Because of simple friendliness the alderman is expected to pay rent for the hard-pressed tenant when no rent is forthcoming, to find “jobs” when work is hard to get, to procure and divide among his constituents all the places which he can seize from the city hall.  The alderman of the ward we are considering at one time could make the proud boast that he had twenty-six hundred people in his ward upon the public pay-roll.  This, of course, included day laborers, but each one felt under distinct obligations to him for getting a position.  When we reflect that this is one-third of the entire vote of the ward, we realize that it is very important to vote for the right man, since there is, at the least, one chance out of three for securing work.

If we recollect further that the franchise-seeking companies pay respectful heed to the applicants backed by the alderman, the question of voting for the successful man becomes as much an industrial one as a political one.  An Italian laborer wants a “job” more than anything else, and quite simply votes for the man who promises him one.  It is not so different from his relation to the padrone, and, indeed, the two strengthen each other.

The alderman may himself be quite sincere in his acts of kindness, for an office seeker may begin with the simple desire to alleviate suffering, and this may gradually change into the desire to put his constituents under obligations to him; but the action of such an individual becomes a demoralizing element in the community when kindly impulse is made a cloak for the satisfaction of personal ambition, and when the plastic morals of his constituents gradually conform to his own undeveloped standards.

The alderman gives presents at weddings and christenings.  He seizes these days of family festivities for making friends.  It is easiest to reach them in the holiday mood of expansive good-will, but on their side it seems natural and kindly that he should do it.  The alderman procures passes from the railroads when his constituents wish to visit friends or attend the funerals of distant relatives; he buys tickets galore for benefit entertainments given for a widow or a consumptive in peculiar distress; he contributes to prizes which are awarded to the handsomest lady or the most popular man.  At a church bazaar, for instance, the alderman finds the stage all set for his dramatic performance.  When others are spending pennies, he is spending dollars.  When anxious relatives are canvassing to secure votes for the two most beautiful children who are being voted upon, he recklessly buys votes from both sides, and laughingly declines to say which one he likes best, buying off the young lady who is persistently determined to find out, with five dollars for the flower bazaar, the posies, of course, to be sent to the sick of the parish.  The moral atmosphere of a bazaar suits him exactly.  He murmurs many times, “Never mind, the money all goes to the poor; it is all straight enough if the church gets it, the poor won’t ask too many questions.”  The oftener he can put such sentiments into the minds of his constituents, the better he is pleased.  Nothing so rapidly prepares them to take his view of money getting and money spending.  We see again the process disregarded, because the end itself is considered so praiseworthy.