In short: political reform, -politically conducted, has produced reform politicians working for the -reform of the city with the methods of politics. They do everything that -a politician does, except buy votes and sell them. They play politics in -the interest of the city. - -And what has the city got out of it? Many things, but at least one great -spectacle to show the world, the political spectacle of the year, and it -is still going on. The properly accredited representatives of two -American city railway companies are meeting in the open with a regular -committee of an American board of aldermen, and they are negotiating for -the continuance of certain street railway franchises on terms fair both -to the city and to the corporations, without a whisper of bribery, with -composure, reasonableness, knowledge (on the aldermen’s part, -long-studied information and almost expert knowledge); with an eye to -the future, to the just profit of the railways, and the convenience of -the people of the city. This in an American city—in Chicago! - -Those franchises which Yerkes tried to “fix” expired on July 30. There -was a dispute about that, and the railways were prepared to fight. One -is a Chicago corporation held by Chicago capital, and the men in it knew -the conditions. The other belongs to New York and Philadelphia -capitalists, whom Yerkes got to hold it when he gave up and went away; -they couldn’t understand. This “foreign” capital sent picked men out to -Chicago to “fight.” One of the items said to have been put in their bill -of appropriation was “For use in Chicago—$1,000,000.” Their local -officers and directors and friends warned them to “go slow.” - -“Do you mean to tell us,” said the Easterners, “that we can’t do in -Chicago what we have done in Philadelphia, New York, and——” - -“That’s exactly what we mean,” was the answer. - -Incredulous, they did do some such “work.” They had the broken rings -with them, and the “busted bosses,” and they had the city on the hip in -one particular. Though the franchises expired, the city had no authority -in law to take over the railways and had to get it from Springfield. The -Republican ring, with some Democratic following, had organized the -Legislature on an explicit arrangement that “no traction legislation -should pass in 1903.” The railways knew they couldn’t get any; all they -asked was that the city shouldn’t have any either. It was a political -game, but Chicago was sure that two could play at it. Harrison was up -for re-election; he was right on traction. The Republicans nominated a -business man, Graeme Stewart, who also pledged himself. Then they all -went to Springfield, and, with the whole city and State looking on, the -city’s reform politicians beat the regulars. The city’s bill was buried -in committee, but to make a showing for Stewart the Republican ring had -to pass some sort of a bill. They offered a poor substitute. With the -city against it, the Speaker “gaveled it through” amid a scene of the -wildest excitement. He passed the bill, but he was driven from his -chair, and the scandal compelled him and the ring to reconsider that -bill and pass the city’s own enabling act. - -Both the traction companies had been interested in this Springfield -fiasco; they had been working together, but the local capitalists did -not like the business. They soon offered to settle separately, and went -into session with the city’s lawyers, Edwin Burritt Smith, of the -League, and John C. Mathis. The Easterners’ representatives, headed by a -“brilliant” New York lawyer, had to negotiate too. Their brilliant -lawyer undertook to “talk sense” into the aldermanic committee. This -committee had been out visiting all the large Eastern cities, studying -the traction situations everywhere; on their own account they had had -drawn for them one of the most complete reports ever made for a city by -an expert. Moreover, they knew the law and the finances of the traction -companies, better far than the New York lawyers. When, therefore, the -brilliant legal light had made one of his smooth, elaborate speeches, -some hard-headed alderman would get up and say that he “gathered and -gleaned” thus and so from the last speaker; he wasn’t quite sure, but if -thus and so was what the gentleman from New York had said, then it -looked to him like tommy rot. Then the lawyer would spin another web, -only to have some other commonplace-looking alderman tear it to pieces. -Those lawyers were dumfounded. They were advised to see Fisher. They saw -Fisher. - -“You are welcome, if you wish,” he is said to have said, “to talk -foolishness, but I advise you to stop it. I do not speak for the -Council, but I think I know what it will say when it speaks for itself. -Those aldermen know their business. They know sense and they know -nonsense. They can’t be fooled. If you go at them with reason they will -go a long way toward helping you. However, you shall do as you please -about this. But let me burn this one thing in upon your consciousness: -Don’t try money on them or anybody else. They will listen to your -nonsense with patience, but if we hear of you trying to bribe anybody—an -alderman or a politician or a newspaper or a reporter—all negotiations -will cease instantly. And nobody will attempt to blackmail you, no one.” - -This seems to me to be the highest peak of reform. Here is a gentleman, -speaking with the authority of absolute faith and knowledge, assuring -the representatives of a corporation that it can have all that is due it -from a body of aldermen by the expenditure of nothing more than reason. -I have heard many a business man say such a condition of things would be -hailed by his kind with rejoicing. How do they like it in Chicago? They -don’t like it at all. I spent one whole forenoon calling on the -presidents of banks, great business men, and financiers interested in -public utility companies. With all the evidence I had had in other -places that these men are the chief sources of corruption, I was -unprepared for the sensation of that day. Those financial leaders of -Chicago were “mad.” All but one of them became so enraged as they talked -that they could not behave decently. They rose up, purple in the face, -and cursed reform. They said it had hurt business; it had hurt the town. -“Anarchy,” they called it; “socialism.” They named corporations that had -left the city; they named others that had planned to come there and had -gone elsewhere. They offered me facts and figures to prove that the city -was damaged. - -“But isn’t the reform council honest?” I asked. - -“Honest! Yes, but—oh, h—l!” - -“And do you realize that all you say means that you regret the passing -of boodle and would prefer to have back the old corrupt Council?” - -That brought a curse, or a shrewd smile, or a cynical laugh, but that -they regretted the passing of the boodle régime is the fact, bitter, -astonishing,—but natural enough. We have seen those interests at their -bribery in Philadelphia and St. Louis; we have seen them opposing -reforms in every city. Here in Chicago we have them cursing reform -triumphant, for, though reform may have been a benefit to the city as a -community of freemen, it is really bad; it has hurt their business! - -Chicago has paid dearly for its reform, and reformers elsewhere might as -well realize that if they succeed, their city will pay, too, at first. -Capital will boycott it and capital will give it a bad name. The bankers -who offered me proof of their losses were offering me material to write -down the city. And has Chicago had conspicuous credit for reform? No, it -is in ill-repute, “anarchistic,” “socialistic” (a commercial term for -municipal ownership); it is “unfriendly to capital.” But Chicago knows -what it is after and it knows the cost. There are business men there who -are willing to pay; they told me so. There are business men on the -executive and finance committees of the League and others helping -outside who are among the leaders of Chicago’s business and its bar. -Moreover, there are promoters who expect to like an honest Council. One -such told me that he meant to apply for franchises shortly, and he -believed that, though it would take longer than bribery to negotiate -fair terms with aldermen who were keen to safeguard the city’s -interests, yet business could be done on that basis. “Those reform -aldermen are slow, but they are fair,” he said. - -The aldermen are fair. Exasperated as they have been by the trifling, -the trickery, and past boodling of the street railways, inconvenienced -by bad service, beset by corporation temptations, they are fairer to-day -than the corporations. They have the street railways now in a corner. -The negotiations are on, and they could squeeze them with a vengeance. -What is the spirit of those aldermen? “Well,” said one to me, “I’ll tell -you how we feel. We’ve got to get the city’s interests well protected. -That’s first. But we’ve got more to do than that. They’re shy of us; -these capitalists don’t know how to handle us. They are not up to the -new, reform, on-the-level way of doing business. We’ve got to show -capital that we will give them all that is coming to them, and just a -little more—a little more, just to get them used to being honest.” This -was said without a bit of humor, with some anxiety but no bitterness, -and not a word about socialism or “confiscating municipal ownership”; -that’s a “capitalistic” bugaboo. Again, one Saturday night a personal -friend of mine who had lost a half-holiday at a conference with some of -the leading aldermen, complained of their “preciseness.” “First,” he -said, “they had to have every trivial interest of the city protected, -then, when we seemed to be done, they turned around and argued like -corporation lawyers for the protection of the corporation.” - -Those Chicago aldermen are an honor to the country! Men like Jackson and -Mavor, Herrmann and Werno, would be a credit to any legislative body in -the land, but there is no such body in the land where they could do more -good or win more honor. I believe capital will some day prefer to do -business with them than with blackmailers and boodlers anywhere. - -When that day comes the aldermen will share the credit with the -Municipal Voters’ League, but all the character and all the ability of -both Council and League will not explain the reform of Chicago. The -citizens of that city will take most of the glory. They will have done -it, as they have done it so far. - -Some of my critics have declared they could not believe there was so -much difference in the character of communities as I have described. How -can they account, then, for Chicago? The people there have political -parties, they are partisans. But they know how to vote. Before the -League was started, the records show them shifting their vote to the -confusion of well-laid political plans. So they have always had bosses, -and they have them now, but these bosses admit that they “can’t boss -Chicago.” I think this is partly their fault. William Lorimer, the -dominant Republican boss, with whom I talked for an hour one day, -certainly does not make the impression, either as a man or as a -politician, that Croker makes, or Durham of Philadelphia. But an -outsider may easily go wrong on a point like this, and we may leave the -credit where they lay it, with the people of Chicago. Fisher is a more -forceful man than any of the regulars, and, as a politician, compares -with well-known leaders in any city; but Fisher’s power is the people’s. -His leadership may have done much, but there is something else deeper -and bigger behind him. At the last aldermanic election, when he -discovered on the Saturday before election that the League was -recommending, against a bad Democrat, a worse Republican, he advised the -people of that ward to vote for the Socialist; and the people did vote -for the Socialist, and they elected him. Again, there is the press, the -best in any of our large cities. There are several newspapers in Chicago -which have served always the public interest, and their advice is taken -by their readers. These editors wield, as they wielded before the League -came, that old-fashioned power of the press which is supposed to have -passed away. Indeed, one of the finest exhibitions of disinterestedness -in this whole reform story was that of these newspapers giving up the -individual power and credit which their influence on public opinion gave -them, to the League, behind which they stepped to get together and gain -for the city what they lost themselves. But this paid them. They did not -do it with that motive; they did it for the city, but the city has -recognized the service, as another fact shows: There are bad papers in -Chicago—papers that serve special interests—and these don’t pay. - -The agents of reform have been many and efficient, but back of them all -was an intelligent, determined people, and they have decided. The city -of Chicago is ruled by the citizens of Chicago. Then why are the -citizens of Chicago satisfied with half-reform? Why have they reformed -the Council and left the administrative side of government so far -behind? “One thing at a time,” they will tell you out there, and it is -wonderful to see them patient after seven years of steadfast, fighting -reform. - -But that is not the reason. The administration has been improved. It is -absurdly backward and uneven; the fire department is excellent, the -police is a disgrace, the law department is expert, the health bureau is -corrupt, and the street cleaning is hardly worth mention. All this is -Carter H. Harrison. He is an honest man personally, but indolent; a -shrewd politician, and a character with reserve power, but he has no -initial energy. Without ideals, he does only what is demanded of him. He -does not seem to know wrong is wrong, till he is taught; nor to care, -till criticism arouses his political sense of popular requirement. That -sense is keen, but think of it: Every time Chicago wants to go ahead a -foot, it has first to push its mayor up inch by inch. In brief, Chicago -is a city that wants to be led, and Carter Harrison, with all his -political ambition, honest willingness, and obstinate independence, -simply follows it. The League leads, and its leaders understand their -people. Then why does the League submit to Harrison? Why doesn’t the -League recommend mayors as well as aldermen? It may some day; but, -setting out by accident to clean the Council, stop the boodling, and -settle the city railway troubles, they have been content with Mayor -Harrison because he had learned his lesson on that. And, I think, as -they say the mayor thinks, that when the people of Chicago get the city -railways running with enough cars and power; when they have put a stop -to boodling forever; they will take up the administrative side of the -government. A people who can support for seven years one movement toward -reform, should be able to go on forever. With the big boodle beaten, -petty political grafting can easily be stopped. All that will be needed -then will be a mayor who understands and represents the city; he will be -able to make Chicago as rare an example of good government as it is now -of reform; which will be an advertisement; good business; it will _pay_. - - * * * * * - -_Post Scriptum_, December, 1903.—Chicago has taken up since -administrative graft. The Council is conducting an investigation which -is showing the city government to have been a second Minneapolis. Mayor -Harrison is helping, and the citizens are interested. There is little -doubt that Chicago will be cleaned up. - - - - - NEW YORK: GOOD GOVERNMENT TO THE TEST - - - (_November, 1903_) - -Just about the time this article will appear, Greater New York will be -holding a local election on what has come to be a national question—good -government. No doubt there will be other “issues.” At this writing -(September 15) the candidates were not named nor the platforms written, -but the regular politicians hate the main issue, and they have a pretty -trick of confusing the honest mind and splitting the honest vote by -raising “local issues” which would settle themselves under prolonged -honest government. So, too, there will probably be some talk about the -effect this election might have upon the next Presidential election; -another clever fraud which seldom fails to work to the advantage of -rings and grafters, and to the humiliation and despair of good -citizenship. We have nothing to do with these deceptions. They may count -in New York, they may determine the result, but let them. They are -common moves in the corruptionist’s game, and, therefore, fair tests of -citizenship, for honesty is not the sole qualification for an honest -voter; intelligence has to play a part, too, and a little intelligence -would defeat all such tricks. Anyhow, they cannot disturb us. I am -writing too far ahead, and my readers, for the most part, will be -reading too far away to know or care anything about them. We can grasp -firmly the essential issues involved and then watch with equanimity the -returns for the answer, plain yes or no, which New York will give to the -only questions that concern us all:[6] - -Footnote 6: - - Tammany tried to introduce national issues, but failed, and “good - government” was practically the only question raised. - -Do we Americans really want good government? Do we know it when we see -it? Are we capable of that sustained good citizenship which alone can -make democracy a success? Or, to save our pride, one other: Is the New -York way the right road to permanent reform? - -For New York has good government, or, to be more precise, it has a good -administration. It is not a question there of turning the rascals out -and putting the honest men into their places. The honest men are in, and -this election is to decide whether they are to be kept in, which is a -very different matter. Any people is capable of rising in wrath to -overthrow bad rulers. Philadelphia has done that in its day. New York -has done it several times. With fresh and present outrages to avenge, -particular villains to punish, and the mob sense of common anger to -excite, it is an emotional gratification to go out with the crowd and -“smash something.” This is nothing but revolt, and even monarchies have -uprisings to the credit of their subjects. But revolt is not reform, and -one revolutionary administration is not good government. That we free -Americans are capable of such assertions of our sovereign power, we have -proven; our lynchers are demonstrating it every day. That we can go -forth singly also, and, without passion, with nothing but mild approval -and dull duty to impel us, vote intelligently to sustain a fairly good -municipal government, remains to be shown. And that is what New York has -the chance to show; New York, the leading exponent of the great American -anti-bad government movement for good government. - -According to this, the standard course of municipal reform, the -politicians are permitted to organize a party on national lines, take -over the government, corrupt and deceive the people, and run things for -the private profit of the boss and his ring, till the corruption becomes -rampant and a scandal. Then the reformers combine the opposition: the -corrupt and unsatisfied minority, the disgruntled groups of the -majority, the reform organizations; they nominate a mixed ticket, headed -by a “good business man” for mayor, make a “hot campaign” against the -government with “Stop, thief!” for the cry, and make a “clean sweep.” -Usually, this effects only the disciplining of the reckless grafters and -the improvement of the graft system of corrupt government. The good -mayor turns out to be weak or foolish or “not so good.” The politicians -“come it over him,” as they did over the business mayors who followed -the “Gas Ring” revolt in Philadelphia, or the people become disgusted as -they did with Mayor Strong, who was carried into office by the -anti-Tammany rebellion in New York after the Lexow exposures. -Philadelphia gave up after its disappointment, and that is what most -cities do. The repeated failures of revolutionary reform to accomplish -more than the strengthening of the machine have so discredited this -method that wide-awake reformers in several cities—Pittsburg, -Cincinnati, Cleveland, Detroit, Minneapolis, and others—are following -the lead of Chicago. - -The Chicago plan does not depend for success upon any one man or any one -year’s work, nor upon excitement or any sort of bad government. The -reformers there have no ward organizations, no machine at all; their -appeal is solely to the intelligence of the voter and their power rests -upon that. This is democratic and political, not bourgeois and business -reform, and it is interesting to note that whereas reformers elsewhere -are forever seeking to concentrate all the powers in the mayor, those of -Chicago talk of stripping the mayor to a figurehead and giving his -powers to the aldermen who directly represent the people, and who change -year by year. - -The Chicago way is but one way, however, and a new one, and it must be -remembered that this plan has not yet produced a good administration. -New York has that. Chicago, after seven years’ steady work, has a body -of aldermen honest enough and competent to defend the city’s interests -against boodle capital, but that is about all; it has a wretched -administration. New York has stuck to the old way. Provincial and -self-centered, it hardly knows there is any other. Chicago laughs and -other cities wonder, but never mind, New York, by persistence, has at -last achieved a good administration. Will the New Yorkers continue it? -That is the question. What Chicago has, it has secure. Its independent -citizenship is trained to vote every time and to vote for uninteresting, -good aldermen. New York has an independent vote of 100,000, a decisive -minority, but the voters have been taught to vote only once in a long -while, only when excited by picturesque leadership and sensational -exposures, only _against_. New York has been so far an anti-bad -government, anti-Tammany, not a good-government town. Can it vote, -without Tammany in to incite it, for a good mayor? I think this -election, which will answer this question, should decide other cities -how to go about reform. - -The administration of Mayor Seth Low may not have been perfect, not in -the best European sense: not expert, not co-ordinated, certainly not -wise. Nevertheless, for an American city, it has been not only honest, -but able, undeniably one of the best in the whole country. Some of the -departments have been dishonest; others have been so inefficient that -they made the whole administration ridiculous. But what of that? -Corruption also is clumsy and makes absurd mistakes when it is new and -untrained. The “oaths” and ceremonies and much of the boodling of the -St. Louis ring seemed laughable to my corrupt friends in Philadelphia -and Tammany Hall, and New York’s own Tweed régime was “no joke,” only -because it was so general, and so expensive—to New York. It took time to -perfect the “Philadelphia plan” of misgovernment, and it took time to -educate Croker and develop his Tammany Hall. It will take time to evolve -masters of the (in America) unstudied art of municipal government—time -and demand. So far there has been no market for municipal experts in -this country. All we are clamoring for to-day in our meek, weak-hearted -way, is that mean, rudimentary virtue miscalled “common honesty.” Do we -really want it? Certainly Mayor Low is pecuniarily honest. He is more; -he is conscientious and experienced and personally efficient. Bred to -business, he rose above it, adding to the training he acquired in the -conduct of an international commercial house, two terms as mayor of -Brooklyn, and to that again a very effective administration, as -president, of the business of Columbia University. He began his -mayoralty with a study of the affairs of New York; he has said himself -that he devoted eight months to its finances: and he mastered this -department and is admitted to be the master in detail of every -department which has engaged his attention. In other words, Mr. Low has -learned the business of New York; he is just about competent now to -become the mayor of a great city. Is there a demand for Mr. Low? - -No. When I made my inquiries—before the lying had begun—the Fusion -leaders of the anti-Tammany forces, who nominated Mr. Low, said they -might renominate him. “Who else was there?” they asked. And they thought -he “might” be re-elected. The alternative was Richard Croker or Charles -F. Murphy, his man, for no matter who Tammany’s candidate for mayor was, -if Tammany won, Tammany’s boss would rule. The personal issue was plain -enough. Yet was there no assurance for Mr. Low. - -Why? There are many forms of the answer given, but they nearly all -reduce themselves to one—the man’s personality. It is not very engaging. -Mr. Low has many respectable qualities, but these never are amiable. -“Did you ever see his smile?” said a politician who was trying to -account for his instinctive dislike for the mayor. I had; there is no -laughter back of it, no humor, and no sense thereof. The appealing human -element is lacking all through. His good abilities are self-sufficient; -his dignity is smug; his courtesy seems not kind; his self-reliance is -called obstinacy because, though he listens, he seems not to care; -though he understands, he shows no sympathy, and when he decides, his -reasoning is private. His most useful virtues—probity, intelligence, and -conscientiousness—in action are often an irritation; they are so -contented. Mr. Low is the bourgeois reformer type. Even where he -compromises he gets no credit, his concessions make the impression of -surrenders. A politician can say “no” and make a friend, where Mr. Low -will lose one by saying “yes.” Cold and impersonal, he cools even his -heads of departments. Loyal public service they give, because his taste -is for men who would do their duty for their own sake, not for his, and -that excellent service the city has had. But members of Mr. Low’s -administration helped me to characterize him; they could not help it. -Mr. Low’s is not a lovable character. - -But what of that? Why should his colleagues love him? Why should anybody -like him? Why should he seek to charm, win affection, and make friends? -He was elected to attend to the business of his office and to appoint -subordinates who should attend to the business of their offices, not to -make “political strength” and win elections. William Travers Jerome, the -picturesque District Attorney, whose sincerity and intellectual honesty -made sure the election of Mr. Low two years ago, detests him as a -bourgeois, but the mayoralty is held in New York to be a bourgeois -office. Mr. Low is the ideal product of the New York theory that -municipal government is business, not politics, and that a business man -who would manage the city as he would a business corporation, would -solve for us all our troubles. Chicago reformers think we have got to -solve our own problems; that government is political business; that men -brought up in politics and experienced in public office will make the -best administrators. They have refused to turn from their politician -mayor, Carter H. Harrison, for the most ideal business candidate, and I -have heard them say that when Chicago was ripe for a better mayor they -would prefer a candidate chosen from among their well-tried aldermen. -Again, I say, however, that this is only one way, and New York has -another, and this other is the standard American way. - -But again I say, also, that the New York way is on trial, for New York -has what the whole country has been looking for in all municipal -crises—the non-political ruler. Mr. Low’s very faults, which I have -emphasized for the purpose, emphasize the point. They make it impossible -for him to be a politician even if he should wish to be. As for his -selfishness, his lack of tact, his coldness—these are of no consequence. -He has done his duty all the better for them. Admit that he is -uninteresting; what does that matter? He has served the city. Will the -city not vote for him because it does not like the way he smiles? Absurd -as it sounds, that is what all I have heard against Low amounts to. But -to reduce the situation to a further absurdity, let us eliminate -altogether the personality of Mr. Low. Let us suppose he has no smile, -no courtesy, no dignity, no efficiency, no personality at all; suppose -he were an It and had not given New York a good administration, but had -only honestly tried. What then? - -Tammany Hall? That is the alternative. The Tammany politicians see it -just as clear as that, and they are not in the habit of deceiving -themselves. They say “it is a Tammany year,” “Tammany’s turn.” They say -it and they believe it. They study the people, and they know it is all a -matter of citizenship; they admit that they cannot win unless a goodly -part of the independent vote goes to them; and still they say they can -beat Mr. Low or any other man the anti-Tammany forces may nominate. So -we are safe in eliminating Mr. Low and reducing the issue to plain -Tammany. - -Tammany is bad government; not inefficient, but dishonest; not a party, -not a delusion and a snare, hardly known by its party name—Democracy; -having little standing in the national councils of the party and caring -little for influence outside of the city. Tammany is Tammany, the -embodiment of corruption. All the world knows and all the world may know -what it is and what it is after. For hypocrisy is not a Tammany vice. -Tammany is for Tammany, and the Tammany men say so. Other rings proclaim -lies and make pretensions; other rogues talk about the tariff and -imperialism. Tammany is honestly dishonest. Time and time again, in -private and in public, the leaders, big and little, have said they are -out for themselves and their own; not for the public, but for “me and my -friends”; not for New York, but for Tammany. Richard Croker said under -oath once that he worked for his own pockets all the time, and Tom -Grady, the Tammany orator, has brought his crowds to their feet cheering -sentiments as primitive, stated with candor as brutal. - -The man from Mars would say that such an organization, so -self-confessed, could not be very dangerous to an intelligent people. -Foreigners marvel at it and at us, and even Americans—Pennsylvanians, -for example—cannot understand why we New Yorkers regard Tammany as so -formidable. I think I can explain it. Tammany is corruption with -consent; it is bad government founded on the suffrages of the people. -The Philadelphia machine is more powerful. It rules Philadelphia by -fraud and force and does not require the votes of the people. The -Philadelphians do not vote for their machine; their machine votes for -them. Tammany used to stuff the ballot boxes and intimidate voters; -to-day there is practically none of that. Tammany rules, when it rules, -by right of the votes of the people of New York. - -Tammany corruption is democratic corruption. That of the Philadelphia -ring is rooted in special interests. Tammany, too, is allied with -“vested interests”—but Tammany labors under disadvantages not known in -Philadelphia. The Philadelphia ring is of the same party that rules the -State and the nation, and the local ring forms a living chain with the -State and national rings. Tammany is a purely local concern. With a -majority only in old New York, it has not only to buy what it wants from -the Republican majority in the State, but must trade to get the whole -city. Big business everywhere is the chief source of political -corruption, and it is one source in New York; but most of the big -businesses represented in New York have no plants there. Offices there -are, and head offices, of many trusts and railways, for example, but -that is all. There are but two railway terminals in the city, and but -three railways use them. These have to do more with Albany than New -York. So with Wall Street. Philadelphia’s stock exchange deals largely -in Pennsylvania securities, New York’s in those of the whole United -States. There is a small Wall Street group that specializes in local -corporations, and they are active and give Tammany a Wall Street -connection, but the biggest and the majority of our financial leaders, -bribers though they may be in other cities and even in New York State, -are independent of Tammany Hall, and can be honest citizens at home. -From this class, indeed, New York can, and often does, draw some of its -reformers. Not so Philadelphia. That bourgeois opposition which has -persisted for thirty years in the fight against Tammany corruption was -squelched in Philadelphia after its first great uprising. Matt Quay, -through the banks, railways, and other business interests, was able to -reach it. A large part of his power is negative; there is no opposition. -Tammany’s power is positive. Tammany cannot reach all the largest -interests and its hold is upon the people. - -Tammany’s democratic corruption rests upon the corruption of the people, -the plain people, and there lies its great significance; its grafting -system is one in which more individuals share than any I have studied. -The people themselves get very little; they come cheap, but they are -interested. Divided into districts, the organization subdivides them -into precincts or neighborhoods, and their sovereign power, in the form -of votes, is bought up by kindness and petty privileges. They are forced -to a surrender, when necessary, by intimidation, but the leader and his -captains have their hold because they take care of their own. They speak -pleasant words, smile friendly smiles, notice the baby, give picnics up -the River or the Sound, or a slap on the back; find jobs, most of them -at the city’s expense, but they have also news-stands, peddling -privileges, railroad and other business places to dispense; they permit -violations of the law, and, if a man has broken the law without -permission, see him through the court. Though a blow in the face is as -readily given as a shake of the hand, Tammany kindness is real kindness, -and will go far, remember long, and take infinite trouble for a friend. - -The power that is gathered up thus cheaply, like garbage, in the -districts is concentrated in the district leader, who in turn passes it -on through a general committee to the boss. This is a form of living -government, extra-legal, but very actual, and, though the beginnings of -it are purely democratic, it develops at each stage into an autocracy. -In Philadelphia the boss appoints a district leader and gives him power. -Tammany has done that in two or three notable instances, but never -without causing a bitter fight which lasts often for years. In -Philadelphia the State boss designates the city boss. In New York, -Croker has failed signally to maintain vice-bosses whom he appointed. -The boss of Tammany Hall is a growth, and just as Croker grew, so has -Charles F. Murphy grown up to Croker’s place. Again, whereas in -Philadelphia the boss and his ring handle and keep almost all of the -graft, leaving little to the district leaders, in New York the district -leaders share handsomely in the spoils. - -There is more to share in New York. It is impossible to estimate the -amount of it, not only for me, but for anybody. No Tammany man knows it -all. Police friends of mine say that the Tammany leaders never knew how -rich police corruption was till the Lexow committee exposed it, and that -the politicians who had been content with small presents, contributions, -and influence, “did not butt in” for their share till they saw by the -testimony of frightened police grafters that the department was worth -from four to five millions a year. The items are so incredible that I -hesitate to print them. Devery told a friend once that in one year the -police graft was “something over $3,000,000.” Afterward the syndicate -which divided the graft under Devery took in for thirty-six months -$400,000 a month from gambling and poolrooms alone. Saloon bribers, -disorderly house blackmail, policy, etc., etc., bring this total up to -amazing proportions. - -Yet this was but one department, and a department that was overlooked by -Tammany for years. The annual budget of the city is about $100,000,000, -and though the power that comes of the expenditure of that amount is -enormous and the opportunities for rake-offs infinite, this sum is not -one-half of the resources of Tammany when it is in power. Her resources -are the resources of the city as a business, as a political, as a social -power. If Tammany could be incorporated, and all its earnings, both -legitimate and illegitimate, gathered up and paid over in dividends, the -stockholders would get more than the New York Central bond and stock -holders, more than the Standard Oil stockholders, and the controlling -clique would wield a power equal to that of the United States Steel -Company. Tammany, when in control of New York, takes out of the city -unbelievable millions of dollars a year. - -No wonder the leaders are all rich; no wonder so many more Tammany men -are rich than are the leaders in any other town; no wonder Tammany is -liberal in its division of the graft. Croker took the best and the -safest of it, and he accepted shares in others. He was “in on the Wall -Street end,” and the Tammany clique of financiers have knocked down and -bought up at low prices Manhattan Railway stock by threats of the city’s -power over the road; they have been let in on Metropolitan deals and on -the Third Avenue Railroad grab; the Ice trust is a Tammany trust; they -have banks and trust companies, and through the New York Realty Company -are forcing alliances with such financial groups as that of the Standard -Oil Company. Croker shared in these deals and businesses. He sold -judgeships, taking his pay in the form of contributions to the Tammany -campaign fund, of which he was treasurer, and he had the judges take -from the regular real estate exchange all the enormous real estate -business that passed through the courts, and give it to an exchange -connected with the real estate business of his firm, Peter F. Meyer & -Co. This alone would maintain a ducal estate in England. But his real -estate business was greater than that. It had extraordinary legal -facilities, the free advertising of abuse, the prestige of political -privilege, all of which brought in trade; and it had advance information -and followed, with profitable deals, great public improvements. - -Though Croker said he worked for his own pockets all the time, and did -take the best of the graft, he was not “hoggish.” Some of the richest -graft in the city is in the Department of Buildings: $100,000,000 a year -goes into building operations in New York. All of this, from out-houses -to sky-scrapers, is subject to very precise laws and regulations, most -of them wise, some impossible. The Building Department has the -enforcement of these; it passes upon all construction, private and -public, at all stages, from plan-making to actual completion; and can -cause not only “unavoidable delay,” but can wink at most profitable -violations. Architects and builders had to stand in with the department. -They called on the right man and they settled on a scale which was not -fixed, but which generally was on the basis of the department’s estimate -of a fair half of the value of the saving in time or bad material. This -brought in at least a banker’s percentage on one hundred millions a -year. Croker, so far as I can make out, took none of this! it was let -out to other leaders and was their own graft. - -District Attorney William Travers Jerome has looked into the Dock -Department, and he knows things which he yet may prove. This is an -important investigation for two reasons. It is very large graft, and the -new Tammany leader, Charlie Murphy, had it. New York wants to know more -about Murphy, and it should want to know about the management of its -docks, since, just as other cities have their corrupt dealings with -railways and their terminals, so New York’s great terminal business is -with steamships and docks. These docks should pay the city handsomely. -Mr. Murphy says they shouldn’t; he is wise, as Croker was before he -became old and garrulous, and, as Tammany men put it, “keeps his mouth -shut,” but he did say that the docks should not be run for revenue to -the city, but for their own improvement. The Dock Board has exclusive -and private and secret control of the expenditure of $10,000,000 a year. -No wonder Murphy chose it. - -It is impossible to follow all New York graft from its source to its -final destination. It is impossible to follow here the course of that -which is well known to New Yorkers. There are public works for Tammany -contractors. There are private works for Tammany contractors, and -corporations and individuals find it expedient to let it go to Tammany -contractors. Tammany has a very good system of grafting on public works; -I mean that it is “good” from the criminal point of view—and so it has -for the furnishing of supplies. Low bids and short deliveries, generally -speaking (and that is the only way I can speak here), is the method. But -the Tammany system, as a whole, is weak. - -Tammany men as grafters have a confidence in their methods and system, -which, in the light of such perfection as that of Philadelphia, is -amusing, and the average New Yorker takes in “the organization” a queer -sort of pride, which is ignorant and provincial. Tammany is ‘way behind -the times. It is growing; it has improved. In Tweed’s day the -politicians stole from the city treasury, divided the money on the steps -of the City Hall, and, not only the leaders, big and little, but heelers -and outsiders; not only Tweed, but ward carpenters robbed the city; not -only politicians, but newspapers and citizens were “in on the divvy.” -New York, not Tammany alone, was corrupt. When the exposure came, and -Tweed asked his famous question, “What are you going to do about it?” -the ring mayor, A. Oakey Hall, asked another as significant. It was -reported that suit was to be brought against the ring to recover stolen -funds. “Who is going to sue?” said Mayor Hall, who could not think of -anybody of importance sufficiently without sin to throw the first stone. -Stealing was stopped and grafting was made more businesslike, but still -it was too general, and the boodling for the Broadway street railway -franchise prompted a still closer grip on the business. The organization -since then has been gradually concentrating the control of graft. Croker -did not proceed so far along the line as the Philadelphia ring has, as -the police scandals showed. After the Lexow exposures, Tammany took over -that graft, but still let it go practically by districts, and the police -captains still got a third. After the Mazet exposures, Devery became -Chief, and the police graft was so concentrated that the division was -reduced to fourteen parts. Again, later, it was reduced to a syndicate -of four or five men, with a dribble of miscellaneous graft for the -police. In Philadelphia the police have nothing to do with the police -graft; a policeman may collect it, but he acts for a politician, who in -turn passes it up to a small ring. That is the drift in New York. Under -Devery the police officers got comparatively little, and the rank and -file themselves were blackmailed for transfers and promotions, for -remittances of fines, and in a dozen other petty ways. - -Philadelphia is the end toward which New York under Tammany is driving -as fast as the lower intelligence and higher conceit of its leaders will -let it. In Philadelphia one very small ring gets everything, dividing -the whole as it pleases, and not all those in the inner ring are -politicians. Trusting few individuals, they are safe from exposure, more -powerful, more deliberate, and they are wise as politicians. When, as in -New York, the number of grafters is large, this delicate business is in -some hands that are rapacious. The police grafters, for example, in -Devery’s day, were not content with the amounts collected from the big -vices. They cultivated minor vices, like policy, to such an extent that -the Policy King was caught and sent to prison, and Devery’s ward-man, -Glennon, was pushed into so tight a hole that there was danger that -District Attorney Jerome would get past Glennon to Devery and the -syndicate. The murder of a witness the night he was in the Tenderloin -police station served to save the day. But, worst of all, Tammany, the -“friend of the people,” permitted the organization of a band of -so-called Cadets, who made a business, under the protection of the -police, of ruining the daughters of the tenements and even of catching -and imprisoning in disorderly houses the wives of poor men. This horrid -traffic never was exposed; it could not and cannot be. Vicious women -were “planted” in tenement houses and (I know this personally) the -children of decent parents counted the customers, witnessed their -transactions with these creatures, and, as a father told with shame and -tears, reported totals at the family table. - -Tammany leaders are usually the natural leaders of the people in these -districts, and they are originally good-natured, kindly men. No one has -a more sincere liking than I for some of those common but generous -fellows; their charity is real, at first. But they sell out their own -people. They do give them coal and help them in their private troubles, -but, as they grow rich and powerful, the kindness goes out of the -charity and they not only collect at their saloons or in rents—cash for -their “goodness”; they not only ruin fathers and sons and cause the -troubles they relieve; they sacrifice the children in the schools; let -the Health Department neglect the tenements, and, worst of all, plant -vice in the neighborhood and in the homes of the poor. - -This is not only bad; it is bad politics; it has defeated Tammany. Woe -to New York when Tammany learns better. Honest fools talk of the reform -of Tammany Hall. It is an old hope, this, and twice it has been -disappointed, but it is not vain. That is the real danger ahead. The -reform of a corrupt ring means, as I have said before, the reform of its -system of grafting and a wise consideration of certain features of good -government. Croker turned his “best chief of police,” William S. Devery, -out of Tammany Hall, and, slow and old as he was, Croker learned what -clean streets were from Colonel Waring, and gave them. Now there is a -new boss, a young man, Charles F. Murphy, and unknown to New Yorkers. He -looks dense, but he acts with force, decision, and skill. The new mayor -will be his man. He may divide with Croker and leave to the “old man” -all his accustomed graft, but Charlie Murphy will rule Tammany and, if -Tammany is elected, New York also. Lewis Nixon is urging Murphy -publicly, as I write, to declare against the police scandals and all the -worst practices of Tammany. Lewis Nixon is an honest man, but he was one -of the men Croker tried to appoint leader of Tammany Hall. And when he -resigned Mr. Nixon said that he found that a man could not keep that -leadership and his self-respect. Yet Mr. Nixon is a type of the man who -thinks Tammany would be fit to rule New York if the organization would -“reform.” - -As a New Yorker, I fear Murphy will prove sagacious enough to do just -that: stop the scandal, put all the graft in the hands of a few tried -and true men, and give the city what it would call good government. -Murphy says he will nominate for mayor a man so “good” that his goodness -will astonish New York. I don’t fear a bad Tammany mayor; I dread the -election of a good one. For I have been to Philadelphia. - -Philadelphia had a bad ring mayor, a man who promoted the graft and -caused scandal after scandal. The leaders there, the wisest political -grafters in this country, learned a great lesson from that. As one of -them said to me: - -“The American people don’t mind grafting, but they hate scandals. They -don’t kick so much on a jiggered public contract for a boulevard, but -they want the boulevard and no fuss and no dust. We want to give them -that. We want to give them what they really want, a quiet Sabbath, safe -streets, orderly nights, and homes secure. They let us have the police -graft. But this mayor was a hog. You see, he had but one term and he -could get his share only on what was made in his term. He not only took -a hog’s share off what was coming, but he wanted everything to come in -his term. So I’m down on grafting mayors and grafting office holders. I -tell you it’s good politics to have honest men in office. I mean men -that are personally honest.” - -So they got John Weaver for mayor, and honest John Weaver is checking -corruption, restoring order, and doing a great many good things, which -it is “good politics” to do. For he is satisfying the people, soothing -their ruffled pride, and reconciling them to machine rule. I have -letters from friends of mine there, honest men, who wish me to bear -witness to the goodness of Mayor Weaver. I do. And I believe that if the -Philadelphia machine leaders are as careful with Mayor Weaver as they -have been and let him continue to give to the end as good government as -he has given so far, the “Philadelphia plan” of graft will last and -Philadelphia will never again be a free American city. - -Philadelphia and New York began about the same time, some thirty years -ago, to reform their city governments. Philadelphia got “good -government”—what the Philadelphians call good—from a corrupt ring and -quit, satisfied to be a scandal to the nation and a disgrace to -democracy. New York has gone on fighting, advancing and retreating, for -thirty years, till now it has achieved the beginnings, under Mayor Low, -of a government for the people. Do the New Yorkers know it? Do they -care? They are Americans, mixed and typical; do we Americans really want -good government? Or, as I said at starting, have they worked for thirty -years along the wrong road—crowded with unhappy American cities—the road -to Philadelphia and despair? - - * * * * * - -_Post Scriptum_: Mayor Low was nominated on the Fusion ticket. Tammany -nominated George B. McClellan. The local corporations contributed -heavily to the Tammany campaign fund and the people of New York elected -the Tammany ticket by a decisive majority of 62,696. The vote was: -McClellan, 314,782; Low, 252,086. - - - THE END - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - By Edward W. Townsend - - - Author of “Chimmie Fadden,” “Days Like These,” etc. - - LEES AND LEAVEN - - ❦ - -No novel of New York City has ever portrayed so faithfully or so vividly -our new world Gotham—the seething, rushing New York of to-day, to which -all the world looks with such curious interest. Mr. Townsend, gives us -not a picture, but the bustling, nerve-racking pageant itself. The titan -struggles in the world of finance, the huge hoaxes in sensational -newspaperdom, the gay life of the theatre, opera, and restaurant, and -then the calmer and comforting domestic scenes of wholesome living, -pass, as actualities, before our very eyes. In this turbulent maelstrom -of ambition, he finds room for love and romance also. - -There is a bountiful array of characters, admirably drawn, and -especially delightful are the two emotional and excitable lovers, young -Bannister and Gertrude Carr. The book is unlike Mr. Townsend’s “Chimmie -Fadden” in everything but its intimate knowledge of New York life. - - Cloth, 12mo $1.50 - - McClure, Phillips & Co. - - - - - By A. Conan Doyle - - - Author of “The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes” - - THE ADVENTURES OF GERARD - - ❦ - -Stories of the remarkable adventures of a Brigadier in Napoleon’s army. -In Etienne Gerard, Conan Doyle has added to his already famous gallery -of characters one worthy to stand beside the notable Sherlock Holmes. -Many and thrilling are Gerard’s adventures, as related by himself, for -he takes part in nearly every one of Napoleon’s campaigns. In Venice he -has an interesting romantic escapade which causes him the loss of an -ear. With the utmost bravery and cunning he captures the Spanish city of -Saragossa; in Portugal he saves the army; in Russia he feeds the -starving soldiers by supplies obtained at Minsk, after a wonderful ride. -Everywhere else he is just as marvelous, and at Waterloo he is the -center of the whole battle. - -For all his lumbering vanity he is a genial old soul and a remarkably -vivid story-teller. - -Illustrated by W. B. Wollen. - - $1.50 - - McClure, Phillips & Co. - - - - - By Stanley J. Weyman - - - Author of “A Gentleman of France” - - THE LONG NIGHT - - ❦ - -Geneva in the early days of the 17th century; a ruffling young theologue -new to the city; a beautiful and innocent girl, suspected of witchcraft; -a crafty scholar and metaphysician seeking to give over the city into -the hands of the Savoyards; a stern and powerful syndic whom the scholar -beguiles to betray his office by promises of an elixir which shall save -him from his fatal illness; a brutal soldier of fortune; these are the -elements of which Weyman has composed the most brilliant and thrilling -of his romances. Claude Mercier, the student, seeing the plot in which -the girl he loves is involved, yet helpless to divulge it, finds at last -his opportunity when the treacherous men of Savoy are admitted within -Geneva’s walls, and in a night of whirlwind fighting saves the city by -his courage and address. For fire and spirit there are few chapters in -modern literature such as those which picture the splendid defence of -Geneva, by the staid, churchly, heroic burghers, fighting in their own -blood under the divided leadership of the fat Syndic, Baudichon, and the -bandy-legged sailor, Jehan Brosse, winning the battle against the armed -and armored forces of the invaders. - -Illustrated by Solomon J. Solomon. - - $1.50 - - McClure, Phillips & Co. - - - - - By Henry Seton Merriman - - - Author of “The Sowers,” etc. - - BARLASCH OF THE GUARD - - ❦ - -The story is set in those desperate days when the ebbing tide of -Napoleon’s fortunes swept Europe with desolation. Barlasch—“Papa -Barlasch of the Guard, Italy, Egypt, the Danube”—a veteran in the Little -Corporal’s service—is the dominant figure of the story. Quartered on a -distinguished family in the historic town of Dantzig, he gives his life -to the romance of Desirée, the daughter of the family, and Louis d’ -Arragon, whose cousin she has married and parted with at the church -door. Louis’s search with Barlasch for the missing Charles gives an -unforgettable picture of the terrible retreat from Russia; and as a -companion picture there is the heroic defence of Dantzig by Rapp and his -little army of sick and starving. At the last Barlasch, learning of the -death of Charles, plans and executes the escape of Desirée from the -beleaguered town to join Louis. - -Illustrated by the Kinneys. - - $1.50 - - McClure, Phillips & Co. - - - - - By Henry Harland - - - Author of “The Cardinal’s Snuff Box.” - - MY FRIEND PROSPERO - - ❦ - -Everything that has ever delighted you in Mr. Harland’s work is to be -found at its best in _My Friend Prospero_. Mr. Harland introduces us -again to the lovers’ Italy of blue skies and marvelous landscapes. The -story takes place in a magnificent Austrian castle in northern Italy, -and the hero, whose real name is John, is an Englishman—such a witty, -charming Englishman as only Mr. Harland can create. The heroine is the -beautiful Maria Dolores, an Austrian Princess, who is quite John’s match -in joyous fancy and quaintness of wit. The dialogue is contagious in its -dainty humor, and the book ripples with laughter from beginning to end. - - Radiant in literary style.... The book must be read in order to - appreciate the author’s delicacy in recording the prayer and wit - of love in conversation.... In this novel we have the lovers’ - Italy.—_New York Evening Post._ - - As continuously and unflaggingly witty as anything that has - appeared in a long time.—_Philadelphia Record._ - - _Frontispiece in tint by Louis Loeb. Autograph portrait edition - bound in Japanese vellum, $3.00. Regular edition, $1.50._ - - McClure, Phillips & Co. - - - - - By David Graham Phillips - - - Author of “Golden Fleece.” - - THE MASTER ROGUE - - ❦ - -A study in the tyranny of wealth. James Galloway founds his fortune on a -fraud. He ruins the man who has befriended him and steals away his -business. Vast railroad operations next claim his attention. He becomes -a bird of prey in the financial world. One by one he forsakes his -principles; he becomes a hypocrite, posing, even to himself. With the -degeneration of his moral character come domestic troubles. His wife -grows to despise him. One of his sons becomes a spendthrift; the other a -forger. His daughter, Helen, alone retains any affection for him. His -attempts to force his family into the most exclusive circles subject him -and them to mortifying rebuffs, for all his millions cannot overcome the -ill-repute of his name. At last, with his hundred millions won, his -house the finest in America, his name a name to conjure with in the -financial world, he realizes that the goal he has reached was not worth -the race. Still he clings to his old ways, and dies in a fit of anger, -haggling over his daughter’s dowry. - - $1.50. - - McClure, Phillips & Co. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Changed ‘idea if it’ to ‘idea of it’ on p. 125. - 2. Changed ‘twenty policeman’ to ‘twenty policemen’ on p. 177. - 3. Silently corrected typographical errors. - 4. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. - 5. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Shame of the Cities, by Lincoln Steffens - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHAME OF THE CITIES *** - -***** This file should be named 54710-0.txt or 54710-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/7/1/54710/ - -Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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