THE PRIMARY.
After this rush of work, Peter’s life became as routine as of yore. The
winter passed without an event worth noting, if we except a steadily
growing acquaintance with the dwellers of the district. But in July a
new phase was injected into it by a call from Dennis Moriarty.
“Good-mornin’ to yez, sir, an’ a fine day it is,” said the latter, with
his usually breezy way.
“Yes,” said Peter.
“Misther Stirling. An’ is it engaged yez are for this night?”
“No.” Peter had nothing.
“Then,” said Dennis, “maybe ye’ll be afther goin’ wid me to the
primary?”
“What primary?”
“For the election of delegates to the convention, shure.”
“No. What party?”
“What party is it?”
“Yes.”
“Misther Stirling, do yez know my name?”
“Dennis Moriarty, isn’t it?”
“Yes. An’ what’s my business?”
“You keep a saloon.”
“Yes. An’ what ward do Oi live in?”
“The sixth, don’t you?”
“Then,” said Dennis, his upper lip twisting into a smile of enormous
proportions, “Oi suppose yez afther thinkin’ Oi’m a dirty black
Republican.”
Peter laughed, as few could help doing, when Dennis led the way. “Look
here, Dennis,” he said, “don’t you run down that party. My father was a
Democrat, but he voted for Lincoln, and fought for the blacks when the
time came, and though I’m a Democrat like him, the Republicans are only
black in their sympathies, and not in their acts.”
“An’ what do yez say to the whisky frauds, an’ black Friday, an’ credit
mobilier?” asked Dennis.
“Of course I don’t like them,” said Peter; “but that’s the politicians,
not the party.”
“Shure,” said Dennis, “what’s the party but the men that run it?”
“You’ve seen something of Mr. Bohlmann lately, Dennis?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he was the man who put Goldman in charge of that cow stable. Yet
he’s an honest man.”
Dennis scratched his head. “It’s a convincin’ way yez have wid yez,” he
said; “but it’s scoundrels the Republicans are, all the same. Look at
them in the district; there’s not one a decent man would invite to
drink wid him.”
“I think, Dennis,” said Peter, “that when all the decent men get into
one party, there’ll be only one worth talking about.”
“Av course,” replied Dennis. “That’s the reason there’s only the
Democratic party in New York City.”
“Tell me about this primary,” said Peter, concluding that abstract
political philosophy was not the way to liberalize Dennis.
“It’s most important, it is,” he was told, “it’s on top Patsy Blunkers
an’ his gang av dirty spalpeens (Dennis seemed to forget that he had
just expressed the opinion that all the “decent” men were Democrats)
have been this two years, but we’ve got orders for a new enrollment at
last, an’ if we don’t knock them this time, my name isn’t Dinnis
Moriarty.”
“What is the question before the meeting?”
“Afther the enrollment, it’s to vote for delegates.”
“Oh! Then it’s just a struggle over who shall be elected?”
“That’s it. But a fine, big fight it will be. The whole district’s so
excited, sir, that it’s twice Oi’ve had to pound the b’ys a bit in my
saloon to keep the peace.”
“What do you want of me?”
“Shure, every vote counts on a night like this. An’ ye’d be afther
helpin’ us big, for the district likes yez.”
“But, Dennis, I can’t vote without knowing something about the way
things are. I shouldn’t know whether I was voting rightly.”
“Why, a man votes right when he votes for his friends!”
“No; a man votes right when he votes for his convictions.”
“Convictions, is it?”
“Yes. That is, he votes as he thinks is best for the country.”
“That, maybe, is the way yez do it where yez come from,” said Dennis,
“but it’s no good it would be here. Convictions, whatever they be, are
never nominated here. It’s real things we’re afther votin’ for in New
York.”
Peter laughed. “I’ve got to take you in hand, Dennis, and you’ve got to
take me in hand. I think we both need each other’s help. Yes, I’ll come
to the primary. Will they let me vote?”
“The dirty spalpeens will never dare to stop yez! Thank yez, sir. Oi’ll
be along for yez about eight.”
“Remember, though, Dennis—I don’t say how I’ll vote.”
“Yez just listen, an I’m not afraid av what ye’ll do.”
That evening, Peter was ushered into a large hot room, pretty well
packed with men, and the interstices already filled in with dense
tobacco smoke. He looked about him curiously, and was surprised to find
how many of the faces he knew. Blackett, Dooley, and Milligan were
there, and shook hands with him warmly. Judge Gallagher and Blunkers
were in evidence. In plain clothes were two policemen, and three of the
“fire-laddies,” who formed part of the “crew” of the nearest engine,
with all of whom he had often chatted. Mr. Dummer, his rival lawyer in
the case, and one of the jurymen in it, likewise were visible. Also
many faces which were familiar to Peter by a former occasional friendly
word or nod exchanged in passing. Intense excitement evidently reigned,
and every one was whispering in a sort of breathless way, which showed
how deeply interested they were.
At Dennis’s suggestion, made in walking to the room, Peter presented
himself without guidance, at the desk. Some one behind him asked if he
lived in the ward, and for how long, but this was the only apparent
opposition made to the prompt entering of his name. Then Peter strolled
round and talked to those whom he knew, and tried to find out, without
much success, just what was the division. Every one knew that a fight
was on, but in just what it consisted they seemed neither to know nor
care.
He noticed that hot words were constantly exchanged at the enrolling
desk, over would-be members, but not understanding the exact nature of
the qualifications needed, he could not follow the disputes. Finally
these ceased, for want of applicants.
“Misther Stirling,” said Dennis, coming up to him hurriedly. “Will yez
be afther bein’ chairman for us?”
“No. I don’t know anything about the proceedings.”
“It don’t take any,” said Dennis. “It’s only fair play we’re afther.”
He was gone again before Peter could say anything. The next instant,
the enrolling officer rose and spoke.
“Are there any more to be enrolled?” he called. No one came forward, so
after a moment he said: “Will the meeting choose a presiding officer?”
“Mr. Chairman,” rang two voices so quickly that they in truth cut the
presiding officer off in his suggestion.
“Mr. Muldoon,” said that officer.
“Oi spoke first,” shouted Dennis, and Peter felt that he had, and that
he was not having fair play.
Instantly a wave of protest, denials, charges, and counter-charges
swept through the room, Peter thought there was going to be a fight,
but the position was too critical to waste a moment on what Dennis
styled “a diversion.” It was business, not pleasure, just then.
“Mr. Muldoon,” said the officer again, not heeding the tempest in the
least.
“Mr. Chairman,” shouted Muldoon, “I am proud to nominate Justice
Gallagher, the pride of the bar, for chairman of this distinguished
meeting, and I move to make his election unanimous.”
“Misther Chairman,” shouted Dennis.
“Mr. Moriarty,” said the officer.
“Misther Chairman, Oi have the honor to nominate for chairman av this
meetin’ the people’s an’ the children’s friend, Misther Peter Stirling,
an’ Oi don’t have to move to make it unanimous, for such is the
intelligince an’ manhood av this meetin’ that it will be that way for
shure.”
Peter saw a hurried consultation going on between Gallagher, Muldoon,
and two others, during the latter part of this speech, and barely had
Dennis finished his remarks, when Justice Gallagher spoke up.
“Mr. Chairman.”
“The Honorable Justice Gallagher,” said that gentleman.
“I take pride in withdrawing in favor of Mr. Stirling, who so justly
merits the honor of presiding on this important occasion. From recent
events too well known to need mention, I am sure we can all look to him
for justice and fairness.”
“Bad cess to him!” groaned Dennis. “Oi hoped they’d be just fools
enough to oppose yez, an’ then we’d have won the first blood.”
Peter was chosen without dissent, and was escorted to the seat behind
the desk.
“What is the first business before the meeting?” he asked of Gallagher,
aside, as he was taking his seat.
“Election of delegates to the State convention. That’s all to-night,”
he was told.
Peter had presided at college in debates, and was not flurried. “Will
you stay here so as to give me the names of those I don’t know?” he
said to the enrolling officer. “The meeting will please come to order,”
he continued aloud. “The nomination of delegates to the State
convention is the business to be acted upon.”
“Misther Chairman,” yelled Dennis, evidently expecting to find another
rival as before. But no one spoke.
“Mr. Moriarty,” said Peter.
“Misther Chairman. It’s my delight to nominate as delegates to the
State convention, the Honorable Misther Schlurger, our distinguished
representative in the Assembly, the Honorable Misther Kennedy, our
noble Police-commissioner, an’ Misther Caggs, whom it would be insult
for me to praise in this company.”
“Second the motion,” said some one.
“Mr. Chairman,” shouted a man.
“That’s Caggs,” said the enrolling officer.
“Mr. Caggs,” said Peter.
“Mr. Chairman,” said Caggs. “I must decline the honor offered me from
such a source.”
“What?” shrieked Dennis, amazement and rage contesting for first place
in voice and expression.
“Mr. Chairman,” said Dummer.
“Mr. Dummer,” said Peter.
“I have the honor to nominate the Honorable Justice Gallagher, Mr.
Peter Sweeney, and Mr. Caggs, to whom Mr. Moriarty has just paid so
glowing a tribute, as delegates to the State convention.”
“Second the—” shouted some one, but the rest was drowned by another
storm which swept through the room. Even above the tumult, Peter could
hear Dennis challenging and beseeching Mr. Caggs to come “outside an’
settle it like gentlemen.” Caggs, from a secure retreat behind
Blunkers’s right arm, declined to let the siren’s song tempt him forth.
Finally Peter’s pounding brought a degree of quiet again.
“Misther Chairman,” said Dennis.
“Mr. Moriarty,” said Peter.
“Misther Chairman. Oi’ll not take the valuable time av this meetin’ to
speak av dirty, cowardly, black-hearted, treacherous snakes, wid souls
blacker than the divil’s own—”
“Order!” said Peter to the crowd.
“No,” continued Dennis, in answer to the audible remarks of the
opposition. “It’s no names Oi’m callin’. If yez know such a beast, such
a snake, fit it to him. Oi’m mentionin’ no names. As Oi was sayin’,
Misther Chairman, Oi’ll not waste the time av this meetin’ wid
discribin’ the conduct av a beast so vile that he must be the contempt
av every honest man. Who would have been driven out by St. Patrick, wid
the rest av the reptiles, if he’d lived at that time. Oi only rise to
widdraw the name av Caggs from the list Oi nominated for delegates to
the state convention, an’ to put in place av it that av a man who is as
noble an’ true, as some are false an’ divilish. That of Misther Peter
Stirling, God bless him!”
Once more chaos came. Peter pounded in vain. Both sides were at fever
heat. Finally Peter rose.
“Gentlemen,” he shouted, in a voice that rang through the hall above
even the tumult, “if this meeting does not come to order, I shall
declare it adjourned.”
Instant quiet fell, for all had paused a moment to hear his words, and
they concluded that he was in earnest.
“Was the last motion seconded?” asked the chairman calmly.
“I seconded it,” shouted Blackett and Milligan together.
“You have heard the nominations, gentlemen. Has any one any remarks to
make?”
A man next Justice Gallagher said, “Mr. Chairman,” and being duly
recognized, proceeded to talk for ten minutes in a very useless way.
But during this time, Peter noticed first a good deal of whispering
among Blunkers’s friends, and then an interview between Gallagher and
Dennis. The latter was apparently not reconcilable, and shook his head
in a way that meant war. Then there was more consultation between the
opposition, and another confab with Dennis, with more headshakes on his
part. Finally a compromise having been evidently made impossible, the
orator was “called down” and it was voted to proceed to an election.
Peter named one of the firemen, Dooley, and Blunkers, tellers, who,
after a ballot, announced that Dennis had carried his nominations,
Peter heading the list with two hundred and twelve votes, and the
others getting one hundred and seventy-two, and one hundred and
fifty-eight respectively. The “snake” got but fifty-seven votes.
“Shure,” said Dennis, later, “maybe we don’t vote for convictions here,
but we don’t vote for the likes av him!”
“Then you are voting for convictions,” said Peter.
“It’s yezself is the convictions then,” said Dennis.
Perhaps he was right.