Elder Conklin, Frank Harris [life books to read .TXT] 📗

of the city government had grown more complete. There was now no place in the civil or judicial establishment of the city or county which did not depend on his will, and his influence throughout the State was enormous.

A municipal election, or, indeed, any election, afforded Mr. Gulmore many opportunities of quiet but intense self-satisfaction. He loved the struggle and the consciousness that from his office-chair he had so directed his forces that victory was assured. He always allowed a broad margin in order to cover the unforeseen. Chance, and even ill-luck, formed a part of his strategy; the sore throat of an eloquent speaker; the illness of a popular candidate; a storm on polling-day—all were to him factors in the problem. He reckoned as if his opponents might have all the luck upon their side; but, while considering the utmost malice of fortune, it was his delight to base his calculations upon the probable, and to find them year by year approaching more nearly to absolute exactitude. As soon as his ward-organization had been completed, he could estimate the votes of his party within a dozen or so. His plan was to treat every contest seriously, to bring all his forces to the poll on every occasion—nothing kept men together, he used to say, like victory. It was the number of his opponent’s minority which chiefly interested him; but by studying the various elections carefully, he came to know better than any one the value as a popular candidate of every politician in the capital, or, indeed, in the State. The talent of the man for organization lay in his knowledge of men, his fairness and liberality, and, perhaps, to a certain extent, in the power he possessed of inspiring others with confidence in himself and his measures. He was never satisfied till the fittest man in each ward was the Chairman of the ward; and if money would not buy that particular man’s services, as sometimes though rarely happened, he never rested until he found the gratification which bound his energy to the cause. Besides—and this was no small element in his successes—his temper disdained the applause of the crowd. He had never “run” for any office himself, and was not nearly so well known to the mass of the electorate as many of his creatures. The senator, like the mayor or office-messenger of his choice, got all the glory: Mr. Gulmore was satisfied with winning the victory, and reaping the fruits of it. He therefore excited, comparatively speaking, no jealousy; and this, together with the strength of his position, accounts for the fact that he had never been seriously opposed before Professor Roberts came upon the scene.

Better far than Lawyer Hutchings, or any one else, Mr. Gulmore knew that the relative strength of the two parties had altered vastly within the year. Reckoning up his forces at the beginning of the campaign, he felt certain that he could win—could carry his whole ticket, including a rather unpopular Mayor; but the majority in his favour would be small, and the prospect did not please him, for the Professor’s speeches had aroused envy. He understood that if his majority were not overwhelming he would be assailed again next year more violently, and must in the long run inevitably lose his power. Besides, “fat” contracts required unquestionable supremacy. He began, therefore, by instituting such a newspaper-attack upon the Professor as he hoped would force him to abandon the struggle. When this failed, and Mr. Gulmore saw that it had done worse than fail, that it had increased his opponent’s energy and added to his popularity, he went to work again to consider the whole situation. He must win and win “big,” that was clear; win too, if possible, in a way that would show his “smartness” and demonstrate his adversary’s ignorance of the world. His anger had at length been aroused; personal rivalry was a thing he could not tolerate at any time, and Roberts had injured his position in the town. He was resolved to give the young man such a lesson that others would be slow to follow his example.

The difficulty of the problem was one of its attractions. Again and again he turned the question over in his mind—How was he to make his triumph and the Professor’s defeat sensational? All the factors were present to him and he dwelt upon them with intentness. He was a man of strong intellect; his mind was both large and quick, but its activity, owing to want of education and to greedy physical desires, had been limited to the ordinary facts and forces of life. What books are to most persons gifted with an extraordinary intelligence, his fellow-men were to Mr. Gulmore—a study at once stimulating and difficult, of an incomparable variety and complexity. His lack of learning was of advantage to him in judging most men. Their stock of ideas, sentiments and desires had been his for years, and if he now viewed the patchwork quilt of their morality with indulgent contempt, at least he was familiar with all the constituent shades of it. But he could not make the Professor out—and this added to his dislike of him; he recognized that Roberts was not, as he had at first believed, a mere mouthpiece of Hutchings, but he could not fathom his motives; besides, as he said to himself, he had no need to; Roberts was plainly a “crank,” book-mad, and the species did not interest him. But Hutchings he knew well; knew that like himself Hutchings, while despising ordinary prejudices, was ruled by ordinary greeds and ambitions. In intellect they were both above the average, but not in morals. So, by putting himself in the lawyer’s place, a possible solution of the problem occurred to him.

A couple of days before the election, Mr. Hutchings, who had been hard at work till the evening among his chief subordinates, was making his way homeward when Mr. Prentiss accosted him, with the request that he would accompany him to his rooms for a few minutes on a matter of the utmost importance. Having no good reason for refusing, Mr. Hutchings followed the editor of the “Herald” up a flight of stairs into a large and comfortable room. As he entered and looked about him Mr. Gulmore came forward:

“I wanted a talk with you, Lawyer, where we wouldn’t be disturbed, and Prentiss thought it would be best to have it here, and I guess he was about right. It’s quiet and comfortable. Won’t you be seated?”

“Mr. Gulmore!” exclaimed the surprised lawyer stopping short. “I don’t think there’s anything to be discussed between us, and as I’m in a hurry to get home to dinner, I think I’ll—”

“Don’t you make any mistake,” interrupted Mr. Gulmore; “I mean business —business that’ll pay both you and me, and I guess ‘twon’t do you any damage to take a seat and listen to me for a few minutes.”

As Lawyer Hutchings, overborne by the authority of the voice and manner, sat down, he noticed that Mr. Prentiss had disappeared. Interpreting rightly the other’s glance, Mr. Gulmore began:

“We’re alone, Hutchin’s. This matter shall be played fair and square. I guess you know that my word can be taken at its face-value.” Then, settling himself in his chair, he went on:

“You and I hev been runnin’ on opposite tickets for a good many years, and I’ve won right along. It has paid me to win and it has not paid you to lose. Now, it’s like this. You reckon that those Irishmen on the line give you a better show. They do; but not enough to whip me. You appear to think that that’ll have to be tried the day after tomorrow, but you ought to know by now that when I say a thing is so, it’s so—every time. If you had a chance, I’d tell you: I’m playin’ square. I ken carry my ticket from one end to the other; I ken carry Robinson as Mayor against you by at least two hundred and fifty of a majority, and the rest of your ticket has just no show at all—you know that. But, even if you could get in this year or next what good would it do you to be Mayor? You’re not runnin’ for the five thousand dollars a year salary, I reckon, and that’s about all you’d get—unless you worked with me. I want a good Mayor, a man like you, of position and education, a fine speaker that knows everybody and is well thought of—popular. Robinson’s not good enough for me; he hain’t got the manners nor the knowledge, nor the popularity. I’d have liked to have had you on my side right along. It would have been better for both of us, but you were a Democrat, an’ there wasn’t any necessity. Now there is. I want to win this election by a large majority, an’ you ken make that sartin. You see I speak square. Will you join me?”

The question was thrown out abruptly. Mr. Gulmore had caught a gleam in the other’s eye as he spoke of a good Mayor and his qualifications. “He bites, I guess,” was his inference, and accordingly he put the question at once.

Mr. Hutchings, brought to himself by the sudden interrogation, hesitated, and decided to temporize. He could always refuse to join forces, and Gulmore might “give himself away.” He answered:

“I don’t quite see what you mean. How are we to join?”

“By both of us givin’ somethin’.”

“What am I to give?”

“Withdraw your candidature for Mayor as a Democrat.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Jest hear me out. The city has advertised for tenders for a new Court House and a new Town Hall. The one building should cover both, and be near the middle of the business part. That’s so—ain’t it? Well, land’s hard to get anywhere there, and I’ve the best lots in the town. I guess” (carelessly) “the contract will run to a million dollars; that should mean two hundred thousand dollars to some one. It’s like this, Hutchin’s: Would you rather come in with me and make a joint tender, or run for Mayor and be beaten?”

Mr. Hutchings started. Ten years before the proposal would have won him. But now his children were provided for–-all except Joe, and his position as Counsel to the Union Pacific Railroad lifted him above pecuniary anxieties. Then the thought of the Professor and May came to him—No! he wouldn’t sell himself. But in some strange way the proposition excited him; he felt elated. His quickened pulse-beats prevented him from realizing the enormity of the proposed transaction, but he knew that he ought to be indignant. What a pity it was that Gulmore had made no proposal which he might have accepted—and then disclosed!

“If I understand you, you propose that I should take up this contract, and make money out of it. If that was your business with me, you’ve made a mistake, and Professor Roberts is right.”

“Hev I?” asked Mr. Gulmore slowly, coldly, in sharp contrast to the lawyer’s apparent excitement and quick speech. Contemptuously he thought that Hutchings was “foolisher” than he had imagined—or was he sincere? He would have weighed this last possibility before speaking, if the mention of Roberts had not angered him. His combativeness made him persist:

“If you don’t want to come in with me, all you’ve got to do is to say so. You’ve no call to get up on your hind legs about it; it’s easy to do settin’. But don’t talk poppycock like that Professor; he’s silly. He talks about the contract for street pavin’, and it ken be proved—‘twas proved in the ‘Herald’—that our streets cost less per foot than the streets of any town in this State. He knows nothin’. He don’t even know that an able man