THE CLUBBING OF THE UNEMPLOYED.

"The winter of 1873-74," says McNeill, was one of extreme suffering. Midwinter found tens of thousands of people on the verge of starvation, suffering for food, for the need of proper clothing, and for medical attendance. Meetings of the unemployed were held in many places, and public attention called to the needs of the poor. The men asked for work and found it not, and children cried for bread…. The unemployed and suffering poor of New York City determined to hold a meeting and appeal to the public by bringing to their attention the spectacle of their poverty. They gained permission from the Board of Police to parade the streets and hold a meeting in Tompkins Square on January 13, 1874, but on January 12 the Board of Police and Board of Parks revoked the order and prohibited the meeting. It was impossible to notify the scattered army of this order, and at the time of the meeting the people marched through the gates of Tompkins Square…. When the square was completely filled with men, women and children, without a moment's warning, the police closed in upon them on all sides.

One of the daily papers of the city confessed that the scene could not be described. People rushed from the gates and through the streets, followed by the mounted officers at full speed, charging upon them without provocation. Screams of women and children rent the air, and the blood of many stained the streets, and to the further shame of this outrage it is to be added that when the General Assembly of New York State was called to this matter they took testimony, but made no sign. [Footnote: "The Labor Movement":147-148. In describing to the committee on grievances the horrors of this outrage, John Swinton, a writer of great ability, and a man whose whole heart was with the helpless, suffering and exploited, closed his address by quoting this verse:

"There is a poor blind Samson in our land,
Shorn of his strength and bound with bonds of steel,
Who may in some grim revel raise his hand,
And shake the pillars of the Commonweal.">[

Thus was the supremacy of "law and order" maintained. The day was saved for well-fed respectability, and starving humanity was forced back into its despairing haunts, there to reflect upon the club- taught lesson that empty stomachs should remain inarticulate. For the flash of a second, a nameless fright seized hold of the gilded quarters, but when they saw how well the police did their dispersing work, and choked up with their clubs the protests of aggregated suffering, self-confidence came back, revelry was resumed, and the saturnalia of theft went on unbrokenly.

And a lucky day was that for the police. The methods of the ruling class were reflected in the police force; while perfumed society was bribing, defrauding and expropriating, the police were enriching themselves by a perfected system of blackmail and extortion of their own. Police Commissioners, chiefs, inspectors, captains and sergeants became millionaires, or at least, very rich from the proceeds of this traffic. Not only did they extort regular payments from saloons, brothels and other establishments on whom the penalties of law could be visited, but they had a standing arrangement with thieves of all kinds, rich thieves as well as what were classed as ordinary criminals, by which immunity was sold at specified rates. [Footnote: The very police captain, one Williams, who commanded the police at the Tompkins Square gathering was quizzed by the "Lexow Committee" in 1893 as to where he got his great wealth. He it was who invented the term "Tenderloin," signifying a district from which large collections in blackmail and extortion could be made. By 1892, the annual income derived by the police from blackmailing and other sources of extortion was estimated at $7,000,000. (See "Investigation of the Police Department of New York City," 1894, v:5734.) With the establishment of Greater New York the amount about doubled, or, perhaps, trebled.] The police force did not want this system interfered with; hence at all times toadied to the rich and influential classes as the makers of law and the creators of public opinion. To be on the good side of the rich, and to be praised as the defenders of law and order, furnished a screen of incalculable utility behind which they could carry on undisturbedly their own peculiar system of plunder.