“They are proving apt politicians,” smiled Mrs. Beech.
“And they are not through,” returned Mr. Graham. “Today they are insisting upon a congressman.”
“Well, they deserve some representation, don’t they, in Congress?”
“Yes, that’s true; but neither they nor we are ready for it just yet. Membership in Congress not only involves a certain social status and duties, but just now in the precarious economic position of the country, we need trained and experienced men in Congress and not mere ward politicians.”
“Is Doolittle a man of such high order and ability?”
“No, he is not. Doolittle is an average politician, but he is a white man; he has had long experience; he holds exceedingly important places on the House committees because of his long service; and above all he is willing to carry out the plans of his superiors.”
“Or in other words,” said Mrs. Beech tartly, “he takes orders from the machine.”
“Yes, he does,” said Graham, turning toward her and speaking earnestly. “And how are we going to run this country unless thoughtful men furnish the plans and find legislators and workers who are willing to carry them out? We are in difficulties, Mrs. Beech. If the tariff is tinkered with by amateur radicals, your income and mine may easily go to smash, If securities which are now good and the basis of investment are attacked by Bolsheviks, we may have an industrial smash such as the world has seldom seen. We haven’t paid our share for the World War yet, and we may have to foot a staggering bill.
“Now, we have farsighted plans for guiding the industrial machine and keeping it steady; Doolittle is a cog, nothing more than a cog, but a dependable cog, in the machine. Now here come the Negroes of this district and demand the fulfillment of a promise, carelessly, and to my mind foolishly given several years ago, that after this term Doolittle was to be replaced in Congress by the head of the black political machine, Sammy Scott. Well, it’s impossible. I think you see that, Mrs. Beech. We don’t want Scott in Congress representing Chicago. He has neither the brains nor the education—”
Mrs. Beech interrupted. “But I understand,” she said, “that there is a young college-bred man who is candidate and who is intellectually rather above the average of our Congressmen.”
“There certainly is,” said Mr. Graham, bitterly, “and he’s got a wife who is one of the most astute politicians in this city.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Beech, “I am on my way to one of her meetings. It is at her home on Grand—I mean, South Parkway. I wonder where I should transfer?”
“I will show you,” said Mr. Graham. “We have still a little way to go. It would be just like Mrs. Towns to pull all strings in order to get you to her house. She has social aspirations and is the real force behind Towns.”
“But Towns himself?” asked Mrs. Beech.
“Towns himself is a radical and has a shady record. He was once in the penitentiary. His wife is trying to keep him in hand, but his appeal is to the very elements among white people and colored people which mean trouble for conservative industry in the United States. He cannot for a moment be considered. I have talked frankly to you, Mrs. Beech. We are coming to your corner now, but I wish we could come to some sort of understanding with the liberal elements that you represent. I do not think that you, Cadwalader, and myself are so far apart. I hope you will help us.”
Mrs. Beech descended and Graham rode on.
It was some hours later that Mr. Cadwalader and Mrs. Beech had dinner together. They represented various elements interested in reform. Mr. Cadwalader was the official head of the Farmer-Labor Party in Chicago, while Mrs. Beech represented one element of the old Progressive Party and looked toward alliance with Mr. Cadwalader’s group.
“But,” Mr. Cadwalader complained over his fish, “we’ve got an impossible combination. We cannot get any real agreement on anything. You and I, for instance, cannot stand for free trade as a present policy. It would ruin us and our friends. On the other hand, we cannot advocate a high tariff. We and our manufacturing friends want gradual reduction rather than increase of duties. Then, too, our friends among the farmers and the laborers want high and low tariff at the same time, only on different things. The farmers want cheap foreign manufactured goods and high rates on food; the laborers want free food and high manufacturing wages. Finally, we have all got to remember the Socialists and Communists who want to scrap the whole system and begin anew.”
“I was talking with Mr. Graham yesterday,” said Mrs. Beech, “and he believes that the Republicans and the Farmer-Labor Party could find some common aims.”
“I am sure we could, if the Republicans would add to their defense of sound business and investment some thought of the legitimate demands of the farmer and laborer, and then would restrain legislation which directly encourages monopoly.”
“True,” said Mrs. Beech, “but wouldn’t any rapprochement with the Republicans drive out of your ranks the radicals who swell the potential reform vote? And in this case would we not leave them to the guidance of demagogues and emphasize the dangerous directions of their growth?”
“Precisely, precisely. And that is what puzzles me. You know, only last night I was visiting a meeting of one of the newer trade unions, the Box-Makers. It was organized locally in New York in 1919 and now has a national union headquarters there. The union here is only a year old, but it is the center of dangerous radicalism, with lots of Jews, Russians, and other foreigners. They want paternalism of all sorts, with guaranteed wages, restricted ages and hours of work, pensions, long vacations and the like; not to mention wild vaporings about absolute free
