this was the point, the procession. any such rich material evidence of power was a sufficient reason for49 loyalty in the minds of these people. they worship power. none know it better than these particular individuals who lead them. the significance of forcing so many to march, coming thus rapidly home to me, i dropped around to the district tammany club on the afternoon and evening preceding this eventful day. the palatial chambers of the district leader in the club are his arena, and on this particular evening these same were the center of much political activity. signs of the power of which i had heard and seen other evidences were here renewed before my eyes. arranged in a great meeting-chamber, the political hall of the club, were tables and counters, behind which were standing men who, as i learned immediately afterward, were of high standing in the district and city organization. deputy commissioners of the water department, the department of highways, of sewers; ex-state senators, ex-assemblymen, police sergeants, detective sergeants, aldermen, were all present and all doing yeoman service.
upon the tables were immense sheets, yards in diameter, with lists of names. back of the tables were immense piles of caps, badges and canes. as fast as the owners of the names on the list appeared their names were checked and their invitation cards, which they threw down cheerily upon the table in company with a five-dollar bill, were marked paid and passed back for further use. at the other tables these cards were then good for a cap, a cane, and two badges, all of which the members were expected to wear.
energetic as were the half-dozen deputy commissioners,50 police sergeants, detective sergeants, ex-assemblymen and the like, who labored at this clerical task without coats or vests, they were no match for the throng of energetic tammanyites who filed in and out, carrying their hats and canes away with them. hundreds of clerks, precinct captains, wardmen, street-cleaners, two-thousand-dollar-a-year clerks, swarmed the spacious lobby and greeted one another in that perfunctory way so common to most political organizations. the “hellos,” “well, old mans,” “well, how are things?” and “there goes” were as thick and all-pervading as the tobacco smoke which filled the rooms. tammanyites in comfortable positions of all degrees moved about in new clothes and squeaky shoes. distinct racial types illustrated how common is the trait of self-interest and how quick are the young germans, irish and jews to espouse some cause or profession where self-interest and the simultaneous advancement of the power of some particular individual or organization are not incompatible. smilingly they greeted one another, with that assumption of abandon and good fellowship which was as evidently assumed for the occasion as could be. in the case of many it was all too plain that it was an effort to be as bright and genial as they appeared to be. however, they had mastered the externals and could keep a straight face. how hard those straight mouths could become, how defiant those narrow protruding jaws, only time and a little failure on some one’s part would tell.
while the enthusiasm of this labor was at its highest51 mr. powers put in an appearance. he was as pictured. on this occasion, his clothes were plain black, his necktie black, his face a bright red, partially due to a recent, and very close shave. he moved about with catlike precision and grace, and everywhere politicians buttonholed or bowed to him, the while he smiled upon every one in the same colorless, silent and decidedly secret way.
“mr. powers, we’re going to run out of caps before long,” one official hurried forward to say.
“dugan has that in charge,” he replied.
“i guess we’ll have a full attendance,” whispered another of those high in his favor.
“that’s good.”
while he was sitting in his rosewood-finished office at one side of the great room dozens of those who had come from other districts to pay their respects and buy a ticket looked in upon him.
“i’ll be with you in the morning, michael,” said a jolly official from another district.
“thank you, george,” he replied smiling. “we’ll have a fine day, i hope.”
“i hope so,” said the other.
sitting about in their chairs, some of the older officials who had come to the club on this very special occasion fell into a reflective mood and dug up the conditions of the past.
“do you remember mike as an alderman, jerry?”
“i do. there was none better.”
“remember his quarrel with murtha?”
52 “aye! he was for taking no odds from anybody those days.”
“brave as a lion, he was.”
“he was.”
“there’s no question of his nerve to-day.”
“none at all.”
“he’s a good leader.”
“he is.”
“how did powers ever come to get his grip upon the district?” i inquired of an old office-holder who was silently watching the buzzing throng in the rooms before him.
“he was always popular with the boys,” he answered. “long before the fortieth was ever divided he was popular with the boys of one section of it. creamer was leader at that time.”
“yes, but how did he get up?”
“how does anybody get up?” he returned. “he worked up. when he was assistant mechanic in the fire department, getting a hundred and twenty a month, he gave half of it away. anybody could get money off him; that was the trouble. i’ve known him as a lad to give seventy-seven dollars away in one month.”
“who was he, that he should distribute money so freely?”
“captain of two hundred, of course. he wasn’t called upon to spend his own money, though.”
“and that started him?”
“he was always a smart fellow,” returned the speaker. “creamer liked him. creamer was a fighter53 himself. mike was as brave as a lion. when they divided the district he got john kelly to give powers the other half. he did it, of course, because he could trust powers to stand with him. but he did it, just the same.”
“kelly was head of tammany hall then?”
“he was.”
while we were talking a cart-driver or street-cleaner made his way through the broad street-door towards the private office where so many others were, taking off his hat as he did so and waiting respectfully to one side. dozens of young politicians were trifling about. the deputy commissioner of highways, the assistant deputy tax commissioner, the assistant deputy of the department of sewers, and others were lounging comfortably in the chief’s room. three or four black-suited, priestly-looking assistants from the office of the chief of police were conferring in that wise, subtle and whispering way which characterizes all the conversation of those numerous aspirants for higher political preferment.
some one stalked over to the waiting newcomer and said: “well?”
“is mr. powers here this evening?”
at the sound of his name the leader, who was lounging in his russia-leather chair within, raised his head, and seeing the figure in the reception area, exclaimed:
“put on your hat, old man! no one is expected to put off his hat here. come right in!”
he paused, and as the street-sweeper approached he turned lightly to his satellites. “get the hell out of here, now, and let this man have a chance,” he said54 quickly, the desire to be genial with all being apparent. the deputies came out of the room smiling and the old man was ushered in.
“now, mr. cassidy,” i heard him begin, but slowly he moved around to the door and closed it. the conversation was terminated so far as we listeners from without were concerned. only the profuse bowing of the old man as he came out, the “thank ye, mr. powers, thank ye,” repeated and repeated, gave any indication as to what the nature of the transaction might have been.
while such incidents were passing the evening for some, the great crowd of ticket-purchasers continued. hundreds upon hundreds filed in and out, some receiving a nod, some a mere glance of recognition, some only a scrutiny of a very peculiar sort.
“are these all members of the club?” i asked of a friend, an ex-assemblyman and now precinct captain in the block in which i voted.
“they’re nearly all members of the district organization,” he replied.
“how many votes do you claim to control?”
“about five thousand.”
“how many votes are there in the district?”
“ten thousand.”
“then you have fully half the votes assured before election-time rolls around?”
“we’ve got to have,” he replied significantly. “there’s no going into a fight under powers, unless he knows where the votes are. he won’t stand for it.”
while sitting thus watching the proceedings, the hours55 passed and the procession thinned down to a mere handful. by midnight it looked as if all were over, and the leader came forth and quietly took his leave.
“anything more, eddie?” he asked of a peaked-face young irishman outside his office door.
“nothing that i can think of.”
“you’ll see to the building?” he asked the deputy commissioner of taxes.
“it’ll look like a may party in the morning, chief.”
