STARTING A MULE TEAM
Some men are extremely good and loyal politicians so long as the machine
runs smoothly, and they are not called upon to sacrifice their interests
and their opinions. Luke Presson and his associates on the State
Committee were of that sort. But Thelismer Thornton was a better
politician than they.
The Duke had saved the chairman and his committeemen from themselves at
that critical moment in the little room off the convention stage, when
they were ready to invite ruin by defying General Waymouth. It had been
as bitter for Thornton as it had been for the others. Beyond question,
he would have gone down fighting were the question a private or a
personal one. But when the interests of his party were at stake he knew
how to compromise, taking what he could get instead of what he had
determined to get. After the convention he gave fatherly advice to the
committee, and then Presson went up to Burnside village with the
olive-branch. But while he extended that in one hand, he held out his
little political porringer in the other. He couldn't help doing it. The
chairman was no altruist in politics. He didn't propose to cultivate the
spirit.
He put it plainly to General Waymouth--that while he sympathized to some
extent with the latter's desires for general reform, there were certain
interests that propped the party and must be handled with discretion in
the clean-up. He had already drawn some consolation from the fact that
General Waymouth had modified in a measure the planks that he submitted
for the party platform. He followed up this as a step that hinted a
general compromise, and at last frankly presented his requests. He asked
that tax reform be smoothed over, that the corporations be allowed an
opportunity to "turn around," and finally that the prohibitory law
should be let alone. He argued warmly that General Waymouth could not be
criticised by either side if he left the law as he found it. The
radicals were satisfied with the various enactments as they stood, and
if there were infractions it became a matter of the police and sheriffs,
and the Governor could not be held accountable. And he laid stress on
the fact that the people did not want a Governor to tarnish the dignity
of his office by fighting bar-rooms.
But Chairman Presson found an inflexible old man who listened to all he
said, and at the end declared his platform broadly and without details.
Those details of proposed activity he kept to himself. The platform was:
That it behooved all men in the State to be prompt and honest in obeying
the law. That the man who did not obey the law would find himself in
trouble. Moreover, position, personality, or purse could purchase no
exceptions.
That was a platform which Mr. Presson could not attack, of course.
He listened to it sullenly, however. He was angry because common decency
prevented him from expressing his opinion. He had heard other candidates
pompously declare the same thing, but he had not been worried by fear
that saints had come on earth.
This calm old man from whose fibre of ambition the years had burned out
selfishness, greed, graft, and chicanery was a different proposition.
His words sounded as though he meant what he said. And when he asked
the chairman if he had any objection to offer to a system of
administration that carried out exactly what the party had put in its
pledges to the people, Presson glowered at him with hatred in his soul
and malice twinkling in his eyes, and could find no language that would
not brand him as a conspirator against the honor of his State.
But he went back to headquarters swearing and sulking.
In this spirit did candidate and managers face the campaign.
It is not easy to hide family squabbles of that magnitude. The men
concerned in the principal secret of the State Convention kept their
mouths shut for the sake of self-preservation. But unquiet suspicion was
abroad. The Democrats nosed, figured, guessed, and acted with more
duplicity than had characterized their usual campaigns against the
dominant party. Their leaders gave their party a platform that invited
every one to get aboard. Every question was straddled. It was a document
of craft expressed in terms of apparent candor. It elevated a demagogue
as candidate for Governor, and promised every reform on the calendar.
These were the rash pledges of the minority, more reckless than usual.
An united dominant party could have met the issues boldly and frankly
without fear as to results.
But General Waymouth promptly discovered that he had a loyal army with
rebel officers. He was soldier enough to understand the peril. He had
more faith in the inherent, unorganized honesty of "The People" than
Thelismer Thornton had. But, with just as shrewd political knowledge as
the Duke, he held with him that the "The People" amount to mighty little
as a force in politics unless well and loyally officered.
A campaign will not run itself. Left to run itself, the issues are not
brought out to stir up the voting spirit. "The People" have to be poked
into the fighting mood--their ears have to be scruffed--they need
speakers, literature, marshals, inciters--hurrah of partisanship. It was
the off year for the national campaign. No money came into the State
from the Big Fellows.
The State Committee was looked to by the county and town committees to
start the ball rolling and guarantee the purse to push it. "The People"
were, as usual, too busy getting daily bread to be spontaneous in
political movements.
General Waymouth sat in the old brick house in Burnside village, and did
the best he could during the long hot days of July and the sultry first
fortnight of August. Harlan Thornton worked with him. The library
resounded with the click of typewriters, and men came and men went. But
there was no up-and-moving spirit to the campaign.
An old man writing letters--even such an old man as General Varden
Waymouth was in the estimation of his State--is a small voice in the
wilderness of politics.
The Democrats had vociferous orators. Those orators had for text State
extravagance, unjust taxation, and all the other charges "the unders"
may bring against the reigning rulers. They were not answered on the
stump. Even the Republican newspapers were listless and halfhearted.
At last came Thelismer Thornton. It was one afternoon in middle August,
barely three weeks before the day of the State election in September. It
was his first visit to the brick house in Burnside. He had been
sojourning at the State capitol. Men had told Harlan, from time to time,
that he was spending his days sitting on the broad veranda of Luke
Presson's hotel, apparently enjoying the summer with the same leisurely
ease that the State chairman was displaying. Men were sometimes
inquisitive when they mentioned this matter to Harlan. They did not
presume to ask questions of the General. But the young man had nothing
to say. It must be confessed that he did not know anything about it.
He obeyed the instructions the General gave him and toiled as best he
knew, but that the main campaign was hanging fire he did not realize.
For the General, who knew politics, did not complain to him. The veteran
was a little whiter, a bit more dignified, and directed the movements of
his modest force of office assistants with a curtness he had not shown
at first; but no other sign betrayed that he knew his State Committee
had "lain down on him."
The Duke sauntered up the walk, whipping off his hat and swinging it in
his hand as soon as he arrived under the trees of the old garden. He
came into the house without knocking. The front door was swung inward,
and only a screen door, on the latch, closed the portal.
"I'm making myself at home as usual, Vard," he said, walking to the
General and stroking his shoulder as the veteran leaned over his table
above his figures. "I've been waiting for an invitation to come up here.
But I didn't dare to wait any longer. It's getting too near election."
General Waymouth looked up at his old friend, studying his face. He
found only the bland cordiality of the ancient days.
"I've been waiting, myself, Thelismer," he returned. "And I'll add that
I don't intend to wait much longer. I'm not referring to you, now. I
refer to Presson and his gang. I presume you are still close to them.
Will you inform them that I don't intend to wait much longer?"
Thornton did not lose his smile. He sat down. He nodded across the room
to Harlan with as much nonchalance as though he had been seeing him
every day.
"I would have run in before this, Varden, but somehow I got the
impression from you and the boy that you were fully capable of operating
things yourself. But with election only three weeks off I'm getting
ready to change my mind. What are you going to do with that steer
team--no, mule team--that's better?"
"Meaning?"
"Meaning Luke Presson and the members of the State Committee. I'm a
politician, Varden. I'm out of a job just now. Both crowds of you seem
to think you can get along all right without me. Probably you can. Luke
knows _he_ can, so he says. He doesn't seem to like my management or my
advice--not after that convention! But I can't help being a politician.
I can't sit on that hotel piazza any longer and see this mess scorch.
I'm too good a cook to stand it." He hitched forward in his chair and
spoke low. "Varden, it sounds like the devil making a presentation copy
of the Ten Commandments on asbestos, but I can't help that! I'm giving
it to you straight. We've got body-snatchers for a State Committee.
They'd rather see the Democrat the next Governor than you. That's how
mad they are. That's how sure they are that you propose to put their
noses to the grindstone. That's how rotten politics is in this State.
The Democrat won't give us reform. They know it. They'd rather see the
State officers go by the board than have the kind of reform you've
promised 'em. They can get rid of their Democrat after two years. Your
reform may hang on a good while, once get the laws chained. Now what are
you going to do?"
"I know exactly what I'm going to do."
"Yes; but, grinning Jehosaphat, how much time have you got to do it in?
Three weeks to election now!"
"This campaign, Thelismer, will be started, as it ought to be started,
within the next twenty-four hours. As to how it will be started I'll
have you present as a witness, if you'll accept an invitation."
The Duke was obliged to be contented with only that much assurance and
information.
"There's a train back to the State capital in half an hour, Thelismer,"
the General stated. "I'll be pleased to have you go along with Harlan
and myself. If you'll excuse me now, I'll finish signing these letters."
The old man was not disturbed by this abruptness. He rose.
"I reckon you know how to play the game, Vard," he said. "I'm perfectly
satisfied, now that I know you are playing it. But you'll excuse me for
being a little uneasy about your starting in."
He did not interrupt Harlan, who was busy at his desk. He picked up one
of the newspapers that covered the General's table, and marched out into
the garden.
He joined them when they came out. The General's old-fashioned carryall
conveyed them to the railroad station. They made the journey to the
capital without a word of reference to the purpose of their trip.
Unobtrusively chatting about the old times, the Duke and his friend made
their way back to their old footing. It was mutual forbearance and
forgiveness, for they were old enough to be philosophers, and especially
did they understand the philosophy of politics.
Chairman Presson was in his office at his hotel when they entered. He
came out to greet General Waymouth, suave but circumspect, and furtively
studied word and aspect of his visitor.
"Mr. Presson," said the General, breaking in upon the chairman's vague
gossip regarding the political situation, "this is short notice, but I
presume you can reach a few members of the State Committee by telephone.
I wish to meet them and you at my rooms in the hotel at nine this
evening. It is important."
They came. There were half a dozen of them--men who hurried in from such
near points as the chairman could reach; and at the appointed hour
Presson ushered them into the General's room. Harlan Thornton was
waiting there with his chief. The Duke arrived in a few moments, alone.
He sat down at one side of the room, bearing himself with an air of
judicial impartiality. The chairman scowled at him. Judged by recent
experience, Thelismer Thornton was a questionable quantity in a
conference between the machine and General Waymouth.
The committeemen took their cue from the chairman. They were sullen.
They bristled with an obstinacy that betrayed itself in advance.
The General got down to business promptly. It was not a gathering that
invited any preamble of cheerful chat. He understood perfectly that the
men were there only because they did not dare to stay away.
"Chairman Presson, it is now close upon the election. I have canvassed
the State as best I could through the mails. With Mr. Harlan Thornton's
assistance and through my friends in various towns, I have secured a
pretty complete list of doubtful voters. I will say in passing that I
have tried to enlist the help of your town committeemen, but they seem
to be asleep. I have thanked God daily that I have personal friends
willing to help me. I have the names at last. I have accomplished alone
the work that is usually attended to by the State Committee."
Presson started to say something, but the General stopped him.
"One moment, Mr. Chairman. Let me tell you what _I_ have done. One of us
at a time! When I've told you what I've done, you can tell me what
_you've_ attended to. I have those names, I have pledges of support, I
have plans for getting out the vote. But I have no literature for
distribution to those doubtful voters, I have no speakers assigned by
the State Committee to help the men who are trying to get the vote out,
I have no fund provided for the usual expenses. Now I will listen to
you, Mr. Chairman. Will you tell me what you have done?"
"It's an off year, General Waymouth," said Presson. "I asked the
Congressional Committee for money, but I couldn't interest 'em. And I'll
tell you frankly that the regular sources in this State are dry. There
isn't the usual feeling. You're a good politician. Perhaps you know why
it's so."
"You haven't answered my question, sir. I asked you what your State
Committee has done."
"What is there we can do when every interest in this State sits back on
its wallet like a hen squatting on the roost, and won't stand up and let
go until some assurances are given out? It isn't my fault! I went to
you! I laid the case down! You didn't give me anything to carry back to
'em."
"I'm here to talk business, Mr. Chairman. You are too vague."
"Well, I'll talk business, too." Presson snapped out of his chair. He
stood up and wagged his finger. He was too angry to choose words or
gloss brutal facts.
"You want to be Governor, don't you? You're asking men to support you
and back you with money? That's what it amounts to. Campaign funds don't
come down like manna--there's nothing heavenly about 'em--and you know
it as well as I do, General. You've scared Senator Pownal's crowd with
that anti-water-power-trust talk; they've got money to put into the
legislature, but none for you. The corporations won't do anything; your
tax commission talk has given them cold feet as far's you're concerned.
Even the office-holders are sore; you've been talking about abolishing
fees, and if that's the case they'd just as soon give up the offices.
And where's your party, then? You say you're going to enforce the
prohibitory law! I can get a little money out of the express companies,
the jobbers in gallon lots, and the fellows that get the promise of the
State liquor agency contracts. But the big wholesalers, the liquor men's
associations, the retailers--the whole bunch that's got the real money
and is willing to spend it haven't a cent for you--they'll even back the
Democrat against you! You wanted business talk. There it is."
He strode up and down the centre of the room in agitation, and then sat
down.
The other committeemen sighed with relief. Their chairman had said what
they wanted to say, said it bluntly and boldly, and they were glad it
was over.
"That is," drawled Thelismer Thornton, "the State Committee says, as the
fork says to the cook: 'I'm willing to be used for all reasonable
purposes, but not to pick your teeth with or pull out carpet tacks.'"
The pleasantry did not relieve the gloom.
"The State Committee can't do anything without money, General Waymouth,"
added the chairman, getting bolder as he allowed his rancor full play.
"You've fixed it so that we can't get the money."
"Then the State Committee would be able to go ahead and do what it ought
to do if I should assure Senator Pownal that he and his crowd may help
themselves to the water-powers of this State--if I let the rumsellers
sell and the office-holders filch? It's on those terms, is it, that I'm
to get the help of the men the Republican party has selected as its
executives?"
"That isn't a square way to put it," objected Mr. Presson, with heat. "I
simply say it was all right to open this campaign with prayer, as we did
at the State Convention, but as to carrying it through on the plane of
a revival meeting, that's a different proposition! You've asked for
business talk, General. I've given you straight business. You're asking
something from some one else, just now. In politics it's nothing for
nothing, and d--n-d little for a dollar! You know it just as well as I
do. Now suppose we have some business talk from you!" There was a sneer
in the last sentence.
General Waymouth swung one thin leg over the knee of the other. He
leaned back in his chair. His elbow rested on the chair-arm, his fingers
were set, tips on his chin, and over them he surveyed his listeners with
calmness. He did not raise his voice. It was his mild manner that made
what he said sound so balefully savage. Bluster would have weakened it.
"The legitimate expenses of a campaign are considerable, even when the
party organization, from you, Mr. Presson, down to the humblest town
committeeman, does full duty in time and effort. But if one has to buy
it all, it needs a deep purse. From what you say, it is plain to me that
I am now left to run my own campaign. I tell you very frankly,
gentlemen, my means are limited. I have not made money out of politics.
One course only is left open to me. I notify you that I shall issue a
statement to the people of this State. I shall inform them that I have
been abandoned by the State Committee and the party machine. I shall
state the reasons very plainly. I shall say I am left to defeat because
I refused to betray the people's interests. Then I shall appeal to the
people as a whole--to Republicans and Democrats alike--for support at
the polls. If there are enough honest men to elect me, very well. If the
majority wants to hand the thing over to the looters and tricksters
after the fair warning I give them, they will do so with their eyes
open, and I'll accept the result and leave this State to itself."
Chairman Presson pushed himself slowly up out of his chair, his arms
propping him, his face shoved forward.
"You mean to say, General Waymouth, that, being a Republican, a man who
has had honors from our hands, you'll advertise your party management as
crooks simply because we don't cut our own throats, politically and
financially?"
"I say, I shall state the facts."
"Let me inform you that I've got a little publicity bureau of my own.
I'll post you as a deserter and a sorehead. I'll fix it so you can't
even throw your hat into the Republican party and follow in to get it.
I'll--"
"One moment, Luke," broke in the elder Thornton. "For some weeks now,
when things have come to a crisis, you have set yourself up as the whole
Republican party of this State. But when you get to talking that way you
represent it about as much as Parson Prouty represents the real
temperance sentiment. There's quite a bunch of us who are not in the
ramrodding business. General Waymouth is the nominee of our convention.
No one has delegated to you the job of deciding on his qualifications.
It's your job to go ahead and elect him. If you don't propose to do it,
then resign."
"No, sir!" shouted Presson.
"Then get busy--collect a campaign fund and make these last three weeks
hum! This is largely a matter between friends, right here now. I've told
Vard what I think of him, and I haven't minced words. It's bad enough
for a man to try to be absolutely honest in politics. That's where he's
making his mistake. But he can get past with the people--they'll think
it more or less bluff, anyway, even it's Varden Waymouth talking. But
the kind of dishonesty you're standing for, Luke, won't get past.
They'll ride you out of this State on a rail--and I'll furnish the
rail."
"I'll furnish something more!" cried Harlan, unable to restrain himself
any longer. "To-morrow morning I shall put ten thousand dollars into
General Waymouth's campaign fund--my own money."
"You see, Luke," drawled the Duke, "it really looks as though Vard would
be elected anyway. I might subscribe a little myself if only I had a
rich grandfather, the same as Harlan has."
The unhappy chairman sat down in his chair again and struggled with his
anger. He could not give it rein--he realized that. Party and personal
interests were all jeopardized. But he knew he could not afford to have
utter personal disgrace accompany his defeat. Desertion of the party
candidate, if advertised in the fashion the General threatened, meant
ruin of his name as well as his fortune. He could have sulked and
excused himself, but there was no excuse for inaction after demand had
been made upon him in this fashion.
There was silence in the room.
"Fellow up our way used to be a mighty good mule teamster," said
Thelismer Thornton, tipping his great head back into clasped hands, and
gazing meditatively at the ceiling. "Had a gad for the wheel mules, whip
for the swing team, and a pocketful of rocks for the leaders. One day
the rocks gave out just as the wagon sunk into a honey-pot on a March
road. But being a good teamster, he yanked out his pipe and threw it at
the nigh leader just at the critical second. Sparks skated from crupper
to mane along the mule's back, and he gave a snort and a heave, and away
they went."
Chairman Presson, deep in his trouble, was disgusted by this levity, and
growled under his breath.
"If a fellow had been off ahead of the team with a bag of oats perhaps
the pipe wouldn't have been needed," pursued the Duke, meditatively.
"Anyway, gentlemen, I'll tell you what I'll do. I've been waiting to be
called on for my contribution for the fund, but for some reason business
hasn't been started in this campaign as soon as I hoped. Harlan was a
little excited just now. I think, seeing that the State Committee is now
going to take hold of the campaign, he'll be able to get out of it a
little cheaper. A lot of the other boys will chip when they're asked.
For the Thornton family I lead off subscriptions with a pledge of five
thousand dollars. I'm that much interested in seeing my--my original
choice for Governor elected by a good majority."
Presson got up, and stamped down his trousers legs.
"I know when I'm licked," he admitted. "And I've been licked in the
whole seventeen rounds of this campaign. Look here, General Waymouth,
I'm done fighting. I simply throw myself on your mercy. I know how you
feel toward me. But I've got just this to say: it's a poor tool of a man
that won't fight for his own interests and his friends. I've done it.
And I'm no more of a renegade than the usual run of the men who have to
play politics for results. I don't believe you are going to get results,
General. But that's neither here nor there. There's no more squirm left
in me. I'll take hold of this campaign and elect you. If there's any
crumbs coming to me after that, all right! I'm at your mercy."
"I tell you again I've no time or inclination for petty revenge. That is
not my nature." General Waymouth was as cold and calm as inexorable Fate
itself. "I accept your pledge, Chairman Presson. Not one interest of
yours that is right will suffer at my hands. On the other hand, not one
interest that is wrong will be protected. It's simply up to you!"
"I don't suppose you care to go over the plans with me to night?"
"I shall ask you to confer with Mr. Harlan Thornton on all matters. He
knows my wishes and plans. He will remain here at headquarters as my
representative."
If the chairman felt that he was being put under guard and espionage,
his face did not betray it. He took leave of the General, and escorted
out his associate committeemen.
"Reminds me of the time Uncle Stote Breed went with the boys on a
fishing-trip," remarked the Duke, after they were gone. "They ate the
sardines out of the tin before Uncle Stote got in off the pond, and put
in raw chubs they'd been using for live bait. Uncle Stote ate 'em all.
'Boys, your ile is all right,' said he, when he cleaned 'em out, 'but it
seems to me your leetle fish is a mite underdone.' But Luke will eat
anything you hand him after this, Vard."
He took his grandson by the arm, and started him toward the door.
"Let the General get to bed," he advised, jocosely. "He ought to have
pleasant dreams to-night."
Harlan expected that his grandfather would have some rather serious talk
for his ear. But he merely remarked, leaving him at the door of his
room: "If you keep on, son, I'll be passed down to posterity simply as
'Harlan Thornton's grandfather.'"