The big Babbitts of the Association of Commerce, desiring flocks of little Babbits, arranged for organizing in the schools what they called “Junior Associations of Commerce.” The boys must be called out of class to listen to lectures by Mr. Sam Insull, monarch of all the gas tanks he surveyed, who made a tour of the schools to tell how he succeeded by never looking at the clock. Another business man told the kids that labor “slacked” during the war; and as many of these Chicago kids came from union homes, they resented it. When the grown-up Association of Commerce failed to support appropriations for the schools, the kids at one school got on their dignity and withdrew. Then the Chicago Federation of Labor had a bright thought—why should there not be a Junior Federation of Labor in the schools? Why should not labor leaders come to tell the kids how they succeeded by solidarity? A movement for this program was started, and the name Junior Associations of Commerce was changed in a hurry to Civic Industrial Clubs! How badly some labor representation is needed in Chicago schools you may judge from a story told me by a parent, whose little boy asked his teacher, “What is the militia for?” The answer was, “To put down labor strikes.”
CHAPTER XXIII
THE SUPERINTENDENT OF TROMBONES
We have now examined the public schools of three of our largest cities. We are going to visit a number of other cities, and it will be convenient to begin with San Francisco and cross the continent eastward.
San Francisco has a long and picturesque history of graft. Its Big Business is in the hands of descendants of gamblers and hold-up men, who have run its affairs in that spirit. Everything has been for sale, including the leaders of the exploited working class. The old line union leaders of San Francisco were, and to a great extent still are, agents made use of by business men against their business rivals. Some twenty years ago Eugene Schmitz, head of the musicians’ union, led the workers into politics, and was triumphantly elected mayor of the city. Behind the scenes as boss sat Abraham Ruef, a lawyer; and these two became almost as important in the world of graft as the heads of traction, water, gas, and electric light companies.
In 1906 came the earthquake and fire, and in the resulting confusion fortunes were made. Everything had a tax on it—the privilege of building a street-car line or the privilege of building a chimney on your home. Every form of vice was included—you may judge the moral tone of this community by the fact that one of the most prominent men in San Francisco “society,” a regent of the University of California, was shown to have invested trust funds in a “French restaurant” building, intended to be used for his own profit as a house of assignation; and after this exposure the gentleman stayed on as regent of the university!
One courageous newspaper editor, Fremont Older, and one public-spirited rich man, Rudolph Spreckels, undertook the exposure and punishment of these grafters. Francis J. Heney was put to work, and he made up his mind that for the first time in American history the big insiders, and not the little agents, were to pay the price. He went after Patrick Calhoun, president of the street railways; and the result was the most terrific civic convulsion in American history. Of course, all the interlocking directorate rallied to Mr. Calhoun’s rescue; they were equally guilty, and must stand or fall by their confederate. While trying the case in court, Heney was shot in the head, but he recovered, and the prosecution was continued; Mr. Calhoun was saved from the penitentiary only by the purchase of the jury which was trying him.
In spite of all the efforts of Older and Heney, the outcome was that to which we are accustomed; the little fellows were punished. Abe Ruef was sent to the penitentiary, while Schmitz was let off by the Appelate Court. Fremont Older, realizing that Ruef was merely a tool of the real criminals, became sorry for him and tried to obtain his pardon. Nothing was ever said about Ruef’s returning the plunder he had collected, and he is now living in retirement upon this. Ex-Mayor Schmitz has recently been re-elected one of the supervisors of the city. But he has now learned his lesson, and takes the orders of Herbert Fleishhacker, the banker who now runs both the city and state administrations. If you have read “The Goose-step,” you have made the acquaintance of Herbert Fleishhacker’s brother, Mortimer, who is the grand duke of the board of regents of our state university, and owns the “hell fleet of the Pacific,” the fishing vessels whose horrors are a legend of the San Francisco waterfront. It is interesting to note that Mortimer Fleishhacker has just appointed a new president of his university, an astronomer named Campbell, whose son is in the bond department of Herbert’s bank; and the new president has shown his loyalty to his masters by declaring in a public address that “higher education is a privilege and not a right.”
What has been the fate of the public schools of San Francisco you may judge when I tell you that a trombone player in the Schmitz orchestra was appointed superintendent of schools of the city, and held that high position for eighteen years. Alfred Roncovieri was a union man, representing what was supposed to be a union labor ticket; nevertheless, the teachers of San Francisco were persecuted for belonging to the American Federation of Teachers. They were ordered to withdraw, and some two hundred out of two hundred and fifty did so. At the same time the schools were open for the propaganda of the bankers and the militarists, and the usual spy system was installed by the business interests.
Mr. Roncovieri was an Italian Catholic, and the censorship of text-books was turned over to his Church; books on history, economics, biology and science had to be submitted to Father Wood of St. Ignatius College, who, with the help of a Paulist priest, decided whether they were suitable for the children of San Francisco. They rejected one book, “Builders of Democracy,” but through a mistake ninety copies of it got into the library of one of the high schools; the city had paid for them, but the Catholic censors ordered them out, and out they went.
Mr. Roncovieri conducted very pleasant “institutes” for the teachers, and was profuse in flowery compliments, telling them that they were “the finest teachers in the world.” (They had been appointed by the grafters, and had tenure for life, and a majority of them were Catholics.) He selected lists of speakers, and the Catholic brothers and fathers were prominent thereon. He cultivated his reputation as “the best hand-shaker in San Francisco”; also he saw to it that the incidental music at the institutes was of the finest quality—as an expert trombone player, that was in his line. How good care he took of the schools you may judge from the fact that in one of the largest and most crowded high schools more than one hundred windows were found to be broken and not repaired!