Geronimo - Wikipedia
William Steffe (?) collected and edited a camp-meeting song with the traditional "Glory It opened with "Say, brothers, will you meet us / on Canaan's happy shore? . Steffen Wick: Piano Particles - Reel & Reflex (Marimba/Piano). Biography of the US journalist Lincoln Steffens who believed that the. In Lincoln Steffens wrote about St. Louis: "Go to St. Louis and you will find the habit . Charles Darrow, who had successfully defended, William Hayward, the leader of His brother, John J. McNamara, who could not be directly linked to the Los. Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin. Transcript.
Every one of those articles was an understatement, especially where the conditions were bad, and the proof thereof is that while each article seemed to astonish other cities, it disappointed the city which was its subject. Thus my friends in Philadelphia, who knew what there was to know, and those especially who knew what I knew, expressed surprise that I reported so little. I cut twenty thousand words out of the Philadelphia article and then had not written half my facts.
I know a man who is making a history of the corrupt construction of the Philadelphia City Hall, in three volumes, and he grieves because he lacks space. This is all very unscientific, but then, I am not a scientist. I am a journalist. I did not gather with indifference all the facts and arrange them patiently for permanent preservation and laboratory analysis. I did not want to preserve, I wanted to destroy the facts. My purpose was no more scientific than the spirit of my investigation and reports; it was, as I said above, to see if the shameful facts, spread out in all their shame, would not burn through our civic shamelessness and set fire to American pride.
That was the journalism of it. I wanted to move and to convince. That is why I was not interested in all the facts, sought none that was new, and rejected half those that were old. I often was asked to expose something suspected. Exposure of the unknown was not my purpose. But these, understated, were charged always to the guilty persons when individuals were to blame, and finally brought home to the people themselves, who, having the power, have also the responsibility, they and those they respect, and those that guide them.
This was against all the warnings and rules of demagogy. What was the result? Folk had explored and exposed, with convictions, the boodling of St. Louis, the rings carried an election.
After the Minneapolis grand jury had exposed and the courts had tried and the common juries had convicted the grafters there, an election showed that public opinion was formed. But that one election was regarded as final.
Of resentment there was very little. When I returned to St. Louis and rewrote the facts, and, in rewriting, made them just as insulting as the truth would permit, my friends there expressed dismay over the manuscript. The article would hurt Mr. Folk; it would hurt the cause; it would arouse popular wrath. So I answered that if they had no faith in the town, I had, and anyway, if I was wrong and the people should resent, not the crime, but the exposure of it, then they would punish, not Mr.
Folk, who had nothing to do with the article, but the magazine and me. I answered that I would let the St. Louisans decide between us. It was true, it was just; the people of St. Louis had shown no shame. Here was a good chance to see whether they had any. I was a fool, they said. I would play the fool to the American people. Folk repudiated it; Mr. Folk himself spoke up for the people. Louis, but they proved also that that pride had been touched. Up to that time nobody knew exactly how St.
Louis felt about it all. There had been one election, another was pending, and the boodlers, caught or to be caught, were in control. The citizens had made no move to dislodge them. Between these two local views no outsider could choose. I took the outside view, stated the facts both ways,—the right verdicts of the juries and the confident plans of the boodlers,—and the result was, indeed, a shameless state of affairs for which St. Louis, the people of St.
Louis, were to blame. And they saw it so, both in the city and in the State, and they ceased to be spectators. That article simply got down to the self-respect of this people. And who was hurt? From that moment the city has been determined and active, and boodle seems to be doomed.
After that, his nomination for Governor of the State was declared for by the people, who formed Folk clubs all over the State to force him upon his party and theirs, and thus insure the pursuit of the boodlers in St. Louis and in Missouri too. Nor was the magazine hurt, or myself. The next time I went to St. Folk lifted the lid off Missouri for a moment after that, and the State also appeared ripe for the gathering. Moreover, the boodlers of State and city have joined to beat the people and keep them down.
The decisive election is not till the fall ofand the boodlers count much on the fickleness of public opinion. But I believe that Missouri and St.
Louis together will prove then, once for all, that the people can rule when they are aroused. The Pittsburgh article had no effect in Pittsburgh, nor had that on Philadelphia any results in Philadelphia. Nor was any expected there.
Pittsburgh, as I said in the article, knew itself, and may pull out of its disgrace, but Philadelphia is contented and seems hopeless. The accounts of them, however, and indeed, as I have said, all of the series, were written, not for the cities described, but for all our cities, and the most immediate response came from places not mentioned, but where similar evils existed or similar action was needed.
But of course the tangible results are few. And it is real. The grafters who said you may put the blame anywhere but on the people, where it belongs, and that Americans can be moved only by flattery—they lied. They lied about themselves. They, too, are American citizens; they too, are of the people; and some of them also were reached by shame. The great truth I tried to make plain was that which Mr. Folk insists so constantly upon: Great Guy and Something to Sing About. He received good reviews for both,   but overall the production quality was not up to Warner Bros.
A third film, Dynamite, was planned, but Grand National ran out of money. He had done what many thought unthinkable: Cagney also had full say over what films he did and did not make.
He later explained his reasons, saying, "I walked out because I depended on the studio heads to keep their word on this, that or other promise, and when the promise was not kept, my only recourse was to deprive them of my services.
Normally, when a star walked out, the time he or she was absent was added onto the end of an already long contract, as happened with Olivia de Havilland and Bette Davis.
Many in Hollywood watched the case closely for hints of how future contracts might be handled. Return to Warner Bros. The former had Cagney in a comedy role, and received mixed reviews. Ironically, the script for Angels was one that Cagney had hoped to do while with Grand National, but the studio had been unable to secure funding.
While revisiting his old haunts, he runs into his old friend Jerry Connolly, played by O'Brien, who is now a priest concerned about the Dead End Kids ' futures, particularly as they idolize Rocky. After a messy shootout, Sullivan is eventually captured by the police and sentenced to death in the electric chair. Connolly pleads with Rocky to "turn yellow" on his way to the chair so the Kids will lose their admiration for him, and hopefully avoid turning to crime. Sullivan refuses, but on his way to his execution, he breaks down and begs for his life.
It is unclear whether this cowardice is real or just feigned for the Kids' benefit. Cagney himself refused to say, insisting he liked the ambiguity.
He lost to Spencer Tracy in Boys Town. Cagney had been considered for the role, but lost out on it due to his typecasting. His earlier insistence on not filming with live ammunition proved to be a good decision. Having been told while filming Angels with Dirty Faces that he would be doing a scene with real machine gun bullets a common practice in the Hollywood of the timeCagney refused and insisted the shots be added afterwards. As it turned out, a ricocheting bullet passed through exactly where his head would have been.
After The Roaring Twenties, it would be a decade before Cagney made another gangster film. Cagney again received good reviews; Graham Greene stated, "Mr. Cagney, of the bull-calf brow, is as always a superb and witty actor". From that point on, violence was attached to mania, as in White Heat. Cohan in Yankee Doodle Dandya film Cagney "took great pride in"  and considered his best.
It was a remarkable performance, probably Cagney's best, and it makes Yankee Doodle a dandy" Time magazine  Many critics of the time and since have declared it Cagney's best film, drawing parallels between Cohan and Cagney; they both began their careers in vaudeville, struggled for years before reaching the peak of their profession, were surrounded with family and married early, and both had a wife who was happy to sit back while he went on to stardom.
In his acceptance speech, Cagney said, "I've always maintained that in this business, you're only as good as the other fellow thinks you are. It's nice to know that you people thought I did a good job. And don't forget that it was a good part, too. Independent again[ edit ] Cagney announced in March that his brother William and he were setting up Cagney Productions to release films though United Artists. He spent several weeks touring the US, entertaining troops with vaudeville routines and scenes from Yankee Doodle Dandy.
Almost a year after its creation, Cagney Productions produced its first film, Johnny Come Latelyin While the major studios were producing patriotic war movies, Cagney was determined to continue dispelling his tough-guy image,  so he produced a movie that was a "complete and exhilarating exposition of the Cagney ' alter-ego ' on film". He refused to give interviews to the British press, preferring to concentrate on rehearsals and performances. He gave several performances a day for the Army Signal Corps of The American Cavalcade of Dance, which consisted of a history of American dance, from the earliest days to Fred Astaire, and culminated with dances from Yankee Doodle Dandy.
The second movie Cagney's company produced was Blood on the Sun. Insisting on doing his own stunts, Cagney required judo training from expert Ken Kuniyuki and Jack Halloran, a former policeman.
At this time, Cagney heard of young war hero Audie Murphywho had appeared on the cover of Life magazine. Cagney felt, however, that Murphy could not act, and his contract was loaned out and then sold. Saroyan himself loved the film, but it was a commercial disaster, costing the company half a million dollars to make;  audiences again struggled to accept Cagney in a nontough-guy role.
He signed a distribution-production deal with the studio for the film White Heat effectively making Cagney Productions a unit of Warner Bros. Back to Warner Bros. Unlike Tom Powers in The Public Enemy, Jarrett was portrayed as a raging lunatic with few if any sympathetic qualities. He was no longer a romantic commodity, and this was reflected in his performance. It was agreed so we put in all those fits and headaches. Top of the world! Likewise, Jarrett's explosion of rage in prison on being told of his mother's death is widely hailed as one of Cagney's most memorable performances.
He said to a journalist, "It's what the people want me to do. Some day, though, I'd like to make another movie that kids could go and see.
I just slapped my foot down as I turned it out while walking. In Day, he found a co-star with whom he could build a rapport, such as he had had with Blondell at the start of his career. He was always 'real'. I simply forgot we were making a picture. Another is the man, who, driven to bay with his local pride, says: Other cities say so. But I say that if Philadelphia is a disgrace, it is a disgrace not to itself alone, nor to Pennsylvania, but to the United States and to American character.
For this great city, so highly representative in other respects, is not behind in political experience, but ahead, with New York.
Philadelphia is a city that has had its reforms. Having passed through all the typical stages of corruption, Philadelphia reached the period of miscellaneous loot with a boss for chief thief, under James McManes and the Gas Ring 'way back in the late sixties and seventies. This is the Tweed stage of corruption from which St. Louis, for example, is just emerging.
Philadelphia, in two inspiring popular revolts, attacked the Gas Ring, broke it, and in achieved that dream of American cities - a good charter. The present condition of Philadelphia, therefore, is not that which precedes, but that which follows reform, and in this distinction lies its startling general significance.
What has happened since the Bullitt Law or charter went into effect in Philadelphia may happen in any American city "after reform is over. Our people do not seek, they avoid self-rule, and "reforms" are spasmodic efforts to punish bad rulers and get somebody that will give us good government or something that will make it. A self-acting form of government is an ancient superstition. We are an inventive people, and we all think that we shall devise some day a legal machine that will turn out good government automatically.
The Philadelphians have treasured this belief longer than the rest of us and have tried it more often. Throughout their history they have sought this wonderful charter and they thought they had it when they got the Bullitt Law, which concentrates in the mayor ample power, executive and political, and complete responsibility.
Moreover, it calls for very little thought and action on the part of the people. All they expected to have to do when the Bullitt Law went into effect was to elect as mayor a good business man, who, with his probity and common sense, would give them that good business administration which is the ideal of many reformers. The Bullitt Law went into effect inA committee of twelve - four men from the Union League, four from business organizations, and four from the bosses - picked out the first man to run under it on the Republican ticket, Edwin H.
Fitler, an able, upright business man, and he was elected.
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Strange to say, his administration was satisfactory to the citizens, who speak well of it to this day, and to the politicians also; Boss McManes the ring was broken, not the boss took to the next national convention from Philadelphia a delegation solid for Fitler for President of the United States. It was a farce, but it pleased Mr.
Fitler, so Matthew S. Quay, the State boss, let him have a complimentary vote on the first ballot. The politicians "fooled" Mr. Fitler, and they "fooled" also the next business mayor, Edwin S. Stuart, likewise a most estimable gentleman. Under these two administrations the foundation was laid for the present government of Philadelphia, the corruption to which Philadelphians seemed so reconciled, and the machine which is "at least the best you have ever seen.
It isn't sound, and I doubt if it would stand in New York or Chicago. The enduring strength of the typical American political machine is that it is a natural growth - a sucker, but deep-rooted in the people. The New Yorkers vote for Tammany Hall. The Philadelphians do not vote; they are disfranchised, and their disfranchisement is one anchor of the foundation of the Philadelphia organization.
This is no figure of speech. The honest citizens of Philadelphia have no more rights at the polls than the negroes down South. Nor do they fight very hard for this basic privilege. You can arouse their Republican ire by talking about the black Republican votes lost in the Southern States by white Democratic intimidation, but if you remind the average Philadelphian that he is in the same position, he will look startled, then say, "That's so, that's literally true, only I never thought of it in just that way.
The machine controls the whole process of voting, and practices fraud at every stage. The assessor's list is the voting list, and the assessor is the machine's man. The constable of the division kept a disreputable house; a policeman was assessed as living there. The election was held in the disorderly house maintained by the assessor. The man named as judge had a criminal charge for a life offense pending against him. Two hundred and fifty-two votes were returned in a division that had less than one hundred legal votes within its boundaries.Say Brother Will You Meet Us
The assessor pads the list with the names of dead dogs, children, and non-existent persons. One newspaper printed the picture of a dog, another that of a little four-year-old negro boy, down on such a list. A ring orator in a speech resenting sneers at his ward as "low down" reminded his hearers that that was the ward of Independence Hall, and naming over signers of the Declaration of Independence, he closed his highest flight of eloquence with the statement that "these men, the fathers of American liberty, voted down here once.
And," he added, with a catching grin, "they vote here yet. Sixty-three per cent, were returned marked "not at," "removed," "deceased," etc. From one four-story house where forty-four voters were addressed, eighteen letters came back undelivered; from another of forty-eight voters, came back forty-one letters; from another sixty-one out of sixty-two; from another, forty-four out of forty-seven. Six houses in one division were assessed at one hundred and seventy-two voters, more than the votes cast in the previous election in any one of two hundred entire divisions.
The repeating is done boldly, for the machine controls the election officers, often choosing them from among the fraudulent names; and when no one appears to serve, assigning the heeler ready for the expected vacancy.
The police are forbidden by law to stand within thirty feet of the polls, but they are at the box and they are there to see that the machine's orders are obeyed and that repeaters whom they help to furnish are permitted to vote without "intimidation" on the names they, the police, have supplied. The editor of an anti-machine paper who was looking about for himself once told me that a ward leader who knew him well asked him into a polling place. The business proceeds with very few hitches; there is more jesting than fighting.
Violence in the past has had its effect; and is not often necessary nowadays, but if it is needed the police are there to apply it. Several citizens told me that they had seen the police help to beat citizens or elections officers who were trying to do their duty, then arrest the victim; and Mr.
Clinton Rogers Woodruff, the executive counsel of the Municipal League, has published a booklet of such cases. But an official statement of the case is at hand in an announcement by John Weaver, the new machine mayor of Philadelphia, that he is going to keep the police out of politics and away from the polls. They leave everything to the machine, and the machine casts their ballots for them. It is estimated thatvoters did not go to the polls at the last election.
Yet the machine rolled up a majority offor Weaver, with a fraudulent vote estimated all the way from forty to eighty thousand, and this in a campaign so machine-made that it was called "no contest. A friend of mine told me he was on the lists in the three wards in which he had successively dwelt. He votes personally in none, but the leader of his present ward tells him how he has been voted.
Reynolds, the proprietor of the St. James Hotel, went to the polls at eleven o'clock last election day, only to be told that he had been voted.