A Political Agreement
In the first and second wards of Chicago at this time--wards including
the business heart, South Clark Street, the water-front, the
river-levee, and the like--were two men, Michael (alias Smiling Mike)
Tiernan and Patrick (alias Emerald Pat) Kerrigan, who, for
picturequeness of character and sordidness of atmosphere, could not be
equaled elsewhere in the city, if in the nation at large. "Smiling"
Mike Tiernan, proud possessor of four of the largest and filthiest
saloons of this area, was a man of large and genial mold--perhaps six
feet one inch in height, broad-shouldered in proportion, with a bovine
head, bullet-shaped from one angle, and big, healthy, hairy hands and
large feet. He had done many things from digging in a ditch to
occupying a seat in the city council from this his beloved ward, which
he sold out regularly for one purpose and another; but his chief
present joy consisted in sitting behind a solid mahogany railing at a
rosewood desk in the back portion of his largest Clark Street
hostelry--"The Silver Moon." Here he counted up the returns from his
various properties--salons, gambling resorts, and houses of
prostitution--which he manipulated with the connivance or blinking
courtesy of the present administration, and listened to the pleas and
demands of his henchmen and tenants.
The character of Mr. Kerrigan, Mr. Tiernan's only rival in this rather
difficult and sordid region, was somewhat different. He was a small
man, quite dapper, with a lean, hollow, and somewhat haggard face, but
by no means sickly body, a large, strident mustache, a wealth of
coal-black hair parted slickly on one side, and a shrewd, genial
brown-black eye--constituting altogether a rather pleasing and ornate
figure whom it was not at all unsatisfactory to meet. His ears were
large and stood out bat-wise from his head; and his eyes gleamed with a
smart, evasive light. He was cleverer financially than Tiernan,
richer, and no more than thirty-five, whereas Mr. Tiernan was
forty-five years of age. Like Mr. Tiernan in the first ward, Mr.
Kerrigan was a power in the second, and controlled a most useful and
dangerous floating vote. His saloons harbored the largest floating
element that was to be found in the city--longshoremen, railroad hands,
stevedores, tramps, thugs, thieves, pimps, rounders, detectives, and
the like. He was very vain, considered himself handsome, a "killer"
with the ladies. Married, and with two children and a sedate young
wife, he still had his mistress, who changed from year to year, and his
intermediate girls. His clothes were altogether noteworthy, but it was
his pride to eschew jewelry, except for one enormous emerald, value
fourteen thousand dollars, which he wore in his necktie on occasions,
and the wonder of which, pervading all Dearborn Street and the city
council, had won him the soubriquet of "Emerald Pat." At first he
rejoiced heartily in this title, as he did in a gold and diamond medal
awarded him by a Chicago brewery for selling the largest number of
barrels of beer of any saloon in Chicago. More recently, the
newspapers having begun to pay humorous attention to both himself and
Mr. Tiernan, because of their prosperity and individuality, he resented
it.
The relation of these two men to the present political situation was
peculiar, and, as it turned out, was to constitute the weak spot in the
Cowperwood-McKenty campaign. Tiernan and Kerrigan, to begin with,
being neighbors and friends, worked together in politics and business,
on occasions pooling their issues and doing each other favors. The
enterprises in which they were engaged being low and shabby, they
needed counsel and consolation. Infinitely beneath a man like McKenty
in understanding and a politic grasp of life, they were, nevertheless,
as they prospered, somewhat jealous of him and his high estate. They
saw with speculative and somewhat jealous eyes how, after his union
with Cowperwood, he grew and how he managed to work his will in many
ways--by extracting tolls from the police department, and heavy annual
campaign contributions from manufacturers favored by the city gas and
water departments. McKenty--a born manipulator in this respect--knew
where political funds were to be had in an hour of emergency, and he
did not hesitate to demand them. Tiernan and Kerrigan had always been
fairly treated by him as politics go; but they had never as yet been
included in his inner council of plotters. When he was down-town on
one errand or another, he stopped in at their places to shake hands
with them, to inquire after business, to ask if there was any favor he
could do them; but never did he stoop to ask a favor of them or
personally to promise any form of reward. That was the business of
Dowling and others through whom he worked.
Naturally men of strong, restive, animal disposition, finding no
complete outlet for all their growing capacity, Tiernan and Kerrigan
were both curious to see in what way they could add to their honors and
emoluments. Their wards, more than any in the city, were increasing in
what might be called a vote-piling capacity, the honest, legitimate
vote not being so large, but the opportunities afforded for colonizing,
repeating, and ballot-box stuffing being immense. In a doubtful
mayoralty campaign the first and second wards alone, coupled with a
portion of the third adjoining them, would register sufficient
illegitimate votes (after voting-hours, if necessary) to completely
change the complexion of the city as to the general officers nominated.
Large amounts of money were sent to Tiernan and Kerrigan around
election time by the Democratic County Committee to be disposed of as
they saw fit. They merely sent in a rough estimate of how much they
would need, and always received a little more than they asked for.
They never made nor were asked to make accounting afterward. Tiernan
would receive as high as fifteen and eighteen, Kerrigan sometimes as
much as twenty to twenty-five thousand dollars, his being the pivotal
ward under such circumstances.
McKenty had recently begun to recognize that these two men would soon
have to be given fuller consideration, for they were becoming more or
less influential. But how? Their personalities, let alone the
reputation of their wards and the methods they employed, were not such
as to command public confidence. In the mean time, owing to the
tremendous growth of the city, the growth of their own private
business, and the amount of ballot-box stuffing, repeating, and the
like which was required of them, they were growing more and more
restless. Why should not they be slated for higher offices? they now
frequently asked themselves. Tiernan would have been delighted to have
been nominated for sheriff or city treasurer. He considered himself
eminently qualified. Kerrigan at the last city convention had
privately urged on Dowling the wisdom of nominating him for the
position of commissioner of highways and sewers, which office he was
anxious to obtain because of its reported commercial perquisites; but
this year, of all times, owing to the need of nominating an unblemished
ticket to defeat the sharp Republican opposition, such a nomination was
not possible. It would have drawn the fire of all the respectable
elements in the city. As a result both Tiernan and Kerrigan, thinking
over their services, past and future, felt very much disgruntled. They
were really not large enough mentally to understand how
dangerous--outside of certain fields of activity--they were to the
party.
After his conference with Hand, Gilgan, going about the city with the
promise of ready cash on his lips, was able to arouse considerable
enthusiasm for the Republican cause. In the wards and sections where
the so-called "better element" prevailed it seemed probable, because of
the heavy moral teaching of the newspapers, that the respectable vote
would array itself almost solidly this time against Cowperwood. In the
poorer wards it would not be so easy. True, it was possible, by a
sufficient outlay of cash, to find certain hardy bucaneers who could be
induced to knife their own brothers, but the result was not certain.
Having heard through one person and another of the disgruntled mood of
both Kerrigan and Tiernan, and recognizing himself, even if he was a
Republican, to be a man much more of their own stripe than either
McKenty or Dowling, Gilgan decided to visit that lusty pair and see
what could be done by way of alienating them from the present center of
power.
After due reflection he first sought out "Emerald Pat" Kerrigan, whom
he knew personally but with whom he was by no means intimate
politically, at his "Emporium Bar" in Dearborn Street. This particular
saloon, a feature of political Chicago at this time, was a large affair
containing among other marvelous saloon fixtures a circular bar of
cherry wood twelve feet in diameter, which glowed as a small mountain
with the customary plain and colored glasses, bottles, labels, and
mirrors. The floor was a composition of small, shaded red-and-green
marbles; the ceiling a daub of pinky, fleshy nudes floating among
diaphanous clouds; the walls were alternate panels of cerise and brown
set in rosewood. Mr. Kerrigan, when other duties were not pressing,
was usually to be found standing chatting with several friends and
surveying the wonders of his bar trade, which was very large. On the
day of Mr. Gilgan's call he was resplendent in a dark-brown suit with a
fine red stripe in it, Cordovan leather shoes, a wine-colored tie
ornamented with the emerald of so much renown, and a straw hat of
flaring proportions and novel weave. About his waist, in lieu of a
waistcoat, was fastened one of the eccentricities of the day, a
manufactured silk sash. He formed an interesting contrast with Mr.
Gilgan, who now came up very moist, pink, and warm, in a fine, light
tweed of creamy, showy texture, straw hat, and yellow shoes.
"How are you, Kerrigan?" he observed, genially, there being no
political enmity between them. "How's the first, and how's trade? I
see you haven't lost the emerald yet?"
"No. No danger of that. Oh, trade's all right. And so's the first.
How's Mr. Gilgan?" Kerrigan extended his hand cordially.
"I have a word to say to you. Have you any time to spare?"
For answer Mr. Kerrigan led the way into the back room. Already he had
heard rumors of a strong Republican opposition at the coming election.
Mr. Gilgan sat down. "It's about things this fall I've come to see
you, of course," he began, smilingly. "You and I are supposed to be on
opposite sides of the fence, and we are as a rule, but I am wondering
whether we need be this time or not?"
Mr. Kerrigan, shrewd though seemingly simple, fixed him with an amiable
eye. "What's your scheme?" he said. "I'm always open to a good idea."
"Well, it's just this," began Mr. Gilgan, feeling his way. "You have a
fine big ward here that you carry in your vest pocket, and so has
Tiernan, as we all know; and we all know, too, that if it wasn't for
what you and him can do there wouldn't always be a Democratic mayor
elected. Now, I have an idea, from looking into the thing, that
neither you nor Tiernan have got as much out of it so far as you might
have."
Mr. Kerrigan was too cautious to comment as to that, though Mr. Gilgan
paused for a moment.
"Now, I have a plan, as I say, and you can take it or leave it, just as
you want, and no hard feelings one way or the other. I think the
Republicans are going to win this fall--McKenty or no McKenty--first,
second, and third wards with us or not, as they choose. The doings of
the big fellow"--he was referring to McKenty--"with the other fellow in
North Clark Street"--Mr. Gilgan preferred to be a little enigmatic at
times--"are very much in the wind just now. You see how the papers
stand. I happen to know where there's any quantity of money coming
into the game from big financial quarters who have no use for this
railroad man. It's a solid La Salle and Dearborn Street line-up, so
far as I can see. Why, I don't know. But so it is. Maybe you know
better than I do. Anyhow, that's the way it stands now. Add to that
the fact that there are eight naturally Republican wards as it is, and
ten more where there is always a fighting chance, and you begin to see
what I'm driving at. Count out these last ten, though, and bet only on
the eight that are sure to stand. That leaves twenty-three wards that
we Republicans always conceded to you people; but if we manage to carry
thirteen of them along with the eight I'm talking about, we'll have a
majority in council, and"--flick! he snapped his fingers--"out you
go--you, McKenty, Cowperwood, and all the rest. No more franchises, no
more street-paving contracts, no more gas deals. Nothing--for two
years, anyhow, and maybe longer. If we win we'll take the jobs and the
fat deals." He paused and surveyed Kerrigan cheerfully but defiantly.
"Now, I've just been all over the city," he continued, "in every ward
and precinct, so I know something of what I am talking about. I have
the men and the cash to put up a fight all along the line this time.
This fall we win--me and the big fellows over there in La Salle Street,
and all the Republicans or Democrats or Prohibitionists, or whoever
else comes in with us--do you get me? We're going to put up the biggest
political fight Chicago has ever seen. I'm not naming any names just
yet, but when the time comes you'll see. Now, what I want to ask of
you is this, and I'll not mince me words nor beat around the bush.
Will you and Tiernan come in with me and Edstrom to take over the city
and run it during the next two years? If you will, we can win hands
down. It will be a case of share and share alike on
everything--police, gas, water, highways, street-railways,
everything--or we'll divide beforehand and put it down in black and
white. I know that you and Tiernan work together, or I wouldn't talk
about this. Edstrom has the Swedes where he wants them, and he'll poll
twenty thousand of them this fall. There's Ungerich with his Germans;
one of us might make a deal with him afterward, give him most any
office he wants. If we win this time we can hold the city for six or
eight years anyhow, most likely, and after that--well, there's no use
lookin' too far in the future--Anyhow we'd have a majority of the
council and carry the mayor along with it."
"If--" commented Mr. Kerrigan, dryly.
"If," replied Mr. Gilgan, sententiously. "You're very right. There's a
big 'if' in there, I'll admit. But if these two wards--yours and
Tiernan's--could by any chance be carried for the Republicans they'd be
equal to any four or five of the others."
"Very true," replied Mr. Kerrigan, "if they could be carried for the
Republicans. But they can't be. What do you want me to do, anyhow?
Lose me seat in council and be run out of the Democratic party? What's
your game? You don't take me for a plain damn fool, do you?"
"Sorry the man that ever took 'Emerald Pat' for that," answered Gilgan,
with honeyed compliment. "I never would. But no one is askin' ye to
lose your seat in council and be run out of the Democratic party.
What's to hinder you from electin' yourself and droppin' the rest of
the ticket?" He had almost said "knifing."
Mr. Kerrigan smiled. In spite of all his previous dissatisfaction with
the Chicago situation he had not thought of Mr. Gilgan's talk as
leading to this. It was an interesting idea. He had "knifed" people
before--here and there a particular candidate whom it was desirable to
undo. If the Democratic party was in any danger of losing this fall,
and if Gilgan was honest in his desire to divide and control, it might
not be such a bad thing. Neither Cowperwood, McKenty, nor Dowling had
ever favored him in any particular way. If they lost through him, and
he could still keep himself in power, they would have to make terms
with him. There was no chance of their running him out. Why shouldn't
he knife the ticket? It was worth thinking over, to say the least.
"That's all very fine," he observed, dryly, after his meditations had
run their course; "but how do I know that you wouldn't turn around and
'welch' on the agreement afterward?" (Mr. Gilgan stirred irritably at
the suggestion.) "Dave Morrissey came to me four years ago to help him
out, and a lot of satisfaction I got afterward." Kerrigan was referring
to a man whom he had helped make county clerk, and who had turned on
him when he asked for return favors and his support for the office of
commissioner of highways. Morrissey had become a prominent politician.
"That's very easy to say," replied Gilgan, irritably, "but it's not
true of me. Ask any man in my district. Ask the men who know me.
I'll put my part of the bargain in black and white if you'll put yours.
If I don't make good, show me up afterward. I'll take you to the
people that are backing me. I'll show you the money. I've got the
goods this time. What do you stand to lose, anyhow? They can't run you
out for cutting the ticket. They can't prove it. We'll bring police
in here to make it look like a fair vote. I'll put up as much money as
they will to carry this district, and more."
Mr. Kerrigan suddenly saw a grand coup here. He could "draw down" from
the Democrats, as he would have expressed it, twenty to twenty-five
thousand dollars to do the dirty work here. Gilgan would furnish him
as much and more--the situation being so critical. Perhaps fifteen or
eighteen thousand would be necessary to poll the number of votes
required either way. At the last hour, before stuffing the boxes, he
would learn how the city was going. If it looked favorable for the
Republicans it would be easy to complete the victory and complain that
his lieutenants had been suborned. If it looked certain for the
Democrats he could throw Gilgan and pocket his funds. In either case
he would be "in" twenty-five to thirty thousand dollars, and he would
still be councilman.
"All very fine," replied Mr. Kerrigan, pretending a dullness which he
did not feel; "but it's damned ticklish business at best. I don't know
that I want anything to do with it even if we could win. It's true the
City Hall crowd have never played into my hands very much; but this is
a Democratic district, and I'm a Democrat. If it ever got out that I
had thrown the party it would be pretty near all day with me.
"I'm a man of my word," declared Mr. Gilgan, emphatically, getting up.
"I never threw a man or a bet in my life. Look at me record in the
eighteenth. Did you ever hear any one say that I had?"
"No, I never did," returned Kerrigan, mildly. "But it's a pretty large
thing you're proposing, Mr. Gilgan. I wouldn't want to say what I
thought about it offhand. This ward is supposed to be Democratic. It
couldn't be swung over into the Republican column without a good bit of
fuss being made about it. You'd better see Mr. Tiernan first and hear
what he has to say. Afterward I might be willing to talk about it
further. Not now, though--not now."
Mr. Gilgan went away quite jauntily and cheerfully. He was not at all
downcast.