The Birmingham age-herald. [volume], August 17, 1913, MAGAZINE SECTION, Image 45

About The Birmingham age-herald. [volume] (Birmingham, Ala.) 1902-1950

Image provided by: University of Alabama Libraries, Tuscaloosa, AL

                
'■■■■■■ •' . iaF:• .• v -
!
OnVoMifi ^ Politics
Fmttr RfflK&inwtf.
I SEE,” said Mr. Dooley, “that a lady
down in New York says that if we don’t
■ give thim th’ vote be th’ year nineteen
fifteen they’ll do in this counthry what they’re
doin’ in England.”
“ I’d like to be chief iv polis f’r about five
minyits if they thry it,” said Mr. Hennessy.
“ What wud ye do, ye big, sthrong man, to th’
little pets?” Mr. Dooley asked. “ Th’ last time I
see ye in a debate with th’ fam’ly circle it was
not an argymint but a foot race that ye won.”
“ I’d—I’d—I don’t know what I’d do, but I’d
do something,” said Mr, Hennessy.
“ Spoken like a prime ministher,” said Mr.
Dooley. “ I must say that ye take a broad, states
manly view iv ye’er jooty as a man, an’ wan that
has manny pricidints in histhry. Fr’m th’ time
iv Solomon, an’ befure, whiniver a marrid man
or other profissyohal diplomat has found himself
in a wrangle with th’ fair they’se been on’y wan
thing he cud do, an’ that was to wish she was a
gmtleman f’r a few minyits so he cud take a kick
at her. But this thransformation bein’ impossible
in nature, d’ye mind, th’ prudent statesman will
grab his hat while there is yet time an’ take th’
A steps to th’ sthreet at wan jump, showin’ th’
supeeryority iv his sex be bangin’ th’ dure afther
him if possible.
Have I iver denied ye annything? Take me
ar-rm an’ hang on tight. I’ll conduct ye to th’
pollin’ place. Wud ye like a sup iv ice cratne
sody to nerve ye f'r th' ordeel? Here we ar-re
at th’ pollin’ place. Officer, step aside. Boys,
throw thim see-gars away. Mulligan, where’s
ye’er manners? Take off ye'er hat befure I tache
ye a lesson in etiket be kickin’ it off. Casey, a
pencil. Schmidt, some iv thim ballots. Which
iv these d’ye think ye’d like best, allanna? I’ll
hold thim up to th’ light f’r ye. Yes, that wan’s
a pretty shade. Now, if ye’ll come into th’ booth
we’ll mark th’ ballot together. Here ye ar-re.
Mark a cross at th’ top iv this colyum. No, not
there; here. I’ll show ye. Give me ye’er hand
an’ I’ll guide it. Dili anny wan iver tell ye ye
had little hands? What’s ye'er hurry? O, all
right. Boys, here’s Mabel’s ballot. Be sure ye
give it a good place and’ count it first.’
“ Sure, th’ bachelors will be th’ boys in polly
ticks if th’ ladies gets th’ votes. It's to us intilli
gent, raisonable, an' handsome men that th’ dear
things will come an’ not to crusty ol’ marrid men.
We’ve niver took_ advantage iv thim with false
promises an’ led them fr’m th’ altar to th’ wash
tub. I’ll have fifty votes to ye’er wan if th’ girls
get their rights, an’ I’ll be a power in th’ ward.
“ I don't blame ye marrid men f’r not wantin’
No man wants to be a continyous martyr on a
small scale all his life. An’ statesmen ar-re always
more sinsitive to pain thin ordhinry people.
That’s what makes thim statesmen.
“ I ain’t sayin’, mind ye, that this is th' right
theery, but it's th’ wan th' ladies iv England has
got into their feeble but tenacyous intcllecks.
An’ I will say this, they're’ well equipped be na
ture f'r their task. With thim it’s no longer,
‘ Won’t ye listen to our prayer, O stately lords?’
but ■ Give us th’ vote or we'H'make life a burden
to ,ye.’ Ivry mornin’ some ol’ consarvitive num
ber iv parlymint who thinks that a woman has
reached th’ highest pint in her mintal devilopmint
whin she has lamed th’ herrin’ bone stitch, wakes
up just in time to put out a fire in his clothes
closet that's been set be th’ wife iv his bosom.
He goes down to breakfast to find an imitation
dinnymite bomb cheerfully cracklin’ undher th’
table. He quenches it fr'm th' taypot, an’ afther
dustin’ th’ imitation prussic acid off th’ eggs ates
his breakfast with as much relish as he can con
sidhrin’ that his toast has been wrapped up be th’
hired girl in a pamphlet callin’ on him to renum
ber Mrs. Pankhurst an’ that his 17 year old
daughter is firin’ crokay balls at him through th’
window. But it is not till he goes out on th’ goluf
coorse to prepare himsilf f’r his jooty iv governin’
but Grade,’ she says. Thin whin he presooms to
seize her coat sleeve with th’ thumb an’ forefinger
she shrieks, ‘ Brute!’ an’ falls to th' pavemint in
a faint. Th’ polisman, lost to all sinse iv pity,
puts smellin’ salts to her nose an' brutally rubs
her forehead an' wrists with cologne. She doesn’t
regain consciousness ontil she is lifted on th’
shouldhers iv th' officer an' his comrades, whin it
all comes back to her at wanst. Expeeryenced
polismen, Hinnissy, tell me it’s almost impossible
to get an onaisy gintleman to go along with ye
if he doesn’t want to orders ye first take th’ pre
caution iv dhroppin’ a piece iv timber on his head
just back iv th’ ear. Thin think what it must be
f'r modest constables to convey a fretful lady
through th' busy sthreets iv a large city.
“ Wlyn they fin’lly get her to th’ polis coort an’
th’ judge asks her is she guilty or not guilty she
pegs th’ ink stand at him. He slips undher th’
desk while pronouncin’ sintence on her an’ on’y
comes out whin a male sympathizer is brought in.
Thin he has a clianst to relieve his feelin’s in
safety. Whin th’ lady is carrid away to jail an’
her brutal captors has gone to th’ hospital to have
their wounds dhressed she refuses to ate anny
thing. This is conduct so unheerd iv in England
that til’ govermint don’t know how to dale with
it. They stock th’ cell with sponge cake, pickled
who’s sthrugglin’ f’r a vote with her hair in her
eyes. He’d find it hard wurruk to compose
1 Lines to Delia Poorin’ Molasses Into a Letter
Box ’ or ‘ On Seein’ Pansy Set Fire to a Race
Thrack.’ D’ye suppose Askith cornin’ out iv his
house an' seein’ a lady hitched to his fence with a
dog chain wud speak iv her as a * rosebud set with
little thorns an’ sweet as English air cud make
her ’? Ye can bet he wudden’t. No more cud ye
tlfink iv a polisman on his back on th’ sidewalk
with a sufferage leader dancin’ on him quotin’
fr’m that pote Hogan knows: ‘ Here comes the
lady! O, so light iv foot.’ Or supposin’ th’ poor
copper was sint to lade th’ boochous Miss Pank
hurst off to th' rest cure, wud he sigh, as he took
out an accident policy:
“ ‘ Excipt I be by Sylvya in th’ night
There is no music in th’ nightingale ’?
“ What he wud say wud be, ‘ Onless I be by
Sylvya in th’ night I wudden't need to carry a
night stick.’ It wudden’t stack up as well as
pothry, but ’twud be a betther statement iv fact.
“ It’s very hard to know what to do with a lady
wdio refuses to be cooed to, an’ it looks to me as
though th’ language iv anty-nuptyal pothry was
goin’ into th’ discard f’r awhile. If Hogan don't
give these,gintle things a vote he’ll have to change
A polisman is sint to arrest her.
I’ll organize a comp’ny iv sharpshooters, an’ have thim out in me back yard practicin’ peggin’ bricks at
• stuffed figures iv th’ cab’net.
“ I know iv no battle in th’ wurruld that’s so
unakel as wan between a rale lady an’ a perfick
gintleman. If ye win ye lose, an’ if ye lose ye
lose. It is shameful to th’ prime ministher iv
England to be slapped be Mrs. Pankhurst, but it
is akelly shameful f'r him to slap her. It’s hard
to say whether 'tis more disgraceful to bate wan
iv these gifts iv Iliven as to be baten he her, Tli’
modhren lady is far fr’m bein’ th’ soft thing that
she was in th’ days whin primitive man coaxed
her to do his biddin’ with th’ shin bone iv an illy
phant. Like as not th’ poor weak thing has just
V come home fr’m an afthernoon at th’ gyminasium
an’ it ain’t anny twinty to wan th’ crool tyrant
wudden’t get licked. On th’ other hand, if he
happened to put his right acrost first, no matther
if he done it to save his life, half th’ neighborhood
wud turn out to lynch him. May Hiven sind that
if I am iver called on to choose between victhry
an’ defeat at th’ hands iv wan iv these gintle
priestesses iv th’ fireside me nimble feet will save
me honor. F’r shud I win ivry chivalrous soul
will want me hanged, an’ if I lose I’ll be th’ vic
tim f’r th’ rest iv me life iv all who love an aisy
mark, an’ that’s th’ entire fightin’ wmrruld.
“Yes, sir; ye gallant marrid fellows ar-re.up
against it. It’s all right f.’r us bachelors. This
is none iv our battle. If th’ ladies iv America
takes it into their dear little heads f’r to adopt
th’ tactics iv their sisters in England I’ll offer me
sarvices to thim as insthructor. I’ll organize a
’comp'ny iv sharpshooters an’ have thim out in me
back yard practicin’ peggin’ bricks at stuffed fig
ures iv th’ cab’net. An’ I’ll be out arly dhressed
in me best on iliction momin’, an’ ’twill be: ‘ Good
mornin’, fellow citizen. How well ye’re lookin’
this blessed day. That’s a very becomin’ bonnet
ye have on top iv ye’er goolden hair an’ matches
th’ blue iv ye’er eyes as well as annything cud
excipt Hiven’s own bright sky. Give ye a vote,
ir
tliim to vote, but how ar-re ye goin’ to slop thim?
I don’t know. Nobody knows. F’r thousands iv
years th’ greatest marrid minds in th’ wurruld
has been puzzled to decide what to do with a lady
whin she stops bein’ a lady an’ acts like a gintle
man at a quarther to twelve o’clock on a Saturdah
night. In her own proper sphere she’s as gintle
as a lily an' often too tired to debate her rights.
But whin she step^ out iv th’ refinin’ infloonce iv
th’ kitchen an’ begins hurlin’ things it is best f’r
a thoughtful man to seek th' seeclusion iv his
libry at th' corner iv th’ sthreet an’ wait till she
sees hersilf in th’ lookin' glass.
“ Ye were all right as long as th' ladies come
> to ye an' pleaded f’r a vote an’ begged it as a
favor fr’m ye. Ye winked ye’er eye at ye’er fel
low man an’ chuckled to ye’ersilf an’ thin ye
turned to th’ low spoken pettyshuner with th’
white curls an’ th’ little lace cap an’ ye said:
‘ We wud be glad to considher ye’er prayer, but
we have too much respiet f'r ye to grant it. Th’
rough hurly-burly iv pollyticks is not sootable f’r
such dainty flowers as ye. Go home an’ cook th’
supper.’
“ An’ they wint. But someway or another they
heerd iv a gr-reat truth iv pollytickal pro-gress
that us men has kept secret f’r years, which is
that manny a fearless statesman wud rather lend
an ear to th’ cry iv th’ oppressed thin to a lump
iv coal an’ th’ like iv that. Th' rule iv pollyticks
is, ‘ Do that f’r me or I’ll do this to ye,’ an’ th’
prayer is not complete without both sections bein’
in it. To be a succissful reformer ye’ve got first
to be a nuisance. There ain't manny principles
that t statesman wud go to th’ stake an’ be burned
f’r, but there ain’t e’er a wan that he wudden’t
give up rather thin be pestered. If ye threaten
to shoot a man onless he gives ye something he
may take a chance on ye’er bein’ a bad shot. But
if ye tell him ye’ll put-a cinder in his eye an’ keep
it there till he grants what ye want ye’ve got him.
th’ impire an’ finds that his maiden aunt has
burned ‘Votes for women' with acid on th' put
tin' green that he tears off f'r th' house iv com
mons an’ puts on his hat an’ gets up an’ demands
to know what th’ deluded govermint is goin’ to do
to protict th’ most sacred institutions iv Britain.
“ Th’ prime ministher, aftlier castin’ a bold an'
defiant glance at th’ gall’ry to see that no ladies
ar-re prisint, announces in an angry whisper that
th’ govermint is preparin’ to discuss th' advisabil
ity iv considhrin’ puttin’ down these outrage's
with an ir’n hand. In th’ future offinders will be
threated just as if they were men, on’y th’ coun
thry must remimber that this is impossible. He
vvud say that th’ prisint intintion is to keep thim
in jail as long as they came to stay an’ thin to
turn thim out without mercy. It is not tlirue
that Mrs. Pankhurst lias been denied th’ use iv
curlin’ ir’ns while in prison. She has not on'y
used thim on her own head but on th’ head iv th’
chief warden, th’ physician, an’ siv'ral iv th’ jail
ers. He regretted to repoort that siv'ral valu
able officyals has suffered th’ loss iv their thumbs
in feedin’ th’ nris’ners forcibly, an' he is seeryous
ly considhrin’ takin’ th’ Victorya Cross away fr’m
th’ military an’ givin’ it to th’ polismen detailed
to pinch th’ suffragit leaders.
“ That afthernoon as th' prime ministher starts
f’r home undher a -sthrong guard iv polis a tall,
blonde lady, iv ladylike appearance, takes a brick
fr’m her reticule an’ pitches it into his stovepipe
hat. A polisman' is sint to arrest her. He goes
up to her politely an’, gettin’ quite red in the face,
says: ‘ Vilet, will ye give me th’ pleasure iv a
waltz as far as th’ callyboose?’ ‘ I will not,’ says
she, hittin’ him over th’ head with her satchel.
‘ Crool monsther,’ says she, hurlin’ a No. 3
double ‘A’ into his midst. ‘Down with th’ tyr
anny iv man,’ says she, stabbin’ him with a hatpin.
‘ An’ besides,’ she says, ‘ me name is not Vilet
limes, currant jelly, ice crame, briled lobster, an’
other dainties supposed to tempt th’ female palate,
but she won’t touch thim. If ’twas a man that
scorned th' rude but wholesome jail fare th’ jailer
wild say, ' Thank ye, number nine lnnulherd an'
fifty,’ an’ carry it home to his fain’ly. An’ th’
ilex’ day th' indomitle spirit wild be willin' to ate
his boots. But th' lady spurns it ontil th' prime
ministher says angrily: ‘ Very well, if ye won't
ate ye’ll have to get out or th' cook will. Ye’ve
hurt his feclin’s tur-rbly be refusin’ his dishes.’'
An' he sets her free an' she goes out an’ attinds
bankits in her honor ontil th’ doctor tells her it’s
time to go on a ditv* again, an’ she returns to jail.
“ This here application iv th’ feminine argy
mint of tantrum to pollyticks is rootlin’ th’ dis
position iv English statesmen. Wan iv thim can't
go to parlytnint f'r a little rest without some lady
throws something at him. She breaks into his
home, she turns up at church an’ intherrupts his
prayers, an' she aven goes so iar in sacrilege as
to climb out on th’ race thrack and' spile th’
chances iv a 3 year old that he’s backed down
fr’m twinty to wan to avens. It's tur-rble.
“IIow's it goin' to end? Faith, I don’t know,
but it’s knockin' all the pothry out iv our relations
with th,’ fair sex. There’s our frind Hogan,
lie’s been expellin’ pothry about th’ ladies f’r so
manny years that I have it be heart. They’re
this an' they’re that. They’re etarnal joy an’
everlastin’ love. Angels don't look like thim, but
on’y pretind to. They’re perfection nobly planned,
says he. But whin wan iv thim wondherful
crathers comes up an’ thries to cash in his adjec
tives f'r a vote he wants to lock her up. It’s hard
f'r a lady to think he’s on th’ square with her
whin he tells her men wud be brutes without her
afther lie’s ordhered a polisman to chase her away
fr’m th’ polls.
“ An be th’ same token it’s not goin' to be aisy
f'r a pote to write pothry about a sinsitive plant
liis adjectives. An' aven if tliey do get into polly
ticks it's goin’ to be difficult f’r a pote to sing th’
praises iv a lady that's got th’ job iv bridgetender
that lie craved f’r himsilf. An' I will say this,
firmly as T believe in th’ akequality iv th' sex, I
dhraw th’ line at puttin’ thim on ill’ polis foorce.”
"They haven’t done that?” Mr. Hennery
asked in a frightened whisper.
“ They have,” said Mr. Dooley. “ Here it is in
black an’ white: ‘Ten women appinted to th’
polis foorce.’ That ought to about end th' dav iv
th' troobadoor. I do not hesitate to say that
nawthin’ cud injooce me to twang me light guitar
undher th’ windows iv th' Deeritig sthreet station.
Much as I am th’ slave iv th' sex an' greatly as [
admire an’ love thim all, 'twud sthrain me c<>r
jality to be asked to set in th' moonlight in th’
park with me ar-rrn around a polisman, he she
iver so much a lady. An’ yet who cud resist m
officer in th’ circumstances? Who wud refuse to
go along with a lady that had a club in her hand
an' a revolver in her pocket? Th' on’y thing that
wud save him wud be she mightn't be able to
find her pocket. But think iv th’ disgrace to
impeeryal man iv bein’ dhragged to th’ pound he
wan iv these harmless vestals, as l^ogan wud say.
1 wud think nawthin’ again ye if our frind Officer
Muldoon took ye in—that is, if ye put tip a re
spictable fight. But to hear that ye'd been
lagged be Officer Lucy Larkspur wud break me
heart. I'd niver want to see ye’er face again.”
Now, look here,’ said Mr. Ifennessy; "I
w'ant to know right now whether ye’re f’r these
, things or not. Where d’ye stand?” •
Well, said Mr. Dooley, " I used to agree
with Hogan whip lie said pollyticks was too
rough f’r women. But afther readin' what they’ 'e
done in England I’m afraid to give thim th’ vote
because they may be too rough f’r pollyticks.”
iCopyright: 1913: By Finley Peter Dunne.)
s • *
rj- J * • f ■’1 i