Chapter 18. On the Use of Money in Politics

THE civil service gang is always howlin' about candidates and

officeholders puttin' up money for campaigns and about corporations

chippin' in. They might as well howl about givin' contributions to

churches. A political organization has to have money for its business as

well as a church, and who has more right to put up than the men who get

the good things that are goin'? Take, for instance, a great political

concern like Tammany Hall It does missionary work like a church, it's

got big expenses and it's got to be supported by the faithful. If

a corporation sends in a check to help the good work of the Tammany

Society, why shouldn't we take it like other missionary societies? Of

course, the day may come when we'll reject the money of the rich as

tainted, but it hadn't come when I left Tammany Hall at 11:25 A.M.

today.

Not long ago some newspapers had fits became the Assemblyman from my

district said he had put up $500 when he was nominated for the Assembly

last year. Every politician in town laughed at these papers. I don't

think there was even a Citizens' Union man who didn't know that

candidates of both parties have to chip in for campaign expenses. The

sums they pay are accordin' to their salaries and the length of their

terms of office, if elected. Even candidates for the Supreme Court have

to fall in line. A Supreme Court Judge in New York County gets $17,500

a year, and he's expected, when nominated, to help along the good cause

with a year's salary. Why not? He has fourteen years on the bench ahead

of him, and ten thousand other lawyers would be willin' to put up

twice as much to be in his shoes. Now, I ain't sayin' that we sell

nominations. That's a different thing altogether. There's no auction

and no regular biddin'. The man is picked out and somehow he gets to

understand what's expected of him in the way of a contribution, and he

ponies up--all from gratitude to the organization that honored him, see?

Let me tell you an instance that shows the difference between sellin'

nominations and arrangin' them in the way I described. A few years ago a

Republican district leader controlled the nomination for Congress in his

Congressional district. Four men wanted it. At first the leader asked

for bids privately, but decided at last that the best thing to do was to

get the four men together in the back room of a certain saloon and have

an open auction. When he had his men lined up, he got on a chair, told

about the value of the goods for sale, and asked for bids in regular

auctioneer style. The highest bidder got the nomination for $5000. Now,

that wasn't right at all. These things ought to be always fixed up nice

and quiet.

As to officeholders, they would be ingrates if they didn't contribute to

the organization that put them in office. They needn't be assessed. That

would be against the law. But they know what's expected of them, and

if they happen to forget they can be reminded polite and courteous.

Dan Donegan, who used to be the Wiskinkie of the Tammany Society, and

received contributions from grateful officeholders, had a pleasant way

of remindin'. If a man forgot his duty to the organization that made

him, Dan would call on the man, smile as sweet as you please and say:

"You haven't been round at the Hall lately, have you?" If the man tried

to slide around the question, Dan would say: "It's gettin' awful cold."

Then he would have a fit of shiverin' and walk away. What could be

more polite and, at the same time, more to the point? No force, no

threats--only a little shiverin' which any man is liable to even in

summer.

Just here, I want to charge one more crime to the infamous civil service

law. It has made men turn ungrateful. A dozen years ago, when there

wasn't much civil service business in the city government, and when

the administration could turn out almost any man holdin' office, Dan's

shiver took effect every time and there was no ingratitude in the city

departments. But when the civil service law came in and all the clerks

got lead-pipe cinches on their jobs, ingratitude spread right away.

Dan shivered and shook till his bones rattled, but many of the city

employees only laughed at him. One day, I remember, he tackled a clerk

in the Public Works Department, who used to give up pretty regular, and,

after the usual question, began to shiver. The clerk smiled. Dan shook

till his hat fell off. The clerk took ten cents out of his pocket,

handed it to Dan and said: "Poor man! Go and get a drink to warm

yourself up." Wasn't that shameful? And yet, if it hadn't been for the

civil service law, that clerk would be contributin' right along to this

day.

The civil service law don't cover everything, however. There's lots of

good jobs outside its clutch, and the men that get them are grateful

every time. I'm not speakin' of Tammany Hall alone, remember! It's the

same with the Republican Federal and State officeholders, and every

organization that has or has had jobs to give out--except, of course,

the Citizens' Union. The Cits held office only a couple of years and,

knowin' that they would never be in again, each Cit officeholder held on

for dear life to every dollar that came his way.

Some people say they can't understand what becomes of all the money

that's collected for campaigns. They would understand fast enough if

they were district lead-em. There's never been half enough money to go

around. Besides the expenses for meetin's, bands and all that, there's

the bigger bill for the district workers who get men to the polls. These

workers are mostly men who want to serve their country but can't get

jobs in the city departments on account of the civil service law. They

do the next best thing by keepin' track of the voters and seem' that

they come to the polls and vote the right way. Some of these deservin'

citizens have to make enough on registration and election days to keep

them the rest of the year. Isn't it right that they should get a share

of the campaign money?

Just remember that there's thirty-five Assembly districts in New York

County, and thirty-six district leaders reachin' out for the Tammany

dough-bag for somethin' to keep up the patriotism of ten thousand

workers, and you wouldn't wonder that the cry for more, more, is goin'

up from every district organization now and forevermore. Amen.

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 18 / 23 章