IN WHICH FOLEY BOWS TO DEFEAT
The minute after Foley had gone Mr. Baxter was talking over the
telephone to the secretary of the Conciliation Committee of the Civic
Federation. "We have considered your offer to try to bring our committee
and the committee of the ironworkers together," he said. "We are willing
to reopen negotiations with them." A letter would have been the proper
and more dignified method of communication. But this was the quicker,
and to Mr. Baxter a day was worth while.
The secretary believed in the high mission of his committee, and was
enthusiastic to make a record for it in the avoidance of strikes and
assistance in their settlement. So he laid down the telephone receiver
and called for a stenographer. Within twenty minutes a messenger left
his office bearing a letter to Foley.
When Foley got home, an hour after leaving Mr. Baxter's office, his wife
handed him the letter. It read:
MY DEAR MR. FOLEY:
Mr. Baxter, speaking for the Executive Committee of the Iron
Employers' Association, has signified their willingness to meet your
committee and again discuss possible measures for the ending of the
strike. Notwithstanding the barrenness of previous meetings I
sincerely hope your committee will show the same willingness to
resume negotiations. Permit me to urge upon your attention the
extreme seriousness of the present situation: the union, the
contractors, the owners, all losing money, the public discommoded by
the delay in the completion of buildings; all these demand that your
two committees get together and in a spirit of fairness reach some
agreement whereby the present situation will be brought to an end.
Our rooms are at the service of your two committees. As time is
precious I have secured Mr. Baxter's consent, for his committee, to
meet you here at half-past two to-morrow afternoon. I hope this will
suit you. If not, a later date can be arranged.
Though his appetite and dinner were both ready, Foley put on his hat and
went to the home of Connelly. The secretary was just sitting down to his
own dinner.
"I just happened to be goin' by," said Foley, "an' I thought I'd run in
an' show youse a letter I got to-day." He drew out the letter and handed
it to Connelly.
Foley chatted with Mrs. Connelly while the letter was being read, but
all the time his eyes were watching its effect upon Connelly. When he
saw the end had been reached, he remarked: "It don't amount to nothin'.
I guess we might as well write 'em to go to hell."
Connelly hesitated. It usually took more than a little courage to
express a view contrary to Foley's. "I don't know," he said doubtfully.
"Baxter knows how we stand. It strikes me if he offers to talk things
over with us, that means he realizes he's licked an' is willin' to make
concessions."
"Um! Maybe youse're right."
Encouraged by this admission Connelly went on: "It might be worth our
while to meet 'em, anyhow. Suppose nothin' does come of it, what have we
lost?"
Foley looked half-convinced. "Well, mebbe our committee might as well
talk the letter over."
"Sure thing."
"I suppose then we ought to get together to-night. If we get word to the
other three boys, we've got to catch 'em at dinner. Can youse see to
that?"
Connelly looked regretfully at his untasted meal. "I guess I can."
"All right. In your office then, say at eight."
The five men were in the office on time, though Connelly, to make it,
had to content himself with what he could swallow in a few minutes at a
quick lunch counter. The office was a large, square room, a desk in one
corner, a few chairs along the sides, a great cuspidor in the center; at
the windows were lace curtains, and on one wall was a full-length mirror
in a gilt frame--for on nights when Potomac Hall was let for weddings,
receptions, and balls, Connelly's office had over its door, "Ladies'
Dressing Room."
The five men lit cigars, Foley's cigars, and drew chairs around the
cuspidor, which forthwith began to bear the relation of hub to their
frequent salivary spokes. "Connelly told youse about the letter from the
Civic Federation, that's gettin' so stuck on runnin' God's business
they'll soon have him chased off his job," Foley began. "But I guess I
might as well read the letter to youse."
"Take the offer, o' course!" declared Pete, when Foley had ended.
"That's what I said," Connelly joined.
Hogan and Brown, knowing how opposed Foley was to the proposition, said
nothing.
"We've wasted enough time on the bosses' committee," Foley objected. "No
use talkin' to 'em again till we've put 'em down an' out."
"The trouble with you, Foley, is, you like a fight so well you can't
tell when you've licked your man," said Pete in an exasperated tone.
"What's the use punchin' a man after he's give in?"
"We've got 'em licked, or they'd never ask to talk things over," urged
Connelly.
Foley looked in scowling meditation at his cigar ash. Then he raised his
eyes to Brown and Hogan. "What do youse think?"
Thus directly questioned; they had to admit they stood with Pete and
Connelly.
"Oh, well, since we ain't workin', I suppose we won't be wastin' much if
we do chin a bit with 'em," he conceded. But the four easily perceived
that he merely yielded to their majority, did not agree.
The next afternoon Foley and his committee were led by the secretary of
the Conciliation Committee into one of the rooms of the Civic
Federation's suite, where Mr. Baxter and his committee were already in
waiting. The secretary expressed a hope that they arrive at an
understanding, and withdrew in exultation over this example of the
successful work his committee was doing.
There was a new member on the employers' committee--Mr. Berman. Mr.
Baxter, exercising the power vested in him to fill vacancies
temporarily, had chosen Mr. Berman as Mr. Driscoll's successor for two
reasons: his observations of Mr. Berman had made him certain the latter
had elastic ideas; and, more important, for Mr. Driscoll's own partner
to take the vacant place would quiet all suspicions as to the cause of
Mr. Driscoll's unexpected resignation. Of the five, Bobbs and Isaacs
were rather self-conscious; Murphy, who had had previous experience in
similar situations, wore a large, blustering manner; Berman, for all his
comparative inexperience, was most promisingly at his ease; and Baxter
was the Baxter he was three hundred and sixty-five days in the year.
The strikers' committee presented the confident front of expected
victory. Foley, slipped far down in his chair, eyed the contractors with
a sideling, insolent glance.
"If this here's to be another o' them hot air festivals, like we
attended in April an' May, say so now," he growled. "We ain't got no
time for talkin' unless youse mean business."
Connelly, whose chair was beside Foley's, leaned over anxiously. "Don't
you think you're goin' at 'em pretty rough, Buck?" he whispered. "If you
get 'em mad, they'll go right back to where they stood."
"Oh, youse leave 'em to me," Foley returned knowingly.
It would serve no purpose to give the details of this meeting. Mr.
Baxter, ignoring Foley's insolence of manner, outlined in well-balanced
sentences the reasons that made it imperative to both sides for the
strike to be settled, and then went on to give anew the contractors'
side of the questions at issue. Now and then Foley broke in with
comments which were splenetic outbursts rather than effective
rejoinders. When the meeting was over and his committee was out in the
street, Foley shed his roughly defiant manner. "Boys," he said with
quiet confidence, "we've got 'em beat to death."
The next afternoon was occupied with a debate between Mr. Baxter and
Foley upon their respective claims. Foley's tongue was as sharp as ever,
but his fellow committeemen had to acknowledge to their secret hearts
there was more of convincing substance in what Mr. Baxter said. They
wondered somewhat at the sudden declension in the effectiveness of their
leader's speech, which perhaps they would not have done had they been
parties to a conference that morning at which Foley had pointed out to
Mr. Baxter the vulnerable spots in the union's claims, and schooled him
in the most telling replies to the statements he, Foley, intended
making.
After the meeting Foley again declared his certainty of winning, but
there was a notable decrease of confidence in his voice.
"Yes," said Connelly, without much spirit. "But Baxter, he puts up a
good talk."
"He seems to have facts to talk from," explained Brown.
"So have we," said Foley.
"Yes, but somehow at the meetin's his facts seem stronger," said
Connelly.
"Oh, what o' that," Foley returned encouragingly. "More'n once in poker
I've seen a strong bluff win over a strong hand."
The next meeting was a repetition of the second. Foley was keen in his
wit, and insolently defiant; but Mr. Baxter got the better of every
argument. The union's committee began to admit, each man to himself,
that their position was weaker, and the contractors' much stronger, than
they had thought.
And so, day by day, Foley continued to undermine their confidence. So
skillfully did he play his part, they never guessed that he was the
insinuating cause of their failing courage; more, his constant
encouragement made them ashamed to speak of their sinking spirit.
But on the fifth day, at a consultation in Connelly's office, it came
out. There had been an hour of talk, absolutely without a touch of
enthusiasm, when Connelly, who had been looking around at the men's
faces for some time, said with an effort: "On the level now, boys, d'you
think we've got any chance o' winnin'?"
Foley swore. "What's that?" he demanded. "Why o' course we're goin' to
win!"
But Connelly's words had their effect; the silence broken, the men spoke
hesitatingly of the growing doubts they had been trying to hide. Foley
stood up. "Boys, if youse're goin' to talk this kind o' rot, youse've
got to talk it without me," he said, and went out.
Foley gone, they spoke freely of their doubts; and they also talked of
him. "D'you notice how the ring's all gone out o' his voice?" asked
Brown.
"I bet he ain't got no more confidence than any o' the rest of us," said
Pete.
"I bet so, too," agreed Connelly. "He talks big just to cheer us up.
Then it's mighty hard for Buck to give up. He'll always fight to his
last drop o' blood."
The decline of the committee's enthusiasm had already begun to have a
disquieting effect in the union. It now rapidly spread that the
committee had little confidence of winning the strike, and that Foley,
for all his encouraging words, believed at heart as did the rest of the
committee.
The first meeting of the union after the resumption of negotiations was
a bitter one. The committee made a vague report, in which Foley did not
join, that made apparent their fallen courage. Immediately questioning
men were on their feet all over the hall, Tom among them. The committee,
cornered by queries, had to admit publicly that it had no such
confidence as it had had a week before. The reasons for this were
demanded. No more definite reason could be given than that the bosses
were stronger in their position than the union had believed.
There were sneers and hot words for the four members who participated in
the report. Cries went up for Foley, who had thus far kept out of the
discussion; and one voice, answering the cries, shouted: "Oh, he's lost
his nerve, too, the same as the others!"
Foley was on his feet in an instant, looking over the excited crowd. "If
any man here has heard me say I'm for givin' in, let him get up on his
two feet!"
No one stood up. "I guess youse all know I'm for fightin' as long's
there's anything worth fightin' for," he declared, and sank back into
his seat.
But there had been no wrath in his eyes as he had looked over the crowd,
and no ferocity in his words of vindication. The whisper ran about that
it was true, he was losing his nerve. And if Foley, Foley the fighter,
were losing confidence, then the situation must indeed be desperate.
The courage of a large body of men, especially of one loosely organized,
is the courage of its leaders. Now that it was known the committee's
confidence was well-nigh gone, and guessed that Foley's was going, the
courage of the men ebbed rapidly. It began to be said: "If there's no
chance of winning the strike, why don't we settle it at once, and get
back to work?" And the one who spoke loudest and most often in this
strain was Johnson.
Two days after the meeting Foley had a conference with Mr. Baxter, at
which the other members of the union's committee were not present. And
that same night there was another explosion in one of Mr. Baxter's
buildings that chanced to be unguarded. The explosion was slight, and
small damage was done, but a search discovered two charges of dynamite
in the foundation, with fuses burned almost to the fulminating caps.
If the dynamite did not explode, the newspapers did. The perpetrators of
this second outrage, which only fate had prevented, should be hunted
down and made such an example of as would be an eternal warning against
like atrocities. The chief of police should apprehend the miscreants at
whatever cost, and the district attorney should see that they had full
justice--and perhaps a little more.
The chief of police, for his part, declared he'd have the guilty parties
if it took his every man to run them down. But his men searched, days
passed, and the waiting cells remained empty.
Mr. Baxter, interviewed, said it was obvious that the union was now
determined to stop at nothing in its efforts to drive the contractors
into submission. The union, at a special meeting, disclaimed any
responsibility for the attempted outrage, and intimated that this was a
scheme of the contractors themselves to blacken the union's character.
When a reporter "conveyed this intelligence to Mr. Baxter, that
gentleman only smiled."
The chief result of this second explosion was that so much as remained
to the union of public sympathy was lost in what time it took the public
to read its morning paper. Had a feeling of confidence prevailed in the
union, instead of one of growing doubt, this charge might have incited
the union to resistance all the stouter. But the union, dispirited over
the weakness of its cause, saw its cause had been yet further weakened,
and its courage fled precipitately.
Three days after the explosion there was another joint meeting of the
two committees. At this Mr. Baxter, who had before been soft courtesy,
was all ultimatum. The explosion had decided them. They would not be
intimidated; they would not make a single concession. The union could
return to work on the old terms, if it liked; if not, they would fight
till there was nothing more to fight with, or for.
Foley, with much bravado, gave ultimatum for ultimatum; but when his
committee met, immediately after leaving the employers', to consider Mr.
Baxter's proposition, he sat in gloomy silence, hardly heeding what was
being said. As they talked they turned constantly to Foley's somber
face, and looking at that face their words became more and more
discouraged.
Finally Pete asked of him: "Where d'you stand, Buck?"
He came out of his reverie with a start. "I'm against givin' up," he
said. "Somethin' may turn up yet."
"What's the use holdin' on?" demanded Connelly. "We're bound to be
licked in the end. Every day we hold out the men lose a day's pay."
Foley glanced sadly about. "Is that what youse all think?"
There were four affirmative answers.
"Well, I ain't goin' to stand out----"
He broke off, and his face fell forward into his palm, and he was silent
for a long space. The four watched him in wordless sympathy.
"Boys," he said, huskily, into his hand, "this's the first time Buck
Foley's ever been licked."