Where I meet so many men every day and have so many confessions and try to lend a helping hand in so many places, I do forget some of the men, for it seems as though there was an endless procession of them through the Bowery.  But some cases stand out so prominently that I shall never forget them.  I remember one man in particular who used to come into the Mission.  He was one of the regulars and was nearly always drunk.  He used to want us to sing all the time.  He was a fine fellow, but down and out, and every cent he could earn went to the saloons.  I would talk to him nearly every night and ask him why he did not stop his drinking.  He would listen, but the next night he would be drunk just the same.

There was good stuff in him, for he was a good bricklayer and could make from $5.00 to $6.00 per day.  He told me he was married, and his wife and two children were in Syracuse, living perhaps on charity, while he, instead of making a living for them and giving them a good home, was here on the Bowery drinking himself to death.

He would often say, “Danny, if I could only sober up and be a man and go back to my family, I’d give anything.  But what’s the use of trying?  I can’t stop, and I wish sometimes that I was dead.  And sometimes, Mr. Ranney, I’m tempted to end it all in the river.”

I reasoned with this man time and time again, but with no effect.  He knew it was the right way to live, but thought it was not for him, and I thought that if a man was ever gone it was that young man.

One night as the invitation was being given I caught his eye and I said, “Jim, come up front and get rid of that drink.”  But he said, “What’s the use?” I went down, took him by the hand, led him up front, and we all knelt down and asked God to save these poor men.  I asked them all to pray for themselves and when I got to Jim I said, “Jim, now pray.”  And he said, “Lord, help me to be a man and cut the ‘booze’ out of my life for Jesus’ sake.  Amen.”

He meant business that night and was as sincere as could be.  We all got up from our knees, and I put the usual question to them all, now that they had taken Jesus, what were they going to do?  It came Jim’s turn, and he said, “Mr. Ranney, I’ve asked God to help me, and I’m going out of this Mission and I’m not going to drink any more whiskey.”  Then almost in the same breath he said, “I wonder if God will give me a pair of pants.”  That created a smile in the audience.  I knew I could get Jim a pair of pants, and he needed them badly.  Just imagine a man six feet tall with a pair of pants on that reached just below the knees, and you have Jim.