Baltimore Evening Sun (11 March 1913): 6.
The Maryland Suffrage News on the bogus sufferings of the suffragettes in Washington:
The Marylanders, rudely pushed and jostled, thought of the way the Baltimore police had protected them from a conventoin crowd, said to be quite as rough as an inauguration crowd, and longed for a squad of Marshal Farnan’s finest to clear the way for them.
Can it be that these are the same “finest” who have been so often accused, by suffragists and their vice-crusading allies, of conspiring to nullify the laws, of making corrupt bargains with law-breakers, of sharing in the profits of prostitution? Can it be that a cop is an archangel when he is with them, as he is an abominable rogue and hell-hound when he is against them?
The Hon. Aristides Sophocles Goldsborough, head greaser to the Hon. the Archangel Harry, devotes 3,000 words in the current issue of the Municipal Journal to the defonse and glorification of that great martyr. The Hon. Mr. Goldsborough has a suave, burbling, ingratiating style, almost voluptuous at its high spots. He is a master of the syllogism; a virtuoso of acute, flabbergasting argumentation; a young man eloquent. Let me suggest, therefore, that he devote his rare gifts to the illuinitiation of a subject now dark and dubious. Let him explain to us the precise reasons for the present favoring of the Calvert Bank. Certainly, there can be no truth in the theory I myself have put forward–i. e., that the Hon. Richard Gwinn and the Hon. the Archangel are prehensile patriots, that they are tickling their left hands with their right hands, that they favor the Calvert Bank because they own stock in it and so profit by its prosperity. Perish such low slanders, such abominable insinuations! The Hon. Mr. Goldsborough must know the noble and uplifting truth. Let him write it, print it, publish it. Let him devote his next sweet leader to the Calvert Bank.
Incidentally, the chance also offers to the Hon. William H. Anderson to do a great public service. Let him discuss at length, in the next number of the American Issue, the diabolical cigarette. Is he in favor of it or agin it? What answer does he make to those fellow-moralists who argue that it is the father and mother of rum? Will he join me in a crusade against it? Or will he sit back supinely while children are seduced to debauchery and white slaves are manufactured by wholesale? He argues persistently that the rum habit makes forgers and politicians, gamblers and wife-beaters. What if I prove to him, by the evidence of the chemically pure, that cigarettes make the rum habit? Will he join the lodge or will he continue to hold off, along with the sinister Bonaparte, the inexplicable Janney? Let him answer in the American Issue, and with the full horsepower of his persuasiveness.
Again, there is the Hon. Eugene Levering, a battler against rum before Anderson was out of the cradle. Does he confine his jehad to alcohol alone, or is he also against all other dopes and narcotics? For example, caffeine, the alkaloid of coffee. Has he read the medical evidence against caffeine? Is he privy to its effects? Does he know that it lames the heart, poisons the conscience, makes slaves of its users? If so, how does he explain his own ardent devotion to its sale? Or does he, on the contrary, deny these effects? Then where is his evidence? I offer the Hon. Mr. Levering all the space he wants to state his position, up to and including 100 columns. I agree to get him further space in the American Issue, the War Cry, the Towson Union and News, the Democratic Telegram, the Maryland Suffrage News, the German Correspondent, the Honorary Pallbearer, the Philistine, the Washington Mirror and any other moral gazette that he nominates. I offer him his own terms. And if he can prove that caffeine is harmless, that it is not a blood brother of alcohol, then I agree to apologize to him, kiss his hand, give him three cheers.
Cease, dear girls! Hold your crocodile tears! Stay your whoops for gore! The more you yell, the more you will convince the country that your parade was a clown show, that you yourself are silly cry-babies, that you are not fit for the crash and slambang of politics! Don’t you hear the antis laughing? Don’t you see the motive behind their sympathy? Have you no humor, no courage, no sportsmanship, no sense?
The vice crusade! The vice crusade! Oh, lead me to the lemonade!
The Hon. William H. Anderson, in the current number of the American Issue, removes the hide from the Towson Union and News for flirting with the cohorts of rum. A. lamentable row between great moralists. The Union and News, as everyone knows, is the chief organ and comfort of the Lord’s Day Alliance, that exquisite camorra of jobless politicians, pious press agents and screaming old maids. The Union and News, desiring to get the goat of the Hon. Joshua Frederick Cockey Talbott, blames him for the bogus debaucheries at Back River and encourages the Alliance to the attack. Two or three weeks ago, when it presumed to lay me out for laughing at this disingenuous enterprise, the Hon. Mr. Anderson reprinted its phillipic with approbation. But now, because it refuses to join his own loud jehad, he turns his spear upon it.
Permit me, gents, a mild snicker, a discreet chuckle behind my hand. Regarding the political schemes and chicaneries of the Union and News, I hope to discourse at length later on. It is a political organ, pure and simple, and the fact that it is at present tied up with a bunch of professional moralists and tear-squeezers is only an accident of politics. The sole effect of its participation in the Lord’s Day campaign has been to place that campaign under the suspicion of every fair man. The Anti-Saloon League is now flirting with the Hon. Mr. Talbott; therefore, the Union and News bares a cold cheek to the Anti-Saloon League. But if the devil himself were to denounce the Hon. Mr. Talbott, the Union and News would probably find many nice things to say about the devil. In brief, an eighth-rate country weekly, wholly puerile and ridiculous.
The estimable Democratic Telegram of this week praises the ward heelers who marched behind Harry in the inaugural parade, accusses the Hon. W. Luke Marbury of gross treacheries and deviltries, sheds a crocodile tear over the bogus mobbing of the suffragettes, alleges that John Walter is diligently wooing Harry, presents a crude woodcut of the Hon. Woodrow Wilson, denounces tight shoes and gives a boost to the Fraternal Order of Eagles. A somewhat flattish issue of an ordinarily bouncing and rambunctious zeitung.