The provincial political pot, which had been simmering all through the
early spring, boiled over in July of that year. The Legislature was
dissolved with all the solemn formalities attendant upon the death of
an important public body, and many gentlemen with aspirations for
public office or government jobs found that they must forego much of
the joy that was offered in the shape of baseball, lacrosse, and rowing
fixtures, and get out and hustle for their respective "grand old party."
The issues at stake in the contest, according to Tommy Watson, were
such as no self-respecting auctioneer could put on the block at any
sale and not blush for shame. "It's just a case," said he, "of the
government, knowing they cannot be beaten, wanting to make sure of a
new lease of power," and Tommy, as usual, was not far wrong. But if
there were no really great issues in a general sense, there was a big
one in Mid-Toronto, and stripped of all party rhetoric and verbiage it
was this: "Shall 'The Big Wind' continue to represent us?"
The people were tired of "The Big Wind." So was the government. But
the government dare not say so, while the people--including the many
who had voted for him four years before--hoped that "The Big Wind" (his
real name does not belong to this chronicle of facts) would have sense
enough to blow himself out of public life. He might have done that if
some of those who called themselves his friends had been strong enough
in their friendship to have so advised him. For even in the
moments--and they were many--when he thought much of himself, "The Big
Wind" had glimmerings of common sense.
The government had taken him up for reasons that at the time seemed to
be sufficient. He was the sole male survivor of a family that had done
much for Toronto; was the possessor of a large fortune, and a liberal
giver to charities, as his father in his lifetime had been; his
position socially was distinguished, and he was a handsome man, tall
and straight, with a fine olive-complexioned face, well set off with
mustachios and an imperial. Much had been hoped from him, a cabinet
position was in his reach, until the day he made his first speech in
the Provincial House. That was a day indeed. The party papers had
blazoned the announcement the day before that on the morrow "The Big
Wind" would make his maiden address in the House, taking as his subject
"two or three important matters in connection with the budget. A rare
treat is in store for those who will be able to attend," and all the
rest of the hyperbole that the party papers--except yours, dear
reader--are wont to indulge in. Of course, the galleries of the House
were crowded, and on the floor every member was in his seat. In the
press gallery the attendance of managers and editorial writers was as
large as that of the men who do the real work on newspapers--the
reporters. All the reporters representing the government papers had
been instructed to give "The Big Wind" pretty fully, while the men from
the opposition papers had been informed that they might give him a
"good show." When he arose to address the House, the government side
greeted him with cheers, and the opposition joined in the desk pounding
that followed.
"The Big Wind" started gracefully--he always did that, and the House
listened indulgently while he patted every one on the back--not
forgetting himself. This occupied some fifteen minutes, during which
the reporters began to ask one another in whispers, "Why doesn't he get
going?" They were beginning to wonder if he would ever get going when
he said, "And now, Mr. Speaker, as to the budget." There was a
suppressed "Ah!" in the press gallery, followed by a surprised "Oh!"
when "The Big Wind" averred that "budgets" had been known since the
world began. He delved into a pile of manuscript, and made some
allusion to the Book of Genesis--without giving any one the slightest
idea of what he was talking about. He paid a great deal of attention
to Genesis, he stayed with it for an hour or so, in fact. People began
to leave the galleries, members left the chamber to find solace in the
smoking-room or the library. The managing editor of the chief leading
government organ, who had condescended to take a seat in the press
gallery, told the three reporters representing the paper to cut the
speech to one column, and himself returned to his office. An hour
later this editor telephoned to the press gallery and asked one of his
reporters, "Say, where is that chump now?"
"Well," answered the reporter, "he's just figuring on leading the
children of Israel into the promised land."
"It's a pity the Egyptians couldn't kill him," shouted the editor; "cut
him down to half a column."
And "The Big Wind" went on blowing. At six o'clock he had left the
children of Israel to their fate, and was grappling with the Norman
invasion of England. The House adjourned for dinner then, and it is on
record that as they walked the corridor to the dining-room, a member of
the cabinet asked the premier, "Where in the name of all we stand for
is this fellow going to land?" that the premier, without even the trace
of a blush, answered in two words, and that one of them rhymed with
"well."
"The Big Wind" resumed his address at eight o'clock at night and
concluded it at eleven, with a few playful allusions to the Peninsular
War and an expression of regret that time did not permit of his dealing
with other matters no less important.
And this was the man that Mid-Toronto was asked to return again because
his own party was afraid to antagonise him, and the opposition felt
that they hadn't a ghost of show to carry a riding that for twenty
years had beaten their candidates by large majorities. It looked
indeed as though "The Big Wind" might be elected by acclamation.
Two weeks before the official nomination, Whimple, himself a dabbler in
politics and a supporter of the government, heard, with other rumours,
that an independent candidate would be in the field in Mid-Toronto, and
the next morning the rumours were declared, by no less a personage than
William Adolphus Turnpike, to have truth as their foundation.
"You live in Mid-Toronto, William," said Whimple, jocularly, "and you
ought to know what's going on there!"
"Well, I know a few things," said William, smilingly.
"Such as----" and Whimple paused.
"Politics," said William, grinning.
"Yes!"
"A fight--a fight, and it'll be a loller-palluselar."
"A what?"
"That's just a word my Pa uses, Mister Whimple--honest, I couldn't say
it more'n once a day."
"And who's going to fight 'The Big Wind,' pray?"
"The People's Party."
"The--what--oh! I say, William, what kind of a game is this?"
"No yarn--it's straight goods. The People's Party was formed last
night, and picked their man."
"But, how do you know that? There's nothing in the papers about it
this morning."
"No, because Tommy Watson's the press agent and secretary, and he says
it's time enough to give it to the papers to-night, so he's going to do
it."
"Tommy Watson! What on earth is he butting in for? He doesn't live in
the riding!"
"No, but he was at the meetin', him and a few others--about seven
altogether--and he says, 'I'll keep the minutes,' he says, 'and load up
the papers.' The meetin' was held in our house," William went on, "and
my Pa was elected to the chair. Gee! it was an elegant meetin': Pa
made a corking speech. He says, '"The Big Wind" ain't to blame much
for thinking he's the white-haired darlin',' he says, 'because his
friends should put him wise that he ain't.' And Tony Gaston, what
drives oner Jimmy Duggan's coal-wagons, he says, 'The Bigga de Wind is
an awful mutt,' so he ups and asks why don't Jimmy Duggan run, so Pa
says 'Carried,' and Tommy Watson makes 'em do it all reg'lar, and they
forms the People's Party and puts Jimmy Duggan up for their man."
"It sounds foolish," said Wimple, reflectively.
"Well," said William, slowly, "that's what Tommy Watson says. 'It
looks foolish,' he says, 'and that's just where a lot of other people's
goin' to be made look foolish too. The party men'll be thinking
there's no chance for Jimmy, and first thing you know he'll slip in.'
So they asked Jimmy is he game, and Jimmy says he's game to buck up
against any government anywheres, he says, especially one what'll stand
for 'The Big Wind.'"
William paused, and then went on slowly, "Say, Mister Whimple, my Pa's
a wonder to know what's what, and he says quite solemn to Tommy Watson
after the meeting's over, 'Jimmy's the best man in a fight of any kind
I ever knew,' he says; 'b'lieve me, Mister Watson,' he says, 'he'll
punc-ture "The Big Wind." This part of the city don't have to stand
for a gas-bag that ain't even got sense enough to burst when it's too
full, and we ain't going to stand for it,' he says."