CHAPTER XLI. A PAVING CONTRACTOR PUTS ME ON THE PAVING

I was the only Republican elected that year. But for this exception the

Democrats would have made a clean sweep of the city. If the editor had

not charged me with being illiterate I would neither have been nominated

nor elected. When I appeared before audiences in the “swell end” of town

and wrote my lessons on my little slate, I gained their sympathy. They

believed in fair play. And I found I had not lost their support by

thrashing the editor.

Nearly all of the mill workers in Elwood voted for me. I supposed that

I had made many personal enemies among the men by refusing to take their

grievances up with the bosses when I thought the men were wrong. But the

election proved they were my friends after all. The confidence of my

own fellows pleased me greatly. Later on, the men as a further token of

their good will clubbed together and gave me a gold watch. This gave me

greater joy, no doubt, than Napoleon felt when, with his own hand, he

placed a gold crown upon his head.

When it came time to qualify and be sworn into office I found trouble.

The Republican boss was disgruntled because only one Republican was

elected while the Democrats got everything else. He wanted me to give up

the office. “Let the tail go with the hide,” he said. “Let 'em have it

all.” His idea was to give the Democrats a closed family circle, so that

when temptation came along, they would feel safe in falling for it. He

feared that a Republican in the house to watch them would scare them

away from the bait. He wanted them to take bribes and be ruined by the

scandal, and that would bring the Republicans back to power. It was a

good enough way to “turn the rogues out” by first letting them become

rogues, but my heart was not set on party success only. I believed in

protecting the public. So I went ahead and got bondsmen to qualify me.

But as often as I got men to sign my bond, the boss went them and got

them off again. A firm of lawyers, Greenlee & Call, stood by me in my

struggle to make my bond. These men were ten years older than I. I was

twenty-five. They acted as godfathers to me. They gave me the use of

their library, and throughout my term as city clerk I spent my nights

poring over their law books. I became well grounded in municipal law

and municipal finance. I was able to pay back their kindness some years

later when C. M. Greenlee aspired to be judge of the Superior Court of

Madison County. I went to the convention as a delegate and worked hard

for Judge Greenlee until he was nominated, and elected.

The city administration of which I was a member let many contracts. As

I said before, a cross-roads town had become a city and there were miles

of paving and sewer to put in, and scores of public buildings to go up.

Old Francis Harbit was the Democratic mayor, and he didn't intend

that the contractors should graft on the city nor give boodle to the

officials. I remember one stirring occasion. There was a big contract

for sewers to be let, and if a certain bid should go through, the

contractor would profit greatly. Big Jeff Rowley (I'll call him) was the

grafting contractor who had ruined the Republican administration. He was

six feet, two inches tall in his stocking feet. He had put in his

sealed bid and then had approached everybody with his proposition. His

overtures were scorned and he was told that we were not out for boodle

but were “playing the game on the square” (that had been my campaign

slogan). It finally dawned on the corrupt old bully that the lowest bid

would get the contract. He then came into my office and took down his

bid to revise it. It was such a big contract that he could not afford to

lose it. I told him that if his bid was not back in time I would so note

it.

Bids were to be opened that night and read by me before the mayor and

council. I was familiar with every detail of the law governing municipal

bonds and contract letting. We had advertised that bids must be

filed before seven-thirty that evening. Big Jeff took down his bid at

seven-fifteen and filed his new bid at seven forty-five; fifteen minutes

after the legal time limit.

The council was in session and hundreds of citizens were there to

protest against any more deals in letting contracts at exorbitant

prices. I opened and read aloud the various bids, including that of the

big boss, Jeff Rowley, adding that Jeff's bid had been filed too late to

be legal.

“You lie!” he screamed. “You're a Welsh liar, and I'll kill you for

this!” The threat was heard by the council and the citizens. But the man

seemed so terrible that no one dared reprimand him.

A few moments later the city attorney sent down to the clerk's office

for some blanks. Jeff was waiting behind a corner of the hall. He hit me

a blow in the neck that knocked me four yards. It was the “rabbit blow”

and he expected it to break my neck. The hard muscles that the puddling

furnace put there saved my life. I sprang up, and he came after me

again. I seized the big fellow by the ankles and threw him down. Then I

battered his head against the floor until I was satisfied that he could

do me no more harm. He went home and took to his bed.

He announced that when he got out he would charge me with assault. I

went before the mayor and offered to plead guilty to such a charge.

The mayor protested against it. He said I had done the right thing in

protecting the honor of the city, and that the citizens would not permit

my action to cost me money. The local banker took up a collection to pay

my fine in case a fine should be assessed against me.

My salary as city clerk was forty dollars a month. My wages in the tin

mill were seven dollars a day. A week in the mill would have brought me

more than a month's pay in the city office. But I hoped the clerkship

would lead to something better.

One incident that happened while I was city clerk I have already

related. The city attorney almost sent a man to jail because he couldn't

understand the lawyer's questions. I put the lawyer's language into

simpler words, and the man then understood and quickly cleared himself

of the charge against him. At another time, the mill owners petitioned

for the vacation of an alley because they wanted to build a railroad

switch there to give access to a loading-out station of the mill.

“I suppose,” their representative told me, “that since this would be

a favor to the mill, and you were opposed by the mill owners, you will

hand it to us in this matter.”

“Why should I?” I asked. “Don't you think you ought to have this alley?”

“Certainly we do, or we wouldn't have asked for it.”

“Do you think the city needs the alley worse than you do?”

“No. It is an alley only on paper. There are no residences there and

nobody needs the alley but us.”

“But you think because I am a labor man and you are a mill owner, and

you and I have had many hot fights over wage questions, that I will

fight you on this just for spite?”

“Such things have been done.”

“Well, I am not spiteful. Many a time I have made the men mad at me by

being fair to you. Spite and malice should have no place in dealings

between employer and employee. If you had a chance, would you give the

men a dirty deal just for spite?”

“We're business men,” he said. “And we never act through malice, but we

often expect it from the other side.”

“Well, don't expect it from me. As a city official my whole duty is to

the city. If we give you that railroad switch it will help the mill and

can't hurt the city. Without your mills there would be no city here, and

all the alleys would be vacated, with grass growing in them. If I took

advantage of my city job to oppress your mill business, I would be two

kinds of a scoundrel, a public scoundrel and a private one. I favor the

vacation of the alley and when the council meets next Wednesday I am

sure they will do this for you.”