Early in 1901 I was called up on the telephone and asked to come to Mayor Phelan’s office at once.  I found there some of the most ardent civil service supporters in the city.  Richard J. Freud, a member of the Civil Service Commission, had suddenly died the night before.  The vacancy was filled by the mayor’s appointment.  Eugene Schmitz had been elected mayor and would take his seat the following day, and the friends of civil service distrusted his integrity.  They did not dare to allow him to act.  Haste seemed discourteous to the memory of Freud, but he would want the best for the service.  Persuaded of the gravity of the matter, I accepted the appointment for a year and filed my commission before returning to my place of business.  I enjoyed the work and its obvious advantage to the departments under its operation.  The Police Department especially was given an intelligent and well-equipped force.  An amusing incident of an examination for promotion to the position of corporal concerned the hopes we entertained for the success of a popular patrolman.  But he did not apply.  One day one of the board met him and asked him if he was not to try for it.  “I think not,” he replied.  “My early education was very unlimited.  What I know, I know; but I’ll be damned if I’m going to give you fellows a chance to find out what I don’t know!”

I chanced to visit Washington during my term as commissioner, and through the courtesy of Senator Perkins had a pleasant call on President Roosevelt.  A Senator seems to have ready access to the ordinary President, and almost before I realized it we were in the strenuous presence.  A cordial hand-clasp and a genial smile followed my introduction, and as the Senator remarked that I was a Civil Service Commissioner, the President called:  “Shake again.  I used to be one of those fellows myself.”

Senator Perkins went on:  “Mr. Murdock and I have served for many years as fellow trustees of the Boys and Girls Aid Society.”

“Ah,” said the President, “modeled, I presume, on Brace’s society, in which my father was greatly interested.  Do you know I believe work with boys is about the only hope?  It’s pretty hard to change a man, but when you can start a boy in the right way he has a chance.”  Turning to me he remarked, “Did you know that Governor Brady of Alaska was one of Brace’s placed-out boys!” Then of Perkins he asked, “By the way, Senator, how is Brady doing?”

“Very well, I understand,” replied the Senator.  “I believe he is a thoroughly honest man.”

“Yes; but is he also able?  It is as necessary for a man in public life to be able as to be honest.”

He bade us a hearty good-by as we left him.  He impressed me as untroubled and courageous, ready every day for what came, and meeting life with cheer.

The story of the moral and political revolution of 1907 has never been adequately told, nor have the significance and importance of the event been fully recognized.  The facts are of greater import than the record; but an eyewitness has responsibility, and I feel moved to give my testimony.