I find in relating those parts of my experience that seem to be of most
significance I have neglected to tell of my mother's death, which
occurred the year before we moved to Grant Avenue. She had clung the rest
of her days to the house in which I had been born. Of late years she had
lived in my children, and Maude's devotion to her had been unflagging.
Truth compels me to say that she had long ceased to be a factor in my
life. I have thought of her in later years.
Coincident with the unexpected feeling of fruitlessness that came to me
with the Grant Avenue house, of things achieved but not realized or
appreciated, was the appearance of a cloud on the business horizon; or
rather on the political horizon, since it is hard to separate the two
realms. There were signs, for those who could read, of a rising popular
storm. During the earliest years of the new century the political
atmosphere had changed, the public had shown a tendency to grow restless;
and everybody knows how important it is for financial operations, for
prosperity, that the people should mind their own business. In short, our
commercial-romantic pilgrimage began to meet with unexpected resistance.
It was as though the nation were entering into a senseless conspiracy to
kill prosperity.
In the first place, in regard to the Presidency of the United States, a
cog had unwittingly been slipped. It had always been recognized--as I
have said--by responsible financial personages that the impulses of the
majority of Americans could not be trusted, that these--who had inherited
illusions of freedom--must be governed firmly yet with delicacy; unknown
to them, their Presidents must be chosen for them, precisely as Mr.
Watling had been chosen for the people of our state, and the popular
enthusiasm manufactured later. There were informal meetings in New York,
in Washington, where candidates were discussed; not that such and such a
man was settled upon,--it was a process of elimination. Usually the
affair had gone smoothly. For instance, a while before, a benevolent
capitalist of the middle west, an intimate of Adolf Scherer, had become
obsessed with the idea that a friend of his was the safest and sanest man
for the head of the nation, had convinced his fellow-capitalists of this,
whereupon he had gone ahead to spend his energy and his money freely to
secure the nomination and election of this gentleman.
The Republican National Committee, the Republican National Convention
were allowed to squabble to their hearts' content as to whether Smith,
Jones or Brown should be nominated, but it was clearly understood that if
Robinson or White were chosen there would be no corporation campaign
funds. This applied also to the Democratic party, on the rare occasions
when it seemed to have an opportunity of winning. Now, however, through
an unpardonable blunder, there had got into the White House a President
who was inclined to ignore advice, who appealed over the heads of the
"advisers" to the populace; who went about tilting at the industrial
structures we had so painfully wrought, and in frequent blasts of
presidential messages enunciated new and heretical doctrines; who
attacked the railroads, encouraged the brazen treason of labour unions,
inspired an army of "muck-rakers" to fill the magazines with the wildest
and most violent of language. State legislatures were emboldened to pass
mischievous and restrictive laws, and much of my time began to be
occupied in inducing, by various means, our courts to declare these
unconstitutional. How we sighed for a business man or a lawyer in the
White House! The country had gone mad, the stock-market trembled, the cry
of "corporation control" resounded everywhere, and everywhere demagogues
arose to inaugurate "reform campaigns," in an abortive attempt to "clean
up politics." Down with the bosses, who were the tools of the
corporations!
In our own city, which we fondly believed to be proof against the
prevailing madness, a slight epidemic occurred; slight, yet momentarily
alarming. Accidents will happen, even in the best regulated political
organizations,--and accidents in these days appeared to be the rule. A
certain Mr. Edgar Greenhalge, a middle-aged, mild-mannered and
inoffensive man who had made a moderate fortune in wholesale drugs, was
elected to the School Board. Later on some of us had reason to suspect
that Perry Blackwood--with more astuteness than he had been given credit
for--was responsible for Mr. Greenhalge's candidacy. At any rate, he was
not a man to oppose, and in his previous life had given no hint that he
might become a trouble maker. Nothing happened for several months. But
one day on which I had occasion to interview Mr. Jason on a little matter
of handing over to the Railroad a piece of land belonging to the city,
which was known as Billings' Bowl, he inferred that Mr. Greenhaige might
prove a disturber of that profound peace with which the city
administration had for many years been blessed.
"Who the hell is he?" was Mr. Jason's question.
It appeared that Mr. G.'s private life had been investigated, with
disappointingly barren results; he was, seemingly, an anomalistic being
in our Nietzschean age, an unaggressive man; he had never sold any drugs
to the city; he was not a church member; nor could it be learned that he
had ever wandered into those byways of the town where Mr. Jason might
easily have got trace of him: if he had any vices, he kept them locked up
in a safe-deposit box that could not be "located." He was very genial,
and had a way of conveying disturbing facts--when he wished to convey
them--under cover of the most amusing stories. Mr. Jason was not a man to
get panicky. Greenhalge could be handled all right, only--what was there
in it for Greenhalge?--a nut difficult for Mr. Jason to crack. The two
other members of the School Board were solid. Here again the wisest of
men was proved to err, for Mr. Greenhalge turned out to have powers of
persuasion; he made what in religious terms would have been called a
conversion in the case of another member of the board, an hitherto
staunch old reprobate by the name of Muller, an ex-saloon-keeper in
comfortable circumstances to whom the idea of public office had appealed.
Mr. Greenhalge, having got wind of certain transactions that interested
him extremely, brought them in his good-natured way to the knowledge of
Mr. Gregory, the district attorney, suggesting that he investigate. Mr.
Gregory smiled; undertook, as delicately as possible, to convey to Mr.
Greenhalge the ways of the world, and of the political world in
particular, wherein, it seemed, everyone was a good fellow. Mr.
Greenhalge was evidently a good fellow, and didn't want to make trouble
over little things. No, Mr. Greenhalge didn't want to make trouble; he
appreciated a comfortable life as much as Mr. Gregory; he told the
district attorney a funny story which might or might not have had an
application to the affair, and took his leave with the remark that he had
been happy to make Mr. Gregory's acquaintance. On his departure the
district attorney's countenance changed. He severely rebuked a
subordinate for some trivial mistake, and walked as rapidly as he could
carry his considerable weight to Monahan's saloon.... One of the things
Mr. Gregory had pointed out incidentally was that Mr. Greenhalge's
evidence was vague, and that a grand jury wanted facts, which might be
difficult to obtain. Mr. Greenhalge, thinking over the suggestion, sent
for Krebs. In the course of a month or two the investigation was
accomplished, Greenhalge went back to Gregory; who repeated his homilies,
whereupon he was handed a hundred or so typewritten pages of evidence.
It was a dramatic moment.
Mr. Gregory resorted to pleading. He was sure that Mr. Greenhalge didn't
want to be disagreeable, it was true and unfortunate that such things
were so, but they would be amended: he promised all his influence to
amend them. The public conscience, said Mr. Gregory, was being aroused.
Now how much better for the party, for the reputation, the fair name of
the city if these things could be corrected quietly, and nobody indicted
or tried! Between sensible and humane men, wasn't that the obvious way?
After the election, suit could be brought to recover the money. But Mr.
Greenhalge appeared to be one of those hopeless individuals without a
spark of party loyalty; he merely continued to smile, and to suggest that
the district attorney prosecute. Mr. Gregory temporized, and presently
left the city on a vacation. A day or two after his second visit to the
district attorney's office Mr. Greenhalge had a call from the city
auditor and the purchasing agent, who talked about their families,--which
was very painful. It was also intimated to Mr. Greenhalge by others who
accosted him that he was just the man for mayor. He smiled, and modestly
belittled his qualifications....
Suddenly, one fine morning, a part of the evidence Krebs had gathered
appeared in the columns of the Mail and State, a new and enterprising
newspaper for which the growth and prosperity of our city were
responsible; the sort of "revelations" that stirred to amazement and
wrath innocent citizens of nearly every city in our country: politics and
"graft" infesting our entire educational system, teachers and janitors
levied upon, prices that took the breath away paid to favoured firms for
supplies, specifications so worded that reasonable bids were barred. The
respectable firm of Ellery and Knowles was involved. In spite of our
horror, we were Americans and saw the humour of the situation, and
laughed at the caricature in the Mail and State representing a scholar
holding up a pencil and a legend under it, "No, it's not gold, but it
ought to be."
Here I must enter into a little secret history. Any affair that
threatened the integrity of Mr. Jason's organization was of serious
moment to the gentlemen of the financial world who found that
organization invaluable and who were also concerned about the fair name
of their community; a conference in the Boyne Club decided that the city
officials were being persecuted, and entitled therefore to "the very best
of counsel,"--in this instance, Mr. Hugh Paret. It was also thought wise
by Mr. Dickinson, Mr. Gorse, and Mr. Grierson, and by Mr. Paret himself
that he should not appear in the matter; an aspiring young attorney, Mr.
Arbuthnot, was retained to conduct the case in public. Thus capital came
to the assistance of Mr. Jason, a fund was raised, and I was given carte
blanche to defend the miserable city auditor and purchasing agent, both
of whom elicited my sympathy; for they were stout men, and rapidly losing
weight. Our first care was to create a delay in the trial of the case in
order to give the public excitement a chance to die down. For the public
is proverbially unable to fix its attention for long on one object,
continually demanding the distraction that our newspapers make it their
business to supply. Fortunately, a murder was committed in one of our
suburbs, creating a mystery that filled the "extras" for some weeks, and
this was opportunely followed by the embezzlement of a considerable sum
by the cashier of one of our state banks. Public interest was divided
between baseball and the tracking of this criminal to New Zealand.
Our resentment was directed, not so much against Commissioner Greenhalge
as against Krebs. It is curious how keen is the instinct of men like
Grierson, Dickinson, Tallant and Scherer for the really dangerous
opponent. Who the deuce was this man Krebs? Well, I could supply them
with some information: they doubtless recalled the Galligan, case; and
Miller Gorse, who forgot nothing, also remembered his opposition in the
legislature to House Bill 709. He had continued to be the obscure legal
champion of "oppressed" labour, but how he had managed to keep body and
soul together I knew not. I had encountered him occasionally in court
corridors or on the street; he did not seem to change much; nor did he
appear in our brief and perfunctory conversations to bear any resentment
against me for the part I had taken in the Galligan affair. I avoided him
when it was possible.... I had to admit that he had done a remarkably
good piece of work in collecting Greenhalge's evidence, and how the,
erring city officials were to be rescued became a matter of serious
concern. Gregory, the district attorney, was in an abject funk; in any
case a mediocre lawyer, after the indictment he was no help at all. I had
to do all the work, and after we had selected the particular "Railroad"
judge before whom the case was to be tried, I talked it over with him.
His name was Notting, he understood perfectly what was required of him,
and that he was for the moment the chief bulwark on which depended the
logical interests of capital and sane government for their defence; also,
his re-election was at stake. It was indicated to newspapers (such as the
Mail and State) showing a desire to keep up public interest in the affair
that their advertising matter might decrease; Mr. Sherrill's great
department store, for instance, did not approve of this sort of
agitation. Certain stationers, booksellers and other business men had got
"cold feet," as Mr. Jason put it, the prospect of bankruptcy suddenly
looming ahead of them,--since the Corn National Bank held certain
paper....
In short, when the case did come to trial, it "blew up," as one of our
ward leaders dynamically expressed it. Several important witnesses were
mysteriously lacking, and two or three school-teachers had suddenly
decided--to take a trip to Europe. The district attorney was ill, and
assigned the prosecution to a mild assistant; while a sceptical
jury--composed largely of gentlemen who had the business interests of the
community, and of themselves, at heart returned a verdict of "not
guilty." This was the signal for severely dignified editorials in Mr.
Tallant's and other conservative newspapers, hinting that it might be
well in the future for all well-meaning but misguided reformers to think
twice before subjecting the city to the cost of such trials, and
uselessly attempting to inflame public opinion and upset legitimate
business. The Era expressed the opinion that no city in the United States
was "more efficiently and economically governed than our own."
"Irregularities" might well occur in every large organization; and it
would better have become Mr. Greenhalge if, instead of hiring an unknown
lawyer thirsting for notoriety to cook up charges, he had called the
attention of the proper officials to the matter, etc., etc. The Pilot
alone, which relied on sensation for its circulation, kept hammering away
for a time with veiled accusations. But our citizens had become weary....
As a topic, however, this effective suppression of reform was referred to
with some delicacy by my friends and myself. Our interference had been
necessary and therefore justified, but we were not particularly proud of
it, and our triumph had a temporarily sobering effect. It was about this
time, if I remember correctly, that Mr. Dickinson gave the beautiful
stained-glass window to the church....
Months passed. One day, having occasion to go over to the Boyne Iron
Works to get information at first hand from certain officials, and having
finished my business, I boarded a South Side electric car standing at the
terminal. Just before it started Krebs came down the aisle of the car and
took the seat in front of me.
"Well," I said, "how are you?" He turned in surprise, and thrust his big,
bony hand across the back of the seat. "Come and sit here." He came. "Do
you ever get back to Cambridge in these days?" I asked cordially.
"Not since I graduated from newspaper work in Boston. That's a good many
years ago. By the way, our old landlady died this year."
"Do you mean--?" "Granite Face," I was about to say. I had forgotten her
name, but that homesick scene when Tom and I stood before our open
trunks, when Krebs had paid us a visit, came back to me. "You've kept in
touch with her?" I asked, in surprise.
"Well," said Krebs, "she was one of the few friends I had at Cambridge. I
had a letter from the daughter last week. She's done very well, and is an
instructor in biology in one of the western universities."