One way out : $b A middle-class New-Englander emigrates to AmericaBartlett, Frederick Orin
General
One way out : $b A middle-class New-Englander emigrates to America
Bartlett, Frederick Orin
Political fiction; United States -- Social conditions -- 1865-1918 -- Fiction
"What _can_ you do?" he said. "We are doing the only thing
possible--we're trying to get hold of the youngsters and give them a
higher sense of civic virtue."
"That's good," I said, "but you don't get hold of one in ten of the
coming voters. And you don't get hold of one in a hundred of the
coming politicians. Why don't you take hold of a man like Dan who is
bound to get power some day and talk a little civic virtue into him."
"You said he was a Democrat and a machine man," said he, as though
that settled it.
"I don't see any harm in either fact," I said, "if you get at the good
in him. A good Democrat is a good citizen and a good machine is a
good power," I said.
The man smiled.
"You don't know," he said.
"Do _you_ know?" I asked. "Have you been to the rallies and met the
men and studied their methods?"
"All you have to do is to read the papers," he answered.
"I don't think so," I said. "To beat an enemy you ought to study him
at first hand. You ought to find out the good as well as the bad in
him. You ought to find out where he gets his power."
"Graft and patronage," he answered.
"What about the other party?" I said.
"Just as bad."
"Then what are you going to do about it?" I asked.
"Our only hope is education," he said.
"Then," I said, "why not educate the young politicians? Get to know
Rafferty--he's young and simple and honest now. Help him to advance
honestly and keep him that way."
He shook his head doubtfully but he agreed to have a talk with Dan. In
the meanwhile I had a talk with Dan myself. I told him what my scheme
was.
"Dan," I said, "you must decide right at the beginning of your career
whether you're going to be just a tool of Sweeney's or whether you're
going to stand on your own feet."
"Phot's the mather with Sweeney, now?" he asked.
"In some ways he's all right," I said. "And in other ways he isn't.
But anyhow he's your boss and you have to do what he tells you to do
just as though he was your landlord back in Ireland and you nothing
but a tenant."
"Eh?" he said looking up quick.
I thought I'd strike a sore spot there and I made the most of it. I
talked along like this for a half hour and I saw his lips come
together.
"He'd knife me," he said finally. "He's sore now 'cause I'm afther
wantin' to run for the council this year."
I had heard the rumor.
"Then," I said, "why don't you pull free and make a little machine of
your own. Some of the boys will stand by you, won't they?"
"Will they?" he grinned.
With that I took him around to the settlement house. Dan listened good
naturedly to a lot of talk he didn't understand but he listened with
more interest to a lot of talk about the needs of the district which
it was now getting cheated out of, which he did understand. And
incidentally the man who at first did all the talking in the end
listened to Dan. After the latter had gone, he turned to me and said:
"I like that fellow Rafferty."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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