Then vote for our Tippecanoe,
Hurrah for Ben Harrison, too;
We'll pull down the old red bandana,
And run up the Red, White and Blue.
Words cannot describe the scene after this song. The Riverside papers
said next morning: "It was certainly a rouser. Nothing like it was
ever before seen or thought of in this city. Citrus fairs and all
others sink into insignificance. With stirring music and with Harrison
and Morton on top and that too without discrimination we must win, and
win nobly."
I am not a poet by any means and in writing these verses I was put to
my wits' end to have suitable lines for the occasion. I was but three
years old when William Henry Harrison was elected president. My father
was stationed in Evansville, Indiana. Small as I was I'll never forget
the procession of Indians who frightened me so I hid under the bed and
could not be found for the day. When I heard the grandson of
Tippecanoe was nominated I began at once to sing the old song that was
used in his grandfather's time and as I was getting the morning meal
my son, William, and I set to work to compose suitable lines. How we
succeeded you can see by the verses that took the house and every one
on the platform by surprise. The cheering was deafening after each
stanza was sung. It is unnecessary to state that the immense audience
went perfectly wild with excitement.
One of the papers said:
"At the conclusion of her song, Hon. H.M. Streeter arose and addressed
the immense throng and said, 'I thought I was a true American in
spirit and a staunch republican all these years, but my patriotism
pales this song and the patriotic spirit of this splendid woman. I
propose we give three times three cheers to Mrs. Blake-Alverson' which
were given with a vim that left no doubts of the sincerity of the
enthusiastic people who gathered on this occasion and their
appreciation of her efforts in making this demonstration such a
stupendous success."
This was the second rally. Already the Opera house in San Bernardino
was no longer adequate for the crowds that assembled nightly. Overflow
meetings were held in the streets each time. At last we were obliged
to have an amphitheater prepared to accommodate the crowds that were
increasing with each rally. Never was such political excitement in
that county. There was an enclosed stage erected and a piano placed
upon it and each night speeches were made (and ringing ones too) and I
think all the sleepy mossbacks were wide awake at last and realized
that their kind of Democracy was tottering and waiting for the last
blow. When Benjamin Harrison was elected the twenty-third president
of these United States, San Bernardino county had demonstrations never
equaled before or since. Every man, woman and child participated. Men
from miles around were in the procession, features and transparencies
of all kinds were carried by the marchers. After the procession they
adjourned to the amphitheater for the exercises. My voice had been in
constant use for two or three months and at the last moment I could
not sing. I had written another song to be sung to the same tune, "Old
Tippecanoe," and the chairman was obliged to let the people know I
could not sing any more--the voice was gone. Such a howl of
disappointment went up. I was obliged to stand before them and shake
my head. I was not even able to speak to them. At this juncture I
asked Mr. Brown to kindly read the verses, which were as follows:
We've voted and won now, my comrades,
The struggle decisive and strong;
The nation's decided the question
For our bold and brave Harrison;
May the nation's protection be blest
To the workingmen's families and homes;
John Bull can decide his own problems
And call his Lord Sackville back home.