Watch Yourself Go By

A >> Al. G. Field >> Watch Yourself Go By

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38

Every out of town guest, (Shriners) had lost something from their rooms.
Harrison Dingman was tugging at an odd pair of shoes, a number eight
and a ten, to get ready for the automobile tour. Bill Brown was
everywhere consoling the losers, making notes of the losses pretending
he wanted to bring suit against the hotel.

Alfred and Clayton were hustled into an automobile under Brown's tender
care. As the auto sped on, Clayton remonstrated as to the high speed at
which the machine was traveling. Brown was describing the Carnegie
Technical School. Clayton, seemingly not interested, bluntly informed
Bill he would not ride further at the speed we're going. "I'm too damn
good a man to get killed by one of these machines," declared Clayton.

Brown pretended his feelings were injured. Halting the auto as he
climbed out backwards, he remarked: "I don't want to annoy you,
gentlemen. The educational institution we are now passing is one of the
most noted in the world. I supposed you'd be interested in it. It is one
of which Pittsburghers are justly proud. We take a young man from the
home, pass him through this school and turn him out versed in any
profession or trade."

Clayton said something about an institution in St. Joe that took a hog
from the pen every minute, passed him through and turned him out every
minute, ready for the table. Clayton referred to St. Joe's slaughter
houses.

After Brown left the auto there was no slacking of its speed. Both
Alfred and Clayton remonstrated with the chauffer. He claimed they were
not traveling nearly so rapidly as the machines containing the other
guests; that he did not know their destination and must keep in sight of
them. As Clayton was insisting that the auto be halted, a policeman
threw up his hands, commanding the chauffer to halt, advising all they
were arrested for exceeding the speed limit. Clayton quickly informed
the officers that we were guests, not the owners of the machine; that we
had protested since we entered the park at the high speed; that we were
not to blame and should not be arrested. "I'm not here in Pittsburgh to
break laws that I instruct my officers to enforce. I am the Mayor of St.
Joe and I won't stand for this arrest."

"St. Joe, St. Joe," mused the Irish policeman, "well, uv course, I have
no authority to turn yez loose. There may be a St. Joe but I haven't
heered uf it. There's so meny new korporations springing up around yere,
I exshpect Coryopolis will be havin' a Mayor next an' he'll come in the
city an' want to have immunity fur any crime he may commit. No, you
nabobs wid dese automobiles must be held in check. Ye kilt two
shill-dren and a hog out uv wan family last week."

[Illustration: "It's Done Every Day in St. Joe"]

Clayton led the officer behind the machine. Alfred overheard him offer
the cop two dollars and to set them up to turn the pair loose. "It's
done every day in St. Joe," Clayton confided. The officer shook his head
and remarked:

"I'll have tu take yez down. Get in!" and he pointed with his club to
the open door of the machine. "Climb in! I'll let yez talk to the
sargent." The Mayor of St. Joe and the meek minstrel re-embarked. The
officer sat up beside the chauffer, Clayton slinging it into him every
foot of the way to the station.

There was a crowd outside the door. "Phwat are they pinched fur?"
inquired a ward politician who had a pull, and consequently got a reply
from the cops. "Exceedin' the spheed law in the park," replied the
officer. "They're from out of town, are they?" "Yis," answered the cop.
"The big one claims he's the Mayor of St. Joseph's Academy, er some
other place. The other one has thryed to hide hisself in his overcoat."

They were in front of the Sergeant's desk. Alfred whispered to Clayton:
"Give a fictitious name." Clayton was arguing the case with the
Sergeant. "My name's Clayton. This is Mr. Field, Al. G. Field, of
minstrel fame. He lives in Columbus, Ohio, right near you. He is the
Potentate of Aladdin Temple, Columbus."

[Illustration: "It Will Cost Us Fifty Dollars and Costs"]

"Hold on, Pet, hold on," pleaded Alfred, "I--I--"

"Never mind, Alfred, never mind. Now, I'm the Mayor of a city. I know
just how to handle these matters."

"Well, don't give them my name and pedigree. Handle it without that,"
requested Alfred.

"Put them both together in cell twenty-three and send for the Bertillon
officers. I think you'll find their mugs in the Hall of Fame." Clayton
advised Alfred the Hall of Fame had reference to the Rogue's Gallery.

Clayton clamored for an opportunity to telephone the Chief of Police,
the Director of Public Safety, or some other high mogul. "If I was in
St. Joe, I'd be out of here in two minutes," he excitedly declared.

"Of course you would," assented Alfred, "but you're not in St. Joe.
You're in jail in Pittsburgh, a shake-down town, and it will cost us
fifty and costs, you see if it don't."

"Not on your life it won't. Let me get this fellow on the phone. What's
his name? I met him last night. I'll tell him something," said Clayton.

"Do you know him?" meekly inquired Alfred.

"Know him? Hell? Why, I'm well acquainted with him. I had fifty drinks
with him last night."

"Well, telephone him quick," urged Alfred.

"Hello, hello! This is Clayton, Clayton, C-l-a-y-t-o-n, Clayton. I met
you last night. (Ha-ha-ha). How do you feel? (Oh, all right). Where am I
at? No, no! Pet Clayton, Mayor of St. Joe, Imperial Potentate of
the--hello--gurgle--gurgle," and Pet hung up the phone. "Well, don't
that beat the bugs! Now this fellow knows me but he says he must see me.
He only met me last night, he isn't familiar with my voice. I told him
who I was but he said I might be all right, but he would come out and
investigate."

"It seems to me Bill Brown would come back looking for us. You're the
guest of honor."

This reminder riled Clayton up. "I'll attend to Mr. Brown's case. I put
him where he is. I'll show him something next session of the Imperial
Council."

Just then the jailer thrust a thin loaf of bread part ways between the
bars. Alfred and Pet gazed at the bread as it stuck there. In a moment
the man sat a thin can of water beside the bread. Clayton endeavored to
bribe him to go to a restaurant and bring some real refreshments.

"Phwat wud yez like to eat?"

"Oh, Old Crow or Joe Finch's 'Golden Wedding.'"

"Oh, yez'll git none of those things out here. They wudn't know how to
cook them if they had 'em. Yez'd better have some corned beef and
cabbage. No, this is Friday, yez can't get that. Salt mackerel is the
bhest I can do for yez the day."

Clayton pinched off a crust, with the remark: "I'll eat your bread but
damned if I drink your water."

Clayton swore he could buy the police, the police station, the police
department or anything else in Pittsburgh, but he wouldn't be shook
down. He had endeavored to bribe everyone he came in contact with, but
all refused to accept, even the policeman. Pet confidentially informed
Alfred, as they sat in the dark, dismal cell, that he knew there wasn't
a straight man in Pittsburgh; that being Mayor of St. Joe he had got
next to all the grafting cities in the country. "I will admit to you,
and you are the first man I ever breathed it to, there is a little, very
little, grafting going on in St. Joe." Pet had Pittsburgh people sized
up right, but he applied St. Joe prices and they were rejected.

The old janitor seemed to be taken up greatly with the two prisoners.
"Yez belongs to some kind of a sacret society, don't yez?" he inquired.

Clayton straightened up to his full height. "Yes, we belong to the
Ancient Arabic Order Nobles of the Mystic Shrine of North America." Pet
rolled off the lengthy title so rapidly the old fellow was astounded.
Resting his hands on the cell bars, he gazed admiringly at Clayton fully
a half minute, ere he asked: "Are yez Pope of it?" Later it developed
the janitor was a captain of police, also a Shriner. He played his part
well.

When Bill Brown and McCandless arrived they almost came to blows. Bill
swore they were disgraced. Bill endeavored to borrow the fifty dollar
fine from both Clayton and Alfred. Failing, he borrowed, or pretended to
borrow the amount from McCandless. Clayton and Alfred were liberated,
loaded into an auto, the chauffer ordered to drive slowly to the Work
House. When Clayton and Alfred stepped on to the veranda, the doors were
flung open. On each side of the long tables there was a row of red
fezzes. Under each a Shriner. There was a welcome, and such a welcome as
could only be extended by those who at one time or another have been the
victims of Bill Brown's practical jokes.

To those who are not intimate with Bill Brown, his sense of humor may
appear forced. But his pranks are only the over-flowing exuberance of a
great, big, fun-loving man--a big body--but scarcely big enough to
contain a heart so filled with love for his fellow man. Alvah P. Clayton
thanked the committee, thanked Bill Brown, thanked the police for their
kindly consideration in placing him in jail. He stated that visiting the
city in his official capacity, he had concluded the duties that called
him to Pittsburgh, that he carried on his person money and valuables
representing thousands of dollars. He was compelled to remain in the
city all day and he felt much safer in jail than loose on the streets of
Pittsburgh.

We love men like Bill Brown and Pet Clayton because they are lovable
men. Happy is the man who has that in his soul that acts upon the
dejected mortal as April showers upon violet roots.

Bill Brown has a motto worked on brass, with steel fish-hooks. It hangs
over the mantelpiece in his home, and reads:

"I am an old man; my troubles are many, but most of them never
happened."

Alfred has added to this motto: "They mostly happened to others."

Uncle Madison never could understand why Alfred was indifferent as to
his arrest. He never could appreciate the sense of humor that influenced
Alfred to go to jail for a joke.

Uncle Madison, while on a visit to Alfred, read in the Columbus papers
of the different classes of people composing its citizenship. "You have
the upper class, the middle class, the lower class." When Uncle Madison
was asked if the people of Virginia were not designated by classes, he
replied: "No sir! No sir! We only have one class of people in
Virginia--the high class. All the others are Republicans."

Uncle Madison declares this is the age of shriek and frenzy, the
over-zealous, ambitious politician who gets his ideas from history,
going back a little further than most people read, puts them forward as
his own.

"The majority of folks, in this the best of countries, believe that the
founders of it, knew just about what they were doing when they made out
the plans and specifications. If you will read the writings of
Jefferson, you will find them as applicable to present conditions as
they were the day they were written.

"Alfred I hope you won't be bamboozled by the ravings of demagogues, who
constantly preach about the wrongs of the people. You'll find the wrongs
that influence them are their own imaginary wrongs. The founders of this
country provided for the righting of all wrongs. We can right any wrong
at the ballot box. We do not require any new-fangled, or rather
old-fangled, ideas warmed over. The man who advocates the so-called
Referendum, the Initiative, and particularly, the Recall, is a traitor
to the true principles of government as established by our forefathers.
We have lived and thrived for more than a hundred years under the best
form of government ever devised. If we want to preserve it, if we desire
to perpetuate our institutions, the demagogue, the mountebanking
politician must be squelched. They ruined every republic of the ancient
world and if we don't throttle them they'll ruin ours.

"The self-seeking demagogue starts out with the captivating doctrine,
the rule of the people, but his end will be the dangerous despotism of
one man rule--the rule of himself. Could you or any reasoning man who
has followed the demagogues of this country, for a moment doubt that any
one of them, on the slightest pretext or opportunity would make a despot
that would shade those of the old world?

"The initiative, the referendum and the recall lend themselves to the
demagogues' schemes, and they call it progressiveness. Nothing in
government could be more reactionary. It was tried in Greece and it
failed. It was tried in ancient Rome and it failed. The political party
that's 'agin' the recall, the referendum and the initiative, will win
and it deserves to win.

"Socialism, in theory, is a most beautiful dream, an illusion.
Socialism, as it is practiced by the discontented and turbulent, is
about as near anarchy as we can get. See what they have done wherever
they have obtained a foothold. It's un-American; it's unpatriotic; it is
against all that a patriotic American citizen holds most sacred. Despite
the demagogues who have brought about these conditions, those who love
this country, respect its laws and appreciate the advantages it offers
to every man willing to work, will triumph. The evolution will never
come to revolution.

"The Romans, two thousand years ago, experienced the same troubles we
are having. There is a fable comparing the corporeal body to the body
politic. Once upon a time the feet became discontented and struck. They
refused to be walked upon longer. The legs noted the dissatisfaction of
the feet. Although they never had cause for complaint before, they said:
'Well, we will quit also. We will refuse to carry the body around
longer.' The stomach said: 'Well, I can't digest food if you refuse to
work, so I'll just quit also; besides, I've been working all these years
for that aristocrat, the brain. I am down under the table doing the work
while the brain is enjoying the wit and gaiety. I want to be up where he
is. The brain has been the master long enough.' The brain became
stubborn: 'All well and good for you. If that is the manner in which you
look upon your duties; if you feel that you have been imposed upon, go
your way. I refuse to think for you further.'

"The feet stubbed their toes; their course was irregular; they stepped
on broken glass; they swelled up as large as watermelons. The legs, illy
nourished, not clothed, became weak and rheumatic, gave way altogether.
The stomach, not receiving food, began to ache and cramp. The brain was
suffering from the ills that had befallen the stomach, the limbs and the
feet. The misery became general. The entire body was suffering, and its
sufferings had weakened it greatly.

"After a while they all concluded their only hope to live happily was
that one should depend upon the other. It was decided the brain should
run things; but the ills brought upon the body had caused so much
suffering that it required a length of time until all recovered the
condition they were in before the strike--as we will call it. All agreed
the brain should have all the powers as before but must consider the
other parts of the body as of greater importance than heretofore. This
the brain had learned, and further that they were all necessary parts of
one great body. And thus they all concluded to go to work together.
After the brain put food into the stomach, clothes on the legs, healed
the wounds of the feet, it found its sufferings had ceased. The brain
learned it must take good care of all parts of the body or it would
suffer. Neither one could long exist without the aid of the other.

"God needs all kinds of people in this world. Some represent the brain,
others the stomach, more the feet and legs. As Abraham Lincoln said:
'God must love the common people: He made so many of them.'

"Along comes the demagogue. In his zeal to gratify vainglorious
ambitions, he endeavors to convince the common people that confusion
and agitation will right their wrongs.

"They quote from Abraham Lincoln. Let me ask you to compare their
speeches and appeals with those of Abraham Lincoln. Do you remember any
speech of these modern demagogues in which they have told the common
people that they were living in the best country in the world? That
they, the common people, had it in their power to relieve themselves of
their few wrongs? Do you ever remember one of them telling the dear
common people that good government was essential to prosperity? That it
was a higher honor to be governed in a republic like ours, than to live
in any other country?

"Every human being begins life under control and there is not one in a
thousand that ever should live, only under control. Three-fourths of the
people in this world never knew they were counted until they get into a
mob.

"The demagogues array their hearers against wealth. They leave the
impression that all who are so fortunate as to possess a little more of
this world's goods than the poorest, are dishonest; that it is
dishonorable to be of the moneyed class. They never tell the people it
is but natural and necessary that some should be richer than others.
These conditions have always prevailed and could only be changed by a
gross violation of rights, held inviolate since the beginning of
civilization. Since the world began, industry and frugality have been
rewarded by wealth.

"These demagogues never tell the people that the opportunities are ever
open that have made others rich. They never tell the boys growing up
that ten or twenty years hence, they the boys of today, will be the
business men, the moneyed class of this country.

"To be prosperous is not to be superior. Wealth should form no barrier
between men. The only distinction that should be recognized is as
between integrity and corruption.

"The present day fads are only the revival of the brain throbs of
demagogues gone before. Read Jewett's translation of politics.
Aristotle, who dealt wisely with many momentous questions, designated
the initiative, referendum and recall, as the fifth form of democracy,
in which not the law but the multitude, have the superior power and
supersede the law by their decrees. Homer says that 'it is not good to
have a rule of many.'

"As I said before, there will be no revolution. The patriotic people of
this country will attend to this. But we will be compelled to do a
little deporting and perhaps a little disciplining. The American people
will attend to this sooner or later. The red flag has no place in this
country. Curb the trusts, curtail combinations in restraint of trade,
let all men get an even start in the race and the deserving will win. I
am not a rich man; I'm a poor man. I've worked all my life. I am happy
and contented. Insofar as riches are concerned, I would like to possess
them, but damned if I want them if I've got to rob others who have
labored more diligently and with more intelligence than I have."

"Now, Uncle Madison, what's your cure for the political and social
upheavals?"

"Patriotism, loyalty to our country, to our flag, to our institutions,
to the principles that have made us what we are."

"Uncle Madison, you were a Confederate soldier."

"Yes, and I'm proud of it. I fought for what I believed to be right. We
of the south lived under conditions that had grown upon us, been forced
upon us; I refer to slavery. I'm not defending slavery, I'm glad it's
done, but we had lived under a government that guaranteed to protect our
rights and property. No matter if slavery was wrong--was it right for
one-half of the people of a country to insist the other half impoverish
themselves--give up all their possessions?

"Slavery was handed down to us and--well, there's nothing in threshing
this matter over; slavery was the cause of the war, the negro was the
issue. If the negro had been a commercial product in the north there
would have been no war. The south lost because it was ordained they
should lose. That does not lessen my pride in the fact that I fought for
the cause I thought was right; we were right in the fact that we fought
for the property this government promised to protect us in, and that's
just what the north would have done if conditions had been reversed."

"Uncle Madison, do you believe in the majority rule?"

"The majority, if you mean the greater number of people, never did rule
and never will. It's the few that does the thinking, does the ruling.
Why, my boy, there are times in our lives when God and one are a
majority."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Mornin' little dreamer
With sunshine in your eyes,
The stars were talking to you
Ere they left the brightening skies.

"The Care of Children, by Dr. Holt," is the title of the book by which
the baby is being reared. On the care of feeding bottles it recommends:
"When the baby is done it must be unscrewed and put in a cool place
under a tap. If the baby does not thrive, it must be boiled."

[Illustration: An Evening at Maple Villa]

Hattie remarked afterwards she "never reckoned the poor, measley little
thing would stay with us." _It was_ little, _it was_ puny, but it
brought a happiness into the household never before experienced--brought
a happiness into the lives of Uncle Al and Aunt Tillie--that only those
who love children and have never been blessed with them can appreciate.

Alfred with his usual assurance undertook to instruct the family,
including the doctor and the nurse as to how the baby should be
handled--yes, that's the term he used, "handled." Aunt Tillie reminded
him the baby was not a colt. He was advised that the old fashioned way
of nursing babies was obsolete. He was not permitted to up-de-doo baby,
that is, throw him up and catch him coming down, notwithstanding he
asserted this was the only way to prevent a baby from becoming
liver-grown; nor would Miss Liston or Pearl the mother, permit Alfred to
kiss the baby on the mouth. Miss Liston asserted that kissing was most
dangerous in spreading microbes and germs; therefore, the baby must not
be kissed on the mouth.

"All right, little baby," Alfred would say, "I can kiss his little
tootsie ootsies."

"Please don't kiss his foot," appealingly pleaded Pearl. "Please don't
kiss his foot, he might put it in his mouth."

"I kissed you on the mouth a thousand times when you was a baby, and I'm
living yet," snapped Alfred.

[Illustration: Field]

Baby cried at night. Alfred declared it was unnecessary to lose sleep on
account of a baby crying. All required was a cradle. Every person that
expected to rear a baby should have a cradle.

Alfred visited every furniture store in the city. Not one had a cradle.
Few understood what they were. One young clerk advised that his
grandfather in the country, near Alfred's farm had one and he had heard
the grandfather say his father before him had used it.

Alfred sent his colored man, Doc Blair, to borrow or buy the cradle.

The cradle was borrowed. The man did not care to sell it. He sent the
wagon to get the cradle.

"Hide it in the barn until I return; I want to introduce baby to it.
This will prevent his crying at night, that is so wearing on his mother
and so irritating to Aunt Tillie, and leg-breaking to his daddy."

He explained to Hattie, who knew all about babies. Hattie just smiled:
"You just rock him to and fro and he will go to sleep any time. You
can't raise a baby without a cradle, it is impossible."

"Bring in the cradle," was Alfred's command to Doc Blair.

"Mister Field, you can't bring that thing in hyar. Some of you all will
get your legs cut off. You can't get it through the door nohow. We
couldn't get it in the top wagon. We had to take the farm wagon."

[Illustration]

On the lawn near the front door reposed an old fashioned cradle for
reaping grain, such as farmers used before the horsepower reapers came
into use--a hand cradle with rusty scythe and hickory fingers.

Alfred called at a cabinet maker's and ordered a cradle made to order.
The rockers must be pointed and have plenty of circle so it would not
overset easily. The German agreed to have the cradle completed by
Saturday.

Sunday was selected as the day to introduce baby Field to the soothing
influence of a cradle. Alfred advised "All you have to do is sit near
it. You can read or sew. Just gently push the cradle with your foot. You
can have a rope reaching to your bed. If the baby gets restless at night
all you have to do is hold on to the rope."

Alfred insisted that Eddie, the father, learn to sing the old nursery
song, the inspiration of which was the sugar trough cradle Alfred was
rocked in:

Rock-a-bye baby on the tree top,
When the wind blows the cradle will rock;
When the bow bends cradle will fall,
Down comes baby, cradle and all.

Pearl claims it was the singing of this lullaby or the attempts of Eddie
to sing it, that spoiled Field's disposition.

The cabinet maker certainly misunderstood Alfred's specifications as to
the construction of the cradle. Aunt Tillie declared she would not have
it in the house. Pearl named it "Noah's Ark." When baby was laid in the
cradle he appeared as but a speck. When Alfred essayed to rock it to
show the others how, baby howled with fear. Alfred swore if they had
known anything or consulted him they would have ordered the cradle
before the baby came, put him into it on arrival, then he would have
gotten used to it by this time. "Now you'll have trouble breaking him to
the cradle. Every baby should be cradle-broke as soon as they are born."
Aunt Tillie again reminded Alfred the baby was not a colt.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38