things and his own soul to the party bosses who
sell out the interests of the city, state, and nation
to the business leaders, who—as we know now—use the money we entrust to them to rob us and
corrupt our political, commercial and our higher
life. When Mark Fagan had taken his oath,
the other, older freeholders came to him, and
they invited him into “the combine.” There
was no mystery about it. There was a com-
bine and there was graft; of course a man wants
his share of the graft, and though Fagan was a
Republican, party made no difference; both parties were in on it, and Fagan had a right to what
was coming to him. Something — the man
doesn’t know exactly what it was — something
which he thinks is religious, made him decline
to go in. He is a quiet man, and he made no
outcry. He didn’t perfectly understand anyhow, then, just what it all meant. It simply
“didn’t look right” to Mark, so he did not sell
out the people of his ward who trusted him to
serve them. And the worst of it was, he couldn’t
serve them. If he wouldn’t “stand in,” the combine wouldn’t let him have anything for his
ward, not even the needed, rightful improvements. All he got were three political jobs,
and they were a gift to him. The combine
having distributed all the offices, had three left
