The Confessions Of A Reformer
Frederic C. Howe
[Part 3 of 11]
CHAPTER 9 / UPLIFTING
...I was invited to become one of the trustees of the Charity
Organization Society, an institution of which its members were
infinitely proud. It was putting charity on a new basis. It had
scoured the country for an efficient secretary and was organized
like a business corporation. Through it questionable private
charities were being frozen out. Without credentials they found it
difficult to collect funds; periodical accountings were demanded
from them.[p.76]
...I began to have a dislike for our complacent reports and
statistics of unworthy cases. Investigations into men's habits
irritated me. I knew quite well that if I put in twelve hours in the
rolling-mills I should more likely than not drop into a saloon
afterward. If I were down and out, I should live as other men had to
live in the tumble-down shacks and lodgin-houses under the hill,
where the beds were kept warm twenty- four hours in the day by the
turnover in the steel-mills on the flats.[p.79]
...I could not forget [Doctor Tuckerman's] suggestion that
organized charity was designed to get the poor out of sight, and
that there would be no need of charity if the men who supported the
society paid better wages and protected the workers by safety
devices in the mills.[p.79]
CHAPTER 10 / BEER AND SKITTLES
...when I was in the city council, I introduced the legislation
that committed the city to the project, and Cleveland has since
carried through a monumentai planning enterprise. It purchased a
great stretch of land, running from the business centre to the lake
front. The land was planned by an expert commission with sunken
gardens and parking, with a wide mall running down the centre.
Flanking the mall a city hall, county court-house, federal building,
public library, and convention auditorium have been erected, with a
Federal Reserve bank building not far distant. A uniform style of
architecture and a uniform sky line insured harmony and unity of
effect in this splendid attempt at city-building.[p.82]
CHAPTER 11 / I ENTER POLITICS
The [Cleveland] Municipal Association had stuck to the fight
against the [street-railway] franchise although some of the members
were uncomfortable in doing so. It seemed to identify them with
radicals and with the rather primitive methods that radicals
employed, such as the spectacular "petitions in boots"
which the people organized. Every Monday evening the petitioners
came early to the council-chamber with clothes-lines in their hands,
and taking front seats in the galleries they hung nooses over the
heads of the councilmen under suspicion. They gathered round them as
they left the council-chamber; even children were taught to cry
shame at the children of suspected fathers and call them
grafters.[p.86]
I had written a pamphlet analyzing the proposed franchise and
condemning its terms, which was printed and distributed broadcast by
the association. It showed that the street-railway earnings were
increasing at the rate of ten per cent a year and that in
twenty-five years the franchise grant would be worth twenty million
dollars. The pamphlet made a sensation when it appeared. ...[p.86]
The pamphlet helped to arouse public sentiment; the petitions in
boots frightened the councilmen. And the franchise was temporarily
defeated.[p.87]
That was the political situation in Cleveland in the spring of
1901, when rumors began to circulate that Tom L. Johnson planned to
return to Cleveland from New York to run for mayor on the Democratic
ticket. I had heard about Tom Johnson ever since I had been in the
city. He was a dramatic personality; every one had a story about
him. I knew about his life what every one knew: that he had come to
Cleveland as a young man with no capital and had bought out an old
horse-car line of no particular value on the west side, thereby
coming into conflict with Mark Hanna, who looked upon the west side
of the city as his own. He and his brother Albert had driven their
own cars and collected fares. When he wanted to extend his car-line
into the public square, he went before a Republican council and
promised to carry passengers over his entire system for a single
fare. The extension was granted in the teeth of Mark Hanna's
opposition. In time he was recognized by other street-railway
magnates; and he induced them to form a consolidation, capitalized
far in excess of the capitalization of the constituent companies.
Then he sold out his holdings and went to Brooklyn, where he
repeated the operation. He repeated it again in Detroit and
Philadelphia. He acquired steel-mills in Johnstown, Pa., and Lorain,
Ohio, and sold them out to the Steel Trust. He had made most of his
money by stock manipulations of this kind and was reputed to be many
times a millionaire. He had a palatial home on Euclid Avenue, where
he entertained generously.[p.87]
AIthough he was an intimate friend of many of the rich people of
Cleveland, he was distrusted because of his unusual opinions and the
apparent discrepancy between his social position and the things he
advocated. He was a Democrat and an absolute free-trader. He had
been elected to Congress by advocating free trade in a city in the
heart of the iron and steel district. He had advocated it in
Congress, protesting against a protective tariff on iron and steel,
which he said would at-id new millions to his wealth for which
others would have to pay. He advocated the public ownership of
street railways, although he had made most of his fortune out of
them. ...[p.88]
Odd among other oddities was the fact that Henry George had Iived
with him in Washington. Protection and Free Trade had been written
by Henry George as a series of speeches which Mr. Johnson delivered
in Congress. They were then reprinted in pamphlet form by the
Government Printing Office, and a million copies distributed by Mr.
Johnson under his congressional frank.[p.88]
When I heard one day that this puzzling, contradictory,
much-talked-of Tom Johnson had arrived and would announce his
candidacy that evening at the Hollenden House, I freed myself from
engagements and was there at eight o'clock. ...[p.88]
...He had permanently given up the making of money, he said, and
had come back from New York to run for mayor. He had sold out all
his railways and his iron and steel plants, and intended to devote
the rest of his life to politics. He talked about the city. The
steam railroads had gotten possession of the lake front and held it
illegally. The lake-front land was worth millions of dollars. The
city was contesting the railroad occupancy in the United States
courts, where the case had lain for a dozen years. Mayor Farley was
attempting to Jam legislation through the council to validate these
illegal holdings. In addition, he was doing everything he could to
give the street railways a very valuable franchise; a franchise, Mr.
Johnson said, worth many millions of dollars. He knew how much it
was worth, because he had been in the street-railway business and
had made millions out of just such franchise grants. He told how he
had gone before the city council when seeking a grant for his
company, and had said to the council that it was foolish for the
city to give away such franchises. He had urged that the public
should own the street railways and operate them, Just as the
water-works were operated, but if the city insisted on being
foolish, he hoped it would be foolish to him. As a business man he
had made money out of the city's stupidity.[pp.89-90]
...I could see why my friends distrusted him. Was he as candid and
honest as he seemed, or was he using his frankness merely as a
political blind? I was at sea. Everybody said that the city needed a
business man's administration, and Mr. Johnson was certainly an
eminent business man. But he was not going at it the way I felt he
should. He did not seem to be a reformer. He was not indignant
enough. He said nothing about waste and extravagance; about bad men;
about poiiticians; about the spoils system. He made no personal
attacks on any one. He seemed not to have a high opinion of the kind
of men on whom I counted to save democracy. He held a cigar in his
hand while he spoke and went away with a crowd of riotous
politicians. He was not at all like my picture of the business man
who was to redeem politics.[p.90]
...[A] few days later something happened to divert my attention
from [Tom Johnson] and centre it on my own affairs. One evening a
group of men called on me at the University Club. Some of them I
knew by name; they were residents of the brownstone ward in which
the club was situated, the same ward that had sent [my friend]
Morris Black to the council. They came to ask me to run as
Republican candidate for the council. They promised me support,
management of my campaign, funds, everything needful. They spoke of
the disclosures of corruption in the city government ... They
reminded me that as secretary of the Municipal Association I had
been appealing to other men to organize, to clean up the city, and
hinted that there was a moral obligation on me not to refuse the
candidacy offered. The situation, they implied, was one that
demanded sacrifices.[pp.90-91]
I put them off for a day, talked to my law partners, reflected
that I could not afford the expense or the distraction of
campaigning, but waited eagerly for the gentlemen to reappear the
next evening, and, when they came, consented to run. I liked being
called from my law practice as Cincinnatus was called from the
fields by the old Romans, liked being thought "a good citizen."
And I was eager again to take part in the renaissance of politics
which I felt was coming; the renaissance started by Morris Black and
myself.[p.91]
I plunged into the campaign whole-heartedly. ...I was out every
night, making speeches in the saloons, visiting from house to house,
as Black and I had done in his campaign. I spent more money than I
could afford, but much more was being spent by some one else for my
election. The other candidate spent more than we did, and that was
comforting; moreover, I argued that one must beat the devil with his
own tools. I had my photograph taken in a frock coat, and liked to
see it on telegraph-poles, in shops, and in the windows of private
homes. I looked thoroughly the good citizen. To my surprise, I found
that many of the ward politicians were working for me. ...[pp.91-92]
...The risk of being dirtied by politics had to be taken; the
sacrifice involved in running for office had to be made. And I was
proud to have been selected by my friends, by the good people of my
district, to make the sacrifice.[p.93]
But the riddle of Tom Johnson remained. When I could spare time
from my own campaigning, I went to his meetings. He would go to a
Republican meeting and ask permission to talk from the same platform
with the Republican candidate for mayor. When permission was denied
him, the crowd followed him out into the street, almost emptying the
hall. One night he talked about poverty, about how to be rid of it.
He said that society should be changed not by getting good men into
office, but by making it possible for all men to be good. He said
that most men would be reasonably good if they had a chance. We had
evil in the world because people were poor. The trouble was not with
people it was with poverty. Poverty was the cause of vice and crime.
It was social conditions that were bad rather than people. These
conditions could be changed only through politics.[p.93]
This bothered me, as did most of his speeches. Surely some people
were good, while others were bad. My classifications were simple.
Roughly, the members of the University Club and the Chamber of
Commerce were good; McKisson, Bernstein, and the politician were
bad. The bad were commonly in power; they held offices and
controlled elections. They did not do their work well and were paid
very much more than they should receive. ...[p.93]
...The way to change this vicious circle, I thought, was to get
the good people to form committees in each ward as had been done in
my own. If these committees nominated men who would go out and fight
the politicians, if we gave enough thought to politics -- as we were
under a moral obligation to do -- we should drive out the spoilsmen.
It was all quite clear to me and very simple. It was the choice
between the good and the bad.[p.94]
But here was a man [Tom L. Johnson] who said that bad people were
not bad; they were merely poor and had to fight for a living. They
got an easier living out of politics than they did working twelve
hours a day in the steel-mills. So they went into politics. And
being in the majority, they won out.[p.94]
I resented what Mr. Johnson said resented too the issues he
ignored. ...He was an enemy of my opinions, of my education, of my
superior position. It hurt my ego, my self-respect, to be told that
I was really not much better than the politician and that my class
was not as important as I thought it was.[p.94]
He often referred to Progress and Poverty, which I had
read at the university. I had laid it aside, saying to myself: That
is the most interesting book on political economy I have ever read.
What Henry George says seems to be true. But it must be false. Such
a simple explanation of the wrongs of society and the way to correct
them cannot be right. If it were, every one would have accepted the
reform as soon as the book was published and we should have had the
single tax long ago.[p.95]
I finally called on Mr. Johnson at his office. I wanted to be
assured of his sincerity. We talked a long time. Among other things,
I told him about reading Progress and Poverty, of how I had been
unable to answer the arguments but was convinced that it must be
wrong.
He smiled and told me his own story.
"Years ago," he said, "when I was a young man Just
getting started in the street-railway business, I was coming up from
Indianapolis to Cleveland on the Big Four Railroad. The "butcher"
-- as they called the man who sold books on the train -- came along
with a bundle of books on his arm. The conductor passed at the same
moment, and taking a book from the pile, he said: 'Mr. Johnson, I
think you would like this book. It: is called Social Problems, by
Henry George."
"I looked at the book and returned it. Thinking it was a
treatise on prostitution, I said I was not interested in social
problems.
"'It isn't that kind of book,' the conductor said. 'It deals
with your kind of business -- with street-railroads,
steam-railroads, adn the land question.'[p.95]
"I bought the book and read it. I read it a second time. Then
I took it to Arthur Moxham, my partner in the steel business, and
asked him to read it. I said: 'Arthur, you know more about books
than I do. I haven't read much. But if this book is right, then your
business and mine are all wrong.'
"Some weeks after this, he told me he had read the book; it
was interesting but quite wrong. He had marked the passages that
were faulty. A short time afterward, I asked again about it. He said
he had been rereading the book; it was wrong, but he had rubbed out
some of his objections. Finally he came to me and said: 'Tom, I have
read that book four times. I have had to rub out every one of my
objections. The book is sound. Henry George is right.'
"In the meantime, I had read Progress and Poverty. I said to
myself: If this book is really true, I shall have to give up
business. It isn't right for me to make money out of protected
industries, out of street-railway franchises, out of land
speculation. I must get out of the business, or prove that this book
is wrong. I went to L. A. Russell, my attorney, and said to him:
Here, Russell, is a retainer of five hundred dollars.
I want you to read this book and give me your honest opinion on it,
as you would on a legal question. Treat this retainer as you would a
fee.
A few weeks later I got a memorandum from Mr. Russell pointing out
the errors of Henry George. I was starting for New York on a
business errand and asked Mr. Russell to go with me.
We will talk this thing over in New York, I said.[p.96]
In New York we met Mr. Du Pont, of Delaware, and Arthur Moxham. In
the evening we all went to my rooms in the hotel. We took up
Russell's objections one by one. We spent the whole night on them.
One question after another was disposed of, and finally Russell
threw up his hands and said:
I have to admit that I was wrong. The book is sound. This man
Henry George, whoever he is, is a wonderful philosopher.
All four of us were content with the decision. We were converted
to an unnamed philosophy, by an unknown prophet, an obscure man of
whom we had never before heard.
The next day I began a search for Henry George. I learned that he
lived in Brooklyn, where I finally found him in his study. I told
him who I was and how I had come to read his book, how I had proved
it to myself and to my friends. Then I said:
Mr. George, I see that no one has a right to make
money the way I have out of special privilege. But making money is
the easiest thing in the world for me. I can make millions, but I
can't write and I can't make a speech. What am I to do do?
Mr. George said: You go on and make money, but you can learn to
speak. You can speak if you have something to say that you believe
in. You can go into politics. The land question is politics. Only
through politics can we bring the single tax to pass.[p.97]
Now you know, said Mr. Johnson, why I am running for
mayor. I have been in Congress, but there isn't much to be done
there. The place to begin is the city. If one city should adopt the
single tax, other cities would have to follow suit. If we are the
first to take taxes off houses, factories, and machinery, we will
have a tremendous advantage. Factories will be attracted to
Cleveland; it will be a cheap city to do business in, cheap to live
in. Untaxing the things people use will cheapen them, it will
encourage production. And if we tax the land heavily enough, we will
discourage speculation. With cheap land on the one hand and cheap
houses, factories, and goods on the other Cleveland will be the most
attractive city in America.[p.98]
...I had never thought of ending poverty through politics. We
should always have poverty. I did not believe in working with
spoilsmen. I saw that Tom Johnson was fighting his friends, men of
his own class, that he took pleasure in the companionship of common
people. The people whom I trusted he found untrustworthy.[p.98]