At that time there was a collection of men, called the "Lake Shore Push." These men thought that they had the Lake Shore Railroad in their hands, from the criminal end of it, or, perhaps, I should say, the hold-up end of it. Their history is a matter hard to explain. They had been known on or about the Lake Shore Railroad, to my knowledge, for twenty years easily.

They are worth while considering in a paragraph or two as showing how criminal "mobs" are made up.

The Lake Shore Railroad for some reason or other has been infested with box-car robbers, hold-up men, for about the number of years suggested. For some reason, the Lake Shore gang found it convenient to organize itself in so far as organization is possible in criminal life. Criminals of different types got together, and said: "We will run this road as we think it should be run according to our ways of looking at things." The management of the road had nothing to say that was of any use.

So the Lake Shore gang proceeded, and robbed cars, even threw a steer off a car when it wanted to hold a barbecue, held up the polite Ohio politician beating his way to the extent of forty cents, had all those plants supposed to be between Buffalo and Chicago, and generally made themselves a criminal nuisance.

The Lake Shore gang consisted of the following types: the desperate laboring man(?) who is willing to grapple with your throat on account of a dollar or two—I mean the hold-up man that you hear so much about in the Middle West; the discouraged criminal who knew that he was discouraged, but thought he might possibly, under spurious cover, get a "stake" on professionally criminal lines; the hard-up man who was led along by the other conspirators in the game; the boy of eighteen, who had made some miserable mistake in his home, had to get away from that home, and had fallen into the hands of scheming men; and the woman of the street who had her reasons for knowing anything about the Lake Shore gang. The Lake Shore gang, it can be said, grew out of the idea that when you can be imposed upon, you will stand for it. What they are doing now I do not know. It may be that they are amusing themselves as in days of old. All I want to say here is that this was the company I had good chances of falling in with when striking the general manager's terminals on the lakes. The Lake Shore Railroad and the Nickel Plate, as it was called, took up the full responsibility of all tramp nonsense after certain department heads had done their best to relieve both of these roads of pronounced deficiencies and crimes.

As I have said, I found that, at Ashtabula, the tramps were burning up the Lake Shore Company's coal, the Nickel Plate Company's coal—put the two together and call them the Vanderbilt lines if you like—and that the Lake Shore gang were robbing people right and left on every freight train that went over the Vanderbilt lines. I found also that the Vanderbilt lines did not pay the slightest respect to the protection of their patrons, as regards pickpockets and other gentry of that character, on their passenger trains, otherwise than by employing a man who feverishly ran up and down their territory—let us say between Toledo and Cleveland—took his lunches where he could buy them for from ten to twenty-five cents, and tried to carry out the whole game for the Vanderbilt interests between the points mentioned. This man was supposed to be the police force of that district. The reason he took so many quick lunches is because he had too much to do. In some ways, I believe that he tried to serve the Vanderbilt interests. But no man can cover such a district, if he be all alone—as it is alleged that he was—and attend to all of the details that will come up in police life on the Vanderbilt lines or on any other line.

This man I did not meet. I heard about him, from time to time, taking hungry lunches on the Lake Shore trains, passenger and freight.

This man, so far as the public is concerned, passenger or freight, did no more to protect the public than does a mosquito in New Jersey when it tries mercenary intentions upon an innocent suburbanite. In my opinion, the Lake Shore Railroad, in its employ of this one man to cover so much territory, did not honestly stand up as a citizen in our United States.

My employer, the general manager, had in mind something else.

He is the man, who, when the Johnstown flood occurred, built the railroad bridge over the turbulent river in twenty-four hours. In saying that he built it, I mean that he knew how to get men to help him build it.

The same determination that he had in building that bridge, the same character, came out in his determination that his railroad line, so far as he could effect it, must be free of the riffraff population which was disturbing it. So he organized a police force and therewith proceeded to take care of that riffraff population. He did it to a nicety. He put a man at the head of it whose name I shall mention later on. He got hold of this man through the Pinkerton National Detective Agency.

The big fellow went into the game prepared to fight his particular game to a finish. The general manager sat off and wondered.

The whole world knows, more or less, the history of the Pullman strike. It was a strike fought, perhaps, with certain rightful labor interests in view. It was a strike, however, which was as cruel as any that has been known in this country. It was a mean thing on the part of employer, and on the part of employees. The wonder is that there was not more bloodshed. Men who undertake what the strikers of the Pullman Company did undertake, are most certainly considering trouble in its worst features. However they went ahead, as a last forgiveness, they asked the sympathy of the public and were by the mercy of the then considerate, all-wise, all-grasping Pullman Company, turned over to the mercies of the United States Government troops.

General Miles appeared in Chicago with his troops.

He was approached by the general manager, and asked this question: "What are your troops out here for if they are not going to stop the ruin of our property?"

"That is my business," said General Miles.

"True enough, but they are burning up my cars, and so far as I can see, your troops are not doing one thing to defend United States property."

Again General Miles replied that what he was doing was wholly within his province. The general manager did not attempt to indicate to General Miles that his line of business conflicted with the general's.

Here were two men, both of them masters in their own lines. Mr. Cleveland had ordered the United States troops to Chicago. General Miles had nothing else to do but to obey. He went to Chicago with his troops. There was no shooting done. The question is, whether there should not have been some shooting done. Labor in this country has arrived at a point where it is so arrogant that it must be shot at. If it thinks that trade unionism will protect it, it is much deceived.

I must tell a story of something that happened during the Pullman strike at Chicago.

A big man thought that he could proceed against one of the regulars. He started to do so. The regular said to him: "You must keep off this property."

The big man said: "Huh! You don't run the whole world."

The regular said: "Get off this property, or I will make trouble for you."

The big man said: "Huh! You have another guess coming."

The regular said: "Get off this property quick."

The big man seemed to want to linger, and the regular went after him with his bayonet and struck him where he understood that he had received his due attention.

The strike was finished. Millions of dollars had been lost. The general manager returned to his ordinary business, and settled down to ordinary work again.

General Miles doubtless retired to his retreat.

There is a point to be made here about the efficiency of the militia and the regulars. What did the militia do during all this unfortunate experience? Not enough to let an ordinary suburban train go on its quiet way. Mr. Grover Cleveland saw the necessity of immediate protection for the United States mail, and ordered the regulars to Chicago. The regulars, merely by their presence, did more than the whole militia of the State of Illinois could have done or would have done. The militia are too afraid of shooting brothers and sisters. The regulars are soldiers, and obey the commands. My friend, the general manager, later on had to take care of the body of President McKinley. What did he do? The special train was there, the special policemen were there, and the special orders were there. President McKinley's body went to Washington with as cleverly appointed a bodyguard as one can ordinarily find. Poor man, he lay in his coffin not caring whether he was protected or not. A man stood on the front of the train, a man was on a middle platform, a man was on the rear end, and one or two men were inside. So this man was taken home, guarded by Democrats, and I think Socialists in theory.

This is what the general manager of a road did to get an assassinated President to the National Capital. It was only a small courtesy, because the man was dead. But it was one of those courtesies which can never be forgotten by a man's friends, and by any whom we have taken an interest in. To have done this thing efficiently was something worth doing. There are people who, to-day, think that they can rob the tomb of Lincoln. They tried it not so very long ago. Their intentions were most completely balked.

To frustrate people who might try to do any injury to a President of the United States while in transit over his road strikes me as being a highly creditable proceeding on the part of any general manager.

During my acquaintance with the general manager I learned to know his then chief of police, Mr. C.E. Burr. Mr. Burr had kept track of me during my investigations for the general manager, but had not made any particular effort to locate me. He knew his men pretty well, he knew his idea of railway police organization pretty well, and, after that, believing that he was giving a square deal to his employer, he did not care who was looking over his territory.

More about Mr. Burr, whom I have to thank for my first genuine introduction to graft and its practitioners. Without him and his assistance I could have hardly gotten so quickly into this subject.

My report to the general manager delivered, after two months of pretty hard work, I returned to New York City to take up the next promising thing that came to hand.