A couple of days later, Yetta received a long, unsigned typewritten manuscript. It was a well-written story of a session of the Public Service Commission. A witness had made a statement which seemed to offer the key to the whole situation in the tangled effort of the city to get decent transportation. A few more questions promised to bring out the fact--generally suspected--that a well-known banker was obstructing progress. The chairman had unexpectedly adjourned the sitting. When they reassembled, the old witness--the only one who had ever shown any willingness to remember important things--had left town. Then followed from official court records a list of the cases in which the Chairman of the Commission had served as personal attorney for the banker who was under suspicion. It was a wrought-iron story, hardly a word in it was not public record; chapter and verse were cited for every allegation. Yetta called up Cowan and asked him about it. He denied all knowledge of it so ardently that she was sure he had sent it. They made a screaming front-page story of it. The regular papers denounced it as "a malicious and audacious lie"--which was good advertising for _The Clarion_. More anonymous stories followed. They attracted a new class of readers. The circulation grew. Gradually Yetta and _The Clarion_ found firmer ground underfoot. Despite her strenuous work for _The Clarion_, Yetta did not lose interest in, nor neglect, her vest-makers union. She was not alone in her ambition to see all the garment trades allied in a strong federation. There were many Socialists in the various unions, and there were many who, while not party members, had been influenced by the propaganda of the Industrial Workers of the World. As the months passed the sentiment for "One Big Union" grew steadily. At last, when Yetta had been about a year on _The Clarion_, a convention of all the garment trades was called to consider the matter. The victory of Yetta's faction was by no means sure. Each union had its own ambitions, which it was loath to sacrifice for the common good. In all the unions there were little groups of "officials"--some of them afraid of losing their salaries in the proposed new arrangement, more who feared to lose their influence. A union man who is elected to the executive committee by his fellows has all the personal pride in the matter that a college graduate has in being on the board of governors of his club. The union man has the same temptation to resort to petty intrigues to hold his place. Officialdom always distrusts innovations--is always conservative. Working-men are surprisingly like the rest of us--especially in these little personal jealousies and meannesses.