Baltimore Evening Sun (13 June 1911): 6.

“The more I see of politics,” said the tall man, as he and the ambulance chaser met on the Courthouse sidewalk, “the more disgusted I git. If a man would work as hard at any other trade he would make 10 times much money. You hustle and bustle from morning to night—and what’s in it? Maybe you git a job. Well, the chances is it’s a rotten job. And you have to wait for it so long that by the time you git it some other fellow wants it.”

“You talk discouraged,” ventured the ambulance chaser, sympathetically. “Who wouldn’t talk discouraged?” demanded the tall man bitterly. “You know what I done last May. I was the original Preston man. In my precinct. I was for Preston almost before I had ever heard of him. Nobody else over there was for him—anyhow, nobody that I could ever find. Them boneheads hardly knowed there was such a man. When I pulled his name on ’em, they thought he was a Republican. “But I went to work on ’em and beat ’em into line–Bohicks, Eye-talians, Polacks and all. Did I get help? Hardly none at all. During the whole campaign we hadn’t only one meeting and one keg of beer. Imagine it! One keg of beer among 140 workingmen! It would of made you cry to see them poor tellers fighting for it. And on election day I was handed just $15: Goodness knows how I done it with that money, but I done it. Preston carried the precinct by 40 votes. Forty into 25 goes no times and none over. Figure it out for yourself.”

“I guess it pleased ’em up town,” ventured the ambulance chaser. “Pleased ’em? You bet it pleased ’em! Some of them big fellows almost kissed me. I lay my hand on my heart and tell you the truth. You would have thought I had carried the, whole darn city. But I didn’t get no swelled head—not me. All I said was: ‘Gents, I done my best. No man couldn’t do no more. I don’t ask nothing but a square deal. There will be, I hope, a few jobs for them that really done the work. As for me, all I want is a good place in the Water Department—something about $18 and not too dirty. Let it go at that and I make no kick. Thanking you, one and all.’” “You cert’ny was modest,” remarked the ambulance chaser. “Remember the legal maxim: caveat emptor—the laborer is worthy of his hire.” “So I was,” replied the tall man. “Also, I was a sucker—just a plain, low-down sucker. As sure as I’m standing here I got a straight promise of that job. And as sure as I’m standing here I ain’t got no job. Is that the way to recognize a man who takes off his coat and works? Is that the way to treat them who sacrifice themself for the party?”

The ambulance chaser gave the matter judicious consideration. “Give ’em time,” he counseled. “Preston is doin’ his best. Let him alone and he’ll run Quick out.” “Time!” bawled the tall man. “What do you mean by time? How much time does it take to fire a bunch of Republicans and put in some honest men? A month? A year? Go talk your time talk to somebody else. It was my ideer that we were goin’ to have an old-fashioned administration. Well, how much time did it lake in the old days to give the boys their jobs? About 20 minutes. Some say 10 minutes. Let it go at 20 minutes. Out went the bums and in went the people that deserved it. You never heard no talk of takin’ time in them days. “Here I been waitin’ six weeks—and where is my job? Who gets the envelope on pay day–me or some Republican? That Water Department is alive with Republicans. There are thousands of them there—millions of them. They are as thick as flies. And every one of them keeps some good Democrat out of work. Do you call that justice? Is this a free country or ain’t it? Could you imagine anything worse in Rooshia?

“I used to be a Preston man, but no more! Has he give me that job? Look at them fringes on my cuffs and answer for yourself. I owe $28 in the grocery store. The installment man has took my piano. I’m lucky to get fried liver to eat on Sundays. I ain’t had a new suit of clothes since the fall of 1907. Me that carried my precinct! Me that don’t ask nothing but a one-horse job in the Water Department! “What’s the sense in all this bunk about leaks in reservoirs and such stuff? Who cares a dam whether the reservoirs leak or don’t leak? Let ’em leak! The more leaks the more jobs! If there wasn’t no leaks there wouldn’t need to be no Water Department. What I’m thinkin’ about is not them leaks, but my job. And I know plenty of other people that are thinkin’ the same. Here week follers week—and no job! And all the while them thousands of Republicans are eating porterhouse and Quick is settin’ up there in his office givin’ us all the laugh. And that lemon down in the Mayor’s office”—

The tall man’s indignation overcame him and for the moment he was speechless. The ambulance chaser ventured to cheer him. “Just be patient,” he counseled. “Keep your shirt on. Preston will nail Quick and get to them Republicans. And then there’s the Fire Deportment. Down there”— “Fire Department!” bawled the tall man. “Don’t talk to me of no Fire Department! I know all about it. There’s that bum of a brother-in-law of mine. He won’t work. I have to support him. One day I went to see Ed Parrish and tried to got him into the Fire Department.” “Did you land him?” interposed the ambulance chaser. The tall man paused and glared. Then he answered with sarcasm weighing a ton to the square inch. “Sure I landed him. Of course I landed him. They made him chief on the spot. And Ed Parrish give me a 20-cent cigar.”

And with that he turned his back and ambled on.