by Eugene Field
XIII
EDITOR WOODSIT A TRUE FRIEND
One morning--it was a Thursday morning, as I distinctly recall--I wasmuch surprised to find that work upon the house had practically beensuspended. I was sure there could not have been a strike, for I toldthe workmen at the beginning that whenever they felt as if they werenot getting enough pay they must come to me about it and I would raisetheir wages. They had already been to me three times and received anincrease of pay each time. So I felt moderately secure against astrike. Uncle Si explained the situation briefly.
"The plasterers were to have begun today," said he, "but there is nowater for them; so I had to send them away."
"No water?" I cried. "No water? Then tell me, I pray, why this noblefront yard of ours has been converted into a dreary waste by thosevandals with their spades and picks? Why is that deep, wide, raggedditch still yawning in our faces and threatening the death of everytree at whose roots it crawls? And why did I pay Sibley the plumberforty-five dollars last Saturday night, if it were not for the layingof water pipe in that hideous ditch? No water, indeed!"
"It is nobody's fault but the city's," explained Uncle Si. "The pipeis all laid and nothing remains but for the city to make the connectionwith the main in the street. You see _we_ can't tap the main; that isfor the city to do."
"Then why does n't the city do it?" I asked.
Uncle Si shrugged his shoulders.
"The city _ought_ to do a good many things it _does n't_ do," said he."They promised to have that main tapped at eight o'clock last Mondaymorning, and here it is ten o'clock Thursday morning and not a drop ofwater on the place! There is n't any use kicking, for thosepoliticians down at the City Hall do things their own way and taketheir own time doing 'em!"
I saw that argument with Uncle Si meant simply a waste of time, so Idetermined to go down-town to the City Hall myself to see whether noeloquence or indignation of my own would move the derelict officers toa performance of their duty. On the train I fell in with Mr. Leet, whowas on his way to his place of business. He had not seen me since ourpurchase of the Schmittheimer property, and he took this first occasionto congratulate me upon what he called one of those bargains whichoccur at rare intervals in a century. Finding me in a felicitous mood,Mr. Leet went on to say that the property we already possessed would beenhanced in value an hundred-fold and would be rendered marketableinstantaneously by the further acquisition of the twenty-five feetadjoining it upon the north.
"Yes," said I, "Mr. Doller spoke to me about that twenty-five-footstrip some time ago."
"Aha, so Doller has been approaching you, has he?" said Mr. Leet,softly. "Well, Doller is very cunning--very cunning, indeed. But hehas nothing to do with the _north_ strip. _He_ owns the twenty-fivefeet to the _south_ of your property, the piece fronting on SandpileTerrace, and a very malarious location it is, too. I pledge you myword, Mr. Baker, I have seen mosquitos hovering over that Doller stripat night as big as bats!"
I could neither deny nor affirm the truth of this assertion.
"My twenty-five-foot strip to the north," continued Mr. Leet, "is highand dry and sightly. The view it commands of the Water Works isindescribably fine. You are surely practical enough to see, Mr. Baker,that by purchasing that strip and throwing it in with yours you willhave a subdivision fronting upon Dandelion Place which would offerunparalleled inducements to the seeker after suburban property. Whatis more," added Mr. Leet in a confidential whisper, "it would notsurprise me a bit if there were coal deposits in the twenty-five-footstrip of mine. I have very distinct suspicions, but the paramountimportance of my other business interests has prevented me from makingthe investigation which might enrich me beyond all calculation. Now,you have time, and if you feel disposed to take that property I 'll letyou have it at the merely nominal price of one hundred and twenty-fivedollars a front foot."
This seemed reasonable enough, particularly when I considered thechances of there being a coal mine on the property. However, as I hadtold Mr. Doller, so I now told Mr. Leet: I would first have to speak toAlice about the matter. Then I confided to Mr. Leet the object of mymission down-town. Presumably in the hope of insuring and clinching mydevotion to his interests as represented in his twenty-five-foot lot,Mr. Leet manifested solicitude in my behalf and inveighed bitterlyagainst the shiftlessness of the municipal administration asillustrated in the neglect to tap the water main for the benefit of myproperty.
"The most aggravatingly exasperating part of it all," says I, "is thatI am a Republican and have been one for thirty years. Moreover, I am areformer, having helped to organize the Civic Federation and havingserved for somewhat more than a year as chairman of the SpecialCommittee on Ash Barrels and Garbage Boxes in the third precinct of theTwenty-fifth Ward. I made several addresses during the last campaignin advocacy of civil-service reform and all those other reforms whichare invariably advocated and promised by the party which is not inpower but wants to be. In the thirty years that I have been aRepublican I have never asked a favor of my party, and it does seemjust a bit ungrateful that the Republican reform municipaladministration which I helped to elect should seize with apparentavidity upon its first opportunity to snub me by refusing to tap thepublic water main in front of my property."
"You should see Mayor Speedy about it," suggested Mr. Leet.
"I thought of doing so," said I, "but as I had already determined toapproach him with reference to changing the name of Mush Street toClarendon Avenue, I concluded that I ought not to call upon him withthis complaint about the water. I particularly wish to avoid allappearance of hampering the administration with importunities andcomplaints of a personal nature."
"A man of your reputation," said Mr. Leet, "should certainly have thestrongest kind of a pull at the City Hall."
"You may not believe it," said I, "but I do not know a man in the CityHall. I visit the place but twice a year, and my dealings on thoseoccasions are restricted to a haughty young foreigner, who graciouslypermits me to pay him the amount of my water tax and then waves me toanother foreigner who in turn waves me to the door. No, I have noinfluence at the City Hall, and as I was telling Editor Woodsit lastweek--"
"Do you know Editor Woodsit?" asked Mr. Leet, interrupting me.
"Indeed I do," said I; "he has promised to print my essay on thenebular hypothesis of Professor Lecouvrier as soon as his contract withthe monometallist college professors expires. He is one of the mostintimate friends I have."
"Then he is just the one to fix that City Hall matter for you," saidMr. Leet. "Woodsit is the most potent political influence in the midstof us."
It was hard to understand why a potent political influence should beinvoked in order to secure the tapping of a water main. However, Idetermined to enlist the cooeperation of my journalistic friend. Twentyor thirty people were waiting outside Editor Woodsit's door. Thisnumber included noted clergymen, poets, authors, politicians, jurists,merchants, etc., etc. By some means or another, Editor Woodsit learnedI was among the waiting throng, and he sent for me to come in. Hisprivate office is spacious and elegantly furnished. The walls are hungwith splendid tapestries and costly oil paintings. Over EditorWoodsit's desk appears the legend, "The Pen Is Mightier Than theSword." Near the desk are rows of nickel-plated tubes, about six feetin height and two feet in diameter; the lids or covers to these tubesare opened by means of a keyboard in front of the editor. The tubesthemselves contain the heads of the departments of the State andmunicipal governments.
"What you tell me pains me deeply," said Mr. Woodsit, after he heard mystory. "But there is no need of going to the City Hall about it; thematter can be attended to here. I never trifle with underlings whenthe responsible heads are at hand."
Editor Woodsit reached over and touched a button on the keyboard; itwas button No. 9. Immediately the lid or top of tube No. 9 flew openand the head and face of a man appeared; it was the head and face ofCommissioner Dent.
"This friend of mine," said
Editor Woodsit, sternly, "complains that hecan't get your department to connect the pipe with the water main infront of his property. My friend is a Republican, Dent, and he is areformer. What excuse have you to offer for neglecting him?"
Commissioner Dent turned very pale and he vainly tried to stammer anapology.
"This is a pretty kind of reform!" cried Editor Woodsit, savagely. "Ifa similar complaint occurs again I shall have your case investigated bymy legal and spiritual counsellor, Joshua Selah, and may be have youimpeached. Now see that Mr. Baker's reasonable demands are compliedwith at once."
With these words Editor Woodsit touched another button, and the headand face of Commissioner Dent disappeared and the top closed down overthe box. It was all the work of two or three minutes, and it wascertainly the most marvellous experience I had ever met with. Mywonderment increased when I learned an hour later, upon my arrivalhome, that less than fifteen minutes (as I figure it) after I leftEditor Woodsit's office an employe of Commissioner Dent's departmentcame galloping up to my place on a foam-flecked steed, and, vaultingfrom his saddle, unswung his melting-furnace, soldering-irons, andother tools, and, quicker than you could say a pater noster, tapped thewater main and made the desired connection with the pipe that fed mypremises.
"I guess you must have a pull at the City Hall," said Uncle Si; andthen he went on to tell me how people who have no pull have to waitweeks, sometimes, before their just requirements are answered by themunicipal authorities. If what Uncle Si tells me is true I cannot betoo glad that I have what is even more efficacious than a pull at theCity Hall--a friend in Editor Woodsit.
