File:My story (1913) (14596523550).jpg

Identifier: mystoryjohnson00johnuoft (find matches)
Title: My story
Year: 1913 (1910s)
Authors: Johnson, Tom Loftin, 1854-1911 Hauser, Elizabeth J
Subjects: Cleveland (Ohio) Ohio -- Politics and government
Publisher: New York, B.W. Huebsch
Contributing Library: Robarts - University of Toronto
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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A few momentslater when I had gotten fairly started it came again, thistime loud and insistent and from a group of men seatedin the front and near the center of the balcony. I stopped,looked towards them and called out, Well, what is it?What dont you like? Tell me; maybe I can explain.No answer, but more hisses. Oh, you dont know what you are hissing for? Youwere just told to do it, I continued. Well, come on,give us some more of it. I like it, it makes me feelgood, and I coaxed for more hissing, making the soundof the tongue against the teeth used to urge a horse togreater speed. But I got no response now and the meet-ing was not disturbed again. The group of hissers had evidently been sent to the meet-ing with instructions to break it up, but their courage failedthem. When the meeting was over they followed me outand while I was waiting for the private trolley car In whichI was traveling that night, a great husky workman standingnear me on the sidewalk exclaimed in loud tones, Well,
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HENRY GEORGE HENRY GEORGE 57 did you see the big throw the con into them I Intending to pay me a comphnicnt, he called mea name which Southerners and Westerners usually con-sider sufficient provocation for a quarrel, and my heartstood still for a moment, for my brother Albert was justbehind me and I fully expected him to reach past me andhit the man who had spoken. I reached one arm behindme and got hold of my brother and put my other hand onthe mans shoulder and said, Come, my friend, help meto persuade these fellows to go with me to my next meet-ing, and then I invited the group of men who had triedto stojj my speech to get into my car and go with me.Completely bluffed by this time they all slunk away. When the question of Mr. Georges candidacy wasbeing discussed by some of his friends and advisers and ithad been decided that he should run, someone suggestedthat the campaign might cost him his life. He was notyet sixty years of age, but the hard lines of his life hadtold upon him, a

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