A tethered bull does not know that he is tied until he attempts to go beyond the rope’s limits. A community does not feel the grip of the “System” until it attempts resistance. Then it knows. San Francisco during the Ruef-Schmitz regime was no more under the heel of the “System” than when other “bosses” dominated; no more so than to-day; no more so than other communities have been and are. The political “boss” is merely the visible sign of the “System’” existence. However powerful he may appear, he is, after all, but agent for the “System.” The “boss” develops power, does the “System’s” work until he is repudiated by the people, when another “boss,” usually in the name of “reform,” takes his place. But the second “boss” serves the same “System.” Ruef entered San Francisco politics as a “reformer.” He supplanted other “bosses.” But Ruef in his turn served the “System” they had served. San Francisco, when Ruef had reached his point of greatest possible power, rose against him. The “System” was not immediately concerned. Ruef had lived his day; the hour for another “boss” to succeed him had come. But San Francisco proposed to get at those back of the “boss”; to get at the “System.” And then San Francisco found the “System” more powerful than herself; more powerful than the State of California. And San Francisco was beaten down, humiliated, made to understand that within her borders the laws could not be enforced against those to whom the “System” granted immunity from punishment. To secure evidence against bribe-givers, the State granted immunity to bribe-takers who confessed their crimes and joined with the State to bring larger criminals to justice. And the “System’s” agents cried outrage that bribe-takers should go free of punishment. But the “System” granted immunity from punishment to those who had bribed. And the apologists for the “System” will tolerate no criticism of this sort of immunity. Other communities have risen against the “System’s” agents, the “bosses,” and the “bosses” have given place to other agents. But few communities, if any, have attacked the “System” as did San Francisco. Had they done so, unquestionably they would have found themselves as ineffective against corruption as San Francisco has been shown to be. The “System” is confined to no particular State or locality; it permeates our entire public life. Judge Lindsey in Colorado calls it “The Beast.” In California we call it “The Southern Pacific Machine,” for in California the Southern Pacific Company was its chief beneficiary. Other communities call it the “Organization.” The bull does not discover his rope until he strains at it; the community knows little or nothing of the overpowering “System” until it resists. San Francisco resisted and discovered. The mere bribing of a board of supervisors was not extraordinary. Our newspapers furnish us daily with sorry recital of bribe-taking public officials discovered in other communities. But the effective, searching resistance to bribe-giving which San Francisco offered was extraordinary. It was a new thing in American politics. It compelled the “System” to show its real strength, and that, too, was new in American politics, and extraordinary, also. The “System” at San Francisco had taken the usual precautions which ordinarily ensure it against successful opposition, or even question. It had, through its agents, selected the candidates for public office, including the District Attorney. With the District Attorney loyal to the “System” the “System” was secure against attack. And even were the District Attorney to resist the “System,” still was the “System” secure, for the “System” could deny the District Attorney, through the public officials it controlled, the funds necessary for successful opposition. But here again extraordinary circumstances worked for the “System’s” confusion. Not only had the “System” been mistaken in the caliber of the man whom it had permitted to be nominated for District Attorney, but patriotic citizens guaranteed the expenses of effective attack through the District Attorney’s office. Nevertheless, the “System” would ordinarily have been able to laugh at the attack, and render it abortive, by compelling the citizens who were backing the District Attorney to withdraw their support. Even at San Francisco, the supporters of the District Attorney felt the force of such attack. Those who supported the Prosecution found themselves harassed in their business ventures, and snubbed in the social circles in which they had moved. When Heney, stricken down in the discharge of his duty, lay at the point of death, a minister of the gospel prayed for the wounded Prosecutor’s recovery. Immediately from the pews came silent expression of disapproval. That pastor refused to be intimidated, refused to join with his fashionable congregation against the Prosecution. He was eventually compelled to resign his pastorate. Rudolph Spreckels, while accounting for every dollar that the Graft Prosecution had expended, asked to be excused from naming those who had subscribed to the fund, lest they be attacked. Ordinarily, those citizens whose instincts had led them to guarantee the District Attorney their support, would have been forced to abandon him. But at San Francisco, a few citizens, in spite of ridicule, abuse, social ostracism and business opposition, stood firm for civic righteousness. This made San Francisco’s attack upon the “System” possible and stirred the “System” to extraordinary resistance. The “System,” seeing itself threatened, went to the relief of the “boss,” its agent, whom even its chief beneficiaries despised. The “boss,” through his puppet in the Mayor’s chair, declared the office of the District Attorney vacant, and appointed himself to fill the vacancy. The boldness of the move startled the whole community. But the act merely demonstrated the extremes to which the “System” was prepared to go. It was not extraordinary in comparison with what was to follow. Later on, witnesses were to be concealed, intimidated, gotten out of the State; their No; bribe-giving at San Francisco was not so extraordinary as the events which grew out of attempt to punish for bribe-giving. And now, as we look upon San Francisco beaten, and retarded in her development because of that beating, the hopelessness of her opposition to the “System” is the most startling thing of all. We see now, that with a District Attorney intent upon doing his duty, with funds ample for vigorous prosecution guaranteed, with trial judges of integrity and ability on the bench, none of the accused, so long as he remained loyal to the “System”—so long as he did not “snitch”—was in real danger of suffering the law-provided punishment for the crimes uncovered against him. Ruef carefully weighed the ability of the Prosecution to save him, against the power of the “System” to punish or to save, and knowing the power of the “System” as few other men knew it, Ruef betrayed the Prosecution and cast his lot with the “System.” The outcome would have justified his judgment but for a series of unusual events which none could have foreseen. The most extraordinary incident of the whole Graft Prosecution, we can now, with the “System” uncovered before us, see, was that Abe Ruef went to the penitentiary. With full knowledge of the power, resources and methods of the “System,” it is not at all extraordinary that guilty men under its protection should escape punishment. But it is extraordinary—due only to a chain of extraordinary happenings—that one of its agents, who continued faithful, who didn’t “snitch,” finds himself in prison and unable to get out. The San Francisco Graft Prosecution uncovered the “System” as it has been uncovered in no other American city, for San Francisco made the hardest, most persistent, and longest continued attack that a municipality has ever made upon it. California has profited greatly because of the uncovering, for while uncovered, the “System” may be proceeded against intelligently, not in the courts, but at the ballot-box. California has been quick to profit by the opportunity which the uncovering of the “System” has offered. In preparing this volume for the press it is my purpose—so far as lies in my power to do so—to keep the cover off. FRANKLIN HICHBORN. Santa Clara, Calif., Dec. 25, 1912. |