Pretty lively corpse, that! But we understood at last, most of
us; understood that the tap-root of the police blackmail was there,
and that it had to be pulled up if we were ever to get farther.
We understood that we were the victims of our own shamming, and we
grew to be better citizens for it. The police force became an army
of heroes--for a season. All the good in it came out; and there
is a lot of it in the worst of times. Roosevelt had the true
philosopher's stone that turns dross to gold, in his own sturdy
faith in his fellow-man. Men became good because he thought them
so.
By which I am not to be understood as meaning that he just voted
them good--the police, for instance--and sat by waiting to see the
wings grow. No, but he helped them sprout. It is long since I have
enjoyed anything so much as I did those patrol trips of ours on
the "last tour" between midnight and sunrise, which earned for him
the name of Haroun al Roosevelt. I had at last found one who was
willing to get up when other people slept--including, too often,
the police--and see what the town looked like then.
Pages:
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372