The Boss, and How He Came to Rule New YorkLewis, Alfred Henry
History
The Boss, and How He Came to Rule New York
Lewis, Alfred Henry
New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Political fiction; Politicians -- Fiction
Inside this fence, and gathered for the most part about the magistrate,
were those who had business with the court; officers, witnesses, friends
and enemies of the accused, with last although not least a collection of
the talent of the bar. Many of these latter were brisk Jews, and all of
them were marked by soiled linen, frayed elbows, greasy collars, and an
evident carelessness as to the state of their hands and faces. There
were boys to wait on these folk of law, a boy to each I should say. None
of these urchins was older than was I, and some no more than twelve.
They carried baize bags, chatted gravely while waiting the call of their
masters, and gave themselves strutting airs and brows of consequence.
These engaging children, in a spirit of loyalty, doubtless, showed
themselves as untainted of water as were their betters.
While I rehearse these sordid appearances as developed in the dim lights
which through the grimy windows fell across the scene, you are not to
suppose the notice of them preyed upon me. I was, in that hour, neither
so squeamish nor so observant as to make particular note of them, nor
was I to that degree the slave of soap in my own roving person, as to
justify the risk of strictures which might provoke retort. Besides, I
was thinking dolefully on that trip to Blackwell's Island whereof the
future seemed so full, and my eyes scanned the judge on the bench rather
than lesser folk who were not so important in my affairs.
While in the mills of great misery, still I was steady enough. I turned
my gaze upon the magistrate, and sought in his looks and words, as he
went about the sorry destinies of other delinquents, some slant of what
I might look forward to for myself. The dignitary in question showed
lean and sallow and bald, with a sly face and an eye whereof the great
expression was one of sleepless self-interest. He did not come upon you
as either brave or good, but he had nothing brutal or vindictive, and
his timid mealy voice was shaken by a quaver that seemed a perpetual
apology for what judgments he from time to time would pass. His
sentences were invariably light, except in instances where some strong
influence from the outside, generally a politician or the agent of a big
company, arose to demand severity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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