Postal Riders and Raiders. W. H. Gantz
no superior academic knowledge nor experience of years to understand them and their significance—their lesson.
Just read and think. Do not let any “official” noise nor breakfast-food rhetoric so syncopate and segregate your thought as to derail it from the main line of facts. Lofty, persuasive eloquence is often but the attractive drapery of planned falsehood, and the beautifully rounded period is often but a “steer” for an ulterior motive—a “tout” for a marked-card game. Do not be a “come-on” for any verbal psychic work or worker. Just stubbornly persist in doing your own thinking, ever remembering that in this vale of tears, “Plain hoss sense’ll pull you through when ther’s nothin’ else’ll do.”
As a thinker, you will now have lots of company, and they are still coming in droves. Respectable company, too. Mr. Roosevelt suddenly arrived a few days since at Columbus, Ohio. Then there is Mr. Carnegie and Judge Gary. The senior Mr. Rockefeller, also, has announced, through a representative, that he is on the way. These latter, of course, have been thinkers for many years—thinkers on personal service lines chiefly, it has been numerously asserted. Now, however, if press accounts are true, they have begun to think, a little at least, about the general welfare, about the common good—about the other fellow.
Whether this change in mental effort and direction, if change it be, has followed upon a more careful study of conditions which have so long, so wastefully, or ruthlessly and viciously governed, or results from the fact that the advancing years have brought these gentlemen so near Jericho that they see a gleam of the clearer light and occasionally hear the “rustle of a wing,” I do not know. Nor need one know nor care. That they come to join the rapidly-growing company of thinkers is sufficient.
Chicago, March 1, 1912.
Postal Riders and Raiders
CHAPTER I.
MAL-ADMINISTRATION RUN RIOT.
This is nice winter weather. However, as The Man on the Ladder was born some distance prior to the week before last, there’s a tang and chill in the breezes up here about the ladder top which makes the temperature decidedly less congenial than is the atmosphere in the editorial rooms of my publisher.
But, say, the view from this elevation is mighty interesting. The mobilization of the United States soldiery far to the Southwest; the breaking up of corrals and herds to the West; the starting of activities about mining camps in the West and Northwest; the lumber jacks and teams in the spruce forests of the north are indeed inspiring things to look upon; and over the eastern horizon, there in the lumber sections of New England and to the Southeast, in the soft maple, the cottonwood and basswood districts, the people appear to be industriously and happily active; away to the South——
Say! What’s that excitement over there at Washington, D. C.?
“Hello, Central! Hello! Yes, this is The Man on the Ladder.”
“Get me Washington, D. C., on the L.-D. in a hurry—and get Congressman Blank on that end of the wire. The House is in session, and certainly he ought to be found in not more than five minutes.”
It is something unusually gratifying to see that activity about that sleepy group of capitol buildings—the “House of Dollars,” the house of the hoi polloi, and the White House—a scene that will linger in the freshness and fragrance of my remembrance until the faculty of memory fades away. There are messengers and pages flitting about from house to house as if the prairies were afire behind them. Excited Congressmen are in heated discourse on the esplanade, on the capitol steps and in the corridors and cloak rooms. And there are numerous groups of Senators, each a kingly specimen of what might be a real man if there was not so much pickled dignity oozing from his stilted countenance and pose. There now go four of them to the White House, probably to see the President, our smiling William. I wonder what they are after. I wonder——
“Yes, yes! Hello! Is that you, Congressman Jim?” “Yes? What can I do for you?”
“Well, this is The Man on the Ladder, Jim, and I want to know in the name of heaven—any other spot you can think of quickly will do as well—what’s the occasion and cause for all that external excitement and activity I see around the capitol building? There must be a superthermic atmosphere inside both the Senate and House to drive so many of our statesmen to the open air and jolt them into a quickstep in their movements. Now go on and tell, and tell me straight.”
Well, Well! If I did not know my Congressman friend so well, I would scarcely be persuaded to believe what he has just phoned me.
It appears that a conspiracy—yes, I mean just that—a conspiracy has been entered into between our Chief Executive, a coterie of Senators, possibly a Congressman or two and a numerous gang of corporate and vested interests, cappers and beneficiaries, to penalize various independent weekly and monthly periodicals. Penalize is what I said. But that word is by no means strong enough. The intent of the conspirators was—and is—to put certain periodicals out of business and to establish a press censorship in the person of the Postmaster General as will enable him to put any periodical out of existence which does not print what it is told to publish.
It would seem that when the Postoffice appropriation bill left the House, where all revenue measures must originate, it was a fairly clean bill, carrying some $258,000,000 of the people’s money for the legitimate service of the people. Of course it carried many service excesses, just as it has carried in each of the past thirty or forty years, and several of those looting excesses so conspicuous in every one of the immediately past fifteen years.
But otherwise, it may be stated, the House approval carried this bill to the Senate in its usual normal cleanliness. It was referred to the Senate Committee on Postoffices and Postroads, the members of which, after conference with the President, annexed to it an alleged revenue-producing “rider.”
This rider I will later on discuss for the information of my readers. Here I desire only to call the reader’s attention to the fact that under the Constitution of the United States the United States Senate has no more right or authority to originate legislation for producing federal revenues than has the Hamilton Club of Chicago or the Golf Club at Possum Run, Kentucky. But the conspirators—I still use the milder term, though I feel like telling the truth, which could be expressed only by some term that would class their action as that of assassinating education in this country. These conspirators, I say, did not hesitate to exceed and violate their constitutional obligations and prerogatives. They added a revenue-producing “rider” to House resolution 31,539. The rider was to raise certain kinds of second-class matter from a one-cent per pound rate to a four-cent per pound rate. Not only that, but they managed to induce Postmaster General Hitchcock to push into the Senate several ulterior motive reports and letters to boost the outlawry to successful passage. But, more of this later.
My friend Congressman Jim has just informed me that the conspirators were beginning to fear their ability even to get their “rider” to the post for a start; that many members and representatives of the Periodical Press Association of New York City, as well as those of other branches of the printing industry, hearing of the attempt to put this confiscatory rider over in the closing hours—the crooked hours—of Congress, hurried to Washington and sought to inform Senators and members of the House of the truth about second-class mail matter. Congressman Jim also informed me that a delegation representing the publishing interests of Chicago had arrived a few hours before and were scarcely on the ground before “things began to happen.” “People talk about Chicagoans making a noise,” said Jim in his L.-D. message, “but when it comes to doing things you can count on them to go to it suddenly, squarely and effectively. That delegation is one of the causes of the excitement which you notice