The Cynical Toll of Local Politics
A satirical diary of a man who wins a nomination for public office, only to be ruined by the exorbitant financial and social demands of his supporters.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
As misery loves company, the following journal of a defeated candidate will no doubt be read with a ghastly smile of satisfaction by many hereabouts: Thursday—Received the nomination for an office. Friday—Immense poster on a brick pile opposite house—my name in two-foot letters. Friends meeting me in the street say there is a rumor about town that I am up for office, which ought to be contradicted. Saturday—Man on steps of my house with big whip and terrier; come to advise me to beware of a class of ruffians that go around election times extorting money from candidates. Engage him at five dollars, cash down. Evening—Excited persons call for a subscription for a banner. Man comes with a wooden leg—wants a new one. Three more banners. Seventeen men to attend the polls. More cripples. Delegation want their fire engine painted. Men without arms to post their bills. Children all crying upstairs. My wife in hysterics. General terror and confusion. Midnight—Torchlight procession; rotten egg hits me in the eye; general fight. Wednesday—Wake up defeated. Tell my friends I don't care for myself, but feel sorry for the city. My wife goes home to her mother; the children are sent where they cannot be under my influence. No home—no friends—no wife—no money—no office.
“My wife in hysterics. General terror and confusion.”
While satirically embellished, this account highlights the 'machine' era of local politics, where running for office was a personal financial risk. The pressure of political life on the family unit remains a persistent, if less violent, theme in civic life today.
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