most important and distinguished of the labor organizations of New York.
Its membership is composed, as its name implies, of the ladies and
gentlemen actually engaged in the entertainment of the public by the
exhibition of their interesting bodies. Its purposes are to encourage
social pleasures among its members, and to protect them against the
encroachments of domineering managers. Such an organization was made
necessary by the continued aggressions of the managerial classes, who
were led by their unbridled greed to resort to all kinds of unjust
expedients whereby to grind down and trample under foot the poor and
needy Freak. This sort of foul injustice went on from year to year,
rendering the Freaks more and more dependent on the opulent and
tyrannical managers, until the wrongs resultant from it cried to heaven
for vengeance. At last, from the depths of their misery the Freaks arose
and with one masterful effort they threw off their base shackles and
declared themselves free.
It was truly a majestic movement. The Brotherhood was firmly established
in all parts of America and Great Britain, and it duly resolved that no
one should hereafter be a Freak, or be tolerated in the society of
Freaks, who was not a member of the Brotherhood in good standing. It
resolved that no manager should employ any one claiming to be a Freak
who was not thus rendered legitimate. It resolved to various purports,
and in phrases most solemn the majesty of the manhood and womanhood of
the freakly profession was vindicated.
The managers, of course, retaliated in kind. They organized a trust.
They classified the Freaks and rated them. The relations between labor
and capital engaged in the museum industry became thereby greatly
strained, but as yet no actual rupture had occurred. All hoped in the
public interest to avert such a catastrophe, but each side felt that a
fierce struggle was imminent.
Only some such incident as had been supplied in the enterprising stroke
of business accomplished by Tony Scollop was needed to fan the sparks of
resentment into a flame. The flame was already burning in the bosom of
Mr. Billy O'Fake, and when he and the dwarf reached the Brotherhood's
headquarters they were ready to perform the functions of a torch.
The Executive Council of the Brotherhood, District No. 6, F. I. M. X. T.
S. Z., was about to hold a meeting. The Council was composed of seven
eminent Freaks--Sim Boles, the Double-Jointed Wonder; Bony Perkins, the
Ossified Man; Duffer Leech, the Man with the Phenomenal Skull; Miss
Tilly Boles, the Beautiful Mermaid of the Southern Sea; Mrs. Smock, the
Bearded Circassian Beauty; Mr. Billy O'Fake, the Wild Man from Borneo,
and the President of the Brotherhood, Runty, the Dwarf. These ladies and
gentlemen were the leaders, nay, the fathers and mothers of the
organization, distinguished for their sagacity, resolution and prudence.
The arrival of Mr. O'Fake and the Dwarf completed the council, which
proceeded promptly to business. Runty took the chair, and in a few
earnest and well-chosen words, he dispatched the Ossified Man for a
pitcher of beer. The transaction of other routine business occupied the
attention of the council for a brief while, but it soon gave way to the
pressing business of the hour. This came in the shape of a resolution
presented by Mr. O'Fake, in these words:
_Whereas_, Mr. T. Scollop, manager of the Universal Dime Museum of
Natural Wonders, has seen fit to involve our honorable profession
in disgrace by the employment for exhibition as an Animated Freak
of Grandmother Cruncher, so called; and,
_Whereas_, The said Grandmother Cruncher is not a member of this
Honorable Brotherhood, nor a Freak, but merely a person of vulgar
notoriety; and,
_Whereas_, The said employment by the said T. Scollop of the said
Female is in violation of Paragraph 13 of Article 210 of Section
306 of Chapter 194 of Book 8 of the Constitution and By-Laws of
this Honorable Brotherhood, therefore be it,
RESOLVED, That a committee of three members of this Council be
appointed by the Grand Worthy Sublime and Mighty Past High Master
to see the said T. Scollop and to inform him of the displeasure
which his course herein set forth has excited in this Council, and
to insist upon the immediate discharge of the said Cruncher.
"Wid the Chair's permission," said Mr. O'Fake, when his resolutions had
been read, "I will spake a worrud wid regard to the riserlooshuns. Sor,
I hav no apolergy to make for thim riserlooshuns. They manes business.
We are threatened, sor, wid a didly pur'l. It has not come upon us uv a
sudden, sor, not to wanst. It is a repetition, sor, av an ould offince,
an' I am here, sor, in this reshpicted prisence, sor, to say that the
toime has come fer this Brotherhood to make its power filt!"
Mr. O'Fake brought his clinched fist down upon the back of the Chair in
front of him with a smart tap and looked proudly at the admiring faces
of his fellow-members. Mr. O'Fake was eminent for his attainments as a
speaker, and well he knew it. A murmur of applause broke out as he
stopped, but he stilled it with a majestic wave of the hand.
"Sor," he continued, "I am wan av those which belaves that the managers
nades a lesson. They nades to be towld, sor, that Frakes is not dogs.
They have gone on in their coorse--"
At this point a shrill "Mr. Cheerman!" sounded out from the rear of the
hall, and to the great indignation of Mr. O'Fake and to everybody else's
surprise, Mr. Duffer Leech, the Man with the Phenomenal Skull, was
observed to be standing with his arm lifted and his index finger
extended towards the Chair.
Mr. O'Fake was much too astonished at Mr. Leech's audacity to express
himself. The Chair looked from one gentleman to the other in perplexity,
mysteriously winking at Mr. Leech and nodding at Mr. O'Fake as if to
call the attention of the one to the fact that the other was already
addressing the council. These repeated gestures having produced no other
effect than to draw another "Mr. Cheerman!" from Mr. Leech, the dwarf
was moved to inquire, "Vell, Duffer, vot's hup?"
"I wants to know wot's all dis talkin' about. I ain't got all day to sit
here and listen to chin-moosic. Wot's de trouble?"
It was easy to see that Duffer had been drinking. No man in his senses
would have ventured so rudely to have checked the flow of Mr. O'Fake's
oratory. Duffer had clearly been drinking, and the lion whose anger he
had roused turned upon him quickly.
"Phwat's the throuble!" he repeated, sarcastically. "I should say the
throuble was plain enough. If the gintleman has any difficulty seein' it
now, he won't long. It'll take the farm av snakes, sor, an' little rid
divils wid long tails in doo toime!"
Mr. O'Fake spoke with much dignity and great effect. In the roar of
laughter which followed Duffer perceived he had been vanquished and in
some confusion he sat down, while his victor proceeded:
"The offince minshuned in me riserlooshuns is a blow at the daily brid
av us all, sor. If any ould woman kin be placed in the froont rank av
Frakes fer the rayson that her gran'son killed another ould woman, wull
ye tell me, sor, phwat becomes av our janius an' harrud work? Sor, I am
bould to say that yersilf, honored as ye are fer hevin' the biggest hid
on the shmallest body in the world, had yer hid been as big as a base
dhrum an' yer body as shmall as a marble, ye would be regarded as av no
impartance in comparison wid this ould witch av a Gran'mother Cruncher."
The impression produced by Mr. O'Fake's remarks was evidently deep and
painful. He sat down amid silence which was presently broken by the
shrill voice of Duffer.
"Mr. Cheerman," said Duffer. "I rise to a p'int o' order."
"Pint o' vot?" inquired the Chair.
"Order, sir, order!" cried Duffer, who had long been a member of an East
Side debating club.
"Vell, I hunderstands you, Duffer, hall as far's you've vent. But it's
wery himportant, me boy, vot you horders a pint of. If it's a pint of
vhisky, vhy, all right; but if it's honly a pint of beer vhen there's
seven hon'able ladies an' gents--"
"I bigs the Chair's pardon," interrupted Mr. O'Fake, "but the Chair
labors under a slight misaper--ahem!" Mr. O'Fake finished the word with
a cough. It was a cough which he always kept ready for use in that way
whenever needed. "The gintleman manes he objects to the persadin's."
"He does, does 'e? Vell, if that's vot 'e means, 'e hexpresses hisself
in a werry poor vay," answered the Chair, directing a look at Duffer
which precipitated him at once into his seat.
Mrs. Smock, the Circassian Beauty, said very decidedly that she didn't
want any Grandmother Crunchers on the platform with her, and what was
the use of having a Brotherhood if you didn't stop such things, which
was debasing as everybody knew, and made her blood just boil every time
it happened for she couldn't stand having her rights took away and
wasn't going to. These energetic remarks decided the Chair to act.
"Vell," he said, "it happears to be a go. The Chair happoints hisself
an' Billy an' Sim Boles, an' the sooner ve sees Tony the sooner vill the
band begin to play. If you don't think there'll be moosic as'll make
your ears 'um, you don't know Tony Scollop."
The Chair thereupon descended from its lofty place, and with
characteristic promptness worked itself into its hat and coat. The
occasion was felt by all to be somewhat solemn, and murmurs of advice
arose to each of the committee as to the best method of proceeding. It
was agreed that the other members of the council should remain in the
headquarters until the committee's return.
Runty considered himself something of a diplomat, and he let it be
understood while on the way to Mr. Scollop's office that he would
present the case. They found Mr. Scollop in an amiable humor and most
happy to see them. There was a pause after the greetings, and to relieve
it Mr. Scollop remarked again that it was a fine day.
"So it is," rejoined Runty, "vich in combination with the natur' of hour
business haccounts for hour smilin' faces."
"That's right," said Tony. "Only if I was you I wouldn't smile in the
sun. Three such smilin' faces as yours turned right up at him would
produce a shadder, Runty. Now, what are you fellows up to? Some
Brotherhood game, I'll bet a hat."
"Wot a werry hactive mind!" cried Runty admiringly. "If you vos to guess
again you'd hit the game itself an' save us playin' it."
"No, you'd better lead off."
"Vell, then, clubs is trumps, an' we have got a big von vith a knot on
the hend for Gran'mother Cruncher--see?"
Mr. Scollop smiled thoughtfully and said he saw. "I see a long ways," he
added. "Cruncher is upstairs now, and the public is piling in head over
heels to see her. Her portographs is selling like hot cakes and the more
you kicks the more she'll be worth to me. Fact is, I wish you would
raise a disturbance. There's nothin' like judicious advertisin' in this
mooseum business. It would be worth a little something to have a nice,
hard strike. Now, then, do you see?"
Runty smiled in his turn and also said he saw. "If that's vot you vant,"
he said, "you've got it. The strike is on, an' afore you gets through
with Gran'mother Cruncher you'll have so much o' the same kind o'
notoriety that you an' her'll make a team, an' you both orter grow rich
by just hex'ibitin' of your two selves!"
[Illustration: THERE STOOD THE NOBLE OLD LADY IN ALL HER PATHETIC
BEAUTY.]
"Capital!" cried Mr. Scollop in much excitement, ringing his bell
vigorously. "This is the best thing 'ats happened to me in ten years.
Hey, there, you, Dick! Rush around the corner an' get a canvas
painted--make it big--fifteen by twenty feet, and great big black and
red letters. Come now, be quick! Take down the words: 'Strike!' Make
each letter two feet long! 'Our Freaks Fight Grandmother Cruncher! They
Refuse To Exhibit Along With The Old Lady! Jealous Of Her Dazzling
Beauty! Manager Scollop Stands Firm! Says He Will Be Loyal To
Grandmother Cruncher Till The Heavens Fall! Not A Freak Left! But
Grandmother Cruncher Remains Nobly At Her Post! Thousands Shake Her By
The Hand! She Is Now Making A Speech To The Multitude! Hurry Up To Hear
Her Thrilling Words! Come One! Come All! Only Ten Cents!'
"There, got it down?" continued the Manager, breathlessly. "Got it all
down? Then rush off, Dick! By the great horn spoon! Was there ever such
a stroke of luck as this! Now, Runty, you fellows hurry up to your
headquarters, so's to be there when the reporters come. Tell 'em the
whole business. Tell 'em you'll never give in! Tell 'em it's a battle to
the death! I'll send up a couple o' kegs o' beer and a lot o' cigars. Be
lively, now."
Mr. Scollop sprang from his chair and ran upstairs in frantic haste to
give directions for rendering the exhibition-room as commodious as
possible, leaving Runty and his fellow-committeemen in quite a state of
mind.
"Vell!" said the dwarf, drawing a prolonged breath and elevating his
eyebrows with a curious expression of mingled surprise and dismay,
"'ere's vot I calls a go!"
Bony Perkins rubbed his ossified eyes with his ossified knuckles and
observed that it looked as if somebody was going to get fooled.
Mr. O'Fake arose majestically from his chair, and looked grimly at his
colleagues. "Gintlemen," he said, "he'll be talkin' in another tone
within a wake. Bedad, we'll tache him phwat he don't know. We'll send
out an appale fer foonds, an' we'll give him all the fight he wants."
Mr. O'Fake's hopeful tone was needed to brace up the drooping courage of
his friends. They immediately returned to the council and briefly
reported that their grievances had been ignored, and that the strike was
on and would be general. Orders were at once issued and forwarded to
every museum in New York directing all Freaks straightway to quit
exhibiting and appeals were issued to the public and to all labor
associations for financial aid. The headquarters were soon in a state of
commotion. Mr. Scollop's kegs of beer had arrived and aided greatly in
increasing the ardor of everybody's feelings. The Ossified Man
surrounded himself with the Fat Woman, Little Bow-Legs and the Chinese
Giant, and lectured them long and earnestly on the rights of labor and
the tyranny of class rule. Mr. O'Fake delivered a full score of
beautiful orations, and the entire Brotherhood agreed that its power
should be exerted to the last extreme.
[Illustration: THE OSSIFIED MAN LECTURED LONG AND EARNESTLY.]
Meanwhile Mr. Scollop's museum was the scene of an even greater tumult.
The enormous "Strike!" placard had been posted and had produced an
immediate effect. Vast crowds of people, wild to see Grandmother
Cruncher, besieged the ticket-office and packed the exhibition-room,
where, upon the platform, elsewise deserted, stood that noble old lady
in all her pathetic beauty. Mr. Scollop, in a condition of rapture
scarcely possible of portrayal, stood all the afternoon in his private
office opening wine for the gentlemen of the press and giving them the
fullest information. He truly said he had nothing to conceal. He had
made an honest man's contract and he would stand by it till he dropped
in his tracks. He was not the man to desert a poor old woman in her
sorrow at the bidding of an irresponsible clique of labor bosses. The
Freaks did not want to strike, anyhow. They were nagged on to it by
their leaders, who were not genuine Freaks at all, but professional
agitators. Aside from his duty to Grandmother Cruncher, he was not going
to have his business run by outsiders--not if he knew himself! There
would be no abandonment of principle or position on his part, the public
might depend on it.
Mr. Scollop professed the deepest sorrow at the annoyance and vexation
to which the public was exposed by the unfair conduct of the strikers,
but he couldn't help it. It was not his fault. He knew he would have the
sympathy of all fair-minded people. He would do his best to satisfy his
patrons even under these trying circumstances. The museum was open now,
as the reporters could easily see, and would be kept open. Grandmother
Cruncher would exhibit and would be the great and permanent feature of
his show hereafter, Brotherhood or no Brotherhood!
These remarks, amplified and extended, appeared in the papers, together
with interviews with the strikers and many thrilling incidents of the
struggle. Public interest was aroused in the most general and intense
degree, and Mr. Scollop's cashier made daily trips to the bank with a
bushel-basket full of dimes. How long the contest would have continued
and what the final result would have been are problems too deep for me.
But at the end of the first week Grandmother Cruncher's rheumatism was
too much for her and she was compelled to retire. Short as was her
professional career, it gave her undying fame. In labor circles many
ugly rumors are floating about concerning the management of the strike.
It is broadly intimated that the whole thing was a "sell," and
significant remark is made upon the fact that Runty, the Dwarf, shortly
after the strike was ordered off, appeared upon the street scintillating
under a new diamond pin. One of the leading daily journals editorially
explained the matter by stating that the rheumatism story was a ruse,
that public interest in Grandmother Cruncher began to wane, and that
thereupon Manager Scollop "fixed the matter up" with the strikers. Tony,
however, declares that the Brotherhood gave in, while Runty says it is
stronger than ever and more than ever determined to protect the rights
of its members. Where the exact truth lies it is far from me to say, but
it may be pertinent to mention that Runty and Mr. O'Fake have started a
saloon in the Bowery.
THE END.