Mr. Dooley Says by Finley Peter Dunne (dar e dil novel online reading .TXT) 📕

eighteen inches bump iv self-reliance that treats it like th' dirt undher his feet? It's a wondher to me that th' ocean don't get tired iv growlin' an' roarin' at th' race iv men. They don't pay anny heed to it's hollering. Whin it behaves itsilf they praise it as though it was a good dog. 'How lovely our ocean looks undher our moon.' Whin it rises in its wrath they show their contimpt f'r it be bein' sea-sick into it. But no matther how it behaves they niver quit usin' its face f'r a right iv way. They'll niver subjoo it but it niver bates thim. There niver was a time in th' history iv little man's sthruggle with th' vasty deep that he didn't deserve a decision on points."

"Well, it's all very well, but f'r me th' dhry land," said Mr. Hennessy. "Will ye iver cross th' ocean again?"

"Not," said Mr. Dooley, "till they asphalt it an' run th' boats on throlleys."


WORK

"Ye haven't sthruck yet, have ye?" said Mr. Dooley.

"Not yet," said Mr. Hennessy. "But th' dillygate was up at th' mills to-day an' we may be called out anny minyit now."

"Will ye go?" asked Mr. Dooley.

"Ye bet I will," said Mr. Hennessy. "Ye just bet I will. I stand firm be union principles an' besides it's hot as blazes up there these days. I wudden't mind havin' a few weeks off."

"Ye'll do right to quit," said Mr. Dooley. "I have no sympathy with sthrikers. I have no sympathy with thim anny more thin I have with people goin' off to a picnic. A sthrike is a wurrukin' man's vacation. If I had to be wan iv thim horny-handed sons iv toil, th' men that have made our counthry what it is an' creates th' wealth iv th' wurruld--if I had to be wan iv thim pillars iv th' constitution, which thank Gawd I haven't, 'tis sthrikin' I'd be all th' time durin' th' heated term. I'd begin sthrikin' whin th' flowers begin to bloom in th' parks, an' I'd stay on sthrike till 'twas too cold to sit out on th' bleachers at th' baseball park. Ye bet I wud.

"I've noticed that nearly all sthrikes occur in th' summer time. Sthrikes come in th' summer time an' lockouts in th' winter. In th' summer whin th' soft breezes blows through shop an' facthry, fannin' th' cheeks iv th' artisan an' settin' fire to his whiskers, whin th' main guy is off at th' seashore bein' pinched f'r exceedin' th' speed limit, whin 'tis comfortable to sleep out at nights an' th' Sox have started a batting sthreak, th' son iv Marthy, as me frind Roodyard Kipling calls him, begins to think iv th' rights iv labor.

"Th' more he looks out iv th' window, th' more he thinks about his rights, an' wan warm day he heaves a couplin' pin at th' boss an' saunters away. Sthrikes are a great evil f'r th' wurrukin' man, but so are picnics an' he acts th' same at both. There's th' same not gettin' up till ye want to, th' same meetin' ye'er frinds f'r th' first time in their good clothes an' th' same thumpin' sthrangers over th' head with a brick. Afther awhile th' main guy comes home fr'm th' seaside, raises wages twinty per cent, fires th' boss an' takes in th' walkin' dillygate as a specyal partner.

"But in winter, what Hogan calls another flower iv our industhreel system blooms. In th' winter it's warmer in th' foundhry thin in th' home. There is no hearth as ample in anny man's home as th' hearth th' Steel Comp'ny does its cookin' by. It is pleasant to see th' citizen afther th' rigors iv a night at home hurryin' to th' mills to toast his numbed limbs in th' warm glow iv th' Bessemer furnace. About this time th' main guy takes a look at the thermometer an' chases th' specyal partner out iv th' office with th' annual report iv th' Civic Featheration. He thin summons his hardy assocyates about him an' says he: 'Boys, I will no longer stand f'r th' tyranny iv th' unions. Conditions has changed since last summer. It's grown much colder. I do not care f'r the money at stake, but there is a great principle involved. I cannot consint to have me business run be outsiders at a cost iv near thirty thousand dollars a year,' says he. An' there's a lockout.

"'Tis a matther iv th' seasons. So if ye sthrike ye'll not get me sympathy. I resarve that f'r me infeeryors. I'll keep me sympathy f'r th' poor fellow that has nobody to lure him away fr'm his toil an' that has to sweat through August with no chanst iv gettin' a day in th' open onless th' milishy are ordhered out an' thin whin he goes back to wurruk th' chances are somebody's got his job while th' sthrikin' wurrukin' man returns with his pockets full iv cigars an' is hugged at th' dure be the main guy. If I was rejooced to wurrukin' f'r me livin', if I was a son iv Marthy I'd be a bricklayer. They always sthrike durin' th' buildin' season. They time it just right. They niver quit wurruk. They thry not to meet it. It is what Hogan calls a pecolyar fact that bricklayers always time their vacations f'r th' peeryod whin there is wurruk to be done.

"No, sir, don't ask me to weep over th' downthrodden wurrukin' man whin he's out on sthrike. Ye take these here tillygraft op'rators that have laid off wurruk f'r th' summer. Do they look as though they were sufferin'? Ye bet they don't. Th' tired tillygraft op'rator come home last week with a smile on his face. 'I have good news f'r ye, mother,' says he. 'Ye haven't sthruck?' says she, hope sthrugglin' with fear in her face. 'Ye've guessed it,' says he. 'We weren't exactly ordhered out. Th' signal f'r a sthrike was to be a series iv sharp whistles fr'm the walkin' dillygate, but, whin that didn't come an' we were tired iv waitin' th' report iv th' baseball game come over th' wires an' we mistook that f'r a signal. Ye must get the childher ready f'r a day in th' counthry. We can't tell how soon this sthruggle again th' greed iv capital will be declared off an' we must make th' most iv it while it lasts,' says he.

"I know a tillygraft op'rator, wan iv thim knights iv th' key that has a fine job in a counthry deepo. All he has to do is to be up in time to flag number eight at six o'clock an' wait till number thirty-two goes through at midnight, keep thrains fr'm bumpin' into each other, turn switches, put up th' simaphore, clean th' lamps an' hand out time tables an' sell tickets. F'r these dissypations he dhraws down all th' way fr'm fifteen to twinty dollars a week. An' he wants to sthrike. An' th' pa-apers say if he does he'll tie up our impeeryal railroad systems. Think iv that. I never had much iv an opinyon iv him. All he iver done f'r me was to misspell me name. He's a little thin man that cudden't lift an eighth iv beer with both hands, but he's that important if he leaps his job we'll all have to walk.

"I've often thought I'd like to have th' walkin' dillygate iv th' Liquor Dealers' Binivolent Assocyation come around an' ordher me to lay down me lemon squeezer an' bung starter an' walk out. But nawthin' iv th' kind iver happens an' if it did happen no wan wud care a sthraw. Th' whole wurruld shuddhers at th' thought that me frind Ike Simpson, the tillygraft op'rator, may take a day off: but me or Pierpont Morgan might quit f'r a year an' no wan wud care. Supposin' Rockyfellar an' Pierpont Morgan an' Jim Hill shud form a union, an' shud demand a raise iv a millyon dollars a year, reduction iv wurrukin' time fr'm two to wan hour ivry week, th' closed shop, two apprentices f'r each bank an' no wan allowed to make money onless he cud show a union card? Whin th' sthrike comity waited on us we'd hoist our feet on th' kitchen table, light a seegar, polish our bone collar button with th' sleeve iv our flannel shirt an' till thim to go to Bannagher.

"We'd say: 'Ye'er demands are onraisonable an' we will not submit. F'r years we have run th' shop almost at a loss. There are plenty iv men to take ye'er places. They may not be as efficient at first but they'll soon larn. Ye'er demands are refused an' ye can bang th' dure afther ye.' A fine chanct a millyonaire wud have thryin' to persuade ye be peaceful means fr'm takin' his job. Think iv him on th' dead line thryin' to coax ye not to go in but to stand by him as he would sit on ye if you were in th' same position. Wud ye or wud ye not lave ye'er coat in his hands as ye plunged in th' bank? They'd have to resort to vilence. Th' stock exchange wud go out in sympathy. Th' milishy wud be called out an' afther awhile th' financeers wud come back with their hats in their hands an' find their old places took be other men.

"No, sir, a sthrike iv financeers wudden't worry anny wan. 'Tis a sthrange thing whin we come to think iv it that th' less money a man gets f'r his wurruk, th' more nicissry it is to th' wurruld that he shud go on wurrukin'. Ye'er boss can go to Paris on a combination wedding an' divoorce thrip an' no wan bothers his head about him. But if ye shud go to Paris--excuse me f'r laughin' mesilf black in th' face--th' industhrees iv the counthry pines away.

"An' th' higher up a man regards his wurruk, th' less it amounts to. We cud manage to scrape along without electhrical injineers but we'd have a divvle iv a time without scavengers. Ye look down on th' fellow that dhrives th' dump cart, but if it wasn't f'r him ye'd niver be able to pursoo ye'er honorable mechanical profissyon iv pushin' th' barrow. Whin Andhrew Carnagie quit, ye wint on wurrukin'; if ye quit wurruk, he'll have to come back. P'raps that's th' reason th' wurrukin' man don't get more iv thim little pictures iv a buffalo in his pay envelope iv a Saturdah night. If he got more money he wud do less wurruk. He has to be kept in thrainin'.

"Th' way to make a man useful to th' wurruld is to give him a little money an' a lot iv wurruk. An' 'tis th' on'y way to make him happy, too. I don't mean coarse, mateeryal happiness like private yachts an' autymobills an' rich food an' other corrodin' pleasures. I mean something entirely diffr'ent. I don't know what I mean but I see in th' pa-apers th' other day that th' on'y road to happiness was hard wurruk. 'Tis a good theery. Some day I'm goin' to hire a hall an' preach it in Newport. I wudden't mintion it in Ar-rchy Road where wurruk abounds. I don't want to be run in f'r incitin' a riot.

"This pa-aper says th' farmer niver sthrikes. He hasn't got th' time to. He's too happy. A farmer is continted with his ten-acre lot. There's nawthin' to take his mind off his wurruk. He sleeps at night with his nose against th' shingled roof iv his little