To Joe it had been merely an act of retribution in so far as it was not simply a spree.  But the leaders at the Republican headquarters did not know this, and when they got over their paralyzed astonishment at the returns, they investigated to find out what it meant.  Somebody told them that it represented the work of a young man named Joseph Murray.  Accordingly they sent for him.  The room in which they received him was doubtless some place like Morton Hall, and the men who received him were akin to those who had leadership in Morton Hall; but in Joe’s eyes they stood for a higher civilization, for opportunity, for generous recognition of successful effort—­in short, for all the things that an eager young man desires.  He was received and patted on the back by a man who was a great man to the world in which he lived.  He was introduced to the audience as a young man whose achievement was such as to promise much for the future, and moreover he was given a place in the post-office—­as I have said, this was long before the day of Civil Service Reform.

Now, to the wrong kind of man all this might have meant nothing at all.  But in Joe Murray’s case it meant everything.  He was by nature as straight a man, as fearless and as stanchly loyal, as any one whom I have ever met, a man to be trusted in any position demanding courage, integrity, and good faith.  He did his duty in the public service, and became devotedly attached to the organization which he felt had given him his chance in life.  When I knew him he was already making his way up; one of the proofs and evidences of which was that he owned a first-class racing trotter—­“Alice Lane”—­behind which he gave me more than one spin.  During this first winter I grew to like Joe and his particular cronies.  But I had no idea that they especially returned the liking, and in the first row we had in the organization (which arose over a movement, that I backed, to stand by a non-partisan method of street-cleaning) Joe and all his friends stood stiffly with the machine, and my side, the reform side, was left with only some half-dozen votes out of three or four hundred.  I had expected no other outcome and took it good-humoredly, but without changing my attitude.

Next fall, as the elections drew near, Joe thought he would like to make a drive at Jake Hess, and after considerable planning decided that his best chance lay in the fight for the nomination to the Assembly, the lower house of the Legislature.  He picked me as the candidate with whom he would be most likely to win; and win he did.  It was not my fight, it was Joe’s; and it was to him that I owe my entry into politics.  I had at that time neither the reputation nor the ability to have won the nomination for myself, and indeed never would have thought of trying for it.