Shortly after my return from Europe, John Purroy Mitchel came to my house to seek advice on a matter concerning both the destinies of his city and, as the event proved, the end of his own career. He asked me whether he ought to run again for Mayor, or accept a tempting business offer that had just been made him. Mitchel was always an attractive and frequently an inspiring figure in municipal affairs. A typical American, of fighting stock, the grandson of a man that had battled for free Ireland and the nephew of a politician that had made his mark, Purroy Mitchel, whose face and carriage reflected the latent power of leadership, was one of those young souls at once sensitive and fiery to whom Tammany’s abuse of opportunity becomes a personal affront. More than once our paths had curiously approached each other. Back in 1908, E. H. Outerbridge had come to my house and, as chairman of the Citizens’ Committee in the current campaign, urged me to accept the fusion nomination for President of the Borough of Manhattan. My answer was: “President of the Board of Aldermen--yes, but no administrative office.” “I’m sorry,” said Outerbridge, “but the man for that place has already been determined upon. He is John Purroy Mitchel.” Had that answer been different, the entire course of my life would have been changed, for the whole Fusion ticket was elected, with the exception of the man at the head of it, Otto Bannard, who was defeated by Judge Gaynor. Mitchel became President of the Board of Aldermen. Then again, while in that office, his life touched mine. In 1912, he sought me in much such a quandary as that in which he was to find himself in 1917. He had been offered, and wanted to know whether he should accept, the presidency of a struggling mortgage-guarantee company in Queens County. He was evidently influenced to come to me because I had been prominently identified with the Lawyers’ Mortgage Co. of New York. This was then my advice: