News of this honor reached Mr. Johnson while fishing, and his first
impulse was to decline to run. But further thought led to a change of
decision. Having decided, he acted. From that time until the election,
he delivered a succession of public speeches, and the man who had
distrusted his ability to address an audience suddenly found that he
was an orator.
At every one of his tent meetings was to be seen a stout old German,
who always occupied a front seat, and who evidently felt a proprietary
interest in the speaker, which he manifested by liberal and loud
interjections of “Bully Boy!” On one occasion, after a meeting, the
German happened to be sitting next to Miss Johnson in the trolley car
on the return trip. “Do you see that stout man down there?” he said;
addressing her; “well, that’s my friend, Tom Johnson. He’s a great man;
I know him well. And that lady next to him, that’s his wife.”
“Indeed,” replied Miss Johnson, “and I happen to be his daughter.”
The old German was not one whit abashed. Springing to his feet, he
held out his hand. “And I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss
Johnson!” he cried, at the top of his voice; “I’m delighted to meet any
one belonging to Tom Johnson. Bully boy!”
Like his German admirer, the people stood by Mr. Johnson, and he was
elected a member of the Fifty-second and Fifty-third Congresses,
in which he distinguished himself by his frank criticism of the
administration.