“So far as I am concerned, not a damned bit.  I want none for myself, and I will oppose giving any to him or anyone else.”  I learned later that he had been elected without being consulted, while absent in the East.  Upon his return a somewhat notorious woman principal called on him and informed him that she was responsible for his election—­at least, his name had been submitted to her and received her approval.  He replied that he felt she deserved no thanks for that, as he had no desire to serve.  She said she had but one request to make; her janitress must not be removed.  He gave her no assurances.  Soon afterward the matter of appointments came up.  Mr. Scott was asked what he wanted, and he replied:  “I want but one thing.  It involves the janitress of Mrs. ——­’s school.  I want her to be removed immediately.”

“All right,” replied the questioner.  “Whom shall we name?”

“Whomever you please,” rejoined Scott.  “I have no candidate; but no one can tell me what I must or must not do.”

Substitution followed at once.

Later Mr. Scott played the star part in the most interesting political struggle I ever knew.  A Democratic victory placed in the superintendent’s office a man whose Christian name was appropriately Andrew Jackson.  He had the naming of his secretary, who was ex-officio clerk of the board, which confirmed the appointment.  One George Beanston had grown to manhood in the office and filled it most satisfactorily.  The superintendent nominated a man with no experience, whom I shall call Wells, for the reason that it was not his name.  Mr. Scott, a Democratic member, and I were asked to report on the nomination.  The superintendent and the committee discussed the matter at a pleasant dinner at the Pacific-Union Club, given by Chairman Scott.  At its conclusion the majority conceded that usage and courtesy entitled the superintendent to the appointment.  Feeling that civil service and the interest of the school department were opposed to removal from position for mere political differences, I demurred and brought in a minority report.  There were twelve members, and when the vote to concur in the appointment came up there was a tie, and the matter went over for a week.  During the week one of the Beanston supporters was given the privilege of naming a janitor, and the suspicion that a trade had been made was justified when on roll-call he hung his head and murmured “Wells.”  The cause seemed lost; but when later in the alphabetical roll Scott’s name was reached, he threw up his head and almost shouted “Beanston,” offsetting the loss of the turncoat and leaving the vote still a tie.  It was never called up again, and Beanston retained the place for another two years.