The County: The "Dark Continent" of American Politics

by Henry S. Gilbertson

It is now perfectly well known to students of political science that what the usual run of voter does in such a case is to ratify one or the other set of candidates who have been previously culled over by the county committee of either party. It is true that, under the direct primary system, independent voters may start a revolt if the politicians do something that is particularly “bold” and “raw.” But even that privilege is of questionable value, for it breaks down even the kind of responsibility that obtains under the rule of an unofficial executive, since the boss, if criticized for a bad selection, is always able to fall back upon the explanation that “the people did it themselves.”

And when the votes have been counted and the candidates chosen, what of the citizens and the politicians then? Armed with a certificate of election “direct from the people,” the sheriff, the coroner, the county clerk, owe no legal allegiance to anyone save to them. But the people have finished watching the election count and have gone home and back to work on concerns which are infinitely more absorbing than any which affects the county government.

Then there comes into play another political allegiance which is not of law. The “governing class,” which gave the separate county officers their jobs, is not in business for its health. It does not put men in paid positions out of pure bigness of heart. It performs a public service and it earns a right to collect a toll. And it collects! The bosses collect “theirs” not only in terms of power to name the officers whom the people shall elect, but insofar as no bothersome civil service law is in the way they select also the subordinates. And through this power of appointment they exercise various other powers which make them to all intents and purposes the real seat of final authority in the county.

And so we see the workings of a natural law. In nature the organism that survives is that naturally selected one that adapts itself to its environment. Just so the American democracy has adapted itself to the difficult political situation which it has itself created. The political unit, which in the present instance is the county, is legally without a head; forthwith instead of going to pieces, it grows this necessary piece of anatomy outside its own body, and lo, an altogether unworkable system is made tolerably workable!

One reason why the boss flourishes so bountifully in the county is the almost complete lack of any special legal qualifications for filling the offices (except the district attorneyship). Anybody can be a county clerk. He need only appoint as his chief deputy a faithful easy-going person who has been on the job for years at a stretch and has made himself indispensable as a master of the details of the office. This deputy will, of course, be the real county clerk and he will draw a comparatively modest salary because he is of no direct use to the “organization,” while the elected official collects the high compensation, spends a little time in the office every day, dividing the rest between the interests of the “ring” and his own legitimate private business, which goes right on as usual throughout his term.

Another attraction in the county offices is the large fees which are paid in probably the majority of counties in lieu of stated salaries. The county clerk collects from the person immediately benefited, a sum fixed by statute for each document filed. The sheriff makes similar collections for the service of each legal process. The coroner draws from the county a fixed amount for each inquest.

The theory of the fee system is, first, that the service is paid for by the party whom it most concerns and secondly, that a specific reward for a specific service will be an incentive to the officer to do his duty. Nearly everywhere, however, the theory has worked out very badly. It is doubtless proper that every person who receives special service should contribute accordingly to the expense of government. In small counties where the work of the county is limited there seems also to be much to be said in favor of the officer keeping the fees. But in large counties having an enormous business the compensation from this source is often all out of proportion to the amount of service rendered. It would seem, for instance, that the sheriff of New York County, who is never a man of special training, would be amply compensated for his routine services by a salary of $12,000. But in addition to this sum he is now (1916) receiving annually about $60,000 in fees. The county treasurer of Cook County, Ill., within very recent years, is said to have pocketed during his four-year term about the better part of $500,000,—he was never willing to tell the public just what the amount was and the law has protected his policy of silence.

But it must not be supposed that these rich prizes remain the personal property of an individual officer. Nor is it to be supposed that the numerous deputyships which often provide berths at a much higher compensation than would be allowed for the same service under private auspices, go to enrich the head of the office. No, the man or the men, who put the sheriff or the county treasurer where they are have a great deal to say about the disposition of this money. In New Jersey, lest a single county officer should take himself too seriously in this respect, the law provides that all appointments of the sheriff shall be confirmed by the board of freeholders—and confirmation means control. If the Cook County treasurer had kept the fees of his office, it is hardly to be supposed that the county commissioners for years would have bitterly fought to prevent an accounting for these funds.

The county is indeed a wonderfully bountiful base of supplies for the spoilsmen. The circumstance goes far to explain the slow growth of the merit system in this branch of government. Civil service laws are in force to-day in eighteen counties in New York, four in New Jersey, one in Colorado, one in Illinois, two in California and the more important counties in Ohio. That is the extent of the merit system in counties. Even in states like Massachusetts, Illinois and Wisconsin, where state-wide civil service laws affecting cities are in operation, appointments in the county offices are filled on the principle of “to the victor belong the spoils.” In New York State the courts have enunciated a principle with reference to the relation between the sheriff and his deputies which has the effect of fortifying the system against attack and its most prolific outlet. For, said the court in Flaherty vs. Milliken,[3] “the relation between a sheriff and his appointees is not merely that the sheriff is responsible for the default of his appointee, but that the appointee for said default is liable to the sheriff and to no one else.” “The practical operation of this rule of personal agency,” says the New York Civil Service Commission, “is in large measure to open the door for political purposes of persons in whom no real trust is reposed. These offices are in practice found to be a haven for political spoilsmen....”

But “spoils” often connotes something besides jobs that pay salaries or fees. In Westchester County, N. Y., where county affairs are known to the public rather more intimately than elsewhere (owing to the activities of the local Research Bureau), it has been found that perhaps the richest patronage of all is in the county advertising. The state of New York requires, for instance, the publication in every county of the complete session laws of the legislature, in two papers. It means the setting up in newspaper type of two or more large legal volumes of intricate matter that no one could possibly use in that form. Then there are multitudinous formal legal notices that issue from the various offices at the court house, that rarely, in the nature of the case, interest more than the two or three parties who may never see them at all. Every paper that prints this material gets paid, often at a much higher rate than it would be compensated for ordinary commercial work. In one case an honest printer in Westchester County was so indiscreet and independent as to submit to the Board of Supervisors a bill at something approximating a fair rate,—$600. His rivals remonstrated and undertook to get him to raise his figure—they were charging $1060 for the same matter. But the independent said: “No, $600 is the legal price and moreover it is good pay.” The board audited his claim and of course cut down the rival papers accordingly,—but never thereafter did the county printing go to the man who wanted to be fair to the public.