Mr. Dooley: In the Hearts of His Countrymen Read online

  "Oh, go on," said Mr. McKenna.

  "I was goin' to tell ye about th' Lexow Sodality. Well, th' chairmaniv it is Doherty, th' retired plumber. He sold me a house an' lotwanst, an' skinned me out iv wan hundherd dollars. He got th' housean' lot back an' a morgedge. But did ye iver notice th' scar on hisnose? I was r-rough in thim days. Ol' Mike Hogan is another mimber. Yeknow him. They say he hires constables be th' day f'r to serve fivedays' notices. Manny's th' time I see th' little furniture out on th'sthreet, an' th' good woman rockin' her baby under th' open sky.Hogan's tinants. Ol' Dinnis Higgins is another wan. An' Brannigan, th'real estate dealer. He was in th' assissors' office. May Gawd forgivehim! An' Clancy, that was bail-bondman at Twelfth Sthreet.

  "They appointed comities, an' they held a meetin'. I wint there. Sodid some iv th' others. 'Twas at Finucane's, an' th' hall was crowded.All th' sodality made speeches. Doherty made a great wan. Th' air wasreekin' with corruption, says he. Th' polis foorce was rotten to th'core. Th' rights iv property was threatened. What, says he, was wegoin' to do about it?

  "Danny Gallagher got up, as good a lad as iver put that in his face todesthroy his intelligence, as Shakspere says. 'Gintlemen,' says he,'wan wurrud befure we lave,' he says. 'I've listened to th' speecheshere to-night with satisfaction,' he says. 'I'm proud to see th'rayform wave have sthruck th' road,' he says. 'Th' rascals must bedhriven fr'm th' high places,' he says. 'I see befure me in a chair agintleman who wud steal a red-hot stove an' freeze th' lid befure hegot home. On me right is th' gintleman who advanced th' wave ivrayform tin years ago be puttin' Mrs. Geohegan out on th' sthreet in asnowstorm whin she was roarin' with a cough. Mrs. Geohegan haverayformed, peace be with her undher th' dhrifts iv Calv'ry! I amgreeted be th' smile iv me ol' frind Higgins. We are ol' frinds,Dinnis, now, ain't we? D'ye mind th' calls I made on ye, with th'stamps undher me arms, whin I wurruked in th' post-office? I'vethought iv thim whin th' lockstep was goin' in to dinner, an' prayedf'r th' day whin I might see ye again. An' you, Misther Brannigan, whoknows about vacant lots, an' you Misther Clancy, th' frind iv th'dhrunk an' disordherly, we're proud to have ye here. 'Tis be such asye that th' polisman who dhrinks on th' sly, an' th' saloon-keeperthat keeps open f'r th' la-ads an' th' newsboys that shoots craps, 'llbe brought to justice. Down with crime! says I. Fellow-citizens, Ithank ye kindly. Th' meetin' is adjourned siney dee; an' I app'intMissers Dooley, O'Brien, Casey, Pug Slattery, an' mesilf to lade outth' Lexow Sodality be th' nose.'"

  Mr. McKenna arose sleepily, and walked toward the door.

  "Jawn," said Mr. Dooley.

  "Yes," responded Mr. McKenna.

  "Niver steal a dure-mat," said Mr. Dooley. "If ye do, ye'll beinvistigated, hanged, an' maybe rayformed. Steal a bank, me boy, steala bank."

  THEIR EXCELLENCIES, THE POLICE.

  "Ye'll be goin' home early to-night, Jawn dear," said Mr. Dooley toMr. McKenna.

  "And for why?" said that gentleman, tilting lazily back in the chair.

  "Because gin'ral ordher number wan is out," said Mr. Dooley,"directin' th' polis to stop ivry man catched out afther midnight an'make thim give a satisfacthry account iv thimsilves or run thim off tojail. Iv coorse, ye'll be pinched, f'r ye won't dare say where ye comefr'm; an' 'tis twinty-eight to wan, the odds again an Orangeman at awake, that ye'll not know where ye're goin'."

  "Tut, tut," said Mr. McKenna, indifferently.

  "Ye may tut-tut till ye lay an egg," said Mr. Dooley, severely, "yeol' hen; but 'tis so. I read it in th' pa-papers yesterdah afthernoonthat Brinnan--'tis queer how thim Germans all get to be polismen,they're bright men, th' Germans, I don't think--Brinnan says, says he,that th' city do be overrun with burglars an' highwaymen, so heordhers th' polis to stick up ivry pedesthreen they meet aftherclosin' time. 'Tis good for him he named th' hour, f'r 'tis fewpedesthreens save an' except th' little kids with panneckers that mostiv th' polis meet befure midnight. Look at there table, will ye? 'Anax done it,' says ye? No, faith, but th' fist iv a Kerry polisman theyput on this here bate last week. He done it ladin' thrumps. 'ThankGawd," says I, 'ye didn't have a good hand,' I says, 'or I might have tocall in th' wreckin' wagon.' Thim Kerry men shud be made to playforty-fives with boxin'-gloves on.

  "I read about th' ordher, but it slipped me min' las' night. I wasdown at a meetin' iv th' Hugh O'Neills, an' a most intherestin'meetin' it was, Jawn. I'd been niglictful iv me jooty to th' cause ivlate, an' I was surprised an' shocked to hear how poor ol' Ireland wassufferin'. Th' rayport fr'm th' Twinty-third Wa-ard, which is in th'County Mayo, showed that th' sthreet clanin' conthract had been giveto a Swede be th' name iv Oleson; an' over in th' Nineteenth Wa-ardth' County Watherford is all stirred up because Johnny Powers isfilled th' pipe-ya-ard with his own rilitives. I felt dam lonely, an'with raison, too; f'r I was th' on'y man in th' camp that didn't havea job. An' says I, 'Gintlemen,' says I, 'can't I do something f'rIreland, too?' I says. 'I'd make a gr-reat city threasurer,' says I,'if ye've th' job handy,' I says; and at that they give me th' laugh,and we tuk up a subscription an' adjourned.

  "Well, sir, I started up Ar-rchey Road afther th' meetin', forgettin'about Brennan's ordhers, whin a man jumps out fr'm behind a tree nearth' gas-house. 'Melia murther!' says I to mesilf. ''Tis a highwayman!'Thin, puttin' on a darin' front an' reachin' f'r me handkerchief, Isays, 'Stand back, robber!' I says. 'Stand back, robber!' I says.'Stand back!' I says.

  "'Excuse _me_,' says th' la-ad. 'I beg ye'er pardon,' he says.

  "'Beg th' pardon iv Hiven,' says I, 'f'r stoppin' a desperate man inth' sthreet,' says I; 'f'r in a holy minyit I'll blow off th' head ivye,' says I, with me hand on th' handkerchief that niver blew nawthin'but this nose iv mine."

  "'I humbly ask your pardon,' he says, showin' a star; 'but I'm apolisman.'

  "'Polisman or robber,' says I, 'stand aside!' I says.

  "'I'm a polisman,' he says, 'an' I'm undher ordhers to be polite withcitizens I stop,' he says; 'but, if ye don't duck up that road in halfa minyit, ye poy-faced, red-eyed, lop-eared, thick-headed ol'bosthoon,' he says, 'I'll take ye be th' scruff iv th' neck an' thrunye into th' ga-as-house tank,' he says, 'if I'm coort-martialed f'r itto-morrow.'

  "Thin I knew he _was_ a polisman; an' I wint away, Jawn."

  SHAUGHNESSY.

  "Jawn," said Mr. Dooley in the course of the conversation, "whin yecome to think iv it, th' heroes iv th' wurruld,--an' be thim I meanth' lads that've buckled on th' gloves, an' gone out to do th' bestthey cud,--they ain't in it with th' quite people nayether you nor mehears tell iv fr'm wan end iv th' year to another."

  "I believe it," said Mr. McKenna; "for my mother told me so."

  "Sure," said Mr. Dooley, "I know it is an old story. Th' wurruld'sbeen full iv it fr'm th' beginnin'; an' 'll be full iv it till, asFather Kelly says, th' pay-roll's closed. But I was thinkin' more ivit th' other night thin iver before, whin I wint to see Shaughnessymarry off his on'y daughter. You know Shaughnessy,--a quite man thatcome into th' road before th' fire. He wurruked f'r Larkin, th'conthractor, f'r near twinty years without skip or break, an' seen th'fam'ly grow up be candle-light. Th' oldest boy was intinded f'r apriest. 'Tis a poor fam'ly that hasn't some wan that's bein' iddycatedf'r the priesthood while all th' rest wear thimsilves to skeletons f'rhim, an' call him Father Jawn 'r Father Mike whin he comes home wansta year, light-hearted an' free, to eat with thim.

  "Shaughnessy's lad wint wrong in his lungs, an' they fought death f'rhim f'r five years, sindin' him out to th' Wist an' havin' masses saidf'r him; an', poor divvle, he kept comin' back cross an' crool, withth' fire in his cheeks, till wan day he laid down, an' says he: 'Pah,'he says, 'I'm goin' to give up,' he says. 'An' I on'y ask that ye'llhave th' mass sung over me be some man besides Father Kelly,' he says.An' he wint, an' Shaughnessy come clumpin' down th' aisle like a manin a thrance.

  "Well, th' nex' wan was a girl, an' she didn't die; but, th' lesssaid, th' sooner mended. Thin they was Terrence, a big, bould,curly-headed lad that cocked his hat at anny man,--or woman f'r th'matter iv that
,--an' that bruk th' back iv a polisman an' swum to th'crib, an' was champeen iv th' South Side at hand ball. An' he wint.Thin th' good woman passed away. An' th' twins they growed to be th'prettiest pair that wint to first communion; an' wan night they was alight in th' window of Shaughnessy's house till three in th' mornin'.I rayminiber it; f'r I had quite a crowd iv Willum Joyce's men in, an'we wondhered at it, an' wint home whin th' lamp in Shaughnessy'swindow was blown out.

  "They was th' wan girl left,--Theresa, a big, clean-lookin' child thatI see grow up fr'm hello to good avnin'. She thought on'y iv th' ol'man, an' he leaned on her as if she was a crutch. She was out to meethim in th' ev'nin'; an' in th' mornin' he, th' simple ol' man, 'd stopto blow a kiss at her an' wave his dinner-pail, lookin' up an' downth' r-road to see that no wan was watchin' him.

  "I dinnaw what possessed th' young Donahue, fr'm th' Nineteenth. Iniver thought much iv him, a stuck-up, aisy-come la-ad that niver hadannything but a civil wurrud, an' is prisident iv th' sodality. But hecame in, an' married Theresa Shaughnessy las' Thursdah night. Th' ol'man took on twinty years, but he was as brave as a gin'ral iv th'army. He cracked jokes an' he made speeches; an' he took th' pipesfr'm under th' elbow iv Hogan, th' blindman, an' played 'Th' Wind thatshakes th' Barley' till ye'd have wore ye'er leg to a smoke f'rwantin' to dance. Thin he wint to th' dure with th' two iv thim; an'says he, 'Well,' he says, 'Jim, be good to her,' he says, an' shookhands with her through th' carredge window.

  "Him an' me sat a long time smokin' across th' stove. Fin'lly, says I,'Well,' I says, 'I must be movin'.' 'What's th' hurry?' says he. 'I'vegot to go,' says I. 'Wait a moment,' says he. 'Theresa 'll'--He stoppedright there f'r a minyit, holdin' to th' back iv th' chair. 'Well,'says he, 'if ye've got to go, ye must,' he says. 'I'll show ye out,'he says. An' he come with me to th' dure, holdin' th' lamp over hishead. I looked back at him as I wint by; an' he was settin' be th'stove, with his elbows on his knees an' th' empty pipe between histeeth."

  TIMES PAST.

  Mr. McKenna, looking very warm and tired, came in to Mr. Dooley'stavern one night last week, and smote the bar with his fist.

  "What's the matter with Hogan?" he said.

  "What Hogan?" asked Mr. Dooley. "Malachy or Matt? Dinnis or Mike?Sarsfield or William Hogan? There's a Hogan f'r ivry block in th'Ar-rchey Road, an' wan to spare. There's nawthin' th' matter with annyiv thim; but, if ye mean Hogan, th' liquor dealer, that r-run f'raldherman, I'll say to ye he's all right. Mind ye, Jawn, I'm doin'this because ye're me frind; but, by gar, if anny wan else comes inan' asks me that question, I'll kill him, if I have to go to th'bridewell f'r it. I'm no health officer."

  Having delivered himself of this tirade, Mr. Dooley scrutinized Mr.McKenna sharply, and continued: "Ye've been out ilictin' some man,Jawn, an' ye needn't deny it. I seen it th' minyit ye come in. Ye'erhat's dinted, an' ye have ye'er necktie over ye'er ear; an' I see beye'er hand ye've hit a Dutchman. Jawn, ye know no more about politicsthin a mimber iv this here Civic Featheration. Didn't ye have a beerbottle or an ice-pick? Ayether iv thim is good, though, whin I was ayoung man an' precint captain an' intherested in th' welfare iv th'counthry, I found a couplin' pin in a stockin' about as handy asannything.

  "Thim days is over, though, Jawn, an' between us politics don'tintherest me no more. They ain't no liveliness in thim. Whin AndyDuggan r-run f'r aldherman against Schwartzmeister, th' bigDutchman,--I was precinct captain then, Jawn,--there was an ilictionf'r ye. 'Twas on our precinct they relied to ilict Duggan; f'r theDutch was sthrong down be th' thrack, an' Schwartzmeister had a bandout playin' 'Th' Watch on th' Rhine.' Well, sir, we opened th' pollsat six o'clock, an' there was tin Schwartzmeister men there to protecthis intherests. At sivin o'clock there was only three, an' wan iv thimwas goin' up th' sthreet with Hinnissy kickin' at him. At eighto'clock, be dad,' there was on'y wan; an' he was sittin' on th' roofiv Gavin's blacksmith shop, an' th' la-ads was thryin' to borrow aladdher fr'm th' injine-house f'r to get at him. 'Twas thruckeighteen; an' Hogan, that was captain, wudden't let thim have it. Notye'er Hogan, Jawn, but th' meanest fireman in Bridgeport. He got kiltaftherwards. He wudden't let th' la-ads have a laddher, an' th'Dutchman stayed up there; an', whin there was nawthin' to do, we wintover an' thrun bricks at him. 'Twas gr-reat sport.

  "About four in th' afthernoon Schwartzmeister's band come up Ar-rcheyRoad, playin' 'Th' Watch on th' Rhine.' Whin it got near Gavin's, bigPeter Nolan tuk a runnin' jump, an' landed feet first in th' big bassdhrum. Th' man with th' dhrum walloped him over th' head with th'dhrum-stick, an' Dorsey Quinn wint over an' tuk a slide trombone awayfr'm the musician an' clubbed th' bass dhrum man with it. Thin we allwint over, an' ye niver see th' like in ye'er born days. Th' las' Isee iv th' band it was goin' down th' road towards th' slough with amob behind it, an' all th' polis foorce fr'm Deerin' Sthreet aftherth' mob. Th' la-ads collected th' horns an' th' dhrums, an' thatstarted th' Ar-rchey Road brass band. Little Mike Doyle larned to play'Th' Rambler fr'm Clare' beautifully on what they call a pickle-e-obefure they sarved a rayplivin writ on him.

  "We cast twinty-wan hundherd votes f'r Duggan, an' they was on'y fivehundherd votes in th' precinct. We'd cast more, but th' tickets giveout. They was tin votes in th' box f'r Schwartzmeister whin we countedup; an' I felt that mortified I near died, me bein' precinct captain,an' res-sponsible. 'What 'll we do with thim? Out th' window,' says I.Just thin Dorsey's nanny-goat that died next year put her head throughth' dure. 'Monica,' says Dorsey (he had pretty names for all hisgoats), 'Monica, are ye hungry,' he says, 'ye poor dear?' Th' goatgive him a pleadin' look out iv her big brown eyes. 'Can't I make yeup a nice supper?' says Dorsey. 'Do ye like paper?' he says. 'Would yelike to help desthroy a Dutchman,' he says, 'an' perform a sarvice f'rye'er counthry?' he says. Thin he wint out in th' next room, an' comeback with a bottle iv catsup; an' he poured it on th' Schwartzmeisterballots, an' Monica et thim without winkin'.

  "Well, sir, we ilicted Duggan; an' what come iv it? Th' week beforeiliction he was in me house ivry night, an' 'twas 'Misther Dooley,this,' an' 'Mr. Dooley, that,' an' 'What 'll ye have, boys?' an''Niver mind about th' change.' I niver see hide nor hair iv him f'r aweek afther iliction. Thin he come with a plug hat on, an' says he:'Dooley,' he says, 'give me a shell iv beer,' he says: 'give me ashell iv beer,' he says, layin' down a nickel. 'I suppose ye're on th'sub-scription,' he says. 'What for?' says I. 'F'r to buy me a gooldstar,' says he. With that I eyes him, an' says I: 'Duggan,' I says,'I knowed ye whin ye didn't have a coat to ye'er back,' I says, 'an' I'll buy no star f'r ye,' I says. 'But I'll tell ye what I'll buy f'rye,' I says. 'I'll buy rayqueem masses f'r th' raypose iv ye'er sowl,if ye don't duck out iv this in a minyit,' Whin I seen him last, hewas back dhrivin' a dhray an' atin' his dinner out iv a tin can."

  THE SKIRTS OF CHANCE.

  The people of Bridgeport are not solicitous of modern improvements,and Mr. Dooley views with distaste the new and garish. But heconsented to install a nickel-in-the-slot machine in his tavern lastweek, and it was standing on a table when Mr. McKenna came in. It wasa machine that looked like a house; and, when you put a nickel in atthe top of it, either the door opened and released three other nickelsor it did not. Mostly it did not.

  Mr. Dooley saluted Mr. McKenna with unusual cordiality, and Mr.McKenna inspected the nickel-in-the-slot machine with affectation ofmuch curiosity.

  "What's this you have here, at all?" said Mr. McKenna.

  "'Tis an aisy way iv gettin' rich," said Mr. Dooley. "All ye have todo is to dhrop a nickel in th' slot, an' three other nickels come outat th' dure. Ye can play it all afthernoon, an' take a fortune fr'm itif ye'er nickels hould out."

  "And where do th' nickels come fr'm?" asked Mr. McKenna.

  "I put thim in," said Mr. Dooley. "Ivry twinty minutes I feed th'masheen a hatful iv nickels, so that whin me frinds dhrop in theywon't be dissypinted, d'ye mind. 'Tis a fine invistment for a youngman. Little work an' large profits. It rayminds me iv Hogan's big kidan' what he done with his coin. He made a lot iv it in dhrivin
' aca-ar, he did, but he blew it all in again good liquor an' bad women;an', bedad, he was broke half th' time an' borrowin' th' other half.So Hogan gets in Father Kelly fr'm up west iv th' bridge, an' they setin with Dinnis to talk him out iv his spindthrift ways. 'I have plentyto keep mesilf,' says Hogan, he says. 'But,' he says, 'I want ye tosave ye'er money,' he says, 'f'r a rainy day.' 'He's right, Dinnis,'says th' soggarth,--'he's right,' he says. 'Ye should save a little incase ye need it,' he says. 'Why don't ye take two dollars,' says th'priest, 'an' invist it ivry month,' says he, 'in somethin',' says he,'that 'll give ye profits,' says he. 'I'll do it,' says Dinnis,--'I'll do it,' he says. Well, sir, Hogan was that tickled he give th'good man five bones out iv th' taypot; but, faith, Dinnis was back athis reg'lar game before th' week was out, an', afther a month or two,whin Hogan had to get th' tayspoons out iv soak, he says to th' kid,he says, 'I thought ye was goin' to brace up,' he says, 'an' hereye're burnin' up ye'er money,' he says. 'Didn't ye promise to invisttwo dollars ivry month?' he says. 'I'm doin' it,' says Dinnis. 'I'vekept me wurrud.' 'An' what are ye invistin' it in?' says Hogan. 'Inlotthry tickets,' says th' imp'dent kid."

  While delivering these remarks, Mr. Dooley was peeping over hisglasses at Mr. McKenna, who was engaged in a struggle with themachine. He dropped a nickel and it rattled down the slot, but it didnot open the door.