A Woman for Mayor: A Novel of To-day

by Helen M. Winslow

The new mayor's inauguration into office was an event which will go down in the history of Roma as witnessing the greatest crowd of citizens of both sexes in City Hall which that temple of the money-changers ever saw. Both the friends and the enemies of the new administration were out in full force, and Gertrude Van Deusen's speech, accepting her new responsibilities, found ready response in many a heart which was thrilled by her words for the first time that day. The women of Roma turned out en masse and the old City Hall was not spacious enough to shelter all that came.

But it was when she took actual possession of the handsomely appointed office of the mayor, that she realized fully she was face to face with the greatest problem of her life. For now she had access to the inner temple of the mysteries of city government. She had already provided against the sex-awkwardness of her situation by installing as private secretary, Mary Snow, of the Atlas.

"Don't tell me no," she had urged when she offered Mary the position. "I must have a broad-minded, capable woman there who has had experience and knowledge of affairs. I know of nothing that could give a woman this kind of insight into public matters, like newspaper work of the kind you have done."

"But there are other newspaper women," began Mary—

"Yes, I know there are," replied Gertrude Van Deusen. "But a woman must have personal character and dignity and personal honor to fill this position, as well as the aforesaid experience."

And Mary Snow had accepted the place, to the joy of all other newspaper workers; for the gatherer of news is always rejoiced to find a newspaper man or woman ready to serve them when they are sent out for information by their chiefs. As the new mayor believed in publicity she soon had the sworn support of most of the newspaper men who came near City Hall. Her stenographer, too, was an attractive young woman and the feminine element soon became evident in all that part of the building devoted to the mayor's use. Flowers bloomed in the windows, an early and thorough house cleaning took place, and the cuspidors which had been conspicuous at every turn were banished,—all but the occasional one which must be left for the stranded politician who could not wait until he got out of doors. Signs were placed in various parts of the building, calling attention to the new waste-baskets, and prohibiting smoking and expectoration.

From time immemorial, City Hall had been a loafing place for seedy politicians, active and retired, who passed their time plotting for the next campaign in the free seats provided by the City Fathers. One morning these individuals found no chairs,—absolutely none except those used by the officials and clerical force. They called the janitor and expostulated volubly, but all to no effect.

"She's banished 'em, boys," he said. "It would be as much as my place is worth to bring 'em back. The boys say she ain't agoin' to have no heelers 'round here, nohow."

With this they had to be content—after they had grumbled long enough—to go away and hunt up new quarters. For once, there was a City Hall with clean corridors, no tobacco smoke, and no loafers.

From the moment of her entrance into office, office-seekers and office-holders beset Gertrude Van Deusen until she began to doubt if there would be time left for the pursuance of any other duty in life than to appease them. She learned, quickly enough, to shunt these off on her private secretary; but while she did not propose to discharge good men, she found that there must be good counsellors at hand for her own safety. At the end of her first week she called for the resignation of the city solicitor, McAdoo, who was rather glad than otherwise to "cut loose from petticoat government," as he expressed it. His place she filled at once by giving Bailey Armstrong the position.