Chapter 17. Tammany's Patriotism

TAMMANY's the most patriotic organization on earth, notwithstandin' the

fact that the civil service law is sappin' the foundations of patriotism

all over the country. Nobody pays any attention to the Fourth of July

any longer except Tammany and the small boy. When the Fourth comes, the

reformers, with Revolutionary names parted in the middle, run off

to Newport or the Adirondacks to get out of the way of the noise and

everything that reminds them of the glorious day. How different it is

with Tammany! The very constitution of the Tammany Society requires that

we must assemble at the wigwam on the Fourth, regardless of the weather,

and listen to the readin' of the Declaration of Independence and

patriotic speeches.

You ought to attend one of these meetin's. They're a liberal education

in patriotism. The great hall upstairs is filled with five thousand

people, suffocatin' from heat and smoke. Every man Jack of these five

thousand knows that down in the basement there's a hundred cases of

champagne and two hundred kegs of beer ready to flow when the signal is

given. Yet that crowd stick to their seats without turnin' a hair

while, for four solid hours, the Declaration of Independence is read,

long-winded orators speak, and the glee dub sings itself hoarse.

Talk about heroism in the battlefield! That comes and passes away in a

moment. You ain't got time to be anything but heroic. But just think of

five thousand men sittin' in the hottest place on earth for four long

hours, with parched lips and gnawin' stomachs, and knowin' all the

time that the delights of the oasis in the desert were only two flights

downstairs! Ah, that is the highest kind of patriotism, the patriotism

of long sufferin' and endurance. What man wouldn't rather face a cannon

for a minute or two than thirst for four hours, with champagne and beer

almost under his nose?

And then see how they applaud and yell when patriotic things are said!

As soon as the man on the platform starts off with "when, in the

course of human events," word goes around that it's the Declaration of

Independence, and a mighty roar goes up. The Declaration ain't a very

short document and the crowd has heard it on every Fourth but they give

it just as fine a send off as if it was brand-new and awful excitin'.

Then the "long talkers" get in their work, that is two or three orators

who are good for an hour each. Heat never has any effect on these men.

They use every minute of their time. Sometimes human nature gets the

better of a man in the audience and he begins to nod, but he always

wakes up with a hurrah for the Declaration of Independence.

The greatest hero of the occasion is the Grand Sachem of the Tammany

Society who presides. He and the rest of us Sachems come on the stage

wearin' stovepipe hats, accordin' to the constitution, but we can shed

ours right off, while the Grand Sachem is required to wear his hat all

through the celebration. Have you any idea what that means? Four hours

under a big silk hat in a hall where the heat registers 110 and the

smoke 250! And the Grand Sachem is expected to look pleasant all the

time and say nice things when introducin' the speakers! Often his hand

goes to his hat, unconscious-like, then he catches himself up in time

and looks around like a man who is in the tenth story of a burnin'

building' seekin' a way to escape. I believe that Fourth-of-July silk

hat shortened the life of one of our Grand Sachems, the late Supreme

Court Justice Smyth, and I know that one of our Sachems refused the

office of Grand Sachem because he couldn't get up sufficient patriotism

to perform this four-hour hat act. You see, there's degrees of

patriotism just as there's degrees in everything else.

You don't hear of the Citizens' Union people holdin' Fourth-of-July

celebrations under a five-pound silk hat, or any other way, do you? The

Cits take the Fourth like a dog I had when I was a boy. That dog knew

as much as some Cits and he acted just like them about the glorious day.

Exactly forty-eight hours before each Fourth of July, the dog left our

house on a run and hid himself in the Bronx woods. The day after the

Fourth he turned up at home as regular as clockwork. He must have known

what a dog is up against on the Fourth. Anyhow, he kept out of the way.

The name-parted-in-the-middle aristocrats act in just the same way.

They don't want to be annoyed with firecrackers and the Declaration of

Independence, and when they see the Fourth comm' they hustle off to the

woods like my dog.

Tammany don't only show its patriotism at Fourth-of-July celebrations.

It's always on deck when the country needs its services. After the

Spanish-American War broke Out, John J. Scannell, the Tammany leader of

the Twenty-fifth District, wrote to Governor Black offerin' to raise a

Tammany regiment to go to the front. If you want proof, go to Tammany

Hall and see the beautiful set of engrossed resolutions about this

regiment. It's true that the Governor didn't accept the offer, but it

showed Tammany's patriotism. Some enemies of the organization have said

that the offer to raise the regiment was made after the Governor let

it be known that no more volunteers were wanted, but that's the talk of

envious slanderers.

Now, a word about Tammany's love for the American flag. Did you ever

see Tammany Hall decorated for a celebration? It's just a mass of flags.

They even take down the window shades and put flags in place of them.

There's flags everywhere except on the floors. We don't care for expense

where the American flag is concerned, especially after we have won an

election. In 1904 we originated the custom of givin' a small flag to

each man as he entered Tammany Hall for the Fourth-of-July celebration.

It took like wildfire. The men waved their flags whenever they cheered

and the sight made me feel so patriotic that I forgot all about civil

service for a while. And the good work of the flags didn't stop there.

The men carried them home and gave them to the children, and the kids

got patriotic, too. Of course, it all cost a pretty penny, but what of

that? We had won at the polls the precedin' November, had the offices

and could afford to make an extra investment in patriotism.

Plunkitt of Tammany Hall: a series of very plain talks on very practical politics, delivered by ex-Senator George Washington Plunkitt, the Tammany philosopher, from his rostrum—the New York County court house bootblack stand; Recorded by William L. Riordon · 第 17 / 23 章