Chapter 20

THE PRIMARY.

After this rush of work, Peter’s life became as routine as of yore. The winter passed without an event worth noting, if we except a steadily growing acquaintance with the dwellers of the district. But in July a new phase was injected into it by a call from Dennis Moriarty.

“Good-mornin’ to yez, sir, an’ a fine day it is,” said the latter, with his usually breezy way.

“Yes,” said Peter.

“Misther Stirling. An’ is it engaged yez are for this night?”

“No.” Peter had nothing.

“Then,” said Dennis, “maybe ye’ll be afther goin’ wid me to the primary?”

“What primary?”

“For the election of delegates to the convention, shure.”

“No. What party?”

“What party is it?”

“Yes.”

“Misther Stirling, do yez know my name?”

“Dennis Moriarty, isn’t it?”

“Yes. An’ what’s my business?”

“You keep a saloon.”

“Yes. An’ what ward do Oi live in?”

“The sixth, don’t you?”

“Then,” said Dennis, his upper lip twisting into a smile of enormous proportions, “Oi suppose yez afther thinkin’ Oi’m a dirty black Republican.”

Peter laughed, as few could help doing, when Dennis led the way. “Look here, Dennis,” he said, “don’t you run down that party. My father was a Democrat, but he voted for Lincoln, and fought for the blacks when the time came, and though I’m a Democrat like him, the Republicans are only black in their sympathies, and not in their acts.”

“An’ what do yez say to the whisky frauds, an’ black Friday, an’ credit mobilier?” asked Dennis.

“Of course I don’t like them,” said Peter; “but that’s the politicians, not the party.”

“Shure,” said Dennis, “what’s the party but the men that run it?”

“You’ve seen something of Mr. Bohlmann lately, Dennis?”

“Yes.”

“Well, he was the man who put Goldman in charge of that cow stable. Yet he’s an honest man.”

Dennis scratched his head. “It’s a convincin’ way yez have wid yez,” he said; “but it’s scoundrels the Republicans are, all the same. Look at them in the district; there’s not one a decent man would invite to drink wid him.”

“I think, Dennis,” said Peter, “that when all the decent men get into one party, there’ll be only one worth talking about.”

“Av course,” replied Dennis. “That’s the reason there’s only the Democratic party in New York City.”

“Tell me about this primary,” said Peter, concluding that abstract political philosophy was not the way to liberalize Dennis.

“It’s most important, it is,” he was told, “it’s on top Patsy Blunkers an’ his gang av dirty spalpeens (Dennis seemed to forget that he had just expressed the opinion that all the “decent” men were Democrats) have been this two years, but we’ve got orders for a new enrollment at last, an’ if we don’t knock them this time, my name isn’t Dinnis Moriarty.”

“What is the question before the meeting?”

“Afther the enrollment, it’s to vote for delegates.”

“Oh! Then it’s just a struggle over who shall be elected?”

“That’s it. But a fine, big fight it will be. The whole district’s so excited, sir, that it’s twice Oi’ve had to pound the b’ys a bit in my saloon to keep the peace.”

“What do you want of me?”

“Shure, every vote counts on a night like this. An’ ye’d be afther helpin’ us big, for the district likes yez.”

“But, Dennis, I can’t vote without knowing something about the way things are. I shouldn’t know whether I was voting rightly.”

“Why, a man votes right when he votes for his friends!”

“No; a man votes right when he votes for his convictions.”

“Convictions, is it?”

“Yes. That is, he votes as he thinks is best for the country.”

“That, maybe, is the way yez do it where yez come from,” said Dennis, “but it’s no good it would be here. Convictions, whatever they be, are never nominated here. It’s real things we’re afther votin’ for in New York.”

Peter laughed. “I’ve got to take you in hand, Dennis, and you’ve got to take me in hand. I think we both need each other’s help. Yes, I’ll come to the primary. Will they let me vote?”

“The dirty spalpeens will never dare to stop yez! Thank yez, sir. Oi’ll be along for yez about eight.”

“Remember, though, Dennis—I don’t say how I’ll vote.”

“Yez just listen, an I’m not afraid av what ye’ll do.”

That evening, Peter was ushered into a large hot room, pretty well packed with men, and the interstices already filled in with dense tobacco smoke. He looked about him curiously, and was surprised to find how many of the faces he knew. Blackett, Dooley, and Milligan were there, and shook hands with him warmly. Judge Gallagher and Blunkers were in evidence. In plain clothes were two policemen, and three of the “fire-laddies,” who formed part of the “crew” of the nearest engine, with all of whom he had often chatted. Mr. Dummer, his rival lawyer in the case, and one of the jurymen in it, likewise were visible. Also many faces which were familiar to Peter by a former occasional friendly word or nod exchanged in passing. Intense excitement evidently reigned, and every one was whispering in a sort of breathless way, which showed how deeply interested they were.

At Dennis’s suggestion, made in walking to the room, Peter presented himself without guidance, at the desk. Some one behind him asked if he lived in the ward, and for how long, but this was the only apparent opposition made to the prompt entering of his name. Then Peter strolled round and talked to those whom he knew, and tried to find out, without much success, just what was the division. Every one knew that a fight was on, but in just what it consisted they seemed neither to know nor care.

He noticed that hot words were constantly exchanged at the enrolling desk, over would-be members, but not understanding the exact nature of the qualifications needed, he could not follow the disputes. Finally these ceased, for want of applicants.

“Misther Stirling,” said Dennis, coming up to him hurriedly. “Will yez be afther bein’ chairman for us?”

“No. I don’t know anything about the proceedings.”

“It don’t take any,” said Dennis. “It’s only fair play we’re afther.”

He was gone again before Peter could say anything. The next instant, the enrolling officer rose and spoke.

“Are there any more to be enrolled?” he called. No one came forward, so after a moment he said: “Will the meeting choose a presiding officer?”

“Mr. Chairman,” rang two voices so quickly that they in truth cut the presiding officer off in his suggestion.

“Mr. Muldoon,” said that officer.

“Oi spoke first,” shouted Dennis, and Peter felt that he had, and that he was not having fair play.

Instantly a wave of protest, denials, charges, and counter-charges swept through the room, Peter thought there was going to be a fight, but the position was too critical to waste a moment on what Dennis styled “a diversion.” It was business, not pleasure, just then.

“Mr. Muldoon,” said the officer again, not heeding the tempest in the least.

“Mr. Chairman,” shouted Muldoon, “I am proud to nominate Justice Gallagher, the pride of the bar, for chairman of this distinguished meeting, and I move to make his election unanimous.”

“Misther Chairman,” shouted Dennis.

“Mr. Moriarty,” said the officer.

“Misther Chairman, Oi have the honor to nominate for chairman av this meetin’ the people’s an’ the children’s friend, Misther Peter Stirling, an’ Oi don’t have to move to make it unanimous, for such is the intelligince an’ manhood av this meetin’ that it will be that way for shure.”

Peter saw a hurried consultation going on between Gallagher, Muldoon, and two others, during the latter part of this speech, and barely had Dennis finished his remarks, when Justice Gallagher spoke up.

“Mr. Chairman.”

“The Honorable Justice Gallagher,” said that gentleman.

“I take pride in withdrawing in favor of Mr. Stirling, who so justly merits the honor of presiding on this important occasion. From recent events too well known to need mention, I am sure we can all look to him for justice and fairness.”

“Bad cess to him!” groaned Dennis. “Oi hoped they’d be just fools enough to oppose yez, an’ then we’d have won the first blood.”

Peter was chosen without dissent, and was escorted to the seat behind the desk.

“What is the first business before the meeting?” he asked of Gallagher, aside, as he was taking his seat.

“Election of delegates to the State convention. That’s all to-night,” he was told.

Peter had presided at college in debates, and was not flurried. “Will you stay here so as to give me the names of those I don’t know?” he said to the enrolling officer. “The meeting will please come to order,” he continued aloud. “The nomination of delegates to the State convention is the business to be acted upon.”

“Misther Chairman,” yelled Dennis, evidently expecting to find another rival as before. But no one spoke.

“Mr. Moriarty,” said Peter.

“Misther Chairman. It’s my delight to nominate as delegates to the State convention, the Honorable Misther Schlurger, our distinguished representative in the Assembly, the Honorable Misther Kennedy, our noble Police-commissioner, an’ Misther Caggs, whom it would be insult for me to praise in this company.”

“Second the motion,” said some one.

“Mr. Chairman,” shouted a man.

“That’s Caggs,” said the enrolling officer.

“Mr. Caggs,” said Peter.

“Mr. Chairman,” said Caggs. “I must decline the honor offered me from such a source.”

“What?” shrieked Dennis, amazement and rage contesting for first place in voice and expression.

“Mr. Chairman,” said Dummer.

“Mr. Dummer,” said Peter.

“I have the honor to nominate the Honorable Justice Gallagher, Mr. Peter Sweeney, and Mr. Caggs, to whom Mr. Moriarty has just paid so glowing a tribute, as delegates to the State convention.”

“Second the—” shouted some one, but the rest was drowned by another storm which swept through the room. Even above the tumult, Peter could hear Dennis challenging and beseeching Mr. Caggs to come “outside an’ settle it like gentlemen.” Caggs, from a secure retreat behind Blunkers’s right arm, declined to let the siren’s song tempt him forth. Finally Peter’s pounding brought a degree of quiet again.

“Misther Chairman,” said Dennis.

“Mr. Moriarty,” said Peter.

“Misther Chairman. Oi’ll not take the valuable time av this meetin’ to speak av dirty, cowardly, black-hearted, treacherous snakes, wid souls blacker than the divil’s own—”

“Order!” said Peter to the crowd.

“No,” continued Dennis, in answer to the audible remarks of the opposition. “It’s no names Oi’m callin’. If yez know such a beast, such a snake, fit it to him. Oi’m mentionin’ no names. As Oi was sayin’, Misther Chairman, Oi’ll not waste the time av this meetin’ wid discribin’ the conduct av a beast so vile that he must be the contempt av every honest man. Who would have been driven out by St. Patrick, wid the rest av the reptiles, if he’d lived at that time. Oi only rise to widdraw the name av Caggs from the list Oi nominated for delegates to the state convention, an’ to put in place av it that av a man who is as noble an’ true, as some are false an’ divilish. That of Misther Peter Stirling, God bless him!”

Once more chaos came. Peter pounded in vain. Both sides were at fever heat. Finally Peter rose.

“Gentlemen,” he shouted, in a voice that rang through the hall above even the tumult, “if this meeting does not come to order, I shall declare it adjourned.”

Instant quiet fell, for all had paused a moment to hear his words, and they concluded that he was in earnest.

“Was the last motion seconded?” asked the chairman calmly.

“I seconded it,” shouted Blackett and Milligan together.

“You have heard the nominations, gentlemen. Has any one any remarks to make?”

A man next Justice Gallagher said, “Mr. Chairman,” and being duly recognized, proceeded to talk for ten minutes in a very useless way. But during this time, Peter noticed first a good deal of whispering among Blunkers’s friends, and then an interview between Gallagher and Dennis. The latter was apparently not reconcilable, and shook his head in a way that meant war. Then there was more consultation between the opposition, and another confab with Dennis, with more headshakes on his part. Finally a compromise having been evidently made impossible, the orator was “called down” and it was voted to proceed to an election. Peter named one of the firemen, Dooley, and Blunkers, tellers, who, after a ballot, announced that Dennis had carried his nominations, Peter heading the list with two hundred and twelve votes, and the others getting one hundred and seventy-two, and one hundred and fifty-eight respectively. The “snake” got but fifty-seven votes.

“Shure,” said Dennis, later, “maybe we don’t vote for convictions here, but we don’t vote for the likes av him!”

“Then you are voting for convictions,” said Peter.

“It’s yezself is the convictions then,” said Dennis.

Perhaps he was right.