There were two sets of charges against Dr. Lickley, one set of which they published, and the other of which they whispered. They had been shadowing him with detectives for years; they had followed him on train journeys and steamer trips, and wherever he drove in his automobile. Sometimes there were as many as four people devoting their attention to him; one of these men got drunk and admitted that he was shadowing Dr. Lickley for the gang. They were trying to get what they call a “woman story” on him; as we go from city to city you will find this such a common device of the Black Hand that you will learn to take it for granted.

The Lickley stories served their purpose—of helping to beat the “teachers’ ticket.” The candidates of the gang were elected without exception, and Dr. Oxnam came out next to the bottom of the poll. The charges against Dr. Lickley were dismissed, on motion of the attorney for the opposition; whereupon Superintendent Dorsey informed Dr. Lickley that if he still stayed in the system she would put him in a solitary room in the Grand Avenue School, with curtailed duties, without a stenographer, and without even a telephone. It happens that Dr. Lickley is a lawyer, and can earn far more at his profession than he was getting in the school system. He had before him a long and nasty fight, with the cards stacked against him. He tendered his resignation, which the new board accepted.

Some maintain that he should have stayed and fought it out. Suffice it to say that one of the factors upon which the Black Hand counts, when it puts its scandal bureau to work, is the probability that men of refinement will choose to go their own way as private citizens, in preference to having slanders about them published in the newspapers. If you take that to mean that Dr. Lickley was guilty and ran away, all I can answer is what Mr. Bettinger tells me; that he rented a room in the upper part of his home to a typist, who, hearing him speak of Dr. Lickley, remarked: “Why, I typed all the reports of the people who investigated his life; he didn’t do anything wrong.”

CHAPTER IX
THE REGIME OF RECIPROCITY

We now have the Black Hand in undisputed control of the school system of Los Angeles; their seven dyed-in-the-wool reactionaries meet, frequently in secret session, and carry out the will of their masters. Let us see what this means for the schools, the teachers, the children, and the public.

First of all, graft: it means that the handling of twelve million dollars a year is in the hands of people who have no conception of any other ideal in life but that of money-making. They would, of course, deny this indignantly; while denying it, they will be teaching the children in the economics classes that pecuniary self-seeking is the only principle upon which a civilization can be built. They will be glorifying greed by high-sounding phrases, such as “individualism,” “laissez-faire,” “freedom of contract”; they will be ridiculing any other ideal as “utopian,” the product of “theorists” and “dreamers.”

Here are more than nine hundred school buildings, and the system has never had a real building expert. The best architects in the city do not trouble to bid upon school buildings; they know that these contracts go to those who, in the phrase of Jerry Muma, “believe in reciprocity.” The whole business system of the schools is antiquated and tied up in red tape, all of which is sacred because it represents somebody’s privilege. The 1921 board ordered a business survey of the schools, employing the financial expert of the State Board of Control; a minute and detailed report on the school system was made—and was turned down and suppressed by the gang.

Quite recently Mr. F. W. Hansen, purchasing agent for the schools, resigned his position, stating that the system was “an institutional mad-house”; all his efforts to save money for the taxpayer had been thwarted by the business manager. Mr. Hansen had wished to go out and develop additional[additional] sources of supply, as the purchasing agent of any commercial organization would do. He went directly to the manufacturers of ink-wells and saved from thirty to forty per cent. He cut the price of waste-baskets from $9.60 to $6.85 a dozen; and so on through a long list of savings.

But you see, if you go directly to the manufacturers, you cut off the profits of jobbers and wholesalers, and these are prominent members of the Merchants’ and Manufacturers’ Association, who “believe in reciprocity” and “the encouragement of home industry.” When you buy from novelty houses for $38.00 calendars which the local dealers are selling for $100, you are causing unemployment for a bookkeeper in Los Angeles, who keeps track of this transaction for the local business men. Still worse heresy, when you go to San Francisco and buy reed for $1.50 which costs $3.53 in Los Angeles, you are boosting the most bitter rival of our City of the Black Angels. When you buy lubricating oil for twenty-seven and a half cents a gallon, which meets the test better than that which the city has been getting for fifty-four cents a gallon, you have some oil men on your neck. Mr. Hansen had a long fight with his superiors before he was even permitted to sign his own letters asking for prices in transactions such as this.[this.]

Mr. Hansen insisted upon getting competitive bids for the supplying of colored crayons. The business manager told him to “lay off this”; the city had been using Prang’s crayons, and there was none so good. The bid on Prang’s water colors had been forty dollars; when the competition started it came down to twenty-five; there were other brands offered for eighteen, and the art supervisor of the schools made tests, and could find no difference in quality between them. The old board split on this issue—the members of the “teachers’ ticket” stood out, trying to save the taxpayers $1,204.07 on this single purchase. The new board is now in, the city is paying the higher prices, and somebody is getting the “rake-off.”