Lewis Alfred Henry
The Boss, and How He Came to Rule New York

CHAPTER XVI – THE BOSS IS DEAD; LONG LIVE THE BOSS!

BIG KENNEDY could not live a year; his doom was written. It was the word hard to hear, and harder to believe, of one who, broad, burly, ruddy with the full color of manhood at its prime, seemed in the very feather of his strength. And for all that, his hour was on its way. Death had gained a lodgment in his heart, and was only pausing to strengthen its foothold before striking the blow. I sought to cheer him with the probability of mistake on the side of ones who had given him this dark warning of his case.

“That’s all right,” responded Big Kennedy in a tone of dogged dejection; “I’m up ag’inst it just th’ same. It didn’t need th’ doctor to put me on. More’n once I’ve felt my heart slip a cog. I shall clean up an’ quit. They say if I pull out an’ rest, I may hang on for a year. That’s th’ tip I’ve got, an’ I’m goin’ to take it. I’m two millions to th’ good, an’ when all is done, why, that’s enough.”

Big Kennedy declared for a vacation; the public announcement went for it that he would rest. I was to take control as a fashion of Boss by brevet.

“Of course,” said Big Kennedy when we talked privately of the situation, “you understand. I’m down an’ out, done for an’ as good as dead right now. But it’s better to frame th’ play as I’ve proposed. Don’t change th’ sign over th’ door for a month or two; it’ll give you time to stiffen your grip. There’s dubs who would like th’ job, d’ye see, an’ if they found an openin’ they’d spill you out of th’ place like a pup out of a basket. It’s for you to get your hooks on th’ levers, an’ be in control of th’ machine before I die.” Then, with a ghastly smile: “An’ seein’ it’s you, I’ll put off croakin! till th’ last call of th’ board.”

Big Kennedy, seeking that quiet which had been the physician’s prescription, went away. When, later by ten months, he came back, his appearance was a shock to me. The great, bluff man was gone, and he who feebly took me by the hand seemed no more than a weak shadow of that Big John Kennedy whom I had followed. The mere looks of him were like a knife-stab. He stayed but a day, and then returned to his retreat in the silent hills. Within a month Big Kennedy was dead.

“You’ve got things nailed,” said he, on the last evening, “an’ I’m glad it’s so. Now let me give you a few points; they may help you to hold down your place as Boss. You’re too hungry for revenge; there’s your weakness. The revenge habit is worse than a taste for whisky. Th’ best you can say for it is it’s a waste of time. When you’ve downed a man, stop. To go on beatin’ him is like throwin’ water on a drowned rat.

“When it comes to handin’ out th’ offices an’ th’ contracts, don’t play fav’rites. Hand every man what’s comin’ to him by th’ rules of th’ game. It’ll give you more power to have men say you’ll do what’s square, than that you’ll stick by your friends. Good men – dead-game men, don’t want favors; they want justice.

“Never give a man the wrong office; size every man up, an’ measure him for his place th’ same as a tailor does for a suit of clothes. If you give a big man a little office, you make an enemy; if you give a little man a big office, you make trouble.

“Flatter th’ mugwumps. Of course, their belfry is full of bats; but about half th’ time they have to be your pals, d’ye see, in order to be mugwumps. An’ you needn’t be afraid of havin’ ‘em around; they’ll never ketch onto anything. A mugwump, as some wise guy said, is like a man ridin’ backward in a carriage; he never sees a thing until it’s by.

“Say ‘No’ nineteen times before you say ‘Yes’ once. People respect th’ man who says ‘No,’ an’ his ‘Yes’ is worth more where he passes it out. When you say ‘No,’ you play your own game; when you say ‘Yes,’ you’re playin’ some other duck’s game. ‘No,’ keeps; ‘Yes,’ gives; an’ th’ gent who says ‘No’ most will always be th’ biggest toad in his puddle.

“Don’t be fooled by a cheer or by a crowd. Cheers are nothin’ but a breeze; an’ as for a crowd, no matter who you are, there would always be a bigger turn-out to see you hanged than to shake your mit.

“Always go with th’ current; that’s th’ first rule of leadership. It’s easier; an’ there’s more water down stream than up.

“Think first, last, an’ all th’ time of yourself. You may not be of account to others, but you’re the whole box of tricks to yourself. Don’t give a man more than he gives you. Folks who don’t stick to that steer land either in bankruptcy or Bloomin’dale.

“An’ remember: while you’re Boss, you’ll be forced into many things ag’inst your judgment. The head of Tammany is like th’ head of a snake, an’ gets shoved forward by the tail. Also, like th’ head of a snake, th’ Boss is th’ target for every rock that is thrown.

“Have as many lieutenants as you can; twenty are safer than two. Two might fake up a deal with each other to throw you down; twenty might start, but before they got to you they’d fight among themselves.

“Have people about you who distrust each other an’ trust you. Keep th’ leaders fightin’ among themselves. That prevents combinations ag’inst you; an’ besides they’ll do up each other whenever you say the word, where every man is hated by the rest.

“Always pay your political debts; but pay with a jolly as far as it’ll go. If you find one who won’t take a jolly, throw a scare into him and pay him with that. If he’s a strong, dangerous mug with whom a jolly or a bluff won’t work, get him next to you as fast as you can. If you strike an obstinate party, it’s th’ old rule for drivin’ pigs. If you want ‘em to go forward, pull ‘em back by th’ tails. Never trust a man beyond his interest; an’ never love the man, love what he does.

“The whole science of leadership lies in what I’ve told you, an’ if you can clinch onto it, you’ll stick at th’ top till you go away, like I do now, to die. An’ th’ last of it is, don’t get sentimental – don’t take politics to heart. Politics is only worth while so long as it fills your pockets. Don’t tie yourself to anything. A political party is like a street car; stay with it only while it goes your way. A great partisan can never be a great Boss.”

When I found myself master of Tammany, my primary thought was to be cautious. I must strengthen myself; I must give myself time to take root. This was the more necessary, for not only were there a full score of the leaders, any one of whom would prefer himself for my place, but the political condition was far from reassuring. The workingman – whom as someone said we all respect and avoid – was through his unions moving to the town’s conquest. It was as that movement of politics in the land of the ancient Nile. Having discovered a Moses, the hand-workers would offer him for the mayoralty on the issue of no more bricks without straw.

Skilled to the feel of sentiment, I could gauge both the direction and the volume of the new movement. Nor was I long in coming to the knowledge that behind it marched a majority of the people. Unless checked, or cheated, that labor uprising would succeed; Tammany and its old-time enemies would alike go down.

This news, self-furnished as a grist ground of the mills of my own judgment, stimulated me to utmost action. It would serve neither my present nor my future should that battle which followed my inauguration be given against me. I was on my trial; defeat would be the signal for my overthrow. And thus I faced my first campaign as Boss.

That rebellion of the working folk stirred to terror the conservatives, ever the element of wealth. Each man with a share of stock to shrink in value, or with a dollar loaned and therefore with security to shake, or with a store through the plate-glass panes of which a mob might hurl a stone, was prey to a vast alarm. The smug citizen of money, and of ease-softened hands, grew sick as he reflected on the French Revolution; and he predicted gutters red with blood as the near or far finale should the town’s peasantry gain the day. It was then those rich ones, panic-bit, began to ask a succor of Tammany Hall. There were other septs, but Tammany was the drilled, traditional corps of political janissaries. Wherefore, the local nobility, being threatened, fled to it for refuge.

These gentry of white faces and frightened pocket-books came to me by ones and twos and quartettes; my every day was filled with them; and their one prayer was for me to make a line of battle between them and that frowning peril of the mob. To our silken worried ones, I replied nothing. I heard; but I kept myself as mute for hope or for fear as any marble.

And yet it was sure from the beginning that I must make an alliance with my folk of purple. The movement they shuddered over was even more of a menace to Tammany than it was to them. It might mean dollars to them, but for Tammany it promised annihilation, since of every five who went with this crusade, four were recruited from the machine.

Fifth Avenue, in a fever, did not realize this truth. Nor was I one to enlighten my callers. Their terror made for the machine; it could be trained to fill the Tammany treasure chest with a fund to match those swelling fears, the reason of its contribution. I locked up my tongue; it was a best method to augment a mugwump horror which I meant should find my resources.

Young Morton, still with his lisp, his affectations, his scented gloves, and ineffable eyeglass, although now no longer “young,” but like myself in the middle journey of his life, was among my patrician visitors. Like the others, he came to urge a peace-treaty between Tammany and the mugwumps, and he argued a future stored of fortune for both myself and the machine, should the latter turn to be a defense for timid deer from whom he came ambassador.

To Morton I gave particular ear. I was never to forget that loyalty wherewith he stood to me on a day of trial for the death of Jimmy the Blacksmith. If any word might move me it would be his. Adhering to a plan, however, I had as few answers for his questions as I had for those of his mates, and wrapped myself in silence like a mantle.

Morton was so much his old practical self that he bade me consider a candidate and a programme.

“Let us nominate my old gentleman for mayor,” said he. “He’s very old; but he’s clean and he’s strong, don’t y’ know. Really he would draw every vote to his name that should of right belong to us.”

“That might be,” I returned; “but I may tell you, and stay within the truth, that if your father got no more votes than should of right be his, defeat would overtake him to the tune of thousands. Add the machine to the mugwumps, and this movement of labor still has us beaten by twenty thousand men. That being the case, why should I march Tammany – and my own fortune, too – into such a trap?”

“What else can you do?” asked Morton.

“I can tell you what was in my mind,” said I. “It was to go with this labor movement and control it.”

“That labor fellow they’ve put up would make the worst of mayors. You and Tammany would forever be taunted with the errors of his administration. Besides, the creature’s success would vulgarize the town; it would, really!”

“He is an honest man,” said I.

“Honest, yes; but what of that? Honesty is the commonest trait of ignorance. There should be something more than honesty, don’t y’ know, to make a mayor. There be games like draw poker and government where to be merely honest is not a complete equipment. Besides, think of the shock of such a term of hobnails in the City Hall. If you, with your machine, would come in, we could elect my old gentleman over him or any other merely honest candidate whom those vulgarians could put up; we could, really!”

“Tell me how,” said I.

“There would be millions of money,” lisped Morton, pausing to select a cigarette; “since Money would be swimming for dear life. All our fellows at the club are scared to death – really! One can do anything with money, don’t y’ know.”

“One can’t stop a runaway horse with money,” I retorted; “and this labor movement is a political runaway.”

“With money we could build a wall across its course and let those idiots of politics run against it. My dear fellow, let us make a calculation. Really, how many votes should those labor animals overrun us, on the situation’s merits?”

“Say twenty-five thousand.”

“This then should give so experienced a hand as yourself some shade of comfort. The Master of the Philadelphia Machine, don’t y’ know, is one of my railway partners. ‘Old chap,’ said he, when I told him of the doings of our New York vandals, ‘I’ll send over to you ten thousand men, any one of whom would loot a convent. These common beggars must be put down! The example might spread to Philadelphia.’ So you see,” concluded Morton, “we would not be wanting in election material. What should ten thousand men mean?”

“At the least,” said I, “they should count for forty thousand. A man votes with a full beard; then he votes with his chin shaved; then he shaves the sides of his face and votes with a mustache; lastly he votes with a smooth face and retires to re-grow a beard against the next campaign. Ten thousand men should tally forty thousand votes. Registration and all, however, would run the cost of such an enterprise to full five hundred thousand dollars.”

“Money is no object,” returned Morton, covering a yawn delicately with his slim hand, “to men who feel that their fortunes, don’t y’ know, and perhaps their lives, are on the cast. Bring us Tammany for this one war, and I’ll guarantee three millions in the till of the machine; I will, really! You would have to take those ten thousand recruits from Philadelphia into your own hands, however; we Silk Stockings don’t own the finesse required to handle such a consignment of goods. Besides, if we did, think what wretched form it would be.”

To hide what was in my thought, I made a pretense of considering the business in every one of its angles. There was a minute during which neither of us spoke.

“Why should I put the machine,” I asked at last, “in unnecessary peril of the law? This should be a campaign of fire. Every stick of those three millions you speak of would go to stoke the furnaces. I will do as well, and win more surely, with the labor people.”

“But do you want to put the mob in possession?” demanded Morton, emerging a bit from his dandyisms. “I’m no purist of politics; indeed, I think I’m rather practical than otherwise, don’t y’ know. I am free to say, however, that I fear a worst result should those savages of a dinner-can and a dollar-a-day, succeed – really! You should think once in a while, and particularly in a beastly squall like the present, of the City itself.”

“Should I?” I returned. “Now I’ll let you into an organization tenet. Tammany, blow high, blow low, thinks only of itself.”

“You would be given half the offices, remember.”

“And the Police?”

“And the Police.”

“Tammany couldn’t keep house without the police,” said I, laughing. “You’ve seen enough of our housekeeping to know that.”

“You may have the police, and what else you will.”

“Well,” said I, bringing the talk to a close, “I can’t give you an answer now. I must look the situation in the eyes. To be frank, I don’t think either the Tammany interest or my own runs with yours in this. I, with my people, live at the other end of the lane.”

While Morton and I were talking, I had come to a decision. I would name the reputable old gentleman for mayor. He was stricken of years; but I bethought me how for that very reason he might be, when elected, the easier to deal with. But I would keep my resolve from Morton. There was no stress of hurry; the election was months away. I might see reason to change. One should ever put off his contract-making until the last. Besides, Morton would feel the better for a surprise.

Before I went to an open alliance with the mugwumps, I would weaken the labor people. This I might do by pretending to be their friend. There was a strip of the labor candidate’s support which was rabid anti-Tammany. Let me but seem to come to his comfort and aid, and every one of those would desert him.

Within the week after my talk with Morton, I sent a sly scrap of news to the captains of labor. They were told that I had given utterance to sentiments of friendship for them and their man. Their taste to cultivate my support was set on edge. These amateurs of politics came seeking an interview. I flattered their hopes, and spoke in high terms of their candidate, his worth and honesty. The city could not be in safer hands.

There were many interviews. It was as an experience, not without a side to amuse, since my visitors, while as pompous as turkey cocks, were as innocently shallow as so many sheep. Many times did we talk; and I gave them compliments and no promises.

My ends were attained. The papers filled up with the coming partnership between the labor movement and the machine, and those berserks of anti-Tammany, frothing with resentment against ones who would sell themselves into my power as the price of my support, abandoned the laborites in a body. There were no fewer than five thousand of these to shake the dust of labor from their feet. When I had driven the last of them from the labor champion, by the simple expedient of appearing to be his friend, I turned decisively my back on him. Also, I at once called Tammany Convention – being the first in the field – and issued those orders which named the reputable old gentleman.

There arose a roar and a cheer from my followers at this, for they read in that name a promise of money knee-deep; and what, than that word, should more brighten a Tammany eye! I was first, with the machine at my back, to walk upon the field with our reputable old gentleman. The mugwumps followed, adopting him with all dispatch; the Republicans, proper, made no ticket; two or three straggling cliques and split-offs of party accepted the reputable old gentleman’s nomination; and so the lines were made. On the heels of the conventions, the mugwump leaders and I met and merged our tickets, I getting two-thirds and surrendering one-third of those names which followed that of the reputable old gentleman for the divers offices to be filled.

When all was accomplished, the new situation offered a broad foundation, and one of solvency and depth, whereon to base a future for both Tammany and myself. It crystallized my power, and my grip on the machine was set fast and hard by the sheer effect of it. The next thing was to win at the polls; that would ask for studied effort and a quickness that must not sleep, for the opposition, while clumsy, straggling, and unwieldly with no skill, overtopped us in strength by every one of those thousands of which I had given Morton the name.

“Really, you meant it should be a surprise,” observed Morton, as he grasped my hand. It was the evening of the day on which the Tammany Convention named the reputable old gentleman. “I’ll plead guilty; it was a surprise. And that’s saying a great deal, don’t y’ know. To be surprised is bad form, and naturally I guard myself against such a vulgar calamity. But you had me, old chap! I was never more baffled and beaten than when I left you. I regarded the conquest of the City by those barbarians as the thing made sure. Now all is changed. We will go in and win; and not a word I said, don’t y’ know, shall be forgotten and every dollar I mentioned shall be laid down. It shall, ’pon honor!”

CHAPTER XVII – THE REPUTABLE OLD GENTLEMAN IS MAYOR

THE Philadelphia machine was a training school for repeaters. Those ten thousand sent to our cause by Morton’s friend, went about their work like artillerymen about their guns. Each was good for four votes. As one of the squad captains said:

“There’s got to be time between, for a party to change his face an’ shift to another coat an’ hat. Besides, it’s as well to give th’ judges an hour or two to get dim to your mug, see!”

Big Kennedy had set his foot upon the gang spirit, and stamped out of existence such coteries as the Tin Whistles and the Alley Gang, and I copied Big Kennedy in this. Such organizations would have been a threat to me, and put it more in reach of individual leaders to rebel against an order. What work had been done by the gangs was now, under a better discipline and with machine lines more tightly drawn, transacted by the police.

When those skillful gentry, meant to multiply a ballot-total, came in from the South, I called my Chief of Police into council. He was that same bluff girthy personage who, aforetime, had conferred with Big Kennedy. I told him what was required, and how his men, should occasion arise, must foster as far as lay with them the voting purposes of our colonists.

“You can rely on me, Gov’nor,” said the Chief. He had invented this title for Big Kennedy, and now transferred it to me. “Yes, indeed, you can go to sleep on me doin’ my part. But I’m bothered to a standstill with my captains. Durin’ th’ last four or five years, th’ force has become honeycombed with honesty; an’, may I be struck! if some of them square guys aint got to be captains.”

“Should any get in your way,” said I, “he must be sent to the outskirts. I shall hold you for everything that goes wrong.”

“I guess,” said the Chief thoughtfully, “I’ll put the whole racket in charge of Gothecore. He’ll keep your emigrants from Philadelphia walkin’ a crack. They’ll be right, while Gothecore’s got his peeps on ‘em.”

“Has Gothecore had experience?”

“Is Bill Gothecore wise? Gov’nor, I don’t want to paint a promise so brilliant I can’t make good, but Gothecore is th’ most thorough workman on our list. Why, they call him ‘Clean Sweep Bill!’ I put him in th’ Tenderloin for six months, an’ he got away with everything but th’ back fence.”

“Very well,” said I, “the care of these colonists is in your hands. Here’s a list of the places where they’re berthed.”

“You needn’t give ‘em another thought, Gov’nor,” observed the Chief. Then, as he arose to depart: “Somethin’s got to be done about them captains turnin’ square. They act as a scare to th’ others. I’ll tell you what: Make the price of a captaincy twenty thousand dollars. That’ll be a hurdle no honest man can take. Whoever pays it, we can bet on as a member of our tribe. One honest captain queers a whole force; it’s like a horse goin’ lame.” This last, moodily.

In the eleventh hour, by our suggestion and at our cost, the Republican managers put up a ticket. This was made necessary by certain inveterate ones who would unite with nothing in which Tammany owned a part. As between us and the labor forces, they would have offered themselves to the latter. They must be given a ticket of their own whereon to waste themselves.

The campaign itself was a whirlwind of money. That princely fund promised by Morton was paid down to me on the nail, and I did not stint or save it when a chance opened to advance our power by its employment. I say “I did not stint,” because, in accord with Tammany custom, the fund was wholly in my hands.

As most men know, there is no such post as that of Chief of Tammany Hall. The office is by coinage, and the title by conference, of the public. There exists a finance committee of, commonly, a dozen names. It never meets, and the members in ordinary are ‘to hear and know no more about the money of the organization than of sheep-washing among Ettrick’s hills and vales. There is a chairman; into his hands all moneys come. These, in his care and name, and where and how and if he chooses, are put in bank. He keeps no books; he neither gives nor takes a scrap of paper, nor so much as writes a letter of thanks, in connection with such treasurership. He replies to no one for this money; he spends or keeps as he sees fit, and from beginning to end has the sole and only knowledge of either the intake or the outgo of the millions of the machine. The funds are wholly in his possession. To borrow a colloquialism, “He is the Man with the Money,” and since money is the mainspring of practical politics, it follows as the tail the kite, and without the intervention of either rule or statute, that he is The Boss. Being supreme with the money, he is supreme with the men of the machine, and it was the holding of this chairmanship which gave me my style and place as Chief.

The position is not wanting in its rewards. Tammany, for its own safety, should come forth from each campaign without a dollar. There is no argument to carry over a residue from one battle to the next. It is not required, since Tammany, from those great corporations whose taxes and liberties it may extend or shrink by a word, may ever have what money it will; and it is not wise, because the existence of a fund between campaigns would excite dissension, as this leader or that one conceived some plan for its dissipation. It is better to upturn the till on the back of each election, and empty it in favor of organization peace. And to do this is the duty of the Chairman of the Finance Committee; and I may add that it is one he was never known to overlook.

There was nothing notable in that struggle which sent the reputable old gentleman to the city fore as Mayor, beyond the energy wherewith the work required was performed. Every move ran off as softly sure as could be wished. The police did what they should. Those visitors from below turned in for us full forty thousand votes, and then quietly received their wages and as quietly went their way. I saw to it that, one and all, they were sharply aboard the ferryboats when their work was done. No one would care for them, drunken and mayhap garrulous, about the streets, until after the last spark of election interest had expired. The polls were closed: the count was made; the laborites and their Moses was beaten down, and the reputable old gentleman was declared victor by fifteen thousand. Those rich ones, late so pale, revived the color in their cheeks; and as for Tammany and myself, we took deep breaths, and felt as ones from whose shoulders a load had been lifted.

It was for me a fortunate upcome; following that victory, my leadership could no more be shaken than may the full-grown oaks. Feeling now my strength, I made divers machine changes of the inner sort. I caused my executive leaders to be taken from the assembly districts, rather than from the wards. There would be one from each; and since there was a greater number of districts than wards, the executive array was increased. I smelled safety for myself in numbers, feeling, as Big Kennedy advised, the more secure with twenty than with two. Also the new situation gave the leaders less influence with the Aldermen, when now the frontiers of the one no longer matched those of the other. I had aimed at this; for it was my instant effort on becoming Chief to collect within my own fingers every last thread of possible authority. I wanted the voice of my leadership to be the voice of the storm; all others I would stifle to a whisper.

While busy within the organization, deepening and broadening the channels of my power, I did not neglect conditions beyond the walls. I sent for the leaders of those two or three bands of Democracy which professed themselves opposed to Tammany Hall. I pitched upon my men as lumber folk in their log-driving pitch upon the key-logs in a “jam.” I loosened them with office, or the promise of it, and they instantly came riding down to me on the currents of self-interest, and brought with them those others over whom they held command.

Within the twelvemonth Tammany was left no rival within the lines of the regular party; I had, either by purring or by purchase, brought about the last one’s disappearance. It was a fair work for the machine, and I could feel the gathering, swelling confidence of my followers uplifting me as the deep sea uplifts a ship.

There was a thorn with that rose of leadership, nor did my hand escape its sting. The papers in their attacks upon me were as incessant as they were vindictive, and as unsparing as they were unfair. With never a fact set forth, by the word of these unmuzzled and uncaring imprints I stood forth as everything that was thievish, vile, and swart.

While I made my skin as thick against these shafts as I could, since I might neither avoid nor return them, still they pierced me and kept me bleeding, and each new day saw ever a new wound to my sensibilities. It is a bad business – these storms of black abuse! You have but to fasten upon one, even an honest one, the name of horse-thief and, behold you! he will steal a horse. Moreover, those vilifications of types become arrows to glance aside and bury themselves in the breasts of ones innocent.

Blossom was grown now to be a grave stripling girl of fifteen. Anne conceived that she should be taught in a school. She, herself, had carried Blossom to a considerable place in her books, but the finishing would be the better accomplished by teachers of a higher skill, and among children of Blossom’s age. With this on her thought, Anne completed arrangements with a private academy for girls, one of superior rank; and to this shop of learning, on a certain morning, she conveyed Blossom. Blossom was to be fitted with a fashionable education by those modistes of the intellectual, just as a dressmaker might measure her, and baste her, and stitch her into a frock.

But insult and acrid grief were lying there in ambush for Blossom – Blossom, then as ever, with her fear-haunted eyes. She was home before night, tearful, hysterical – crying in Anne’s arms. There had been a cartoon in the papers. It showed me as a hairy brutal ape, the city in the shape of a beautiful woman fainting in my arms, and a mighty rock labeled “Tammany” in one hand, ready to hurl at my pursuers. The whole was hideous; and when one of the girls of the school showed it to Blossom, and taunted her with this portrait of her father, it was more than heart might bear. She fled before the outrage of it, and would never hear the name of school again. This ape-picture was the thing fearful and new to Blossom, for to save her, both Anne and I had been at care to have no papers to the house. The harm was done, however; Blossom, hereafter, would shrink from all but Anne and me, and when she was eighteen, save for us, the priest, and an old Galway serving woman who had been her nurse, she knew no one in the whole wide world.