There's only one way to hold a district: you must study human nature
and act accordin'. You can't study human nature in books. Books is a
hindrance more than anything else. If you have been to college, so much
the worse for you. You'll have to unlearn all you learned before you can
get right down to human nature, and unlearnin' takes a lot of time. Some
men can never forget what they learned at college. Such men may get to
be district leaders by a fluke, but they never last.
To learn real human nature you have to go among the people, see them and
be seen..I know every man, woman, and child in the Fifteenth District,
except them that's been born this summer--and I know some of them, too.
I know what they like and what they don't like, what they are strong at
and what they are weak in, and I reach them by approachin' at the right
side.
For instance, here's how I gather in the young men. I hear of a young
feller that's proud of his voice, thinks that he can sing fine. I ask
him to come around to Washington Hall and join our Glee Club. He comes
and sings, and he's a follower of Plunkitt for life. Another young
feller gains a reputation as a baseball player in a vacant lot. I bring
him into our baseball dub. That fixes him. You'll find him workin' for
my ticket at the polls next election day. Then there's the feller that
likes rowin' on the river, the young feller that makes a name as a
waltzer on his block, the young feller that's handy with his dukes--I
rope them all in by givin' them opportunities to show themselves off.
I don't trouble them with political arguments. I just study human nature
and act accordin'.
But you may say this game won't work with the high-toned fellers, the
fellers that go through college and then join the Citizens' Union. Of
course it wouldn't work. I have a special treatment for them. I ain't
like the patent medicine man that gives the same medicine for all
diseases. The Citizens' Union kind of a young man! I love him! He's the
daintiest morsel of the lot, and he don't often escape me.
Before telling you how I catch him, let me mention that before the
election last year, the Citizens' Union said they had four hundred
or five hundred enrolled voters in my district. They had a lovely
headquarters, too, beautiful roll-top desks and the cutest rugs in the
world. If I was accused of havin' contributed to fix up the nest for
them, I wouldn't deny it under oath. What do I mean by that? Never mind.
You can guess from the sequel, if you're sharp.
Well, election day came. The Citizens' Union's candidate for Senator,
who ran against me, just polled five votes in the district, while I
polled something more than 14,000 votes. What became of the 400 or 500
Citizens' Union enrolled voters in my district? Some people guessed that
many of them were good Plunkitt men all along and worked with the Cits
just to bring them into the Plunkitt camp by election day. You can guess
that way, too, if you want to. I never contradict stories about me,
especially in hot weather. I just call your attention to the fact that
on last election day 395 Citizens' Union enrolled voters in my district
were missin' and unaccounted for.
I tell you frankly, though, how I have captured some of the Citizens'
Union's young men. I have a plan that never fails. I watch the City
Record to see when there's civil service examinations for good things.
Then I take my young Cit in hand, tell him all about the good thing and
get him worked up till he goes and takes an examination. I don't bother
about him any more. It's a cinch that he comes back to me in a few days
and asks to join Tammany Hall. Come over to Washington Hall some night
and I'll show you a list of names on our roll' marked "C.S." which
means, "bucked up against civil service."
As to the older voters, I reach them, too. No, I don't send them
campaign literature. That's rot. People can get all the political stuff
they want to read--and a good deal more, too--in the papers. Who reads
speeches, nowadays, anyhow? It's bad enough to listen to them. You
ain't goin' to gain any votes by stuffin' the letter boxes with campaign
documents. Like as not you'll lose votes for there's nothin' a man hates
more than to hear the letter carrier ring his bell and go to the letter
box ex pectin' to find a letter he was lookin' for, and find only a lot
of printed politics. I met a man this very mornin' who told me he voted
the Democratic State ticket last year just because the Republicans kept
crammin' his letter box with campaign documents.
What tells in holdin' your grip on your district is to go right down
among the poor families and help them in the different ways they need
help. I've got a regular system for this. If there's a fire in Ninth,
Tenth, or Eleventh Avenue, for example, any hour of the day or night,
I'm usually there with some of my election district captains as soon as
the fire engines. If a family is burned out I don't ask whether they
are Republicans or Democrats, and I don't refer them to the Charity
Organization Society, which would investigate their case in a month or
two and decide they were worthy of help about the time they are dead
from starvation. I just get quarters for them, buy clothes for them
if their clothes were burned up, and fix them up till they get things
runnin' again. It's philanthropy, but it's politics, too--mighty good
politics. Who can tell how many votes one of these fires bring me? The
poor are the most grateful people in the world, and, let me tell you,
they have more friends in their neighborhoods than the rich have in
theirs.
If there's a family in my district in want I know it before the
charitable societies do, and me and my men are first on the ground. I
have a special corps to look up such cases. The consequence is that
the poor look up to George W. Plunkitt as a father, come to him in
trouble--and don't forget him on election day.
Another thing, I can always get a job for a deservin' man. I make it a
point to keep on the track of jobs, and it seldom happens that I don't
have a few up my sleeve ready for use. I know every big employer in the
district and in the whole city, for that matter, and they ain't in the
habit of sayin' no to me when I ask them for a job.
And the children--the little roses of the district! Do I forget them?
Oh, no! They know me, every one of them, and they know that a sight of
Uncle George and candy means the same thing. Some of them are the best
kind of vote-getters. I'll tell you a case. Last year a little Eleventh
Avenue rosebud, whose father is a Republican, caught hold of his
whiskers on election day and said she wouldn't let go till he'd promise
to vote for me. And she didn't.