The Race Of The Aldermen
by
In 183-, it chanced in the big city of New York, that the aldermen elect were a sort of tie; that is, so many whigs and so many democrats. Such a thing did not occur often, the democracy usually having the supremacy. They generally had things pretty much all their own way, and distributed their favors among their partizans accordingly. The whigs at length tied them, and the locos, beholding with horror and misgivings, the new order of things which was destined to turn out many a holder of fat office, many a pat-riot overflowing with democratic patriotism, whose devotion to the cause of the country was manifest in the tenacity with which he clung to his place, were extremely anxious to devise ways and means to keep the whigs at bay; and as the day drew near, when the assembled Board of Aldermen should have their sitting at the City Hall, various dodges were proposed by the locos to out-vote the whigs, in questions or decisions touching the distribution of places, and appointment of men to fill the various stations of the new municipal government.
“I have it–I’ve got it!” exclaimed a round and jolly alderman of a democratic ward. “To-night the Board meets–we stand about eight and eight–this afternoon, let two of us invite two of the whigs, Alderman H—- and Alderman J—-, out to a dinner at Harlem, get H—- and J—- tight as wax, and then we can slip off, take our conveyance, come in, and vote the infernal whigs just where we want them!”
“Capital! prime! Ha, ha, ha!” says one.
“First rate! elegant! ha, ha, ha!” shouts another.
“Ha, ha! haw! haw! he, he, he!” roared all the locys.
“Well, gentlemen, let’s all throw in a V apiece, to defray expenses; we, you know, of course, must put the whigs through, and we must give them a rouse they won’t forget soon. Champagne and turtle, that’s the ticket; coach for four out and two in. Ha, ha!–The whigs shall see the elephant!”
Well, the purse was made up, the coach hired, and the two victims, the poor whigs, were carted out under the pretence of a grand aldermanic feast to Harlem, the scene of many a spree and jollification with the city fathers, and other bon vivants and gourmands of Gotham.
Dinner fit for an emperor being discussed, sundry bottles of “Sham” were uncorked, and their effervescing contents decanted into the well-fed bodies of the four aldermen. Toasts and songs, wit and humor, filled up the time, until the democrats began to think it was time that one of them slipped out, took the carriage back to the city, leaving the other to fuddle the two whigs, and detain them until affairs at “the Tea Room,” City Hall, were settled to the entire satisfaction of the democrats.
“Landlord,” says one of the democrats, whom we will call Brown, “landlord, have you any conveyance, horses, wagons, carriages or carts, by which any of my friends could go back to town to-night, if they wish?”
“Oh, yes,” says the landlord, “certainly–I can send the gentlemen in if they wish.”
“Very well, sir,–they may get very tight before they desire to return–they are men of families, respectable citizens, and I do not wish them, under any circumstances, to leave your house until morning. Whatever the bill is I will foot, provided you deny them any of your means to go in to-night. You understand!”
“Oh! yes, sir–if you request it as a matter of favor, that I shall keep your friends here, I will endeavor to do so–but hadn’t you better attend to them yourself?”
“Well, you see,” says Brown, “I have business of importance to transact–must be in town this evening. Give the party all they wish–put that in your fob–(handing the host an X)–post up your bill in the morning, and I’ll be out bright and early to make all square. Do you hark?” says Brown.