100%: the Story of a Patriot

by Upton Sinclair

  Peter hadn't intended anything quite so serious as that, but Guffeywas so business-like, and took it all so much as a matter of course,that Peter was afraid to show the white feather. After all, this waswar-time; hundreds of men were giving up their lives every day inthe Argonne, and why shouldn't Peter take a little risk in order toput out of business his country's most dangerous enemies?

  So Peter and his two detectives blew themselves to a joy ride in thecountry. And then Peter was brought back and made comfortable in aroom on the twelfth floor of the Hotel de Soto, where he diligentlystudied the typewritten documents which McGivney brought him, andthoroughly learned the story he was to tell. There was always one ofGuffey's men walking up and down in the hallway outside with a gunon his hip, and they brought Peter three meals a day, not forgettinga bottle of beer and a package of cigarettes. Twice a day Peter readin the newspapers about the heroic deeds of our boys over there, andalso about the latest bomb plots which had been discovered all overthe country, and about various trials under the espionage act.

  Also, Peter had the thrill of reading about himself in a realnewspaper. Hitherto he had been featured in labor papers, andSocialist papers like the "Clarion," which did not count; but nowthe American City "Times" came out with a long story of how thedistrict attorney's office had "planted" a secret agent with the I.W. W., and how this man, whose name was Peter Gudge, had beenworking as one of them for the past two years, and was going toreveal the whole story of I. W. W. infamy on the witness stand.

  Two days before the trial Peter was escorted by McGivney and anotherdetective to the district attorney's office, and spent the best partof the day in conference with Mr. Burchard and his deputy, Mr.Stannard, who were to try the case. McGivney had told Peter that thedistrict attorney was not in the secret, he really believed thatPeter's story was all true; but Peter suspected that this wascamouflage, to save Mr. Burchard's face, and to protect him in casePeter ever tried to "throw him down." Peter noticed that whenever heleft any gap in his story, the district attorney and the deputy toldhim to fill it, and he managed to guess what to fill it with.

  Henry Clay Burchard came from the far South, and followed a style oforatory long since gone out of date. He wore his heavy black hair alittle long, and when he mounted the platform he would pull out thetremulo stop, stretching out his hands and saying in tones ofquivering emotion: "The ladies, God bless them!" Also he would say:"I am a friend of the common man. My heart beats with sympathy forthose who constitute the real backbone of America, the toilers ofthe shop and farm." And then all the banqueters of the Chamber ofCommerce and the Merchants' and Manufacturers' Association wouldapplaud, and would send their checks to the campaign fund of thisfriend of the common man. Mr. Burchard's deputy, Mr. Stannard, was alegal fox who told his chief what to do and how to do it; a dried-uplittle man who looked like a bookworm, and sat boring you thru withhis keen eyes, watching for your weak points and preparing to pierceyou thru with one of his legal rapiers. He would be quite friendlyabout it--he would joke with you in the noon hour, assuming that youwould of course understand it was all in the line of business, andno harm meant.

  Section 75

  The two men heard Peter's story and changed it a little, and thenheard him over again and pronounced him all right, and Peter wentback to his hotel room and waited in trepidation for his hour in thelimelight. When they took him to court his knees were shaking, butalso he had a thrill of real importance, for they had provided himwith a body-guard of four big huskies; also he saw two "bulls" whomhe recognized in the hallway outside the court-room, and many othersscattered thru the audience. The place was packed with Redsympathizers, but they had all been searched before they wereallowed to enter, and were being watched every moment during thetrial.

  When Peter stepped into the witness box he felt as Tom Duggan andDonald Gordon must have felt that night when the white glare fromthirty or forty automobiles was beating upon them. Peter felt theconcentrated Red hate of two or three hundred spectators, and nowand then their pent-up fury would break restraint; there would be amurmur of protest, or perhaps a wave of sneering laughter, and thebailiff would bang on the table with his wooden mallet, and thejudge would half rise from his seat, and declare that if thathappened again he would order the court-room cleared.

  Not far in front of Peter at a long table sat the seventeendefendants, looking like trapped rats, and every one of theirthirty-four rat eyes were fixed upon Peter's face, and never movedfrom it. Peter only glanced that way once; they bared their rats'teeth at him, and he quickly looked in another direction. But therealso he saw a face that brought him no comfort; there sat Mrs. Godd,in her immaculate white chiffons, her wide-open blue eyes fixed uponhis face, her expression full of grief and reproach. "Oh, Mr.Gudge!" she seemed to be saying. "How can you? Mr. Gudge, is thisPeace. . . justice. . . Truth. . . Law?" And Peter realized with apang that he had cut himself off forever from Mount Olympus, andfrom the porch chair with the soft silken pillows! He turned awaytoward the box where sat the twelve jurymen and women. One old ladygave him a benevolent smile, and a young farmer gave him a sly wink,so Peter knew that he had friends in that quarter--and after all,they were the ones who really counted in this trial. Mrs. Godd wasas helpless as any "wobbly," in the presence of this august court.

  Peter told his story, and then came his cross-questioning, and whoshould rise and start the job but David Andrews, suave and humorousand deadly. Peter had always been afraid of Andrews, and now hewinced. Nobody had told him he was to face an ordeal like this!Nobody had told him that Andrews would be allowed to question himabout every detail of these crimes which he said he had witnessed,and about all the conversations that had taken place, and who elsewas present, and what else had been said, and how he had come to bethere, and what he had done afterwards, and what he had had to eatfor breakfast that morning. Only two things saved Peter, first theconstant rapid-fire of objections which Stannard kept making, togive Peter time to think; and second, the cyclone-cellar whichStannard had provided for him in advance. "You can always fail toremember," the deputy had said; "nobody can punish you forforgetting something." So Peter would repeat the minute details of aconversation in which Alf Guinness had told of burning down thebarn, but he didn't remember who else had heard the conversation,and he didn't remember what else had been said, nor what was thedate of the conversation.

  Then came the blessed hour of noon, with a chance for Peter to getfixed up again before the court resumed at two. He was questionedagain by Stannard, who patched up all the gaps in his testimony, andthen again he failed to remember things, and so avoided the trapswhich Andrews set for his feet. He was told that he had "done fine,"and was escorted back to the Hotel de Soto in triumph, and there fora week he stayed while the defense made a feeble effort to answerhis testimony. Peter read in the papers the long speeches in whichthe district attorney and the deputy acclaimed him as a patriot,protecting his country from its "enemies within;" also he read abrief reference to the "tirade" of David Andrews, who had called hima "rat" and a "slinking Judas." Peter didn't mind that, ofcourse--it was all part of the game, and the calling of names is apretty sure sign of impotence.

  Less easy to accept placidly, however, was something which came toPeter that same day--a letter from Mrs. Godd! It wasn't written tohim, but he saw Hammett and another of the "bulls" chucklingtogether, and he asked what was the joke, and they told him thatMrs. Godd had somehow found out about Guffey, and had written him aletter full of insults, and Guffey was furious. Peter asked what wasin it, and they told him, and later on when he insisted, theybrought it and showed it to him, and Peter was furious too. On veryexpensive stationery with a stately crest at the top, the mother ofMount Olympus had written in a large, bland, girlish hand heropinion of "under cover" men and those who hired them:

  "You sit like a big spider and weave a net to catch men and destroythem. You destroy alike your victims and your tools. The poor boy,Peter Gudge, whom you sent to my home--my heart bleeds when I thinkof h
im, and what you have put him up to! A wretched, feeble-mindedvictim of greed, who ought to be sent to a hospital for deformedsouls, you have taken him and taught him a piece of villainy torecite, so that he may send a group of sincere idealists to prison."

  That was enough! Peter put down the letter--he would not dignifysuch stuff by reading it. He realized that he would have to put hismind on the problem of Mrs. Godd once more. One woman like that, inher position of power, was more dangerous than all the seventeen"wobblies" who had been haled before the court. Peter inquired, andlearned that Guffey had already been to see Nelse Ackerman about it,and Mr. Ackerman had been to see Mr. Godd, and Mr. Godd had been tosee Mrs. Godd. Also the "Times" had an editorial referring to the"nest of Bolshevism" upon Mount Olympus, and all Mrs. Godd's friendswere staying away from her luncheon-parties--so she was being madeto suffer for her insolence to Peter Gudge!

  "A hospital for deformed souls," indeed! Peter was so upset that hisjoy in life was not restored even by the news that the jury hadfound the defendants guilty on the first ballot. He told McGivneythat the strain of this trial had been too much for his nerves, andthey must take care of him; so an automobile was provided, and Peterwas taken to a secret hiding place in the country to recuperate.

  Hammett went with him, and Hammett was a first-class gunman, andPeter stayed close by him; in the evening he stayed up in the secondstory of the farm-house, lest perchance one of the "wobblies" shouldtake too literally the testimony Peter had given concerning theirhabit of shooting at their enemies out of the darkness. Peter knewhow they all must hate him; he read in the paper how the judgesummoned the guilty men before him and sentenced them, incidentallyforcing them to listen to a scathing address, which was published infull in the "Times." The law provided a penalty of from one tofourteen years, and the judge sentenced sixteen of them to fourteenyears, and one to ten years, thus tempering justice with mercy.

  Then one day McGivney sent an automobile, and Peter was brought toGuffey's office, and a new plan was unfolded to him. They hadarrested another bunch of "wobblies" in the neighboring city ofEldorado, and Peter was wanted there to repeat his testimony. Ithappened that he knew one of the accused men, and that would besufficient to get his testimony in--his prize stuff about theburning barns and the phosphorus bombs. He would be taken care ofjust as thoroughly by the district attorney's office of EldoradoCounty; or better yet, Guffey would write to his friend SteveEllman, who did the detective work for the Home and FiresideAssociation, the big business organization of that city.

  Peter hemmed and hawed. This was a pretty hard and dangerous kind ofwork, it really played the devil with a man's nerves, sitting upthere in the hotel room all day, with nothing to do but smokecigarettes and imagine the "wobblies" throwing bombs at you. Also,it wouldn't last very long; it ought to be better paid. Guffeyanswered that Peter needn't worry about the job's lasting; if hecared to give this testimony, he might have a joy ride from one endof the country to the other, and everywhere he would live on the fatof the land, and be a hero in the newspapers.

  But still Peter hemmed and hawed. He had learned from the AmericanCity "Times" how valuable a witness he was, and he ventured todemand his price, even from the terrible Guffey; he stuck it out, inspite of Guffey's frowns, and the upshot was that Guffey said, Allright, if Peter would take the trip he might have seventy-fivedollars a week and expenses, and Guffey would guarantee to keep himbusy for not less than six months.

  Section 76

  So Peter went to Eldorado, and helped to send eleven men to thepenitentiary for periods varying from three to fourteen years. Thenhe went to Flagland, and testified in three different trials, andadded seven more scalps to his belt. By this time he got to realizethat the worst the Reds could do was to make faces at him and showthe teeth of trapped rats. He learned to take his profession moreeasily, and would sometimes venture to go out for an evening'spleasure without his guards. When he was hidden in the country hewould take long walks regardless of the thousands of blood-thirstyReds on his trail.

  It was while Peter was testifying in Flagland that a magic word wasflashed from Europe, and the whole city went mad with joy. Everyone,from babies to old men, turned out on the streets and waved flagsand banged tin cans and shouted for peace with victory. When it waslearned that the newspapers had fooled them, they waited three days,and then turned out and went thru the same performance again. Peterwas a bit worried at first, for fear the coming of peace might endhis job of saving the country; but presently he realized that therewas no need for concern, the smashing of the Reds was going on justthe same.

  They had some raids on the Socialists while Peter was in Flagland,and the detectives told him he might come along for the fun of it.So Peter armed himself with a black-jack and a revolver, and helpedto rush the Socialist headquarters. The war was over, but Peter feltjust as military as if it were still going on; when he got thelittle Jewish organizer of the local pent up in a corner behind hisdesk and proceeded to crack him over the head, Peter understoodexactly how our boys had felt in the Argonne. When he discovered thethrill of dancing on typewriter keys with his boots, he evenunderstood how the Huns had felt.

  The detectives were joined by a bunch of college boys, who took tothat kind of thing with glee. Having got their blood up, theydecided they might as well clean out the Red movement entirely, sothey rushed a place called the "International Book-Shop," kept by aHawaiian. The proprietor dodged into the kitchen of a Chineserestaurant next door, and put on an apron; but no one had ever seena Chinaman with a black mustache, so they fell on him and brokeseveral of the Chinaman's sauce-pans over his head. They took thecontents of the "International Book-Shop" into the back yard andstarted a bon-fire with it, and detectives and college boys on alark joined hands and danced an imitation of the Hawaiian hula-hulaaround the blaze.

  So Peter lived a merry life for several months. He had one or twojourneys for nothing, because an obstinate judge refused to admitthat anything that any I. W. W. had ever said or done anywherewithin the last ten years was proper testimony to be introducedagainst a particular I. W. W. on trial. But most judges were willingto co-operate with the big business men in ridding the country ofthe Red menace, and Peter's total of scalps amounted to over ahundred before his time was up, and Guffey sent him his last cheekand turned him loose.

  That was in the city of Richport, and Peter having in an insidepocket something over a thousand dollars in savings, felt that hehad earned a good time. He went for a stroll on the Gay White Way ofthe city, and in front of a moving picture palace a golden-hairedgirl smiled at him. This was still in the days of two andthree-fourths per cent beer, and Peter invited her into a saloon tohave a glass, and when he opened his eyes again it was dark, and hehad a splitting headache, and he groped around and discovered thathe was lying in a dark corner of an alleyway. Terror gripped hisheart, and he clapped his hand to the inside pocket where his wallethad been, and there was nothing but horrible emptiness. So Peter wasruined once again, and as usual it was a woman that had done it!

  Peter went to the police-station, but they never found the woman, orif they did, they divided with her and not with Peter. He threwhimself on the mercy of the sergeant at the desk, and succeeded inconvincing the sergeant that he, Peter, was a part of the machineryof his country's defense, and the sergeant agreed to stand sponsorfor ten words to Guffey. So Peter sat himself down with a pencil andpaper, and figured over it, and managed to get it into ten words, asfollows: "Woman again broke any old job any pay wire fare." And itappeared that Guffey must have sat himself down with a pencil andpaper and figured over it also, for the answer came back in tenwords, as follows: "Idiot have wired secretary chamber commerce willgive you ticket."

  So Peter repaired forthwith to the stately offices of the Chamber ofCommerce, and the hustling, efficient young business-man secretarysent his clerk to buy Peter a ticket and put him on the train. In atime of need like that Peter realized what it meant to have thebacking of a great and powerful organization, w
ith stately officesand money on hand for all emergencies, even when they arose bytelegraph. He took a new vow of sobriety and decency, so that hemight always have these forces of law and order on his side.

  Section 77

  Peter was duly scolded, and put to work as an "office man" at hisold salary of twenty dollars a week. It was his duty to consult withGuffey's many "operatives," to tell them everything he knew aboutthis individual Red or that organization of Reds. He would use hisinside knowledge of personalities and doctrines and movements tohelp in framing up testimony, and in setting traps for too ardentagitators. He could no longer pose as a Red himself, but sometimesthere were cases where he could do detective work without beingrecognized; when, for example, there was a question of fixing ajuror, or of investigating the members of a panel.

  The I. W. Ws. had been put out of business in American City, but theSocialists were still active, in spite of prosecutions andconvictions. Also there was a new peril looming up; the returnedsoldiers were coming back, and a lot of them were dissatisfied,presuming to complain of their treatment in the army, and of thelack of good jobs at home, and even of the peace treaty which thePresident was arranging in Paris. They had fought to make the worldsafe for democracy, and here, they said, it had been made safe forthe profiteers. This was plain Bolshevism, and in its most dangerousform, because these fellows had learned to use guns, and couldn'tvery well be expected to become pacifists right off the bat.

  There had been a great labor shortage during the war, and some ofthe more powerful unions had taken the general rise in prices as anexcuse for demanding higher wages. This naturally had made themembers of the Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants' andManufacturers' Association indignant, and now they saw their chanceto use these returned soldiers to smash strikes and to break theorganizations of the labor men. They proceeded to organize thesoldiers for this purpose; in American City the Chamber of Commercecontributed twenty-five thousand dollars to furnish the club-roomsfor them, and when the trolley men went on strike the cars were runby returned soldiers in uniform.