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
If anything, I should say my people of politics feared me, and that a
sort of sweating terror was the spur to send them flying when I gave an
order. There was respect, too; and in some cases a kind of love like a
dog's love, and which is rather the homage paid by weakness to strength,
or that sentiment offered of the vine to the oak that supports its
clamberings.
Why my men should stand in awe of me, I cannot tell. Certainly, I was
mindful of their rights; and, with the final admonitions of Big Kennedy
in my ears, I avoided favoritisms and dealt out justice from an even
hand. True, I could be stern when occasion invited, and was swift to
destroy that one whose powers did not match his duty, or who for a bribe
would betray, or for an ambition would oppose, my plan.
No; after Big Kennedy's death, I could name you none save Morton
whose advice I cared for, or towards whom I leaned in any thought
of confidence. Some have said that this distance, which I maintained
between me and my underlings, was the secret of my strength. It may have
been; and if it were I take no credit, since I expressed nothing save a
loneliness of disposition, and could not have borne myself otherwise
had I made the attempt. Not that I regretted it. That dumb concession
of themselves to me, by my folk of Tammany, would play no little part
in pulling down a victory in the great conflict wherein we were about to
engage.
Tammany Hall was never more sharply organized. I worked over the
business like an artist over an etching. Discipline was brought to
a pitch never before known. My district leaders were the pick of the
covey, and every one, for force and talents of executive kind, fit to
lead a brigade into battle. Under these were the captains of election
precincts; and a rank below the latter came the block captains--one for
each city block. Thus were made up those wheels within wheels which,
taken together, completed the machine. They fitted one with the other,
block captains with precinct captains, the latter with district leaders,
and these last with myself; and all like the wheels and springs and
ratchets and regulators of a clock; one sure, too, when wound and oiled
and started, to strike the hours and announce the time of day in local
politics with a nicety that owned no precedent.
There would be a quartette of tickets; I could see that fact of four
corners in its approach, long months before the conventions. Besides the
two regular parties, and the mugwump-independents--which tribe, like the
poor, we have always with us--the laborites would try again. These had
not come to the field in any force since that giant uprising when we
beat them down with the reputable old gentleman. Nor did I fear them
now. My trained senses told me, as with thumb on wrist I counted
the public pulse, how those clans of labor were not so formidable by
three-fourths as on that other day a decade and more before.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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