Debauching a Legislature
The rumors of vote-buying before the Legislature convened were forgotten
in the facts of the days following. The first ballot for United States
senator, as provided for by the Federal statutes, was cast in each
branch of the Assembly separately on the second Tuesday after
organization; and it was, as usual, scattered by honoring different men
of State repute. The next day, and the next, the ballot was taken in
joint session. The first test of each candidate's strength showed that
Robert Burroughs had but thirty of the entire ninety-four. Thereafter
began a systematized demoralization of the men of all parties who
constituted the legislative assembly. Sumptuous headquarters were
maintained at the leading hotel by Mr. Burroughs, and the Honorable
William Moore, past master in chicanery and rascality, extended a
well-filled hand to all who entered the spider's parlor. Burroughs was
seldom in evidence. In fact, he was not often in the city.
"My friends are working for me," he would explain, nonchalantly. "I have
placed myself in their hands completely. It is not necessary for me to
trouble about the minor details. They have urged me to allow my name to
be used; but, really, it is immaterial to me--I have other interests to
look after." Then, plaintively, "I am far from well."
This last statement was a self-evident fact. Years of crafty plotting
had seamed Burroughs' face with lines that come from secret
connivings--an offer here, a lure there; a sword of Damocles held low;
an iron hand and a velvet glove--all these things made for age in heavy
retribution. He complained of the heat, of the cold; of his breathing
and of his digestion. A sense of suffocating fullness oppressed him as
he climbed the steep incline of the streets of the capital. Yet he
retained his pride in the English girl whom he had married, as he
avowed, to vent malice on her brother. His family affection was the one
redeeming sentiment of his life. When he was away from Butte not a day
passed that he did not communicate with his wife, either by post or
telegraph. He took pains that no newspapers speaking ill of him should
gain admittance to his house--a superfluous task, since politics were of
no interest to his home-loving wife.
William Moore sometimes looked meditatively at his old friend as he
fumed over trifles. Invariably after such reflection he saw to it that
his own private exchequer was bettered from the flow of gold streaming
from the millionaire's store. It was well to be on the safe side,
thought the ex-wolfer, sagely. Yet on the whole his arduous work as
Burroughs' manager was conscientiously done. These men had worked
together too long for Moore not to feel a personal pride in his work of
debauching a Legislature.
Other candidates there were, too, who used illegal methods to obtain
votes. Not that no reputable man was a candidate; not that honest,
incorruptible men could not be found in the legislative halls of
Montana; but Moore's extravagance in behalf of his chief shattered all
precedents, defied integrity and exposure and eclipsed the good that
would not be submerged. In fact, his prodigality defeated its purpose;
when men found that they could get five thousand dollars for a vote as
easily as one thousand, they held their decision in abeyance until the
consideration was increased fourfold. This not once, nor twice; not by
one man, but by the indefinite many, until it was current talk that
certain men had received one, five, ten, even fifteen thousand dollars
for their votes. Why should legislators talk of "their duty," or "the
principle of the thing," when a lifetime of ordinary business methods
and dealings would bring but little more than might be obtained by
speaking a man's name in joint assembly? To listen to any group of men
discussing the political situation one unacquainted with the law would
never mistrust that bribery in legislatures was a state's prison
offense.
So wary did members become that Burroughs, possessing small faith in the
impeccability of his fellow men, grew peevish at the delay in securing
the requisite majority, while those who held Montana's best interests at
heart breasted the tidal wave of corruption with sinking hearts.
As in every contest of its kind, the full vote for Burroughs was not
cast at any joint assembly until Moore knew he had the number required
to elect. In this way no legislator was sure from day to day of the man
sitting beside him; some one known to be pledged to another candidate,
or professing himself under no obligations to any man, would
swaggeringly or shamefacedly, as the case might be, announce as his name
was called from the alphabetical list by the brazen-voiced reader in
front of the speaker's desk that his choice for a United States senator
was Robert Burroughs.
Days went by, with no decisive vote; there was less good-fellowship,
more caution; less talking, more secrecy; each member looking askance at
his neighbor, wondering if he was or would be bought. Lobbies and halls
of capitol, hotels, saloons and offices swarmed with men talking of
Burroughs.
O'Dwyer, member from Chouteau County, took to walking in the middle of
the streets to ward off Burroughs' emissaries--greatly to the amusement
of his friends, in days when amusement was seldom indulged in by the
small band of honest men in the Legislature. State Senator Danvers grew
more grave as time went on. The onus of his party's opposition had
fallen on him, for he was working for the governor's election as United
States senator as against Burroughs, also a Republican. He felt more
alone than at any time since he had lived in the Northwest, for the
doctor was back at Fort Benton, and Judge Latimer away on professional
matters.
Hall grew unctuous, and had many a sly wink with Chaplain McDevitt.
Senator Blair was moody, restless and irritable, except in the hours
which he spent with Mrs. Latimer. Winifred, in her anxiety, became a
stranger to sleep, but she made no complaint of her haunting fear. A
reserve, unnatural to her, became apparent.
With Eva Latimer it was different. She was intoxicated with the
excitement, and missed no noon hour when the senate marched in, two by
two, to the representatives' chamber for the daily balloting. With a
list of the members of both houses in hand, she sat watching the
proceedings and checking off each name on the roll-call. Her absorption
in the varying sum totals for Burroughs made her unconscious of the
glances in her direction; and Moore, secluded in his retreat, knew
nothing of her open interest in the capitol. Often Senator Blair was at
her side at the convening of the Legislature, or provided her a seat
near his own, and in the intervals of routine work they would chat in
low tones. She often cast furtive eyes at Danvers, eyes that revealed so
much that those who watched her smiled meaningly. But Danvers, absorbed
in his arduous duties, saw nothing personal in her self-revealing
glance; he resented only her carelessness in protecting her absent
husband's interests.
The contest was not without its amusing features. A nervous
representative shied violently at a piece of writing paper one night
which had been left on his floor by a careless chambermaid; for the
member rooming next him had the night before opened his innocent eyes on
a thousand-dollar bill miraculously floating through the transom. If
bills of such denomination materialized as cleverly as roses at a
medium's seance, what might not develop at any moment? It was
disquieting! Beds were feverishly ripped open instead of being slept in;
mattresses were overhauled and pillows uncased; chiffoniers were turned
upside down in hope that bills were tacked on the bottom; envelopes in
unfamiliar handwriting were opened cautiously, with no witnesses; papers
were signed making one legislator an Indian agent, another a doctor in a
coal camp, another a lawyer in a large corporation--all positions
contingent on Burroughs' election. The list of pledged men grew, yet
still Moore's outlay did not buy the United States senatorship for
Robert Burroughs.
"Yes, the whole number of ninety-four," confided Moore, patiently, as
Burroughs asked for the hundredth time how many members were in the
Assembly. They were sitting before a large desk in the inner room of
Burroughs' suite, and the Assembly had been in session nearly six weeks.
"I surely have forty-five of 'em now?" anxiously.
"That's the way I've got it figured," soothingly.
"Good men? Men who would vote for me anyway?" Burroughs had lately
developed an exasperating desire to believe that some man was his
friend with no thought of reward. Mr. Moore, knowing the aspirant's
record and reputation, thought that this portended senility.
"Yes--I suppose so. Thirty of 'em, anyway."
"And the others?"
"Oh, so-so," indifferently. What did it matter?
"How many are there who can't be approached?"
"It's pretty hard to tell who can and who can't," parried Moore,
cautiously, and lighted a cigar. "I fancy the lantern business would
experience a gigantic boom if one went hunting for an honest man in
politics."
"In Montana," supplemented Burroughs, smiling at his pleasantry.
"In Montana," acquiesced the arch-briber, suavely.
"How many more must I get?" This was a question that any child could
answer, but Burroughs had a nervous desire to talk which irritated his
companion almost beyond endurance. The day had been a trying one, and
Burroughs asked for repetitions of statements and figures unceasingly.
"Three or four, to make certain," answered Moore, with what urbanity he
could command at the moment.
"How much have you paid out already?" The change in subject was not so
unexpected as might appear. Like most millionaires, the magnate kept
closer account of his expenditures than many a working man.
"I haven't the exact figures. Men often come in and ask for money to
grease their gabbers with, and I give it to them without making a note
of the item."
"I wouldn't believe you under oath--unless I chose," Burroughs said,
equably.
Moore shrugged his shoulders. It was all a matter of a day's exigencies.
"Seems to me we've got a lot of bribe-brokers who are earning easy
money," continued the candidate for Congress.
"That's no dream. But the saloons must be worked, and the men who are
talking for you all the time seem to think it is worth cash money right
along. They've cultivated the politician's faculty of making themselves
indispensable."
"Oh, well, that's all right. I'll go to Congress if it costs me--no one
knows what it costs to buy a Legislature, but I'm going to find out this
winter." Burroughs looked thoughtfully at a slip of paper on the desk,
then raised his eyes.
"Haven't got O'Dwyer, I see."
"No."
"What do you think he'll do?"
"I'm no mind reader."
"Can't get Danvers?"
"What are you thinking of? Of course we can't get him. He's the head of
the opposition. We won't even try. I've had one experience with him in
that Hall case. That's enough for me, and," defiantly, "I rather admire
him." Burroughs lifted his eyebrows. "Besides----"
"How about Joe Hall?" Burroughs interrupted.
"Joe will be in this evening. First time I've been able to get him to
promise to come here. He's sore yet, Bob."
"That's all right. Better be liberal with him. I always liked Joe well
enough. But he's sold out so often in politics that he's a little risky,
after all. Weren't you out with him last night?"
Moore laughed admiringly. So Burroughs knew of a drive to a roadhouse
and a convivial night. His chief kept an omniscient eye on everybody
with whom he was dealing.
"Well, yes. I thought that I'd jolly him up a little without any hint of
trying to get his vote. I had half a mind to commit suicide this
morning, but my head was so sore that I hated to shoot a hole in it."
Burroughs grinned. "Joe's always telling of what he's done. According to
his talk he's developed the State from cattle to copper--from sheep to
sapphires. A man who's always telling what he's done isn't doing very
much now. I'll bet he'll be the easiest in the bunch if you tackle him
right."
"Don't be too sure. A man that's been everything from a Populist to a
justice of the peace is likely to be hard to convince. Queer how
McDevitt turned up this winter," Moore went on, after a drink. "Chaplain
of the House, too!"
"I don't much like that!"
"Oh, we must throw something overboard to the sharks," said Moore,
carelessly. "A member asked me to see that McDevitt got the job, and I
thought it an easy way to get the member--see? Quite a number of the old
Whoop Up crowd here this winter."
"Yes. Got Blair yet?"
"No. He'll be the toughest nut of all. He's hard up, but he's a pretty
decent sort of man these days, and his sister has considerable influence
over him. Besides, he feels in duty bound to stick to Danvers--the old
story of Danvers saving his sister's life, you know."
"I suppose so," admitted Burroughs. "Get a woman after him."
"I have. Mrs. Latimer is interesting him in your behalf. But the idiot
has lost his head over her, instead of taking her advice and voting for
you."
"He's a fool!" snarled Burroughs, remembering Eva's dismissal of
himself. "I thought the time would come when she'd be anxious to get my
help--in some way! But get Blair--get him!" he repeated. "He'll do to
take along as a political exhibit. I've never forgiven him for squealing
in the matter of that whiskey in the Whoop Up Country. Fix it so his
change of face will smirch Eva Latimer. That'll hurt her virtuous and
law-upholding husband more than anything I can do to get even with that
decision _in re_ Hall. Offer him--anything in reason. He's probably
banking on a big haul. Give it to him, and I'll see that his sister
knows that he was bought like a steer in open market. Her scorn will be
like hell for him. I can see that Danvers is gone on her. She'll send
him flying if her brother gets bit--mark my words. Or, rather, Danvers
would hardly want to marry her--the sister of a bribe-taker!"
"I hate to touch Charlie, or to offer him more than any of the others,"
objected Moore. "I'll try to get you elected without him. I will if I
can, and in the meantime I don't give a hang if Mrs. Latimer's
reputation is scorched."
"I know why you don't want to touch Blair. That sister of his is what
you're after. Look out for Danvers if you undertake to stick your brand
on _her_! But my interests must come first--remember. And as for
Eva----" Bill let no smile indicate his mental amusement.
Mr. Burroughs had not been gone long before Senator Hall looked into the
hospitably open door of the outer room.
"You here, Bill?"
"Yes. Walk right in." Moore stepped forward and stood aside for Hall to
precede him to the inner room, closing and locking the door. "We'll not
be interrupted here. I've been wanting to see you for six weeks--never
made it until last night."
After a little talk of the weather and of the political outlook, Moore
thought best to approach his subject boldly.
"How are you feeling towards Burroughs, Joe?"
"Just like a kitten--a soft, purry kitten." Hall was heartily
metaphorical, as he opened his pocket knife mechanically. "If you want
to feel my claws, just ask me to vote for that damn thief! You'll think
that I live in four different atmospheres. You and Bob Burroughs may be
able to buy the rest of the Legislature, but you can't buy me--so don't
ask my price!" Senator Hall had thought long on what he should say when
solicited by the Honorable William, and he had his bluster volubly
perfect. "Any man but Burroughs may go to Congress, but he never
shall!" He continued to pare his nails.
Moore was not at all deceived. He had heard men talk before, and he
detected the false ring of Hall's words. Herein Joe miscalculated. He
thought to deceive a man steeped in conspiracy and deceit. Nevertheless,
Moore was politic, and made no haste.
"Why not forget bygones, Joe? You would have done the same thing
yourself in your deal with Burroughs if you had had the first chance at
those Easterners."
"Would I?" snorted Hall.
"Isn't there any inducement that we can offer you to support Burroughs?"
"None whatever. My constituents would hang me in effigy if I voted for
him. I was on the stump last fall and went on record."
"Your constituents! The voters! What are they? Cattle driven into a
chute! They don't know the true inwardness of State politics. There
aren't six men who do."
"Politics must be purified," Hall announced, solemnly.
"That's so," acquiesced Moore. "Every politician I know, nearly, is so
desirous of being purified that he steps right up here, as though this
was the disinfecting vat! Our legislators seem to think that Burroughs
is the Chief Purifier, and that I am the one who cares for the shorn
lambs!"
"Well, I can't change now."
"You're mighty conscientious. If you had been as much so at Fort Macleod
you probably wouldn't have been run out of the police for----"
"I'm as conscientious as most office-holders," Hall interrupted.
Something in the twist given the words inspired Moore with renewed
courage to press his point. After he had talked earnestly for several
moments, his guest interrupted: "Where is Bob to-night? You said last
night that he would be here."
"He's instructing the conscientious legislator."
Hall laughed, and it was not long before he allowed himself to say:
"Of course, if there's any money going, I want to get my share. I'd do
as much for Burroughs' money as anybody."
After a guarantee of good faith had passed from a safe to his pocket he
left. "What do I care whether Bob Burroughs goes to Congress or goes to
hell?" he muttered delightedly, as he felt the roll of bills in his
pocket. "I've got a pricker coming that will sting his rhinoceros hide!
This money ain't half what's coming to me from that mining deal; take it
all in all, I'll even up with him before the session closes. Just you
wait, Joe," he apostrophized, as he entered the elevator; "just you wait
until the time comes!"
[Illustration]