David Lockwin -- The Peoples Idol | Page 3

the district is amazing. He will soon be deep in politics.
He has put Harpwood out of the combat--so the doctor says.
And David Lockwin, when he comes home at night, still sees his boy at
the window. What a noble affection is that love for this waif! Why
should such a thought seize the man as he sits in his library with wife
and son? Why should not David be tender and good to the woman who
loves him so well, and is so proud of her husband?
Tender and good he is--as if he pitied her. Tender and good is she. So
that if an orphan in the great city should be in the especial care of the
Lord, why should not that orphan drop into this house, exactly as has
happened, and no matter at all what society may have said?
"You must run for Congress!" the doctor commands.
It spurs Lockwin. He thinks of the great white dome at Washington. He
thinks of his marked ability as an orator, everywhere conceded. He says
he does not care to enter upon a life so active, but he is not truly in
earnest.
"You must run for Congress!" the committee says the next week.
Feelings of friendliness for the incumbent of the office to give Lockwin
a sufficient excuse for inaction.
The incumbent dies suddenly a week later.
"You must run to save the party," the committeemen announce.
A day later the matter is settled. The great editors are seen; the boss of

the machine is satisfied; the ward-workers and the saloon-keepers are
infused with party allegiance.
David Lockwin begins at one end of State street and drinks, or pretends
to drink, at every bar between Lake and Fortieth streets. This libation
poured on the altar of liberty, he is popularly declared to be in the race.
The newspapers announce that he is the people's idol, and the boss of
the machine sends word to the newspapers that it is all well enough, but
it must be kept up.
David Lockwin rents head-quarters in the district, and shakes hands
with all the touching committees. Twelve members of the Sons of
Labor can carry their union over to him. It will require $100, as the
union is mostly democratic.
They are told they must see Mr. Lockwin's central committee. But Mr.
Lockwin must be prepared to deliver an address on the need of reform
in the government, looking to the civil service, to retrenchment and to
the complete allegiance of the officeholder to his employers, the voters.
Mr. Lockwin must listen with attention to a plan by which the central
committee of the Sodalified Assembly can be packed with republicans
at the annual election, to take place the next Sunday. This will enable
Lockwin to carry the district in case he should get the nomination. To
show a deep interest in the party and none in himself must arouse
popular idolatry.
This popular idolatry must be kept awake, because Harpwood has
opened head-quarters and is visited by the same touching committees.
He has been up and down State street, and has drunk more red liquor
than was seen to go down Lockwin's throat. In more ways than one,
Harpwood shows the timber out of which popular idols are made.
The doctor is alarmed. He makes a personal canvass of all his patients.
They do not know when the primaries will be held. They do not know
who ought to go to Washington. All they know is that the congressman
is dead and there must be a special election, which is going to cost
them some extra money. If the boss of the machine will see to it, that

will do!
But Lockwin is the man. This the boss has been at pains to determine.
The marriage has made things clear.
One should study the boss. Why is he king? If we have a democracy
how is it that everybody in office or in hope of office obeys the pontiff?
It is the genius of the people for government. The boss is at a summer
resort near the city.
To him comes Harpwood, and finds the great contractor, the promoter
of the outer docks, the park commissioners, and a half-dozen other
great men already on the ground.
"Harpwood," says the boss, "I am out of politics, particularly in your
district. Yet, if you can carry the primaries, I could help you
considerably. Carry the primaries, me boy, and I'll talk with you further.
See you again. Good-bye."
The next day comes Lockwin.
There are no "me-boys" now. Here is the candidate. He must be put in
irons.
"Lockwin, what makes you want to go to Congress?"
"I don't believe I do want to go, but I was told you wished to see