_THE ASSOCIATED BANKCLERKS OF CANADA._
It was Labor Day morning. Massey Hall had been rented for the
afternoon and evening to accommodate a mass meeting of bankclerks. The
newspapers of Toronto, Montreal, Hamilton, London and Guelph, as well
as the other big towns within a radius of four hundred miles from
Toronto, had printed the news.
Notices had come in from over four hundred out-of-town clerks,
promising attendance. Evan and A. P. were busy. Girl-friends of
Toronto clerks had formed themselves into a club for the making of
badges and pennants with which the boys and the assembly room,
respectively, were to be decorated.
When the "organizers" arrived at Massey Hall already a score of young
ladies were nursing bundles of bunting, anxious to have someone hold
the ladders for them.
Before long city clerks began dropping in, bringing telegrams and
letters bearing encouraging announcements. Evan called for volunteers
to act on a reception committee, to meet all trains and to introduce
the fellows. Everybody responded, and ten were selected.
A thousand seats were reserved for bankboys, five hundred for their
friends, and the rest were free to the public. The newspapers had
discovered two orchestras willing to serve gratis; both of them were
accepted, and came in the forenoon for rehearsal under one leader.
During decorations Henty seemed to think that the girls required
watching.
"I should think, A. P.," said Nelson, aside, "that when you survived
Nova Scotia you ought to stand a few Toronto beauties."
"Believe me," replied Henty, "these are hard to beat. By the way, we
ought to have a reception committee for girls. A good many of the
fellows will bring their friends along."
"A good idea," laughed Evan; "you look after it, will you?"
"You bet. I wouldn't mind being that committee myself."
A. P. did look after it, and not vicariously.
Time sped. Every train brought in a bunch of town clerks. They came
from far and near; from every city and almost every hamlet in Ontario.
Nelson and Henty themselves went down to the Montreal train. Two
hundred and fifty boys came in on it. They hailed from Quebec,
Montreal, Kingston, Peterborough, and points along the line. When they
recognized X. Bankclerk, whose common-looking face had been reproduced
in most of the big Canadian dailies, they cheered and shouted until
holiday travellers stood aghast.
The Windsor train came in about eleven o'clock, shortly after the
Montreal, bringing a delegation larger than the Eastern. Union Station
was crammed with bankclerks, and a band was waiting for them on Front
Street. After a fair display of noise and confusion the boys formed in
quadruple line and marched up town. Two men in the van carried a
gigantic streamer bearing the inscription: "The A.B.C.'s."
As they marched up Yonge Street Evan saw a figure with a pointed beard
and a hand-bag disappear around the corner of Temperance Street, as
though afraid to face the music. It is hardly probable the Big Eye was
going to the Moon Theatre to buy tickets for an afternoon performance.
Nelson would not have been at all surprised at that, but he thought it
more likely that Castle would forego the pleasure of a burlesque
performance, on that day of his defeat, and crawl into the gallery of
Massey Hall.
By noon seven hundred bankclerks were assembled. Henty drew Evan's
attention to the fact that it was chiefly the country chaps who brought
their lady-friends; the city fellows probably had had a strenuous time
of it paying their own fares. Nevertheless, there was present a good
representation of the fair sex.
A. P. and Evan had lunch with Mr. and Mrs. Nelson and Lou, from
Hometon. It was a happy reunion.
Mrs. Nelson cried with joy; Lou blushed at the look of admiration her
brother gave her; and George Nelson's eyes twinkled.
"And this is Mr. Henty!" cried Mrs. Nelson, after her first little cry.
"Yes," said Evan, looking at Lou, "this is the other rube."
Lou's face burned.
"I didn't include Mr. Henty," she explained, "when I used to call you a
rube, brother. In fact, you both look like real sports now."
"Oh, we're sports all right," said A. P., laughing with peculiar
animation.
Was there nothing lacking at that lunch-party? Why then did Evan, for
brief moments, seem absent-minded? Probably it was the bank union that
engaged his thoughts. His sister had so many questions to ask him he
could not get a chance to formulate a sufficiently sly question about
Hometon, and the people there. When he observed that he was going up,
with Henty, to rest a while, his mother said:
"You'll see everything the way you left it; nothing new to tell you,
son. Except--oh, well!--How many thousand miles have you travelled?"
"We estimate them in millions," said Henty, soberly.
Noon-hour passed away very rapidly, and the boys escorted the Nelsons
over to the Hall. Henty was informed that somebody waited to see him.
It was the old gentleman.
He was dressed in typically farmer style, and wore a merry smile.
After a brief greeting with his son he turned for an introduction to
Lou, and was soon chuckling at everything she said.
One of the reception committee came hurrying up to Evan and whispered
that the assembly was waiting.
"We've got a box for your folk," said the bankclerk.
The other boxes were filled with ladies, none of whom were more
attractive than Lou Nelson. Old man Henty pushed her chair out where a
thousand bankmen might admire her, and it took her several minutes to
master the color in her cheeks.
The two "organizers" came on the platform together, and the audience
applauded generously. Evan sat down while Henty, his face aflame,
announced in quavering voice:
"Ladies and gentlemen, and especially boys of Bankerdom, instead of
introducing you to Mr. Nelson and myself we will ask you all to stand
and sing the Canadian National Anthem."
The orchestra leader faced the audience, with his baton poised, and one
of the players led in the singing. The sound of the pipe organ itself
was drowned in the strains of "O Canada" that swelled from so many
young Canadian throats.
Thoroughly thrilled, when the singing was done Evan arose to speak.
There was a demonstration of a few minutes, then the speaker's voice
rang out vibrantly:
"Dear friends, I thank you for such a welcome. I am going to make a
short speech, but not because I want to: the occasion demands it.
There are many people here, who want to know what this is all about. I
shall tell them and then we will get down to business.
"Perhaps if I had not been fired from one of the banks in this city,
about four years ago, I should not be here now trying to organize a
bank union. But I don't want any of you to think it is revenge I am
after; I am really here to make it impossible for any clerk to be
discharged and disgraced as I was, without a trial. You all know my
story, how I was denied the right to plead my own cause, and all the
rest of it. It is hard for me to forgive--I never can forgive them;
but let us forget them. Those days of tyranny are over--dating from
to-day."
Nelson was smothered in cheers and clapping of hands.
"The great necessity for clerk union," he resumed, "is based on a
condition of affairs, still prevalent in the business, which made it
easy for the bank to fire and blackball myself. I represented the
clerk who had no protection; the insignificant individual. He
is--rather I should say, dating from to-day--he has been clay in the
potter's hands; but the potter has got to go out of business, and we're
here now to see that he does." (Here, the bankclerks expressed their
endorsement of the idea in clapping and laughter.) "Heretofore, my
friends, we have been the mere tools of a combination of rich
institutions; they have hired and fired us how and when they pleased.
We are sick of it; it's bad business."
"You bet it is," cried someone in the crowd; and the galleries enjoyed
the show.
"I see a great many girls here to-day," continued the speaker, "and
they look like the friends of bankclerks. Now what is going to become
of them unless we can make enough money to support them? An engagement
never made any girl happy, after it was more than two or three years of
age. How many of us have been engaged for five and ten years, and
can't even yet afford to make good our promise? I'm glad you take it
as a joke, instead of growing angry with me; but, my bank friends, it
is not a joke, particularly to the girl who is waiting for you and me."
The seriousness of Nelson's tone had its effect on the audience, and
the silence that followed his last sentence was tense.
"There are many other crows," he went on, "to pick with head office,
the majority of which will have to be plucked in committee meetings of
the A.B.C.'s." (Applause.) "We are here to get the organization of
that association under way, rather than to entertain our friends. So
with your permission I will conclude my introduction and begin business
by asking you to form a _pro tem._ organization. Who will you have for
temporary chairman?"
Before Evan had sat down several bankmen were on their feet nominating
him for chairman. Henty tried to elicit some other nomination but
failed: they shouted and whistled for Nelson. He thanked them and took
the chair. A. P. was chosen secretary, a committee to draft
resolutions and by-laws was selected, and a full temporary organization
effected.
To relieve the monotony of business the orchestra was asked for an
overture, and while it was playing Evan was called behind the scenes.
A gentleman, whom he took for a bank official, was waiting to speak to
him.
"My name is Jacob Doro," said the gentleman; "I am a friend of your
movement. Let me congratulate you on this splendid success. I want to
make a suggestion, Mr. Nelson, and hope you will not misunderstand me.
Will you accept an endowment for the establishment of a sort of club
here in Toronto, where bankclerks can congregate, have a library, a
gymnasium, and recreation of every kind? I am president of a loan
company, and if you will not accept a donation, you will at least
accept a loan on a long note."
Evan was, of course, surprised.
"That is a good scheme of yours, Mr. Doro," he said, "but why should
you want to throw away money on us bank-fellows?"
"It won't be thrown away, Mr. Nelson," replied the stranger; "I was not
always rich, but now I am, and it would give me great pleasure to endow
this bankclerks' association. In the days when I was struggling I had
a son enter the banking business, and they killed him with work. Now
perhaps you understand?"
No one could have doubted the sincerity of a man who spoke with the
feeling Doro evinced. Evan held out his hand.
"We will be needing friends," he said; "may I use your name, Mr. Doro?"
Mr. Doro thought a moment before replying.
"I'm not afraid of the banks," he said, finally; "and, besides, by
telling my name and why I give the money, you will attract other
contributions. I know you will. Tell the boys I donate $25,000, and
that I know others who have several thousands to spare."
Feeling a bit unsteady, Evan offered Doro a seat on one of the wings of
the stage, then went back to the platform. When the overture was
finished he stood before the assembly again.
"I have great news for you," he said, and related the newly-found
philanthropist's offer. There was perfect order while he spoke, but it
was evident the clerks were restraining themselves.
"Let us see Mr. Doro," one fellow shouted. Everyone clapped the
suggestion.
"He will appear at our meeting to-night," said Evan, answering for
Doro, "when we convene to elect permanent officers."
They were satisfied with that. Mr. Doro's suggestion was talked to
informally by different men from Montreal, London and other cities, all
of whom were in favor of some such institution as the one proposed.
The general opinion was that it would be a fine thing for the boys;
would serve as a rendezvous for transient clerks, make a good club for
city men, and promulgate the spirit of sociability. Toronto was
thought to be the most convenient city in the Dominion to have as
headquarters for the A.B.C.'s: there Hague conferences with head office
would take place.
At a signal from the chairman the orchestra began to play a song
entitled "Bankerdom." It was sung by a quartette of clerks, and
afterwards by the Assembly, who were provided with printed copies. The
refrain went:
"O Bankerdom, dear Bankerdom,
We sing to thee a freedom-song;
The years have gone that knew us dumb,--
The years we found so hard and long;
And here to-day is taken from
Our aching wrists the silver thong
That bound us to a monied wrong,
Our Bankerdom, free Bankerdom!"
About five o'clock the afternoon session was adjourned.
A. P.'s father, who was quite a plunger when he came to town, persuaded
the Nelsons to dine with him at a first-class hotel. Evan could not go
along; he had accepted an invitation to dine at Mrs. Greig's.
Sam Robb was ill--that accounted for his absence from the mass meeting
in the afternoon. Evan had been to see him a few days before, but Robb
was too sick to talk. Now he was downstairs in carpet slippers, and
looked pretty well.
"How did it come off?" was his salutation.
Evan described the whole affair, to the ex-manager's extreme
satisfaction. Before they had been conversing long he asked frankly,
"Are you still slaving away?"
"Yes," sighed Robb; "but the union will help us boys."
"Why do you smile, Mrs. Greig?" asked Nelson, himself smiling. She
looked at Robb before answering.
"To hear an old married man call himself a boy."
"Married!"
The ex-manager laughed and blushed.
"Yes," he admitted, "our landlady's name is Mrs. Robb; I hadn't the
nerve to tell you before."
Although the same landlady objected to "Sammy's going out in the night
air," Sam accompanied Evan to Massey Hall after dinner. As they walked
down University Avenue Evan could scarcely realize that his position
had altered so greatly in four years. He thought of the day after he
had been dismissed and how dejectedly he had sat, with a swelled head,
on one of those avenue benches.
"Do you know," said his old friend, replying to a reminiscent
observation of Evan's, "that spree of yours cured me; that and Ede."
At Massey Hall, Robb was introduced to Mr. Henty's party, and took a
seat in their box.
The hall was filled again. At the front of the balcony a bevy of
suffragists were seated, ready to approve of a movement that appealed
to their adventurous spirits. Evan noticed their colors and gave them
a public welcome. He said he was proud of their support, and hoped
they would win in their fight against Man as satisfactorily as the
bankclerks were winning against Money.
After a few general remarks the chairman exhibited a record book in
which he said there were written and pasted about one thousand two
hundred names of applicants for membership in the association. Not
more than two hundred of those present, of whom there were one
thousand, were enrolled; so that, to start with, the A.B.C.'s would
have a membership of two thousand. He held up an armful of mail which
had been forwarded from Hometon, to illustrate the enthusiasm with
which bankclerks everywhere were responding to the call.
"Now let us proceed with permanent organization," he said, using a bank
ruler for a gavel; "we must first have a resolution to form an
association; after that decide on a name; then elect officers and
appoint committees."
A man arose in the audience. "Mr. Chairman," he said, "might I speak a
word?"
Evan recognized the speaker. "Come on up to the platform," he invited;
"I was forgetting about you, Mr. Doro."
The audience shouted "Platform!" and Doro reluctantly obeyed.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "and you boys in the banking business,
I hope you will understand that I am not looking for notoriety here
to-night. I merely want to boost a good thing along. Now I don't want
to force a donation on this society, but if you will accept it you are
welcome to it; if you cannot see your way clear to accept it, I beg of
you to borrow from my trust company as freely as you wish. I will
accept the signatures of your executive without security."
There was a terrific demonstration. After it had quieted, Evan
whispered to Mr. Doro that they were not yet organized, but as soon as
they were they would entertain his offer. In the meantime he was given
a seat on the platform.
Motions began to circulate. In a few minutes it had been decided to
organize a union; a name was chosen; a brief constitution was adopted;
and the election of officers began.
The name of president came up first. The bankclerks would have nobody
but Nelson. He thanked them briefly, assuring them he would look after
their interests with all his might. It was thought advisable not to
have a vice-president. For secretary-treasurer A. P. Henty was
nominated. In a short speech he declined, and finished by suggesting
Mr. Sam Robb, whom he said would know how to handle the banks because
he had been a manager.
"Does anybody know him?" called someone, during a silence.
"Yes," replied the president, coming to the front of the stage. "If
any man is competent of handling the work, and worthy of the honor, I
know Mr. Robb to be. He is one of the best friends I have, and I know
him to be both clever and honest. Added to his ability and integrity,
he has experience; and the ways of big business are plain to him. My
friends, we need just such a man as Mr. Robb for secretary-treasurer."
Their gratitude to Evan for his long efforts in making a bank union
possible would not permit the assembly to reject the man whom the
president so strongly recommended for the position of secretary. They
elected Robb to the office, on a good salary.
Why go into further details of the organization? It was in good hands,
and behind it were the brains of two thousand young Canadian
businessmen. Why should it not work out? And with the initiation fee
and monthly dues, why should it not pay as it grew?
A committee on finance was chosen, to thoroughly canvass any endowments
offered. Mr. Doro's offer was refused, but the association made him
honorary-president and adopted a resolution to borrow money from him
for the erection of a Bankclerks' Retreat in Toronto. The financial
committee saw to it that Nelson and Henty were refunded their expenses
from Victoria to Halifax.
The hour was late before the evening session adjourned. A. P.
delivered a farewell address, in which he declared he was "not cut out
for office work," and Sam Robb convinced the assembly that he was the
man for the office they had conferred upon him.
Evan cut his closing sentences short. As the orchestra played "God
Save the King" he looked down into the audience and saw someone pushing
toward the platform. It was the Bonehead.
"Hey," said Perry, beckoning to Evan, "I want to speak to you." He
dragged his yielding victim to a corner. "This union'll just about
bring my salary up to the marriage mark. Fine, ain't it? I suppose
you know that Frank and I are----"
"No, I didn't know," replied Evan, coldly. Then, absently, "Did you
bring her down with you?"
"Sure. I've been working in Orangeville; she came down on the late
afternoon train and I met her on the way. Why don't you congratulate
me?"
Nelson acted as though he had not heard. "Where is she?" he asked.
"Oh, she beat it with a friend just before the thing was dismissed.
She's staying with her cousin on Jarvis Street. We're going back
together on the morning train."
Never in his life had Perry been so objectionable to Nelson as he was
during those few minutes. The egotism of him to aspire to Frankie's
love! And yet there came to Evan the stinging realization that he,
himself, had failed to cherish that love. It was not the Bonehead's
fault that he was engaged to her--who could blame him? That was a
matter for Frankie to decide, and apparently she had decided.
Evan had no heart for further handshakes. He sought out Robb and
taking him by the arm left Massey Hall by the stage entrance. Rain had
fallen in torrents and the gutters were full of water, but the sky had
cleared, and the air was fresh and cool.
"Let's walk home," said Robb, "I'm all worked up; this thing has taken
away my breath--I need the air."
Evan did not smile; he walked along in silence.
"What's the matter, old man?" asked his friend when they had reached
University Avenue; "has something disappointed you?"
"No," said Evan, ashamed of his moodiness, "I was just thinking of one
night similar to this when I was on the cash-book. Doesn't it seem a
long time ago, Sam?"
Robb took a deep breath at the word "Sam."
"Old friend," he said, vibrantly, "you can't understand what you've
done for me to-night. I was almost at the breaking-point."
Evan's eyes were turned up a side street, an unpaved street where the
mud was deep and slimy.
"For heaven's sake!" he whispered, "look who goes there! When I
whistle," he continued excitedly, "you fall back and watch for cops.
I'm going to spoil that blue coat and those flannel pants."
"I recognize him," said Robb; "go easy; remember you've been a farmer."
It was past midnight. The avenue was deserted. Large chestnuts
clothed the side street, down which the person designated walked, in
darkness.
Evan fairly panted as he trailed his quarry. Within a few rods of It
he began to run noiselessly upon the grass. Then he pounced upon it,
like a jaguar upon a fawn. Sam was a short distance behind.
Down in the mud went the blue coat and flannel pants, and there echoed
a cry much like that of a frightened girl. Smothering that cry with a
handful of mud, Evan proceeded to plaster every part of his victim,
except the ears, into one of which he facetiously whispered:
"Alfy dear, this is Evan."
All but howling, Castle scrambled out of the gutter and ran for his
life.
Sam tried several times to speak, as they walked up to his home, but
his eye fell on Evan's muddy raincoat and he failed. Through the night
Mrs. Robb was startled by certain silent convulsions.
"Sammy," she whispered, "are you ill?"
"Yes, Ede," he said jerkily, "a pain in the side."