Baltimore Evening Sun (6 December 1911): 6.

Only 1,259 days more! Lest we forget! Lest we forget!

Come on, Mr. McMains; let us have that list of undoubted allopaths who belong to the League for Medical “Freedom.” A good 5-cent cigar for every name. Why be so coy? We are all friends. Come, now!

My spies bring me news of a rousing massmesting at the rooms of the Merchants and Manufacturers’ Association on Tuesday of last week. The subject of discussion was International Peace, and the principal orators were the Hon. David, J. Foster, of Vermont, and the Hon. Heary B. F. Macfarland, of Washington. These gentlemen, I am informed, were met at Camden Station and escorted to the dialectic arena of the association by a committee of peace advocates consisting of Mr. Theodore Marburg and Mr. Tunstall Smith.

Imagine the scene! The arena packed to the gunwales. Thousands of merchants and manufacturers in their pews, shuffling their feet, exchanging badinage, eating peanuts. Hark, the guests, the orators arrive! Huzzahs and clapper-clawing. That silver cornet band of the association breaks into the Mikado’s entrance music from “The Mikado.” Flop! goes a lump of ice into the silver pitcher on the speakers’ table. The reporters sharpen their pencils. A commotion at the back of the hall. Delegations arriving from the Greater Baltimore Committee, the Factory Site Commission, the Travelers and Merchants’ Association, the Hon. the City Council, the City Plan Commission, the Old Town Merchants and Manufacturers' Association.

A sudden silence. The chaplain of the Greater Baltimore Committee, wearing the full vestments of his office, arises to offer an invocation. A hymn is sung. Another. A third. An interlude for throwing confetti. Then up rises the chairman of the standing committee on international peace, supported by the 12 chairmen of the 12 subcommittees. Cries of “Shut up!” “Let him talk!” “Louder!” and “Give him a chance!” The chairman, his voice trembling with emotion, introduces the Hon. Mr. Foster. Whirlwinds of applause. Volcanic explosions of handclapping. The great bell in the Katzenjammer Tower sounds four threes. A salvo of artillery from the battlements. Enter waiters with cakes and lemonade. The Hon. Mr. Foster concludes his speech. A member introduces a resolution electing him an Honorary Prominent Baltimorean. Carried with a whoop. The silver cornet band plays “We Won’t Go Home Until Morning.” A member moves that the committee on international peace be increased from 100 members to 10,000 and that 50 additional subcommittees be appointed. Carried with screams. Cries of “Hoch! hoch! dreimal hoch!” The confetti exhausted, members pelt one another with peanut hulls.

The chairman motions for silence. The Hon. Mr. Macfarland is introduced. Cries of “Who is it?” “Louder!” and “I make a motion!” The chimes in the Tower play “Shall we Meet Beyond the River?” A sample of the Hon. Mr. Macfarland’s discourse, from the reporters’ notes:

Let us [huzzahs] show [cheers] the world [cries of “We are with you!”] that we [prolonged and deafening applause] are firmly [whoops and yells] opposed [A Voice: “You bet we are!”] to all this [calls for three cheers, which are given with enthusiasm] cruel [thunderous applause] and needless [uproars of approval] * * *

The Hon. Mr. Macfarland completes his discourse and is carried around the hall on the shoulders of the degree team of honorary pallbearers. A pair of blackamoors roll in four more barrels of confetti, which are duly broached. The air grows chromatic. Some one strikes up “Alexander’s Ragtime Band.”

The Chairman. Order, gentleman! Has any member a motion to offer? A Member. I move that a committee of 250 be appointed to raise a fund of $400,000. [Cheers.] Another Member. For what purpose? The First Member. To put an end to war! [Huzzahs.] A Third Member. I offer an amendment changing $400,000 to $750,000. [Cheers.] The Chairman. Is there any objection? The Chair hears none. [Riotous applause.] The motion is so amended. Is there a second? [Exclamation of joy.] A Member. How are the subscriptions to be collected? Another Member. I move that they be collectible at the rate of $1 a year. [Frantic applause.] Many Members. I second that motion. The Chairman. Gentleman, what is your pleasure? Those in favor of the motion to raise a fund of $750,000 will say aye. All the Members Present. Aye!!!!!! The Chairman. The ayes have it. [Long continued cheers.] The gentlemanly ushers will now pass among— ——— And so the day wears on. A dozen more speeches are made. The whole fund of $750,000 is subscribed in half an hour and the first payment—$19.60—is made in checks dated but six months ahead. Hymns are sung. The Thanksgiving proclamation of the Greater Baltimore Committee is chanted by the mannerchor of that body and a motion is made that 1,000,000 copies be struck off and distributed. Resolutions denouncing the following are passed:

The Czar of Russia. The parcels post. The bookstores. Grain differentials. The McKinley Tariff law. The drama of “La Dame aux Camelias.” ——— After which resolutions approving the following are offered and passed:

The tropic of capricorn. The proposal to build a concrete bridge over the Patapsco. H. R. 97,542. The binomial theorem. The plan to cut Courtland street through the new Courthouse and so make a boulevard running from Marsh Market space to Mount Vernon Place.

Evening falls. Rhetoricians drop exhausted. The visitors are thanked and depart. A motion to adjourn is made. The reporters, pushing wheelbarrows full of notes, leave for their offices. The band plays “Till We Meet Again.” The chaplain of the Greater Baltimore Committee pronounces the benediction. A memorable meeting has reached its end.

Alas and alack! A mere dream, a vision, a romantic nightmare! What actually happened? The tale, as my spies recite it, is sad and brief. The Hon. Messrs. Foster and Mcfarland, arriving from Camden Station, found no cheering throng of merchants and manufacturers. Not a darn merchant! Not a darn manufacturer! Not even a boomer! Present: The Hon. Thomas G. Boggs and three reporters. A long wait. Nobody came. Then—

Mr. Boggs. A motion to adjourn is in order. Mr. Boggs. I move we adjourn. Mr. Boggs. I second the motion. Mr. Boggs. All in favor of the motion will please say aye. Mr. Boggs. Aye. Mr. Boggs. The ayes have it.

Silence. * * * A swift departure on velvet feet. * * * An aching void. * * * Nothing in the papers next day!