A Doblet Production: The 1872 New York City Mayoral Election

[Cal]

Corruption on the Run: The 1872 New York City Mayoral Election

---

 

 

“It is time to proclaim that whoever plunders the people, though he steal the livery of heaven to serve the devil in, is no Democrat.”
-Samuel J. Tilden, New York State Assemblyman.

After the revelation of Boss Tweed’s funneling of public funds into his own accounts just last year in 1871, the name of Tammany Hall became a by-word throughout the civilized world, and the enemies of corruption assured themselves that the organization was shorn of political power for a long time to come. But the wonderful instinct of self-preservation which had always characterized Tammany, joined with the remarkable sagacity which its chiefs almost invariably displayed in critical times, now conspired to keep the organization alive despite every antagonistic influence. 

With the leadership of Tammany Hall uncertain, several men have risen as potential contenders to not only run the most powerful political machine in American history from the shadows, but to take action to salvage the massive scandal that is threatening to topple it’s control of the most populous city in the nation with the relentless attacks of the pro-reform Democrats such as Samuel Tilden, Charles O’Connor, Horatio Seymour, and August Belmont. 

The urgent need of Tammany Hall was a leader. In response to the demand, two men, John Kelly and John Morrissey, stepped to the front. Both of them were the product of local politics, and having made a science of their experience, they knew that the Tammany Hall that now lay prostrate and reviled could be raised and again made a political factor, and eventually the ruler of the city. The few men of fair character in the organization were undesirous of appearing too prominently in its councils; but despite the general odium attached to it, Kelly and Morrissey found that a large part of the thoughtless mass of the Democratic voters were still willing to follow its leadership.

Of course, while the shadows of the Big Apple are forced into the spotlight and the heavyweights of the era are suddenly vulnerable, other men are planning to take this moment of weakness to propel forward their own political ambitions. The Republican Party, which was expected to grow weaker and weaker in the city as Tammany Hall’s shadow suffocated the hopes of the locals, finds itself in the position of being able to take control of New York City for the first time in over a decade. The 1872 New York City Mayoral election is right around the corner, and this election represents a significant battle between the Democratic establishment, Tammany Hall, reformers, and the Republican Party. Samuel J. Tilden and his anti-corruption Democrats swept the state legislature last year in 1871 and the grounds are ripe for an ally of his to take on NYC proper. Not only is this a great opportunity for the Republicans due to Boss Tweed’s arrest and downfall, but the Presidential election with Grant leading the ticket is sure to encourage greater Republican turnout despite Tammany Hall’s efforts to restrict it.

It is now August 1st, 1872, and the nominating conventions for each party’s mayoral nominee are coming up. In our timeline, former Democratic Mayor WIlliam Havemeyer would receive the Republican nomination and go on to defeat the Democrat state assemblyman Abraham Lawrence, 41% to 35%. Sheriff James O'Brien would found his own “Apollo Hall Democracy” organization with the stated goal of rooting out corruption in New York City politics and also declared for mayor, garnering an impressive 24% of the vote. Historically he would run when Tammany Hall, in their attempt to reshape their public image as a reform organization, got behind the nomination of Lawrence even though Lawrence himself was a member of the Committee of Seventy which had been formed to take down Tammany Hall’s corruption. 

This will be a short-term RP to introduce anyone interested to Gilded Age politics with a possibility of tying into a greater Doblet RP universe later set in the Gilded Era, if we finish in a timely manner. There will be only 8 turns total. There will be one turn prior to the nominating convention, one turn during the nominating convention and potentially a few rounds of balloting where you can withdraw, endorse, what-have you, and 6 turns afterwards to cover the months between the conventions and the general election itself. 

Your success will be decided in part by merit and in part by chance, to provide incentive for more flavorful posts and universe building. All posts are either classified low-effort (with a dice range of 1-8), medium-effort (with a dice range of 1-10), or high-effort (with a dice range of 1-10, reroll on nat1). This moreso punishes one-sentence snippets and as long as it's a few sentences and flavorful most everything I expect will fall in the middle. An exceptionally flavorful post gets to reroll a nat1, but those will be very rare. Most everything should be in the middle.

Below is a non-exhaustive list of potential candidates and you are free to suggest your own candidate if you can think of an at least semi-plausible one. I definitely encourage creativity with your candidate, but do be aware that the more out there your candidate is, the less likely you’ll have much support from the convention. Should you be unsatisfied with the result you do retain the option to run independent from your party, however, this will be subject to a roll upon request for your party to attempt to deny your ballot access. You can alternatively set out as a third party candidate from the get go. This isn’t really 100% accurate historically, but it’s close enough and keeps the timeframe shorter which I think is best to keep attention and finish it out.

Potential Republican candidates: 
IRL: Former Democratic Mayor William F. Havemeyer. 
What if: Former New York City Police Justice Thomas A. Ledwith.
What if: Former Representative and 1868 mayoral nominee Frederick A. Conkling
What if: Collector of the Port of New York Chester A. Arthur.
What if: 78-year old railroad executive Cornelius Vanderbilt (or his son, William Henry Vanderbilt.)

Potential Democratic candidates: 
IRL: State Assemblyman Abraham R. Lawrence.
What-if: Current NYC Mayor Abraham Oakey Hall.
What-if: Former Governor and Democratic nominee for President Horatio Seymour.
What-if: Sheriff James O'Brien (can be independent)
What-if: Boss Tweed’s prosecutor, Charles O'Connor. 

Potential independent candidates: 
IRL: Sheriff James O'Brien (can be independent)

Potential non-candidates:
IRL: John Kelley (leading Tammany Hall)
What-if: John Morrissey (alternate leader for Tammany Hall)
What-if: Boss Tweed (alternate leader for Tammany Hall, refusing to cede leadership)

If you are interested, please feel free to claim a candidate from the list or another of your choosing down below. Ideally we could get this started this week and finished before @Dobs gets going on his own RP in the same era. This won’t be the most important tie-in RP but it’s still one of importance given that in about 16 years or so, should this continue, is the historic campaign of Teddy Roosevelt for mayor. Hell, I don’t know what his family is up to right now but maybe they’d be a fun candidate. It’s up to y’all. If you take Tammany Hall, be expected to mostly be trying to sway the race towards the Democratic candidate or, hell, run your own candidate if you want to be bold. That didn’t turn out great IRL anyway. Whoever and however many join I’ll be rolling for an adjustment to their starting strength with your campaign announcement and post an overview of the race with a quick blurb for each candidate before we formally begin.

Current Hypothetical Mayoral Polling
Former Mayor William Havemeyer (R): 42%
State Assemblyman Abraham Lawrence (D): 35%
Undecided: 23%.

New York City Council 
Current Composition: Democratic (reform) slim majority.
Chance of retaining Democratic (reform) majority: 35%.
Chance of Democrats (Tammany Hall) taking the majority: 5%
Chance of Republicans taking the majority: 60%

New York Gubernatorial
Former Secretary of the Treasury John Adams Dix (R): 46%
Former U.S. Representative Francis Kernan (D) odds: 37%
Undecided: 17%

New York Presidential
Incumbent President Ulysses Grant (R): 47%
Former Representative Horace Greeley (Liberal Republican/Democratic): 41%
Undecided: 13%

[WVProgressive]

Would you kindly permit me to take on the role of Boss Tweed? My full introduction will be up shortly, but I wanted to claim him before anyone else beat me to the punch.

[Cal]

1 hour ago, WVProgressive said:

Would you kindly permit me to take on the role of Boss Tweed? My full introduction will be up shortly, but I wanted to claim him before anyone else beat me to the punch.

For sure! I need to read a bit more because I know he was charged with like 100 things in 1871 but I think he was out on bail by this time.

[WVProgressive]

18 minutes ago, Cal said:

For sure! I need to read a bit more because I know he was charged with like 100 things in 1871 but I think he was out on bail by this time.

He was bailed out, but I think he was also arrested again afterward (and then bailed out again). I can't find the exact date for his second arrest other than it being at some point during 1872.

For my introduction I assumed that the second arrest happened after our start date, and as such Tweed was a free man. If that turns out to be false, and Tweed is actually behind bars to begin the RP that's fine, just let me know, and I'll write up a different introduction.

I tried to keep the introduction relatively short, since my goal was more so to introduce the character, what his goals, and perspective on things will be, as well as to foreshadow some of the major actions I plan on taking once this RP kicks off in earnest. I hope its quality is up to snuff with what you expect from me in general, and in terms of this RP.

With that out of the way, I present...

Better A Boss in New York Than A Slave In Heaven

A Prologue

A hard rain fell on the streets of Manhattan as an ornately decorated carriage entered the Bowery neighborhood. Inside was William Magear Tweed, better known as ‘Boss’ Tweed. He sat alone. He was alone. Connolly had fled to France, Sweeney to Canada. Cowards, the lot of them.

Tweed grit his teeth as his mind went to the happenings of the past year. Those bastards at the Committee. That snake O’Brien. The interlopers at the New York Times. And of course Sir Thomas the Nasty. They all had it out for him.

He built this city, that bridge in Brooklyn was his baby, every mick in New York from Manhattan to the Bronx had been helped in some way by Tammany Hall. Even when the ungrateful bastards marched on City Hall because the reformers, and their allies refused to pay their taxes, who bailed them out? William Tweed’s entire life has been dedicated to the service of New York City, and the Irish community. Is it so wrong then that he would want to be justly rewarded for all he’s done?

No matter… The old way of doing thing simply won’t work anymore. Not so long as the reformers, or – God forbid – the Republicans control things. Yes, the old ways are dead, but Tammany lives on. It must, unless Tweed desires to spend the rest of his days confined within a cage.

There must be a change in how Tammany Hall conducts itself if it is to survive this new era, starting with their election strategy. Certainly money is one of the easiest, and most acceptable ways to grease the wheels of government, but so long as the reformers control the purse-strings of government, Tammany Hall’s ability to monetarily persuade is crippled barring massive help from Tweed’s corporate friends, and even then the reformers are probably watching the books like hawks. Nay, rather Tammany must pursue other avenues if they are to stay in power. Even avenues that others may consider… unseemly.

It is for that very reason that Tweed found himself in a cold carriage on a dreadful night, rather than snug under velvet robes, and satin sheets. His carriage came to a stop in front of an unassuming tenement building in the heart of the Bowery, gruff looking Irishmen, and forlorn urchins alike looking at the finely made woodworking of the carriage with a mix of envy, and wonder. The carriage driver opened the door for Tweed, and as he exited the coach a barrel chested young man approached him. “You were the one who wanted to meet Dandy Dolan.” he said to Tweed. It was a statement, not a question.

[Sean F Kennedy]

I’ll take Teddy Roosevelt Sr. If possible of course 

[Cal]

3 hours ago, Sean F Kennedy said:

I’ll take Teddy Roosevelt Sr. If possible of course 

Sure. What exactly was he up to at this point in time? Was he particularly politically active? (I’ll look into this more before we begin but I’m at work and just wanna make sure there’s a plausible basis for his candidacy)

[Cenzonico]

Let me get Sheriff O'Brien. We're going to take down Tammany Hall!

[WVProgressive]

10 minutes ago, Cal said:

Sure. What exactly was he up to at this point in time? Was he particularly politically active? (I’ll look into this more before we begin but I’m at work and just wanna make sure there’s a plausible basis for his candidacy)

It appears that Theodore Roosevelt Sr. mainly stayed away from direct political advocacy during his life, but was an avid social reformer. He founded the New York Orthepedic Hospital alongside Dr. Charles Fayette Taylor (I can not find the exact date, though his meeting Dr. Taylor was spurred by his eldest daughter being born with a spinal deformity, so I assume the hospital was founded in the late 1850s, or sometime in the 1860s). Furthermore his philanthropic activities were numerous, from his contribution to the Children's Aid Society, to organizing the Bureau of United Charities, to helping finance the Metropolitan Museum of Art, among other efforts. Additionally, his nomination to be Collector of the Port of New York in 1877 was supposed to be a slight against Stalwart Senator Roscoe Conkling, so it can be inferred that Roosevelt was aligned with the half-bread, reformist wing of the Republicans, even if not fully a member.

[Zenobiyl]

Update: Since Horatio Seymour has a myriad of potentially disqualifying or damaging issues, I'm gonna change my pick.

I wish to play as Edward Cooper, son of 1876 Greenback Nominee & millionaire industrialist Peter Cooper. He was appointed to an anti-corruption commission by governor Samuel Tilden in the 1870s, and became IRL mayor in the 1880s.

He is currently an anti-Tammany democrat active in politics since the civil war. He is reformist, aligned with prominent businessmen as a member of the unofficial "swallowtail" faction of the New York Democrats, and is co-owner of both Cooper Iron Works (a major metallurgical company) and the Cooper Union (a progressive educational institution mostly run by his dad, kinda like a library).

Edward hopes to topple the Tammany political machine by using his family fortune and connections among Swallowtail democrats, while also moving the city forward with governmental, labor, and social reforms. He'll have to choose between embracing the philanthropy and progressivism of his father, or supporting business interests from the Swallowtail faction of the NYC dems. Or maybe he can do both? Let's find out!

Edited June 22, 2023 by Zenobiyl

[Blockmon]

Ohhhhh, this is interesting. then I will play as Thomas Nast. I will get his campaign announcement later on (need sleep).
edit: since this is AH then he and his family won't move but stay in NYC

Edited June 22, 2023 by Blockmon

[Cal]

6 hours ago, Blockmon said:

Ohhhhh, this is interesting. then I will play as Thomas Nast. I will get his campaign announcement later on (need sleep).
edit: since this is AH then he and his family won't move but stay in NYC

Sure, that’s an interesting one and given he only moved in late 1871 I’ll say it’s fair. Is he running for the independent nomination or what exactly?

[Cal]

This is looking to be like IRL with everyone dogpiling on Tammany Hall when they’re at their weakest 😛 

[Cal]

I’m looking to start this sometime next week, but no matter what the first actions won’t be “due” until at the earliest on Friday. 

Anyone else who wants to join or contribute feel free to chime in!

[Zenobiyl]

 

 

NYC BUCKLES UNDER DEMOCRAT FRAUD

(September 4th, 1871 - Cooper Union)

 

Edward Cooper scowled as he read the paper, much as he had been doing for the past few months. First the riots, then the front-page embezzlement scandal, and now New York City might even default on its debts. We’re going under next year, the man thought as he looked up from his copy of the Times, unless we fix this today.

 

It was mid-afternoon, which meant the doors of the Cooper Union were normally open to all socialites and scholars. Today, they were barred shut. The paltry dozen who remained inside were the last hope for saving the Democratic Party in New York, and perhaps even the city itself. If the Reformer gets here we'll have every democrat who matters in one room, Ed thought before chuckling to himself, except for Tweed, that is.

 

“Bunch of horseshit, let me tell ya,” a squat Irishman spoke between huffs of his pipe, “There ain’t a damn thing Tweed did that Grant didn’t do tenfold, but do the journalists print that?” John Kelly wasn’t wrong, of course, but neither was he helping things. ‘Honest’ John, Ed mused, always says the truth when you don’t need to hear it.

 

“At least Grant had something going for him,” an impeccably-dressed lawyer replied with cynicism, “what does Tweed have to offer now? He couldn't control his troops on Orange Day, for Christ's sake." Abraham Lawrence was a rising star in sheriff O’Brien’s anti-Tammany group and a reformist democrat, emphasis on the 'democrat’. "Every second that man remains head of Tammany our party's reputation slides further into the muck.”

 

"T'was the damn Protestants who started those riots," John piped up, "and half the democrats in this city are working Tammany jobs now. That's what he had to offer, Abraham!" Ed grimaced at the mention of jobs, a third of which had been on strike since July over demands for better conditions. The men in the room hadn't met the workers face-to-face like Ed, and even if they had it likely wouldn't change their position. They won't be getting an eight hour work day, he lamented, not from these politicians, at least.

 

“It doesn’t matter what he has or had to offer,” former mayor and anti-corruption stalwart William Havemeyer snapped from the far end of the table. “Tweed is a robber baron and a thief, and I say good riddance to him.”

 

“It seemed to matter when he got you elected!” John shot back, “how about we stop slandering a man for doing his job, and get to work fighting the Republicans.”

 

“His job?” William spluttered, “was it his job to embezzle public money?

 

"Everybody does it, Will," Abraham replied nonchalantly to both of them, "but Tweed was caught, John, so we must flush him out for appearances."

 

For the first time in their lives, William and John were in agreement on one thing: disagreeing with Abraham.

 

"What about loyalty?" John shouted at Abraham, "Tweed ran this city for decades, and now you'll throw him to the wolves to win an election?"

 

"If every politician in this city is a crook," William shook his head as he replied, "then maybe we need new politicians."

 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Abraham raised an eyebrow, "By Jove, Will, you're starting to sound like a Republican."

 

"Is it Republican to oppose corruption?" William slammed a fist onto the table. "If a Democrat mayor can't put a nail in the coffin of machine politics, then maybe that's what we need."

 

John laughed, “there ain’t a nail big enough to keep that coffin shut, Will. Even if the idiots in this city drag it down, there'll be a new Tammany before the decade is out.” He glared at the former mayor from across the table, blowing a ring of smoke from his pipe, “and a new Boss, too.”

 

“You’re missing the bigger picture,” Ed put his newspaper down. “It doesn’t matter what happens to Tammany if New York City goes bankrupt. First things first, we need to save the city.”

 

“And how’re we supposed to do that?” John raised a bushy eyebrow while reclining in his chair. Abraham and William looked similarly confused. 

 

“I don’t know,” Ed confessed, “but my father didn’t invite you here so we could bicker about Tweed while the city collapsed.”

 

“Your father,” Abraham spoke cautiously, “he’s worth a pretty penny, no? Why not have him loan the city some money?”

 

“His money is for charity, not bailing out corrupt politicians.” Ed scowled. “Besides, what good is more money going to do for New York while they’re still under Tweed's cronies?”

 

“A lot of good, actually.” John spoke up, “they’ve opened catholic schools, funded fire brigades, even public works and rail lines. We just need the right people in charge, and Tammany can fix all our problems.”

 

“We’re not working with those damned thieves!” William erupted. “I don’t care if they spend every fifth cent on school books; the whole lot of them need to be cast out root to stem!” 

 

“It won’t look good to bail out Tammany without reforms first,” Abraham replied, “but how are we supposed to change things in time for the next election? Even if we vote out Tweed’s men, we’ll be crushed by the GOP at the same time.”

 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” William quipped, “give the machine democrats a good scare, and I bet they won’t think of embezzling anytime soon.”

 

“We’re not waiting until next November,” a voice spoke from the shadows near the doorway. The man sounded familiar, regal. “We topple Tweed now, or we all go down with him.” He stepped into the light, and each person seated in the Cooper Union blinked with shock. This scandal was bad, sure, but nobody had expected him to arrive.

 

Tilden.

 

“Each of you is right, in your own way.” Samuel Tilden, one of the top democratic power-brokers in the nation, looked at the men seated across the table. “We must harness the power of Tammany for good, and we must cleanse the corrupt elements from the city. Most of all, we must preserve our party and our city no matter the cost.”

 

“But how?” Abraham looked pleadingly at Tilden. The man paused before he replied.

 

“I’ve fought Tammany for many years. It cost me jobs, money, status, and so much more.” Tilden's gaze turned steely. “It’s a hydra; cut off one head, and three more take its place. Even now Tweed’s agents are keeping the cash flowing, helping their friends behind bars maintain control over the city. We won’t win this fight by throwing them in jail, much as it might please the papers.”

 

“So what then?” Ed couldn’t resist asking. Tilden only chuckled, then continued.

 

“There’s only one way to kill a Hydra: starve it. You meet with every businessman, landowner, and bank in the city, ordering them to withhold their taxes starting immediately. While you take care of that, I’ll get my friends in the judiciary to block public officials from taking out more loans or bonds.” A slight smile grew on Tilden’s face, “It doesn’t matter how many agents Tweed has working for him; when the paychecks stop rolling in, they’ll fold.”

 

The meeting continued into the wee hours of the night, and one by one each member of New York City’s elite left the Cooper Union to return to their homes. There was a new feeling among the group, divided as they were by myriad issues: hope. Ed remained, and soon it was just him and Tilden sitting by the table together.

 

“Do you really think we can survive this?” Ed asked Tilden, cautious even in spite of their extensive planning.

 

“Who’s we?” Tilden chuckled at the man’s question.

 

“The New York Democrats. I mean, we could have a Republican mayor next year; aren’t you worried?”

 

“We’ll take a beating, alright, but the party will survive. It always does." The man's gaze drifted towards the newspaper on the table, where animated caricatures of Boss Tweed grinned back at him. "The more things change, the more they stay the same.” Tilden laughed. It wasn’t a happy laugh.

 

“What if it doesn’t have to be that way?” Ed replied hesitantly. “What if we could change the party for good?”

 

“Change it how?” Tilden asked, though it didn’t sound like an open question. 

 

“I don’t know.” Ed whispered. 

 

Both sat there, silent, before Tilden finally got up and they said their goodbyes. The two men wouldn’t meet again for several years, and it would be under very different circumstances.

 

As Ed watched Tilden’s silhouette fade into the shadowy night, a sudden thought gripped him. He tore through the drawers of his room, fishing through paperwork before finding the one document he had been looking for.

 

CANDIDATE DECLARATION FORM

 

Edward smiled. Now he knew.

Edited June 26, 2023 by Zenobiyl

[Cal]

I’m starting this Monday. Last chance to enter coming up. 

[Blockmon]

On 6/22/2023 at 8:11 AM, Cal said:

Sure, that’s an interesting one and given he only moved in late 1871 I’ll say it’s fair. Is he running for the independent nomination or what exactly?

he is running in Republican nomination.
and here is my nomination papers:

New York City, 1872, was a city of dreams and despair, of wealth and squalor, of angels and demons. Every cobblestone echoed with a tale, every lamplit corner had a story to tell. The city was teeming with life, thriving with a vibrant, unyielding spirit. It was a whirlwind of activity, with street vendors bellowing out their wares, children playing in the streets, horses clip-clopping against the cobblestones, and throngs of people rushing about in pursuit of their dreams.

The air was crisp and cool, a harbinger of the approaching fall, and the faint scent of the nearby sea pervaded the bustling city streets. The rustling leaves in Central Park signaled a change, not just in seasons but also in the political climate.

From the window of his office at Harper's Weekly, Thomas Nast, the famed political cartoonist, watched the city he loved dearly. He watched its people, its soul, and its life play out on the streets below. A new thought began to simmer in his mind as he reflected on the recent events.

The events of the past few months had shaken the city to its core. The fallout from the exposure of the rampant corruption of William "Boss" Tweed and his Tammany Hall cohort was still sending shockwaves through the heart of the city. Nast's own cartoons had played a pivotal role in Tweed's downfall, shedding light on the venality that had been allowed to fester within the city's administration. The depth of the rot had appalled Nast, and he knew that the city deserved better.

The forthcoming mayoral election had sparked something within him. As he sat behind his desk, his sketches of Tweed and his gang spread out before him, he knew he had to do more. He realized that the fight against corruption wasn't just about bringing the culprits to justice; it was about ensuring that the city's leadership represented the will of its people, the will for honesty, integrity, and progress.

As he gazed down at the city below, he saw a boy, no more than twelve, trudging reluctantly towards one of the many factories that dotted the cityscape. His small frame was enveloped in the oversized clothes he wore, his eyes carried a weariness that belied his tender years. He was but one of the countless children robbed of their innocence and forced into the relentless grind of the factories.

On a nearby corner, a group of Irish gang members, young men with fiery spirits and hardened hearts, squared off against each other. Their roars filled the air, adding to the city's cacophony. Their lives were shaped by poverty and struggle, a seemingly unending cycle of violence that offered them no escape.

Poverty was rife, as evident as the grime that clung stubbornly to the city's buildings. Families huddled together in cramped tenements, their gaunt faces etched with the struggle of daily survival. The disparity between the haves and the have-nots was stark and heartbreaking.

The city was no picture of beauty either. It was strewn with dirt, waste piled up in alleyways, and open dumps were a common sight. The stench was often overwhelming, a constant reminder of the city's need for significant reform.

Witnessing the grim reality of New York stirred a powerful resolve in Nast. His heart ached for the innocent child forced into labor, for the young men caught in a violent cycle they couldn’t escape, and for the families struggling against the biting grip of poverty. The city's appearance, its dirt, and grime, mirrored the corruption that had tainted its heart.

They all deserved better, and Nast yearned to be the one to bring about the change they so desperately needed. The suffering and despair he saw below crystallized his decision and fueled his resolve. His city needed a leader, someone to fight for the people, for their rights, and for their future. And Nast found himself ready to be that leader, ready to answer their call for change.

Making a decision that would not only alter his life but also potentially the future of New York, he resolved to throw his hat into the ring and run for the Republican nomination for mayor. The thought was as daunting as it was thrilling, but he found himself undeterred. His city was crying out for leadership, for honesty, for progress. And Nast, moved by love for his city and its people, knew he could no longer stand by and watch.

From the etcher of satirical ink strokes to the voice of political change, Nast was metamorphosing. The man once known as the caricaturist was poised to take on a new role - Nast, the stalwart, the political contender. No longer just a spectator through the window of his sketchpad, he was ready to leap into the arena of real change, to be the hand that would redraw the city's future. A candidate determined to cleanse his city of corruption and guide it toward a better future. As he walked into the Republican Party headquarters the next day, the weight of his decision pressing heavily on his shoulders, he felt the stirrings of a revolution.

His declaration was met with shock, skepticism, and intrigue. It echoed through the high-ceilinged hallways, resonating with the undeniable truth that Nast was here to fight, to change, to reclaim. He was stepping into a battlefield that was far removed from the confines of his office, yet it was a battlefield he was ready to conquer.

This marked the beginning of an era of transformation - for Nast, for the Republican Party, for the city of New York. An era that promised tumult, trial, and tribulation. But as Nast left the headquarters that day, the afternoon sun casting long shadows on the bustling streets, he knew one thing for certain - he was ready. Ready for the battle, ready for the challenge, ready to rewrite the story of his city.

The stage was set. The city was watching. And Thomas Nast, armed with a vision, fortified by his courage, was ready to plunge headfirst into the tempestuous waters of politics. For the love of his city, for the promise of a brighter future, he was ready. Ready to fight, ready to lead, ready to become the voice of New York City.

 

[Zenobiyl]

I'm loving the effortposting @WVProgressive@Blockmon

[Cenzonico]

What is there to say about New York City that hasn’t been said? America is a vast land, no doubt. But one city seems to attract people far and wide, and not just from the United States. O’Brien was born in Ireland, and like many of his brethren fled the British boot and ended up in the great New York City. It’s only been a decade since, but it’s been a busy one for him. 

O’Brien sat in his home, a drink in hand, pondering. His term as Sheriff ended last year, but he’s already considering what should be the next thing for him. Congress? Maybe. State Congress? It has its appeal. Hmm… you know taking down Boss Tweed was the highlight of his career so far. How many people can say that they helped take down the ringleader of America's premier political machine? Not many, but O’Brien certainly can. *gulp* That’s the good stuff. All of that really only has happened within the last few months. I’ve served New York damn well haven’t I? Alderman, Sheriff, haven’t been here that long. I guess continue up the city ladder? I can’t remember if there is actually anything going on though. Wait. The paper said something about the mayor position being up this year, no? It did! Hey wait a minute… That’s perfect. Going from taking Boss Tweed down to taking over his city? Quite the life story. Does that mean he’s running with the Democrats though? His loyalties still lie with them no matter what. After everything though, can he really? Nah. But he certainly ain’t no Republican. Perhaps it’s time to go his own way. Like he did when he left home. Independence. Inde…pendent. Why? To send a message of course. Boss Tweed was no. 1. Tammany Hall is no 2. 

O'Brien proceeds to file his candidacy later on in the day.

[Zenobiyl]

On 6/20/2023 at 6:39 PM, Cal said:

For sure! I need to read a bit more because I know he was charged with like 100 things in 1871 but I think he was out on bail by this time.

Recently found an archive of newspapers from NYC in the 1870s and decided to double-check this.

It appears Tweed was arrested in October of 1871 and made bail on January 6th, 1872. Assuming that we start on January 1st, Tweed will still be in jail, but he'll get out in less than a week unless you want to roll for it or something.

 

FYI: If you're good with paying for NYTimes you can access the whole archive here: https://www.nytimes.com/sitemap/1872/

Edited June 29, 2023 by Zenobiyl

[Cal]

Corruption on the Run: Part 0
August 1st, 1872

---

Thomas Nast -- rolls a 14!
Truly, Nast's declaration was met with "shock" and "skepticism" as the famed cartoonist and critic of Tammany Hall has floundered in the opening stages of his mayoral bid. There's an old saying that a picture is worth a thousand words, and there are many who are questioning whether Nast can prove that his artistic critiques of Boss Tweed's voting getting machine show that he has what it takes to do more than nip at the heels of corruption and actually govern. Still, despite the lackluster response to Nast's campaign, the timing is perfect for this campaign. He is riding the peak of his popularity and can rightfully claim some hand in the downfall of Tweed, though, of course that reformist popularity is shared by several others.

Edward Cooper -- rolls a 71! 
Cooper, on the other hand, is met with significant support right out the gate for his mayoral bid. It was obvious that the party was not going to renominate the incumbent mayor Hall, or as Nast had famously coined him, "Elegant Oakley" due to his lavish ties to Tammany Hall being so blatant, and thus coming firing out the gate against corruption seems to have paid off swimmingly for him. There is some grumbling from Assemblyman Tilden, who had been leaning on several delegates to the convention later this month to come out early in support of Assemblyman Lawrence, but for now he's put that plan on hold due to Cooper's popularity forcing his hand. Cooper's jump into the race as an anti-corruption crusader hell-bent on reforming the Democratic Party from the ground up is particularly powerful given that Boss Tweed himself has thrown his hat in the ring. 

Sheriff O'Brien -- rolls a 67! 
Where Cooper believes he can remake the Democratic Party and expel from it the Tammany taint, O'Brien has instead led a group of lifelong Democrats to revolt against the official party and endorse his own handpicked slate of candidates under his own "Apollo Hall", an ambitious group of reformers dedicated to forcing the Democrats to change their ways not from within peacefully, but due to threat of extinction externally. O'Brien, formerly a leader of the Young Democrats movement that had actively participated in the public outrage leading to the reformist sweep in the state the year before, is off to a strong start as an independent candidate. Nonetheless, he's going to have some serious issues convincing the city that his campaign is a serious one, or needed given the reformers within the Democratic Party. That is, unless Boss Tweed takes the Democratic nomination... 

Teddy Roosevelt Sr -- rolls a 79! 
Truly, the second biggest surprise of the year has come from the longshot campaign of businessman and philanthropist Theodore Roosevelt. The man, previously relatively unknown to the general public, has an impressive resume of public service and integrity that strikes a powerful chord in the current times. Roosevelt has stayed out of the spotlight while the big-name reformers have taken on Tammany Hall, but he is painting his campaign as a representative of what his entire life's work has been: a fight for the common man, whether its recognized or not. This, Republican leadership feels, is exactly what the party needs to capitalize on the Democratic weakness and take the party all the way to city hall. 

Boss Tweed -- rolls a 68!
If Roosevelt's campaign was the second biggest surprise of the year, surely, Boss Tweed's campaign for the Democratic mayoral nomination is the largest. For the past year or so since his arrest the city has assumed that Tweed and his Tammany Hall were slowly dying out from the onslaught of Tilden's crusaders. Mouths flew agape when the papers ran in the morning proudly declaring Tweed's candidacy and showcasing all that he has done for the people of the city. It will take a monumental effort to restore Tweed's image and currently, most of the city is questioning this decision. After all, the people would have been okay with voting for someone they knew Tammany Hall bought out indirectly, but for Tweed HIMSELF to run for the mayor's office? Yeah, it's the talk of the town, and no one knows what to think. Nonetheless, Tweed's base is not leaving him anytime soon and will march to the ballot box come November if his name is on it, criminal charges be damned. 

Time will tell how his candidacy fares, but, for now, he stands as a dark horse candidate in the Democratic race.

---

August 1st, 1872.

Democratic Mayoral Primary Polling
State Assemblyman Edward Cooper: 52% @Zenobiyl
State Senator William "Boss" Tweed: 31% @WVProgressive
Undecided: 17%

It was never going to be easy to take Boss Tweed down, though, this is the closest that the reformist Democrats have ever been. With Tweed entering the race, he has created the ultimate referendum on his leadership of Tammany Hall. He has brought stability and success to a huge swath of the New York population that without him would have struggled alone in the foreign and increasingly nativist New York City, and for that, he has the loyalty of thousands that cannot be shaken even by his criminal charges. Nonetheless, Cooper's anti-corruption campaign starts off with a heavy lead that, while not insurmountable, poses a serious issue for Tweed's self-imposed referendum. What may matter most is what happens at the convention, where Tammany Hall's near limitless resources may swing the nomination to Tweed over the protests of the reformers in the party. Cooper is also strongly favored by the commercial side of the city, viewing him as a safe alternative to Tweed and likely more business-friendly than the Republican Party. 

Republican Mayoral Primary Polling
Theodore Roosevelt: 31% @Sean F Kennedy
Thomas Nast: 19% @Blockmon
Undecided: 50%

Despite Nash's poor launch, most of the city simply has no idea who Theodore Roosevelt actually IS. The Republicans who are sitting at the convention do, however, which is troubling news for our favorite cartoonist. Nonetheless, pundits believe there is a chance to the nomination later this month for Nast should Roosevelt fail to make a splash with the delegates or Nast prove himself capable of leading the people rather than just drawing for them. 

Current Mayoral Polling
Mr. Theodore Roosevelt (R): 33%
State Assemblyman Edward Cooper (D): 29%
Sheriff O'Brien (AHD): 19% @Cenzonico
Undecided: 19%

Theodore Roosevelt leads the field currently, but his lack of name recognition is killing what could otherwise have been a much larger lead. He and Cooper both are harmed by O'Brien's presence in the race, who's strong start is taking fairly evenly though like with most third party candidacies could well fizzle out before November comes. 

New York City Council 
Current Composition: Democratic (reform) slim majority.
Chance of retaining Democratic (reform) majority: 35%.
Chance of Democrats (Tammany Hall) taking the majority: 8%
Chance of Republicans taking the majority: 52%
Chance of Apollo Hall Democrats taking the majority: 5%

New York Gubernatorial
Former Secretary of the Treasury John Adams Dix (R): 44%
Former U.S. Representative Francis Kernan (D) odds: 39%
Undecided: 17%

New York Presidential
Incumbent President Ulysses Grant (R): 47%
Former Representative Horace Greeley (Liberal Republican/Democratic): 42%
Undecided: 13%

Now the game will officially begin. I had intended on there only being 1 turn before the convention actually started to make this a true quickshot, but if it's preferred we can push the starting date back a few weeks to get a few turns of events in before the convention, just let me know if that's preferred so we can all adjust accordingly. Just let me know. But, get your three events in sometime before Tuesday night preferably. Nothing is off the table -- skullduggery, backroom deals, blackmail, there are no holds barred. 

Also, you should feel free to use era appropriate language and be in character to whatever extent you desire. (though please no slurs, obviously). Violence is on the table, as is stroking racial and religious tensions between Catholics, Protestants, whoever as was actual common practice in NYC at the time. God knows New York had some crazy stuff go down just the year prior between Anglo-Protestants and Irish-Catholics. 

Good luck all! 

@Zenobiyl @Sean F Kennedy @Blockmon @Cenzonico @WVProgressive

[Blockmon]

6 hours ago, Cal said:

Corruption on the Run: Part 0
August 1st, 1872

---

Thomas Nast -- rolls a 14!
Truly, Nast's declaration was met with "shock" and "skepticism" as the famed cartoonist and critic of Tammany Hall has floundered in the opening stages of his mayoral bid. There's an old saying that a picture is worth a thousand words, and there are many who are questioning whether Nast can prove that his artistic critiques of Boss Tweed's voting getting machine show that he has what it takes to do more than nip at the heels of corruption and actually govern. Still, despite the lackluster response to Nast's campaign, the timing is perfect for this campaign. He is riding the peak of his popularity and can rightfully claim some hand in the downfall of Tweed, though, of course that reformist popularity is shared by several others.

Edward Cooper -- rolls a 71! 
Cooper, on the other hand, is met with significant support right out the gate for his mayoral bid. It was obvious that the party was not going to renominate the incumbent mayor Hall, or as Nast had famously coined him, "Elegant Oakley" due to his lavish ties to Tammany Hall being so blatant, and thus coming firing out the gate against corruption seems to have paid off swimmingly for him. There is some grumbling from Assemblyman Tilden, who had been leaning on several delegates to the convention later this month to come out early in support of Assemblyman Lawrence, but for now he's put that plan on hold due to Cooper's popularity forcing his hand. Cooper's jump into the race as an anti-corruption crusader hell-bent on reforming the Democratic Party from the ground up is particularly powerful given that Boss Tweed himself has thrown his hat in the ring. 

Sheriff O'Brien -- rolls a 67! 
Where Cooper believes he can remake the Democratic Party and expel from it the Tammany taint, O'Brien has instead led a group of lifelong Democrats to revolt against the official party and endorse his own handpicked slate of candidates under his own "Apollo Hall", an ambitious group of reformers dedicated to forcing the Democrats to change their ways not from within peacefully, but due to threat of extinction externally. O'Brien, formerly a leader of the Young Democrats movement that had actively participated in the public outrage leading to the reformist sweep in the state the year before, is off to a strong start as an independent candidate. Nonetheless, he's going to have some serious issues convincing the city that his campaign is a serious one, or needed given the reformers within the Democratic Party. That is, unless Boss Tweed takes the Democratic nomination... 

Teddy Roosevelt Sr -- rolls a 79! 
Truly, the second biggest surprise of the year has come from the longshot campaign of businessman and philanthropist Theodore Roosevelt. The man, previously relatively unknown to the general public, has an impressive resume of public service and integrity that strikes a powerful chord in the current times. Roosevelt has stayed out of the spotlight while the big-name reformers have taken on Tammany Hall, but he is painting his campaign as a representative of what his entire life's work has been: a fight for the common man, whether its recognized or not. This, Republican leadership feels, is exactly what the party needs to capitalize on the Democratic weakness and take the party all the way to city hall. 

Boss Tweed -- rolls a 68!
If Roosevelt's campaign was the second biggest surprise of the year, surely, Boss Tweed's campaign for the Democratic mayoral nomination is the largest. For the past year or so since his arrest the city has assumed that Tweed and his Tammany Hall were slowly dying out from the onslaught of Tilden's crusaders. Mouths flew agape when the papers ran in the morning proudly declaring Tweed's candidacy and showcasing all that he has done for the people of the city. It will take a monumental effort to restore Tweed's image and currently, most of the city is questioning this decision. After all, the people would have been okay with voting for someone they knew Tammany Hall bought out indirectly, but for Tweed HIMSELF to run for the mayor's office? Yeah, it's the talk of the town, and no one knows what to think. Nonetheless, Tweed's base is not leaving him anytime soon and will march to the ballot box come November if his name is on it, criminal charges be damned. 

Time will tell how his candidacy fares, but, for now, he stands as a dark horse candidate in the Democratic race.

---

August 1st, 1872.

Democratic Mayoral Primary Polling
State Assemblyman Edward Cooper: 52% @Zenobiyl
State Senator William "Boss" Tweed: 31% @WVProgressive
Undecided: 17%

It was never going to be easy to take Boss Tweed down, though, this is the closest that the reformist Democrats have ever been. With Tweed entering the race, he has created the ultimate referendum on his leadership of Tammany Hall. He has brought stability and success to a huge swath of the New York population that without him would have struggled alone in the foreign and increasingly nativist New York City, and for that, he has the loyalty of thousands that cannot be shaken even by his criminal charges. Nonetheless, Cooper's anti-corruption campaign starts off with a heavy lead that, while not insurmountable, poses a serious issue for Tweed's self-imposed referendum. What may matter most is what happens at the convention, where Tammany Hall's near limitless resources may swing the nomination to Tweed over the protests of the reformers in the party. Cooper is also strongly favored by the commercial side of the city, viewing him as a safe alternative to Tweed and likely more business-friendly than the Republican Party. 

Republican Mayoral Primary Polling
Theodore Roosevelt: 31% @Sean F Kennedy
Thomas Nast: 19% @Blockmon
Undecided: 50%

Despite Nash's poor launch, most of the city simply has no idea who Theodore Roosevelt actually IS. The Republicans who are sitting at the convention do, however, which is troubling news for our favorite cartoonist. Nonetheless, pundits believe there is a chance to the nomination later this month for Nast should Roosevelt fail to make a splash with the delegates or Nast prove himself capable of leading the people rather than just drawing for them. 

Current Mayoral Polling
Mr. Theodore Roosevelt (R): 33%
State Assemblyman Edward Cooper (D): 29%
Sheriff O'Brien (AHD): 19% @Cenzonico
Undecided: 19%

Theodore Roosevelt leads the field currently, but his lack of name recognition is killing what could otherwise have been a much larger lead. He and Cooper both are harmed by O'Brien's presence in the race, who's strong start is taking fairly evenly though like with most third party candidacies could well fizzle out before November comes. 

New York City Council 
Current Composition: Democratic (reform) slim majority.
Chance of retaining Democratic (reform) majority: 35%.
Chance of Democrats (Tammany Hall) taking the majority: 8%
Chance of Republicans taking the majority: 52%
Chance of Apollo Hall Democrats taking the majority: 5%

New York Gubernatorial
Former Secretary of the Treasury John Adams Dix (R): 44%
Former U.S. Representative Francis Kernan (D) odds: 39%
Undecided: 17%

New York Presidential
Incumbent President Ulysses Grant (R): 47%
Former Representative Horace Greeley (Liberal Republican/Democratic): 42%
Undecided: 13%

Now the game will officially begin. I had intended on there only being 1 turn before the convention actually started to make this a true quickshot, but if it's preferred we can push the starting date back a few weeks to get a few turns of events in before the convention, just let me know if that's preferred so we can all adjust accordingly. Just let me know. But, get your three events in sometime before Tuesday night preferably. Nothing is off the table -- skullduggery, backroom deals, blackmail, there are no holds barred. 

Also, you should feel free to use era appropriate language and be in character to whatever extent you desire. (though please no slurs, obviously). Violence is on the table, as is stroking racial and religious tensions between Catholics, Protestants, whoever as was actual common practice in NYC at the time. God knows New York had some crazy stuff go down just the year prior between Anglo-Protestants and Irish-Catholics. 

Good luck all! 

@Zenobiyl @Sean F Kennedy @Blockmon @Cenzonico @WVProgressive

1. 
Nast is completely tired from yesterday, from one journalist to another. He spoke for hours, the only times he had ever spent this drowsiness were from those days. He still remembers his father's face as it drifted afar from the harbor, ever-changing his life. But now is not the time to reminisce about the past. He grabbed the pencil and started drawing, he knew that this was his weapon. Not guns, no back deals, no political backsliding, just the pen. He drew different depictions of the major candidates in the election and soon released the draft to Harper's weekly.

Edward Cooper: Nast sketches Cooper as a "cleaning agent", holding a broom and scrubbing away at grime labeled "corruption". However, he is also standing on a slippery pile of soap suds that read "business interests".

Boss Tweed: Tweed is drawn as a puppeteer, manipulating tiny figures that represent the voting populace of New York. He is trapped inside a birdcage labeled "Criminal Charges", with a key that is just out of reach.

Teddy Roosevelt Sr: Roosevelt is depicted as an aristocrat in lavish finery, standing atop a pedestal. He holds a golden telescope in his hand, but it's pointed in the wrong direction. The common people are illustrated as small figures at the base of the pedestal. The caption reads, "Aloft in his tower, can he truly see us?"

James O'Brien: O'Brien is shown attempting to climb a ladder labeled "Reform", but each rung he steps on breaks apart, revealing labels like "Dead Rabbits" and "Tammany Hall".

Thomas Nast: Nast is depicted at his drawing desk, quill in hand and papers scattered about. His face is determined, and his eyes sharp, as he works late into the night by the light of a single candle. On his desk, prominently displayed, are earlier sketches of the other candidates, symbolizing his role as a vigilant observer and critic. His coat is draped over the back of his chair, and his sleeves are rolled up, symbolizing his readiness to work hard and dive into the gritty details of his job. In the background, a window reveals the New York City skyline, indicating his deep connection to the city and its affairs.

2.  (also just to say, that it might be plausible as George Curtis was head of the United States Civil Service Commission)

In the dimly lit confines of his office, Nast found himself surrounded by remnants of his creative battles: ink pots, discarded drafts, and sketches strewn haphazardly across the desk. The morning's newspaper lay crumpled in his clenched fist, headlines screaming of Tweed's mayoral aspirations and rumored underworld alliances.

"Damn it all," he hissed, the paper hitting the cluttered desk with a rustle. Nast's usually bright eyes were shadowed, carrying the weight of scorn he had received yesterday at the Republican headquarters. "A cartoonist in the mayor's office? Perhaps he'll illustrate us a better city!" The mocking laughter still echoed in his ears, the dismissal still stinging.

Rumors swirled that Teddy Roosevelt Sr., the wannabe common people man, might win the nomination. Nast couldn't let that happen, he knows if a Democrat or some other Republican was to mine then Tweed will run and he will escape the clutches of justice. Then what will happen to the city, the one that was beautifully hanged at the edge of the Eastern Coast; the same one that he saw when he was a child? 

Either robbed by the wealthy at the stop, where plebians will be ignored and a new political machine arises; just this time it was legal. "Hey sir, I brought the documents of the city as you requested." His assistant spoke, not realizing that Nast was in deep thinking.

"um, sir?"
"Huh! Oh, you scared the hell out of me, Scott."
" I am sorry sir, I was just handing out the papers you requested."
"oh! Yes, thank you." Nast held his glasses reading over the documents from his old friend George, that contained certain letters about Union Pacific Railroads and fraud brought from them. Nast couldn't read any more of the letters, his mind now understood what the gravity of the situation was. That leech of corruption was now on the Republican party, the party that he thought would help him bring a new path and end the Boss; but failed him instead. 

He took the papers and stuffed them in a secret cabinet with his revolver and pieces of gold. He always was prepared if Tweed had any ideas, ready to access, and easy to leave. He started drawing more depictions of Teddy being ignorant of people's needs but now included some hints of railroads and gold. He gave it to Scott and told him to release them this morning, while the letters he planned to keep; as they might be a powerful weapon to be used.

3. Nast will write a letter to Grant:

"Taking up his quill once more, Thomas Nast read over the missive he had just composed. It was a departure from his usual work - a negotiation of words instead of an array of ink and paper. But he was resolved in his intentions. He knew his cause was just and his mission clear. With a deep breath, he leaned back over the parchment to revise and amplify his thoughts.

Honorable Ulysses S. Grant,
The President's House,
Washington D.C.

Esteemed Mr. President,

I pray this missive finds you hale and hearty amidst the swirling currents of our nation's capitol. By way of introduction, I am Thomas Nast, an artist of some modest reputation whose satirical illustrations find frequent purchase in the pages of Harper's Weekly. The canvas of my work is etched with the fundamental values we as a nation hold dear - truth, justice, and the American Way.

Now, however, I find myself called to wield a different instrument, one that, while unfamiliar, is no less vital to the cause we both hold dear. I have cast my lot into the ring for the office of Mayor of our great city of New York, with the same zeal for reform and justice that has hitherto guided my pen and brush.

As fellow Republicans, we are conjoined by a common vision for a more prosperous and honest America. Our united front against the insidious tendrils of corruption that have snaked their way into the very marrow of our institutions is testament to the strength of our resolve. Your esteemed leadership, coupled with my unyielding dedication to the betterment of New York City, could serve as a beacon of hope for all who believe in the fundamental tenets of our party.

Throughout my career, I have been privy to the extraordinary power that the pen holds over the minds and hearts of the common citizenry. I stand prepared to harness this power in support of your forthcoming re-election campaign, drafting compelling illustrations that accentuate your manifold achievements and articulate your vision for our country in the language that speaks loudest to the masses.

In reciprocation, I humbly seek your endorsement for my own campaign for the mayoralty, as well as the support of those Republican stalwarts whose voices carry weight in our party's ranks. Your approbation would lend immeasurable credence to my campaign, signalling to our brethren that I am a candidate worthy of their backing, and bolstering my resolve in my crusade against the festering corruption that plagues our fair city.

We stand at a pivotal junction, Mr. President. It is incumbent upon us to act in unison, to uphold the principles that are the bedrock of our Party and the lodestar of our nation. I am confident that, together, we can ignite the flame of reform that will illuminate our path forward.

I await your favorable disposition towards this proposition, and look forward to our conjoined efforts in service of our shared cause.

In faith and fellowship,

Thomas Nast

Satisfied with his revisions, Nast folded the letter, sealed it with a dollop of wax, and handed it off to a courier. With a shared sense of purpose and a quiet prayer, he awaited the President's response. After all, the pen - especially when guided by a steadfast hand - was indeed mightier than the sword."

Edited July 3, 2023 by Blockmon
Rechanged my events

[WVProgressive]

Content Warning: The following contains content that readers may find difficult and/or offensive, including course language, period typical bigotry, mild sexual content, violence, implied prostitution, and implied stalking. The depiction, discussion, and inclusion of these elements should not be taken as an endorsement. If any of the aforementioned elements are especially sensitive, you are encouraged to read the Events Summary at the bottom of this post.

 

Event 1: A Partnership, Not A Favor

“You were the one who wanted to meet Dandy Dolan.” The Irishman said to Tweed in a low, gruff voice. “Yes,” Tweed replied, the rain striking his face, and wetting his beard, “May you lead me to him?” he asked. The barrel-chested Irishman glanced at a bearded young man seated next to the door of the tenement “Joe.” he said, and motioned for him to flank Tweed. “Sure I can show you where he is, but your driver will have to wait outside.” barrel told Tweed as beard moved behind him, “Of course, of course…” Tweed said motioning for the carriage driver to leave, and come back in a few hours.

As the carriage left, the Irishman turned around, and walked to the door of the tenement with an easy confidence. Tweed followed him, Joe so closely behind him that Tweed could feel the handle of the bearded man’s revolver poking into his back. The bulky Irishman opened the ragged green door of the tenement building, and held it open for Tweed.

Tweed walked in, and was immediately hit by the sheer stench of the building. The acrid smell of rot mixed with the pungent odor of human waste along with the faintest hint of death to create a stench unbearable to nostrils used to the fine smells of Manhattan social events, and government functions. “You alright there, Tammany?” the barrel-chested Irishman asked as Tweed doubled over from the smell. Tweed took a breath through his mouth, readjusted himself, “I’m fine, just… how do you stand that smell?” he replied.

The two Irishmen gave a hearty laugh in reply. “You’re just lucky you didn’t come on a hot day.” the barrel-chested member of the duo said after the laughter began to subside. Tweed scratched his beard, and cleared his throat, “Well, regardless, I wouldn’t want to keep your employer waiting.” he said. The bearded Irishman huffed, “Move along then, Tammany, go up the stairs all the way. And then its the first door on your left.” he said pushing Tweed to move as his companion started to ascend the stairs.

The staircase also held the same putrid stench that the lobby did, though it grew fainter with each flight that the men ascended. As he ascended Tweed looked upon for the first time in decades the true face of Manhattan’s immigrants community. Nearly each wall was bare, the paint chipped off leaving only wood. Rats would periodically scuttle along the floor going from hole to hole in search of sustenance. He saw mothers, fathers, and children in ragged clothing, their eyes sunken, and skin pale as ghosts.

“Here he is.” Joe said, knocking on the door. When it opened, Tweed hesitated, “Go on in, Tammany, like you said, wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.” the other Irishman said. Tweed entered the room, waved the thick cigar smoke away with his hand, and saw ‘Dandy’ Johnny Dolan sitting behind a desk, flanked on either side by Whyos.

Tweed took a seat across from Dolan, and eyed him up, and down. Oily black hair was parted in the middle, and was showing the slightest hint of a widow’s peak. Pockmarks on the cheek, and a scar across the nasal bridge marred an otherwise handsome, angular face. A ragged suit a decade out of style clothed a pale, fit physic. This was the face of the man who controlled Five Points. The Grand Sachem was unimpressed.

“William Tweed – or would you prefer I call you Boss?” Dolan began with a laugh, “I was shocked when my men told me you were interested in meeting me, and suffice to say I’m even more shocked that you actually showed up.” he continued. Tweed glanced at the crime boss’s desk, saw an ashtray with a snuffed out cigar in it. He recognized the label as one belonging to a cigar brand notorious for sacrificing quality in exchange for a low price. With a sly smile, Tweed reached into his jacket, and pulled out two imported cigars. He placed one in his left hand, and extended his right hand to Dolan, “Would you care for a cigar, Dolan?” he offered, “They’re Cuban, much better than that European crap you’re used to smoking.” he assured with a wry smile.

Dolan took the cigar, “Impressive, very nice.” he mumbled as he looked it over, “But I take it you didn’t come all the way down here to gift me a cigar.” he said, looking back at Tweed. “No, no I did not.” Tweed admitted, pausing to place his cigar in his mouth, light it, and let the smoke fill his mouth. Tweed used his tongue to swirl the cigar smoke around in his mouth before exhaling. “I came here because I have a…” he paused, waggling his cigar as he thought of the proper phrasing, “Business proposition.” he eventually settled on.

“Really?” Dolan said, bouncing his eyebrows, and adopting a posture far more professional than his earlier blasé stance, “What would be the terms of this, business proposition?” he asked. “Tammany- I, need your help.” Tweed admitted, “Ah, so the great, and powerful tiger of Tammany has come crawling to the Bowery asking for a favor, eh?” Dolan replied, “This is a partnership, not a favor.” Tweed corrected energetically.

“As you well know my organization has dedicated itself to the betterment of the immigrant community in Manhattan, especially the Irish community.” Tweed began. Dolan nodded along, “I went to your Christmas banquet as a lad, with my father.” he said, “But don’t give me the sales pitch, Willy,” he continued, grinning, “Everyone knows you don’t do all of that out of the kindness of your heart.” he said. “Does anyone do anything for nothing?” Tweed wondered sotto voce. He turned back to Dolan, “Yes, I have made a comfortable living off of the privileges provided to me by my station, but so has every politician, and at least I worked my way up from a neighborhood just like this, unlike that prat Ed Coo-” he ranted

“Save it for the public, or the judge, take your pick.” Dolan interrupted, “What I want to know, is what you want from me, and what I’ll get in return.” he said. Tweed took a breath, “You have something I need, manpower.” he began, “I need your boys’s help in making sure that Tammany Hall stays in power.” he said, "You know, guarding polling stations, intimidating our enemies, getting voters to the polls, and certain other... activities." Tweed explains. “What’s in it for me, and my men?” Dolan asked, “You will be justly rewarded… some lackadaisical police work here, a favorable ruling there.” Tweed replied. “So what do you say?” Tweed questioned, Dolan looked at Tweed with an unreadable expression, motioned for one of his men to come over, and whispered something in his ear.

Event 2: Hark the Herald Reports

James Gordon Bennett Jr., ever so slightly hung over from his carousing the other night, knocked on the ebony door of Jay Gould’s Manhattan brownstone. Leaning against the brick wall, Gordon was glad that the meeting was on a somber, gloomy day such as this, lest the brightness of the sun burn his eyes, and batter his skull. The door opened, “Mr. Gould is waiting for you in the parlor,” the young porter said to Bennett, recognizing him instantly. “I can take your coat, and Mr. Beadle can lead you to him.” the porter offered.

Bennett took off his coat, and handed it to the porter as he entered the foyer in one motion. “Up these stairs, sir.” Mr. Beadle said as he lead Bennett up a flight of stairs to the building’s second floor. Once they reached the parlor Mr. Beadle knocked twice, “What is it, Theobald?” Gould asked from within. “Mr. Bennett is here to see you.” Mr. Beadle replied, “Splendid! Send him in.” Gould replied.

Gould sat in a large, cushy chair, a copy of the Herald on his lap, a half empty glass of bourbon, and a silver bell on the end table next to him. “Gordon, what a wonder to see you!” he exclaimed with a polite facsimile of excitement, “Why don’t you take a seat.” he offered with a smile, motioning to the empty seat across from him. Bennett took a seat across from Gould, who moved the newspaper off of his lap, making sure to ever so subtly show off the New York Harold label. He paused as he did so, looked up at Bennett “It’s truly a fantastic paper.” he said.

“That issue is from last month, Jay.” Bennett deadpanned, “Why don’t we ditch the pleasantries, and get to why you called me down here in the first place.” he said. Gould shrugged, and dropped the paper on the floor carelessly. “As you know, there’s an election coming up, one that’s of the utmost importance for the future of this city.” Gould began, “Edward Cooper’s radical, progressive ideology presents the greatest threat to the good health of New York’s economy since-” he continued. “Jay, you know better than anyone that politics is soporific to me.” Bennett in a bored tone, “Will you spare me the lecture, as well as the pleasantries, and tell me what you want from me.” he requested. Gould sighed, “We need you, more accurately we need your newspapers.” he said, “If we’re going to win we need to convince Anglo-Protestants, and business interests that in a race between Cooper, that Tweed is the lesser evil.” he continued. “And how do you expect me to do that?” Bennett asked plainly, Gould shrugged, “Claim he shares his father’s ideals: racial equality; Indian sovereignty; greenbacks; prohibition, and so on, and so on.” he rattled off ideas.

Bennett sighed, “Alright, well, what’s in it for me?” he asked. Gould tapped his chin as he thought about how to bribe Bennett, a man immune to the usual allure of cash bribes, and indifferent to the politics of the day. He picked up the bell on the end table, rung it twice. After a few short moments, a knock came from the door, “You rang, Mr. Gould?” Mr. Beadle questioned, “Yes, Theobald, I’d like for our drinks to be refreshed… with flair.” Gould ordered, “Very good sir, right away!” Mr. Beadle said. “With flair?” Bennett questioned, “Don’t worry about it.” Gould said. “Cigar?” he asked, reaching into his pocket, pulling out two cigars, and offering one to Bennett, who took it, and lit it.

Without a knock the door opened, and a raven haired young woman carrying a large bottle of aged bourbon entered. As the woman poured bourbon into Bennett’s glass, the Herald’s publisher looked at her truly degenerate outfit, which displayed the most scandalous part of a woman’s body – the shoulders – for all to see. In his reverie, Bennett absent mindedly relaxed his mouth, dropping his cigar onto his lap, the woman quickly picked it up, and returned it to his mouth, unsubtle caressing the bottom of his chin as she returned her hand. When she had finished pouring the drinks, Bennett watched as she exited the room her short (for the time period) skirt exposing legs up to the lower thighs.

“Bennett.” Gould said, bringing his guest’s attention back to him. He smiled smugly as he leaned forward, “She’s quite alluring, isn’t she.” he asked. “Does Helen know about her?” Bennett asked, “Of course, and believe me, she makes sure that the only people who get to… enjoy her, are my business partners.” Gould answered. “Business partners, eh?” Bennett mumbled, “All it takes is a few articles a months.” Gould said, “So what do you say, partner?” he asked.

Event 3: Watching the Reformers

“So we’re agreed, then?” Thomas Birch said as he sat down his coffee, “We’ll abstain on the first ballot, and on the second we’ll be the ones to secure Cooper’s nomination.” he continued, looking at the nine other men seated around the table. All fifteen men, Birch among them, were set to be delegates to the Democratic Party’s nominating convention next month. Not one of them had held office in the past two decades, nor were they in any way associated with Tammany Hall or the supposed ‘Tweed Ring’. It was this latter quality that secured their position, and the former that brought them together on this torrid night.

William Black – the corpulent former coroner seated directly across from Birch – was the first to speak. “I fear such a move would only further isolate us from the party establishment.” he said, carefully wiping stray hot-chocolate from his finely groomed mustache with a handkerchief. “Damn the establishment!” The gaunt Thomas Glass angrily said, pounding a fist against the table, and disturbing his cup of coffee, “They have no idea how to run a party, people like us built the Democrats!” he cried indignantly, “I remember meeting President Thomas Jefferson when I was a little boy, and ever since then-” he ranted. “Spare us another trip down memory lane, Mr. Glass.” Allen Mason – the youngest of the group at a crisp, hip fifty-eight – interrupted, “And do try to keep your voice down, I feel as if we’re already being stared at.” he continued.

“Relax, Al, it’s probably just nerves.” Richard Nelson said as he sat confidently in his chair. “Personally, I think it’s a swell plan, Tom.” Richard said, looking over at the balding originator of the scheme. William sighed, “I suppose we can’t get any more on the outs than we already are.” he admitted, staring at the small pool of hot chocolate that was in the cup in front of him. “Excellent, so it’s all squared away!” Birch said happily, “This could be the key to the political rejuvenation we’ve all been waiting for!” he continued. “I suppose.” Allen said, “So, we’re done here?” he asked, standing up, “I’ll see all of you gentlemen next month.” Birch said, also standing up, and leaving.

As Birch exited the restaurant, he passed by a man in a dark unassuming overcoat who sat on a bench, and read the morning Sun. The man waited for Birch to create some distance between the two of them, and checked to make sure that the other delegates were all properly accompanied, before closing his paper, and standing up. Thomas Birch always took the same route home after these meetings – straight across the street, hand a right, cross one more intersection, and then cut through an alleyway to get back to his apartment. He also never once thought to look behind to see if anyone was following him, years of near anonymity having made him soft.

The man in the dark overcoat followed Birch the whole way, maintaining a safe distance until they got to the second intersection, whereupon he quickened his pace. When Birch entered the alleyway, the man in the dark overcoat waited until they were about halfway through the alleyway, before grabbing onto Birch’s shoulders, spinning him around, and shoving a revolver in his face.

Birch blanched as soon as he looked down the silver barrel staring him in the face. “What, what are you doing?” he asked quietly, slowly pacing backwards, “I- I don’t have much on me.” he continued. The man in the overcoat shoved him to the ground, “Don’t worry, Birch, I’m not after your pennies.” he said, his voice low, and harsh. “What are you after?” Birch asked as he dragged himself backwards across the muddy ground.

Overcoat stamped down hard on Birch’s leg, causing the delegate to yelp in pain. “Be quiet, or I’ll give you something to really cry about.” he demanded, cocking his revolver. “Now listen up Birch, it may just save your life.” he said, Birch looked up at him with a look of dread, “I’m here on behalf of a very powerful client, who knows about your plans to abstain on the nominating convention’s first ballot.” he explained. “Instead, you’re going to be voting for John Kelly, do you understand.” the man in the overcoat said, “And if I don’t?” Birch asked. The man in the overcoat kicked him in the stomach, and used his foot to pin him to the ground, “That wouldn’t be very conducive to your health, now would it.” he growled, bending down close to Birch’s face, “And remember, we know where you all live, and we know about your son.” he continued.

“Are we understood, Birch?” the man in the overcoat asked. Birch gulped from a dry throat, and nodded. The man stepped off of Birch, and stood up, “Good, and don’t even think about going to the police unless you want to see me again.” he said, holstering his revolver. Birch watched as the man walked back to the main street, and disappeared into the crowd, before rising to his feet. He shuffled home lost in thought. As soon as he arrived home, he went to his parlor, collapsed into his chair, and sat, conflicted.

Events Summary

Event 1: Hammer out a deal with the Whyos
Event 2: Convince the New York Herald to support Tweed.
Event 3: Intimidate reformists delegates into supporting Tweed.

Edited July 3, 2023 by WVProgressive

[Zenobiyl]

Event One: Beach Pneumatic Transit

 

Snow fell across New York City, drifting in white flecks towards the gray, sodden ground. From the third floor of the Cooper Union, Ed could see people pacing along the sidewalks, staring jealously at the street sweepers and knocker-uppers going about their daily routine. They’re the lucky ones, the bespectacled man mused, those few got to keep their jobs.

 

“Ed?” Abram Hewitt’s exasperated voice snapped the man out of his thoughts, and turning he saw concern in his friend’s expression. Abram had grown up with Ed, and the two had become lifelong friends after nearly dying in a shipwreck decades ago. The man was a brother in spirit, and after marrying Ed’s sister, in blood too.

 

“I told you Abe, I don’t know how.” Ed hadn’t heard the question, but he knew it all the same. It was the only thing anyone outside Tammany Hall had been asking for the last few months.

 

“It should be impossible,” Abram crumpled the sheaf of papers in his hand, “every respectable business and lawmaker in the city is withholding their tax money from Tammany. Not to mention the judicial restrictions on borrowing and financial charters.” He slammed the papers onto a bedside desk, “So how the hell is Tweed paying Tammany men? With a pat on the back and a ‘job well done’?” Abram chuckled mirthfully.

 

Ed’s brow furrowed. Tilden had warned us that Tweed might use his own fortune to keep Tammany running, he remembered, but could he truly have enough to pay his troops for months on end? Or perhaps he is making money some other way… The man shook his head. No, he thought, even Tweed wouldn’t stoop that low. 

 

“It doesn’t matter how he’s paying them,” Ed replied softly, “our mission is still the same. Win over the reformers, rebuild Tammany Hall as an upright organization, and renew New York City.” 

 

The man glanced at the hand-drawn sketches crumpled on the desk, spotting a grainy photo of a metal cylinder with the label ‘Beach Pneumatic Transit’ on it. Another one of Abe’s pie-in-the-sky ideas, Ed mused. “What’s that?” He pointed at the photograph.

 

“This?” Abram’s face lit up with passion. “I call it the ‘Pneumatic Subterraway’. Just you wait, Ed, with this underground marvel the whole city will be connected. You can go anywhere you want, and you won't have to worry about carriages or foot traffic on the streets!”

 

“It sounds exciting,” Ed replied cautiously. Abram had a dozen new ideas every day, though few of them lived up to expectations. 

 

“Yes,” Abram suddenly appeared crestfallen, “it would’ve been, had Tweed not cut the funding. That bloated dolt can stomach $35 million for his cronies, but revolutionizing the city’s transit for a hundredth of that is too costly?” Abram harrumphed and balled a fist.

 

“Tweed must go.” Ed put a hand to the window as he spoke the words, clearing years of grime and soot in an instant. He saw the workers below clearly now: hungry, haggard, desperate. “But not his supporters. We need them come November,” he spotted a disheveled boy sleeping on the sidewalk with newspapers for bedsheets, “and they need us.”

 

“You’re kidding, right?” Abram replied incredulously, “You want to win the Tammany rank-and-file? Those people would walk over broken glass to vote for Tweed, even if he ended his campaign in a cell!”

 

“Because they have no other choice,” Ed’s brow furrowed, “all they want is someone to help them survive. To keep them fed. To keep them safe. To give them-” Ed stopped, turning to look outside the window once more. ‘Husband Dead: Will Work For Food’ a gaunt woman held the sign at waist-level. His eyes widened.

 

“Look, I know you want to help the poor and downtrodden folk, but we’re running a campaign here. Not a charity. You can’t afford to house and feed every bum who’s down on their luck, and even if you did it wouldn’t stop them from going back to work Tammany jobs right after.” Abram sighed. “You can’t help them all.”

 

“No,” Ed agreed, “but we can.”

 

Abram raised an eyebrow as Ed continued, “Cooper Works has enough space and money to take on thousands of employees, not to mention the dozens of swallowtail companies supporting my candidacy. Together, we can bring more jobs to New York City than all of Tammany combined.” Ed beamed. “We won’t just save the people of this city; we’ll put ‘em to work.”

 

Abram scratched his head, “Doing what?”

 

“You said it yourself,” Ed’s smile only grew, “the city’s first underground transit system. ‘Pneumatic Subterraway.’”

 

Abram blinked with shock, then chuckled. Laughed. “You brainiac son of a bitch,” he slapped Ed on the back, “how can I say no to that?”

 

“We’ll give our workers eight-hour days, fair conditions, injury compensation, the whole nine yards.” Ed smirked, “Tweed might have found a way to pay his troops for now, but there’s no way he can match that.”

 

“Nor would he, even if he had the money.” Abram remarked.

 

The two embraced, smiling and laughing as old friends do. After several hours (and drinks) spent hashing out a plan, Abram prepared to head home. “Wait,” Ed spoke to him with sudden urgency, “There’s one more thing.”

 

“What is it?” Abram asked.

 

“Call it ‘The Subway’.” Ed continued as he turned and walked out the door. “It’s cleaner.”

 

Abram grinned, and put pen to paper once more.

 

Event Two: The Wizard of Menlo Park

 

Ed entered the coffin-sized cylinder with an assured smile, while the young man beside him concealed his nervousness at the machine’s soft whirring. The two stepped inside, waited as the heavy metal doors slid shut, and began to ascend.

 

“Quite a contraption,” Thomas began as the machine climbed upward.

 

“You like my elevator?” Ed asked. “It wasn’t easy developing it for a cylindrical frame, but I had good help.” He glanced at the young inventor beside him. “As will you, Edison.”

 

“The machine beeped, and its doors slid open with a groan. Ed guided his young guest towards a sunlit room with tables and chairs already set. Abram was moving to and fro arranging paperwork, so busy he hardly noticed when Ed cleared his throat. Twice.

 

“Oh!” Abram turned at last. “Forgive my incourtesy!”

 

Thomas hardly had time to stutter out an apology before Abram was shaking his hand, eyes bright and face aglow. “It’s so good to meet a fellow innovator!” He patted the young man on the shoulder, “I knew you had promise when you graduated from Cooper Union with flying colors, yet you still surpassed my expectations. That vote counting machine you built up in Kentucky? Brilliant!”

 

“Yes, well, the profits have been less than ideal.” Thomas confessed. “Turns out most politicians don’t like having their votes recorded.” A thin smile graced the young man’s face, “who could have guessed?”

 

Abram guffawed, and even Ed laughed in spite of himself. He’s a bit young, Ed thought, but there’s no man better to build the campaign of the future. “About the telegraph project,” the bespectacled man spoke, “how fast do you think we could have them set up across the city?” 

 

“And how cheap?” Abram butted in, before Ed shot him a disapproving glance. We’re not penny-pinchers, his eyes said, we pay this young man what he is due, and not a haggled cent less.

 

“To get telegraph lines for every swallowtail business, newspaper, and ward-heeler? Weeks, normally,” Thomas replied, “but I’ve been working on a new prototype that might speed things up considerably. I’ll need a workshop to finish development, but once it's ready you’ll have everyone connected in five days at the most.”

 

Ed nodded, “That’s great to hear. We’ll get a contract drawn up for you first thing tomorrow, and you can get started on the new lines as soon as the ink is dry.”

 

“No,” Thomas stuttered, “I’ll start now. My wife can ill afford to wait for my next opportunity, and I mislike sitting on my hands.”

 

“Alright, then.” Ed replied. “If you’ll give me a moment with Abram, please. I’ll escort you to the worksite as soon as we’re finished.”

 

Thomas nodded, and briskly walked out of the meeting room. Ed turned to Abram, waiting for his thoughts. He didn’t have to wait long. “It's brilliant,” Abram said, “I’ve scarcely seen such promise since I met your father, or you for that matter.”

 

“Get a list of every reformist democrat and newspaper in the city,” Ed replied, “we’ll have them plugged into Cooper Union with brand new telegraphs by month's end. Every one of them will have a direct line to my office as candidate, and as mayor.”

 

“That will be costly,” Abram cautioned, but Ed showed no signs of worry. Times are changing, he thought of Edison while staring at the rising sun beyond the window, and I’ll not leave a rotten city for his generation when I’m gone.

 

“I’ll draw up the papers.” Abram sighed. He knew how impossible it was to persuade Ed when his mind was set. The man nodded, and the two shook hands. A moment later Ed left the room, and returned to the hallway to see Thomas pacing with fidgeting fingers. They entered the elevator, which made its way down twice as quickly as it had going up.

 

“Have you made your decision?” The young man’s voice betrayed anxiety.

 

“Yes,” Ed replied with an easy smile, “Come. I think you’ll like the worksite I have prepared for you, Tom.”

 

“You think so?” Thomas replied hopefully. The doors to the elevator opened, and the two headed out onto the streets of New York City.

 

“Indeed I do,” Ed's smile grew as he turned to his carriage driver, “Take us to Menlo Park.”

 

Event Three: Old Smoke

 

“You want to go where?” The carriage driver’s eyes bulged as Ed said the words. He said them again, “Five Points, sir. There is someone I would like to visit.” 

 

“Your funeral,” the driver muttered, and turned the carriage down an alleyway. With each passing block the roads grew more cracked and faded, the houses more dilapidated, and the air more rancid. How could anyone live like this, Ed wondered with horror, and who could allow such squalor?

 

As he saw the dirt-covered faces of a dozen bare-footed waifs through his carriage window, the man shook his head with disgust. Ten thousand for a pair of desks, he fumed, while Tweed’s poorest supporters can’t even afford a pair of shoes. The Five Point slums were known for many things, including being the beating heart of Tammany’s support base (for all the good it did them). More than half of Tammany had grown up in the slums or right beside them, including the big man himself. And, Ed noted, the man I’m here to meet.

 

Ed motioned to the carriage driver, who stopped abruptly by the side of Bowery street. He stepped out gingerly, making his way towards the rotting door. Ed’s face was buried in his jacket, a futile attempt to keep out the foul backstreet stench, but he still had a clear view of the placard bolted over the door: 'Old Smoke.'

 

The room inside was small, and Ed spotted several wall-mounted awards between pieces of old furniture. A pair of boxing gloves swayed gently from their spot hanging over a boarded-up window, and footsteps echoed from a nearby room. “Edward,” a voice rasped, “wasn’t sure you’d actually show up.”

 

“I needed to speak with you.” Ed said matter-of-factly, but John Morrisey only laughed in reply. A decade spent among Tammany politicians hadn’t dulled John’s sense of humor, or tempered the ferocity that made him into New York’s most famous boxer.

 

“I’d imagine so,” he went on, “seeing as you came all the way to this-here shithole.”

 

Ed scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, examining the scruffy boxer standing before him. He’s older than I recall, Ed noted, but the fire in his eyes is still there.

 

“Take a seat,” John waved towards a pair of wobbly chairs beside the window. Ed sat on one, carefully avoiding the splinters and bent nails. “What'd ya need?”

 

“As you know, I’m running for mayor of New York City.” John’s eyes glazed over as Ed began his practiced lines. He paused partway through, struggling to remember the next sentence, and adjusted his glasses nervously. John stared expectantly, but Ed could only conjure up the mental image of the haggard workers, the soot-covered children, the starving widows. Forget it, Ed decided, I’ll speak from the heart.

 

“Look,” Ed began again, “I know I’m not from around here. I came from money, and whatever else they may be, the lion’s share of Tammany men didn’t. I won’t pretend to understand half of what you went through growing up, or what anyone goes through living in the slums.”

 

Ed felt his face growing warm, but as he glanced at John he saw something shocking. Interest. The man’s eyes were eagle-sharp, and he had raised a single eyebrow fractionally. 

 

Ed continued, “but understand or not, I can see the rot in these places. I can see the poverty. I can see the pain.” Ed glared with determination. “And most of all, I can see that the people in charge, whether they claim to be from or with or of places like these, are doing nothing about it.”

 

The burly boxer leaned forward ever so slightly, and Ed thought he could see a new glint in his eyes. Recognition, Ed thought, but he wasn’t sure.

 

“And what’re you gonna do about it?” John replied slowly.

 

“I’ll rebuild everything, top to bottom.” Ed was stunned by how quickly his reply came, and how firm his voice sounded. “The streets will be fixed, the sewer system repaired, and there will be a mission house on every other block offering food, clothes, and coals.”

 

“Sounds pricey.” John’s demeanor was stolid, but his eyes betrayed interest. “How're you gonna pay for it all?”

 

“The money's already here,” Ed scowled as he continued, “but for Tweed’s cronies, we would’ve had all I just mentioned and more. I’ll send him packing come November, and issue warrants to seize all the wealth his people stole from the city.”

 

John walked forward ponderously, shaking dust from his clothes with both hands. “All you politicians love to talk a biiig talk,” the boxer remarked, “how’m I supposed to know you’ll make good on that promise?”

 

Ed blinked at the man now inches away from him, then rose until they were face-to-face. “Because I turned down millions in patent revenues to let everyone use my inventions. Because I poured my own wealth into a campaign against the most powerful and dangerous man in New York City.” Ed leaned closer, pointing at the entrance to John’s home. “Because I’m the only upperten in the city who’s walked through that door.”

 

John backed away, and Ed thought he could see the flicker of a smile upon his face. Was that enough? Ed wondered, but the old boxer said nothing for several moments. Finally, he gave a raspy reply.

 

“It’s true. You’re the first of your kind to visit this neighborhood since before I was born.” John said. “Guess that makes you braver than most. Or dumber.” Ed returned to his seat, and the scruffy boxer sat down with him this time. “So, whaddya want from me?”

 

“I need a soldier, someone who knows these people. Someone who can share my message with them, and share their needs with me. Someone who will fight for them, come hell or high water.” Ed stared directly at John. “I believe that person is you.”

 

The old man paused, before speaking again. “I’ll need to think about it. I’ve been retired since last year, I don’t know if ya heard.” He chuckled. “Politics ain’t exactly my preferred hobby.”

 

“Of course,” Ed replied, “take as much time as you need.” The man rose from his seat, paused, then added one more thing. “And just so you know, I’ll do whatever it takes to uplift the poorest among us. With you, or without.”

 

“I hope you’re tellin the truth about that.” John spoke as Ed walked out the door. He returned to his carriage, and directed the driver back to Cooper Union. 

 

As the horses plodded away from the Five Points, Ed saw a little girl shivering on the side of the road. “Stop,” he told the driver, and stepped out into the filthy air once more. As Ed walked towards the girl, he saw her hollow cheeks and cloudy eyes. She’s more bone than flesh, he realized with horror. 

 

“Where’s your mama?” Ed asked the girl, but she only shook her head. Dead, he understood, and tried to blink the tears from his eyes. He reached into his pockets, pulling out old paperwork, receipts, blueprints, letters. Useless, he chided, what good is a check going to do for a girl who can’t read?

 

“What’s your name?” Ed asked.

 

She muttered a soft reply, “Molly.”

 

Ed continued, “and who’s taking care of you, Molly?”

 

“Nobody,” the girl sniffled, “the rabbits got mam and dad.”

 

Ed put a hand to his mouth, fighting to keep the tears and bile down. Leave, he thought, you can’t get involved. 

 

The girl looked up at the man standing above her, tortured and at war with himself. “Are you gonna take care of me?” She asked, rubbing one eye with a dirtied fist. It was silly, and perhaps unprecedented, but in that moment there was nothing else Edward Cooper could say.

 

“Yes.”

 

Quote

Event One Summary: 

Cooper Works (and other swallowtail businesses) offer thousands of NYC subway system construction jobs with fair wages, work hours, and conditions, undercutting Tammany’s influence with the working class while developing the city’s urban infrastructure.

Event Two Summary: 

Edward Cooper commissions Thomas Edison to connect all of his political supporters, newspapers, and campaigners with state-of-the-art telegraph lines for rapid communication, while also setting up a facility in Menlo Park for him to create new cost-saving inventions to alleviate the city’s debt.

Event Three Summary:

Edward Cooper seeks the endorsement of former congressman (and famous boxer) John Morrisey, pledging to make him the head of the campaign’s outreach to NYC’s slums and working-class neighborhoods, while also proposing construction and repairs for the city’s neglected sewer systems and roads in those poor communities.

Edited July 8, 2023 by Zenobiyl