FIFTY KEGS OF BEER
"It is estimated," says the opposition press, "that Lockwin, the rich
man's candidate, backed by the machine, the organized toughs of the
'Levee,' and the gamblers, has spent over $25,000 of corruption money.
The primaries, which were held yesterday, were the most disgraceful
political exhibitions which have ever been offered in our civic
history. Harpwood was counted out in every ward but one. Corkey, the
sailors' candidate, carried two wards by the same tactics which the
police made use of elsewhere. In the First and Second, the officers
arrested all 'disturbers' on complaint of Corkeyites. Everywhere else
Corkeyites were either forced off the field or are now in the bull-pens
at the stations.
"As our interview with the mayor shows, he is unacquainted with facts
which everybody else possesses. It is well enough to repeat that we
shall never have a real mayor until the present rule-or-ruin machine
shall be destroyed.
"It is to be hoped that the split which threatens the convention of
to-day will herald the dawn of law-and-order rule, when bossism, clamor
for office, and saloon primaries will happily be things of the past."
The primaries which were held on Friday elected delegates to the
convention of Saturday. If we scan the large body which is now
gathering, it may be seen that the business of to-day is to be done by
men who either hold or control office. The sidewalk inspectors, the
health inspectors, the city and county building men, the men of the
"institutions;" and the men of the postoffice are delegates. It may be
safely guessed that they have no desire other than to hold their places
until better places can be commanded. The party can trust its
delegates. In this hall is gathered the effective governing force of
the whole city. To these men a majority of the citizens have
relinquished the business of public service. All those citizens who
object are in the minority, and a majority of the minority object, only
because it is desired that a different set of men should perform the
same labors in the same way.
The political boss is not in sight. Eight delegations of Harpwood men
are admitted because they cannot be kept out. The convention is called
to order by a motion that a Lockwin man shall be chairman.
Four saloon-keepers stand upon chairs and shout.
Four bouncers of four rival saloons pull the orators down to the floor.
The saloon-keepers are unarmed--their bung-starters are at home. The
Lockwin man is in the chair. He has not been elected. Election in
such a hubbub is impossible, and is not expected.
But the assumption of the chair by anybody is a good thing. The
convention is thus enabled to learn that Corkey is making a speech. A
chair is held on top of another chair. On this conspicuous perch the
hero of the docks holds forth.
Corkey is an oddity. He is a new factor in politics. The rounders are
curious to hear what he is saying.
"Your honor!" cries Corkey in a loud voice.
There is a sensation of merriment, which angers the orator.
"Oh, I know you're all no-gooders," he says. "I know that as well as
any of ye."
There is a hurricane of cat-calls from the galleries.
There are cries of "Come down!" "Pull down his vest!" "See the
sawed-off!"
"Yes, 'come down'!" yells the speaker in a white heat. "That's what
you bloodsuckers make Lockwin do. He come down! I should say he did!
But I'm no soft mark--you hear me? You bet your sweet life!"
The merriment is over. This is outrageous. The dignity of this
convention has been compromised. There is a furious movement in the
rear. The tumult is again unrestrained. Corkey has blundered.
The chairman pounds for order. The police begin to "suppress the
excitement."
"Mr. Corkey, I understand, has an important announcement to make,"
cries the chair.
"You bet I _have_!" corroborates the navigator.
"Spit it out!"
"Make the turn, Corkey!"
"Everything goes as it lays!"
Such are the preparatory comments of the audience.
"Your honor--"
Corkey has been "pulled" for gambling. His public addresses heretofore
have been made before the police justice.
"YOUR HONOR, MR. CHAIRMAN, AND MR. DELEGATES:--We're goin' to quit you.
We're goin' to walk, to sherry, to bolt. We didn't have no fair chance
to vote our men yesterday. We carried our wards just as you carried
your'n. We've just as good a right to the candidate as you have. We
therefore with-with-with-go out--and you can bet your sweet life we
stay out! and you hear me--"
"Goon!" "Goon!" "Ki-yi!" "Yip-yip!"
Such are the flattering outbursts. Why does the orator pause?
His head quakes and vibrates, his face grows black, the mouth opens
into a parallelogram, the sharp little tongue plays about the mass of
black tobacco.
The convention leaps to its feet. The Sneeze has come.
"That settles it!" cry the delegates. "Bounce any man that'll do such
a thing as that! Fire him out!"
The irresistible movement has reached Corkey's eyrie. Four faithful
Corkeyites are holding Corkey's platform. The assault on these
supports, these Atlases, brings the collapse of Corkey. He goes down
fighting, and he fights like a hero. One of the toughs who saw Corkey
put away his revolver at the primary is badly battered before he can
retreat.
The melee is a good-sized one. "It is to be observed," writes the
keen-eyed reporters, "that the consumption of peanuts rises to its
maximum during the purgation of a convention."
The convention is purged. The fumes of whisky and tobacco increase.
The crash of peanuts ceases. The committee on credentials reports.
Harmony is to be the watchword. In this interest it has been agreed to
seat four Harpwood delegates and eight Lockwin delegates in each of the
contests.
Although the Harpwood delegates howl with indignation, it is only a
howl. None of them go out. They will all vote. But their votes will
not affect the nomination. If otherwise, the convention can be again
purged and the correct result established. That would be bloody and
difficult. Wait until it shall be necessary.
"It is one of the workings of the status quo," writes the reporter of
the single-tax weekly, "that friction is everywhere reduced to the
minimum of the system. There is little waste of bloody noses in
politics."
"It is getting past dinner time. Why not be through with this? What
is the matter?"
These are the questions of the sidewalk inspectors, who perhaps ache to
return to their other public duties.
"It is Corkey's fault--Corkey's fault! But here's the platform, now!"
"We point with the finger of scorn--" reads the clerk in a great voice.
"That's the stuff!" respond the faithful, shaking hands one with
another.
"Order!" scream the bouncers and police. They desire to hear the
platform. It is the hinge on which liberty hangs. It is the brass
idol of politics.
"And the peace, prosperity and general happiness of the American people
will ever remain dear to the party which saved the union and now
reaches a fraternal hand across the bloody chasm!" So reads the clerk.
"That's what! We win on that! They can't answer to that!"
"We demand a free ballot and a fair count!"
"No more bulldozing!" exclaims the bouncer who has heard the plank.
"We guarantee to the sovereign electors of the First district, and to
the whole population of the nation a reform of the civil service and an
entire abolition of the spoils system."
"I suppose," says the bouncer, "that things is going on too open in
Washington."
The reading ceases.
"Ki-yi!" "Hooray!" "He-e-e-e-e-e!" "Zip-zip-zippee!"
There is a crash of peanuts, a tornado of bad air, a tempest of wild
and joyous noise.
"The platform was received with genuine enthusiasm. It was adopted
without a dissenting voice." Thus the reporters write hurriedly.
There has been an uproar ever since the question was put. Now, if the
delegate quicken his ear, he may hear the chairman commanding:
"All those in favor will vote 'aye!'"
Again there is the tempest. The Harpwood delegates have voted aye!
"What is it?" ask most of the delegates.
"Lockwin is nominated by acclamation," comes the answer from the front.
"Oh, is he?" say the delegates, Harpwood men and all.
There is a numerous outgo for liquor. A man is escorted to the stage.
He is cheered by those who see him. Most of the leading delegates are
bargaining for places on the central committee. The Harpwood men are
to be taken care of.
The speech goes on. "It is," says the orator, "the proudest day of my
life, I assure you."
"Do you suppose he's gone broke?" inquire the committee men.
"It is the matchless character of our institutions--" continues the
candidate.
"We'd be done up if the other fellows should indorse Corkey," says a
hungry saloon-keeper.
"--The matchless character of our institutions that the people hold the
reins of government."
The orator is gathering an audience. "The people" are hungry, but love
of oratory is a still weaker place in their armor. The voice rises.
The eye flashes. The cheeks turn crimson. The form straightens.
The orator weeps and he thunders.
"Hi--_hi_!" says the hungry saloon-keeper, in sudden admiration.
"America! My fellow-countrymen, it is the palm of the desert--the rock
of liberty.
"We have a weapon firmer set,
And better than the bayonet;
A weapon that comes down as still
As snowflakes fall upon the sod;
But executes a freeman's will
As lightning does the will of God."
The effect is electric.
"Jiminy!" whistles the hungry saloonkeeper, "ain't we lucky we put him
up? I could sell fifty kag if he spoke anywhere in the same block."