Mike McDonald never got over his hatred for the police that was born
in the days when they used to raid his little game at 89 Dearborn
street. He probably would have abolished the police department
entirely when he finally found himself on the throne of Chicago,
had it not been that he found the police useful in making the other
fellows behave, while he could do as he pleased. And then, it was such
a joy to make the police bend the knee and acknowledge him as Lord and
Master.
Generally the superintendents of police knew what was expected of them
before they accepted the office, but once in a while one of them had
foolish notions about duty and law, and had to be taught his place.
Poor old Simon O'Donnell, when he became superintendent of police,
in the days when Mike McDonald ran "The Store" and ruled Chicago,
got the idea, because of numerous complaints of many patrons of the
gambling games in "The Store," that the place should be raided. So he
raided it.
It was a most impious act. It was like laying hands on the Ark of the
Covenant. Superintendent Simon O'Donnell lost his job so quickly it
made his head ache, and William J. McGarigle, whom McDonald afterward
made warden of the county hospital, and who was indicted and convicted
of boodling, was installed as superintendent of police in place of the
simple-minded Mr. O'Donnell.
Mike McDonald's hatred and contempt for the police is preserved in
a joke that the few minstrel companies still left on earth continue
to cherish as one of their best beloved jests. It originated with
McDonald. One day, when he was in the zenith of his power, a man came
into "The Store" with a subscription list.
"The boys are raising a little money, Mike," said the man. "We'd like
to have you give something. We are putting our names down for $2 a
piece."
"What's it for?" asked Mike, suspiciously.
"Why," answered the man, considerably confused, "We're burying a
policeman."
"Fine," said Mike. "Here's $10; go and bury five of 'em."