_ CHAPTER XXI. STARTING A MULE TEAM
Some men are extremely good and loyal politicians so long as the machine runs smoothly, and they are not called upon to sacrifice their interests and their opinions. Luke Presson and his associates on the State Committee were of that sort. But Thelismer Thornton was a better politician than they.
The Duke had saved the chairman and his committeemen from themselves at that critical moment in the little room off the convention stage, when they were ready to invite ruin by defying General Waymouth. It had been as bitter for Thornton as it had been for the others. Beyond question, he would have gone down fighting were the question a private or a personal one. But when the interests of his party were at stake he knew how to compromise, taking what he could get instead of what he had determined to get. After the convention he gave fatherly advice to the committee, and then Presson went up to Burnside village with the olive-branch. But while he extended that in one hand, he held out his little political porringer in the other. He couldn't help doing it. The chairman was no altruist in politics. He didn't propose to cultivate the spirit.
He put it plainly to General Waymouth--that while he sympathized to some extent with the latter's desires for general reform, there were certain interests that propped the party and must be handled with discretion in the clean-up. He had already drawn some consolation from the fact that General Waymouth had modified in a measure the planks that he submitted for the party platform. He followed up this as a step that hinted a general compromise, and at last frankly presented his requests. He asked that tax reform be smoothed over, that the corporations be allowed an opportunity to "turn around," and finally that the prohibitory law should be let alone. He argued warmly that General Waymouth could not be criticised by either side if he left the law as he found it. The radicals were satisfied with the various enactments as they stood, and if there were infractions it became a matter of the police and sheriffs, and the Governor could not be held accountable. And he laid stress on the fact that the people did not want a Governor to tarnish the dignity of his office by fighting bar-rooms.
But Chairman Presson found an inflexible old man who listened to all he said, and at the end declared his platform broadly and without details. Those details of proposed activity he kept to himself. The platform was: That it behooved all men in the State to be prompt and honest in obeying the law. That the man who did not obey the law would find himself in trouble. Moreover, position, personality, or purse could purchase no exceptions.
That was a platform which Mr. Presson could not attack, of course.
He listened to it sullenly, however. He was angry because common decency prevented him from expressing his opinion. He had heard other candidates pompously declare the same thing, but he had not been worried by fear that saints had come on earth.
This calm old man from whose fibre of ambition the years had burned out selfishness, greed, graft, and chicanery was a different proposition. His words sounded as though he meant what he said. And when he asked the chairman if he had any objection to offer to a system of administration that carried out exactly what the party had put in its pledges to the people, Presson glowered at him with hatred in his soul and malice twinkling in his eyes, and could find no language that would not brand him as a conspirator against the honor of his State.
But he went back to headquarters swearing and sulking.
In this spirit did candidate and managers face the campaign.
It is not easy to hide family squabbles of that magnitude. The men concerned in the principal secret of the State Convention kept their mouths shut for the sake of self-preservation. But unquiet suspicion was abroad. The Democrats nosed, figured, guessed, and acted with more duplicity than had characterized their usual campaigns against the dominant party. Their leaders gave their party a platform that invited every one to get aboard. Every question was straddled. It was a document of craft expressed in terms of apparent candor. It elevated a demagogue as candidate for Governor, and promised every reform on the calendar. These were the rash pledges of the minority, more reckless than usual.
An united dominant party could have met the issues boldly and frankly without fear as to results.
But General Waymouth promptly discovered that he had a loyal army with rebel officers. He was soldier enough to understand the peril. He had more faith in the inherent, unorganized honesty of "The People" than Thelismer Thornton had. But, with just as shrewd political knowledge as the Duke, he held with him that the "The People" amount to mighty little as a force in politics unless well and loyally officered.
A campaign will not run itself. Left to run itself, the issues are not brought out to stir up the voting spirit. "The People" have to be poked into the fighting mood--their ears have to be scruffed--they need speakers, literature, marshals, inciters--hurrah of partisanship. It was the off year for the national campaign. No money came into the State from the Big Fellows.
The State Committee was looked to by the county and town committees to start the ball rolling and guarantee the purse to push it. "The People" were, as usual, too busy getting daily bread to be spontaneous in political movements.
General Waymouth sat in the old brick house in Burnside village, and did the best he could during the long hot days of July and the sultry first fortnight of August. Harlan Thornton worked with him. The library resounded with the click of typewriters, and men came and men went. But there was no up-and-moving spirit to the campaign.
An old man writing letters--even such an old man as General Varden Waymouth was in the estimation of his State--is a small voice in the wilderness of politics.
The Democrats had vociferous orators. Those orators had for text State extravagance, unjust taxation, and all the other charges "the unders" may bring against the reigning rulers. They were not answered on the stump. Even the Republican newspapers were listless and halfhearted.
At last came Thelismer Thornton. It was one afternoon in middle August, barely three weeks before the day of the State election in September. It was his first visit to the brick house in Burnside. He had been sojourning at the State capitol. Men had told Harlan, from time to time, that he was spending his days sitting on the broad veranda of Luke Presson's hotel, apparently enjoying the summer with the same leisurely ease that the State chairman was displaying. Men were sometimes inquisitive when they mentioned this matter to Harlan. They did not presume to ask questions of the General. But the young man had nothing to say. It must be confessed that he did not know anything about it.
He obeyed the instructions the General gave him and toiled as best he knew, but that the main campaign was hanging fire he did not realize. For the General, who knew politics, did not complain to him. The veteran was a little whiter, a bit more dignified, and directed the movements of his modest force of office assistants with a curtness he had not shown at first; but no other sign betrayed that he knew his State Committee had "lain down on him."
The Duke sauntered up the walk, whipping off his hat and swinging it in his hand as soon as he arrived under the trees of the old garden. He came into the house without knocking. The front door was swung inward, and only a screen door, on the latch, closed the portal.
"I'm making myself at home as usual, Vard," he said, walking to the General and stroking his shoulder as the veteran leaned over his table above his figures. "I've been waiting for an invitation to come up here. But I didn't dare to wait any longer. It's getting too near election."
General Waymouth looked up at his old friend, studying his face. He found only the bland cordiality of the ancient days.
"I've been waiting, myself, Thelismer," he returned. "And I'll add that I don't intend to wait much longer. I'm not referring to you, now. I refer to Presson and his gang. I presume you are still close to them. Will you inform them that I don't intend to wait much longer?"
Thornton did not lose his smile. He sat down. He nodded across the room to Harlan with as much nonchalance as though he had been seeing him every day.
"I would have run in before this, Varden, but somehow I got the impression from you and the boy that you were fully capable of operating things yourself. But with election only three weeks off I'm getting ready to change my mind. What are you going to do with that steer team--no, mule team--that's better?"
"Meaning?"
"Meaning Luke Presson and the members of the State Committee. I'm a politician, Varden. I'm out of a job just now. Both crowds of you seem to think you can get along all right without me. Probably you can. Luke knows
he can, so he says. He doesn't seem to like my management or my advice--not after that convention! But I can't help being a politician. I can't sit on that hotel piazza any longer and see this mess scorch. I'm too good a cook to stand it." He hitched forward in his chair and spoke low. "Varden, it sounds like the devil making a presentation copy of the Ten Commandments on asbestos, but I can't help that! I'm giving it to you straight. We've got body-snatchers for a State Committee. They'd rather see the Democrat the next Governor than you. That's how mad they are. That's how sure they are that you propose to put their noses to the grindstone. That's how rotten politics is in this State. The Democrat won't give us reform. They know it. They'd rather see the State officers go by the board than have the kind of reform you've promised 'em. They can get rid of their Democrat after two years. Your reform may hang on a good while, once get the laws chained. Now what are you going to do?"
"I know exactly what I'm going to do."
"Yes; but, grinning Jehosaphat, how much time have you got to do it in? Three weeks to election now!"
"This campaign, Thelismer, will be started, as it ought to be started, within the next twenty-four hours. As to how it will be started I'll have you present as a witness, if you'll accept an invitation."
The Duke was obliged to be contented with only that much assurance and information.
"There's a train back to the State capital in half an hour, Thelismer," the General stated. "I'll be pleased to have you go along with Harlan and myself. If you'll excuse me now, I'll finish signing these letters."
The old man was not disturbed by this abruptness. He rose.
"I reckon you know how to play the game, Vard," he said. "I'm perfectly satisfied, now that I know you are playing it. But you'll excuse me for being a little uneasy about your starting in."
He did not interrupt Harlan, who was busy at his desk. He picked up one of the newspapers that covered the General's table, and marched out into the garden.
He joined them when they came out. The General's old-fashioned carryall conveyed them to the railroad station. They made the journey to the capital without a word of reference to the purpose of their trip. Unobtrusively chatting about the old times, the Duke and his friend made their way back to their old footing. It was mutual forbearance and forgiveness, for they were old enough to be philosophers, and especially did they understand the philosophy of politics.
Chairman Presson was in his office at his hotel when they entered. He came out to greet General Waymouth, suave but circumspect, and furtively studied word and aspect of his visitor.
"Mr. Presson," said the General, breaking in upon the chairman's vague gossip regarding the political situation, "this is short notice, but I presume you can reach a few members of the State Committee by telephone. I wish to meet them and you at my rooms in the hotel at nine this evening. It is important."
They came. There were half a dozen of them--men who hurried in from such near points as the chairman could reach; and at the appointed hour Presson ushered them into the General's room. Harlan Thornton was waiting there with his chief. The Duke arrived in a few moments, alone. He sat down at one side of the room, bearing himself with an air of judicial impartiality. The chairman scowled at him. Judged by recent experience, Thelismer Thornton was a questionable quantity in a conference between the machine and General Waymouth.
The committeemen took their cue from the chairman. They were sullen. They bristled with an obstinacy that betrayed itself in advance.
The General got down to business promptly. It was not a gathering that invited any preamble of cheerful chat. He understood perfectly that the men were there only because they did not dare to stay away.
"Chairman Presson, it is now close upon the election. I have canvassed the State as best I could through the mails. With Mr. Harlan Thornton's assistance and through my friends in various towns, I have secured a pretty complete list of doubtful voters. I will say in passing that I have tried to enlist the help of your town committeemen, but they seem to be asleep. I have thanked God daily that I have personal friends willing to help me. I have the names at last. I have accomplished alone the work that is usually attended to by the State Committee."
Presson started to say something, but the General stopped him.
"One moment, Mr. Chairman. Let me tell you what
I have done. One of us at a time! When I've told you what I've done, you can tell me what
you've attended to. I have those names, I have pledges of support, I have plans for getting out the vote. But I have no literature for distribution to those doubtful voters, I have no speakers assigned by the State Committee to help the men who are trying to get the vote out, I have no fund provided for the usual expenses. Now I will listen to you, Mr. Chairman. Will you tell me what you have done?"
"It's an off year, General Waymouth," said Presson. "I asked the Congressional Committee for money, but I couldn't interest 'em. And I'll tell you frankly that the regular sources in this State are dry. There isn't the usual feeling. You're a good politician. Perhaps you know why it's so."
"You haven't answered my question, sir. I asked you what your State Committee has done."
"What is there we can do when every interest in this State sits back on its wallet like a hen squatting on the roost, and won't stand up and let go until some assurances are given out? It isn't my fault! I went to you! I laid the case down! You didn't give me anything to carry back to 'em."
"I'm here to talk business, Mr. Chairman. You are too vague."
"Well, I'll talk business, too." Presson snapped out of his chair. He stood up and wagged his finger. He was too angry to choose words or gloss brutal facts.
"You want to be Governor, don't you? You're asking men to support you and back you with money? That's what it amounts to. Campaign funds don't come down like manna--there's nothing heavenly about 'em--and you know it as well as I do, General. You've scared Senator Pownal's crowd with that anti-water-power-trust talk; they've got money to put into the legislature, but none for you. The corporations won't do anything; your tax commission talk has given them cold feet as far's you're concerned. Even the office-holders are sore; you've been talking about abolishing fees, and if that's the case they'd just as soon give up the offices. And where's your party, then? You say you're going to enforce the prohibitory law! I can get a little money out of the express companies, the jobbers in gallon lots, and the fellows that get the promise of the State liquor agency contracts. But the big wholesalers, the liquor men's associations, the retailers--the whole bunch that's got the real money and is willing to spend it haven't a cent for you--they'll even back the Democrat against you! You wanted business talk. There it is."
He strode up and down the centre of the room in agitation, and then sat down.
The other committeemen sighed with relief. Their chairman had said what they wanted to say, said it bluntly and boldly, and they were glad it was over.
"That is," drawled Thelismer Thornton, "the State Committee says, as the fork says to the cook: 'I'm willing to be used for all reasonable purposes, but not to pick your teeth with or pull out carpet tacks.'"
The pleasantry did not relieve the gloom.
"The State Committee can't do anything without money, General Waymouth," added the chairman, getting bolder as he allowed his rancor full play. "You've fixed it so that we can't get the money."
"Then the State Committee would be able to go ahead and do what it ought to do if I should assure Senator Pownal that he and his crowd may help themselves to the water-powers of this State--if I let the rumsellers sell and the office-holders filch? It's on those terms, is it, that I'm to get the help of the men the Republican party has selected as its executives?"
"That isn't a square way to put it," objected Mr. Presson, with heat. "I simply say it was all right to open this campaign with prayer, as we did at the State Convention, but as to carrying it through on the plane of a revival meeting, that's a different proposition! You've asked for business talk, General. I've given you straight business. You're asking something from some one else, just now. In politics it's nothing for nothing, and d--n-d little for a dollar! You know it just as well as I do. Now suppose we have some business talk from you!" There was a sneer in the last sentence.
General Waymouth swung one thin leg over the knee of the other. He leaned back in his chair. His elbow rested on the chair-arm, his fingers were set, tips on his chin, and over them he surveyed his listeners with calmness. He did not raise his voice. It was his mild manner that made what he said sound so balefully savage. Bluster would have weakened it.
"The legitimate expenses of a campaign are considerable, even when the party organization, from you, Mr. Presson, down to the humblest town committeeman, does full duty in time and effort. But if one has to buy it all, it needs a deep purse. From what you say, it is plain to me that I am now left to run my own campaign. I tell you very frankly, gentlemen, my means are limited. I have not made money out of politics. One course only is left open to me. I notify you that I shall issue a statement to the people of this State. I shall inform them that I have been abandoned by the State Committee and the party machine. I shall state the reasons very plainly. I shall say I am left to defeat because I refused to betray the people's interests. Then I shall appeal to the people as a whole--to Republicans and Democrats alike--for support at the polls. If there are enough honest men to elect me, very well. If the majority wants to hand the thing over to the looters and tricksters after the fair warning I give them, they will do so with their eyes open, and I'll accept the result and leave this State to itself."
Chairman Presson pushed himself slowly up out of his chair, his arms propping him, his face shoved forward.
"You mean to say, General Waymouth, that, being a Republican, a man who has had honors from our hands, you'll advertise your party management as crooks simply because we don't cut our own throats, politically and financially?"
"I say, I shall state the facts."
"Let me inform you that I've got a little publicity bureau of my own. I'll post you as a deserter and a sorehead. I'll fix it so you can't even throw your hat into the Republican party and follow in to get it. I'll--"
"One moment, Luke," broke in the elder Thornton. "For some weeks now, when things have come to a crisis, you have set yourself up as the whole Republican party of this State. But when you get to talking that way you represent it about as much as Parson Prouty represents the real temperance sentiment. There's quite a bunch of us who are not in the ramrodding business. General Waymouth is the nominee of our convention. No one has delegated to you the job of deciding on his qualifications. It's your job to go ahead and elect him. If you don't propose to do it, then resign."
"No, sir!" shouted Presson.
"Then get busy--collect a campaign fund and make these last three weeks hum! This is largely a matter between friends, right here now. I've told Vard what I think of him, and I haven't minced words. It's bad enough for a man to try to be absolutely honest in politics. That's where he's making his mistake. But he can get past with the people--they'll think it more or less bluff, anyway, even it's Varden Waymouth talking. But the kind of dishonesty you're standing for, Luke, won't get past. They'll ride you out of this State on a rail--and I'll furnish the rail."
"I'll furnish something more!" cried Harlan, unable to restrain himself any longer. "To-morrow morning I shall put ten thousand dollars into General Waymouth's campaign fund--my own money."
"You see, Luke," drawled the Duke, "it really looks as though Vard would be elected anyway. I might subscribe a little myself if only I had a rich grandfather, the same as Harlan has."
The unhappy chairman sat down in his chair again and struggled with his anger. He could not give it rein--he realized that. Party and personal interests were all jeopardized. But he knew he could not afford to have utter personal disgrace accompany his defeat. Desertion of the party candidate, if advertised in the fashion the General threatened, meant ruin of his name as well as his fortune. He could have sulked and excused himself, but there was no excuse for inaction after demand had been made upon him in this fashion.
There was silence in the room.
"Fellow up our way used to be a mighty good mule teamster," said Thelismer Thornton, tipping his great head back into clasped hands, and gazing meditatively at the ceiling. "Had a gad for the wheel mules, whip for the swing team, and a pocketful of rocks for the leaders. One day the rocks gave out just as the wagon sunk into a honey-pot on a March road. But being a good teamster, he yanked out his pipe and threw it at the nigh leader just at the critical second. Sparks skated from crupper to mane along the mule's back, and he gave a snort and a heave, and away they went."
Chairman Presson, deep in his trouble, was disgusted by this levity, and growled under his breath.
"If a fellow had been off ahead of the team with a bag of oats perhaps the pipe wouldn't have been needed," pursued the Duke, meditatively. "Anyway, gentlemen, I'll tell you what I'll do. I've been waiting to be called on for my contribution for the fund, but for some reason business hasn't been started in this campaign as soon as I hoped. Harlan was a little excited just now. I think, seeing that the State Committee is now going to take hold of the campaign, he'll be able to get out of it a little cheaper. A lot of the other boys will chip when they're asked. For the Thornton family I lead off subscriptions with a pledge of five thousand dollars. I'm that much interested in seeing my--my original choice for Governor elected by a good majority."
Presson got up, and stamped down his trousers legs.
"I know when I'm licked," he admitted. "And I've been licked in the whole seventeen rounds of this campaign. Look here, General Waymouth, I'm done fighting. I simply throw myself on your mercy. I know how you feel toward me. But I've got just this to say: it's a poor tool of a man that won't fight for his own interests and his friends. I've done it. And I'm no more of a renegade than the usual run of the men who have to play politics for results. I don't believe you are going to get results, General. But that's neither here nor there. There's no more squirm left in me. I'll take hold of this campaign and elect you. If there's any crumbs coming to me after that, all right! I'm at your mercy."
"I tell you again I've no time or inclination for petty revenge. That is not my nature." General Waymouth was as cold and calm as inexorable Fate itself. "I accept your pledge, Chairman Presson. Not one interest of yours that is right will suffer at my hands. On the other hand, not one interest that is wrong will be protected. It's simply up to you!"
"I don't suppose you care to go over the plans with me to night?"
"I shall ask you to confer with Mr. Harlan Thornton on all matters. He knows my wishes and plans. He will remain here at headquarters as my representative."
If the chairman felt that he was being put under guard and espionage, his face did not betray it. He took leave of the General, and escorted out his associate committeemen.
"Reminds me of the time Uncle Stote Breed went with the boys on a fishing-trip," remarked the Duke, after they were gone. "They ate the sardines out of the tin before Uncle Stote got in off the pond, and put in raw chubs they'd been using for live bait. Uncle Stote ate 'em all. 'Boys, your ile is all right,' said he, when he cleaned 'em out, 'but it seems to me your leetle fish is a mite underdone.' But Luke will eat anything you hand him after this, Vard."
He took his grandson by the arm, and started him toward the door.
"Let the General get to bed," he advised, jocosely. "He ought to have pleasant dreams to-night."
Harlan expected that his grandfather would have some rather serious talk for his ear. But he merely remarked, leaving him at the door of his room: "If you keep on, son, I'll be passed down to posterity simply as 'Harlan Thornton's grandfather.'" _