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2. The Cat Purrs
- University Press of Colorado
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c 17 d D ENVER was then, as it is now, a beautiful city, built on a slope, between the prairies and mountains, always sunny, cool and clear-skyed, with the very sparkle of happiness in its air; and on the crown of its hill, facing the romantic prospect of the Rockies, the State Capitol raised its dome—as proud as the ambition of a liberty-loving people—the symbol of an aspiration and the expression of its power. That Capitol, I confess, was to me a sort of granite temple erected by the Commonwealth of Colorado to law, to justice, to the ideals of self-government that have made our republic the promised land of all the oppressed of Europe; and I could conceive of no nobler work than to serve those ideals in the assembly halls of that building, with those eternal mountains on the horizon and that sun of freedom overhead. Surely a man may confess so much, without shame, of his youth and his inexperience. . . . It is not merely the gold on the dome of the Capitol that has given it another look to me now. THE CAT PURRS C H A P T E R I I T H E BE A S T c 18 d It was the year 1897. I was about twenty-eight years old, and my partner, Gardener, was three years younger. He was more worldlywise than I was, even then; for while I had been busy with briefs and court-work, he had been the “business head” of the firm, out among business friends and acquaintances—“mixing,” as they say—and through his innumerable connections, here and there, with this man and that fraternity, bringing in the cases that kept us employed. He was a “Silver Republican”; I, a Democrat. But we both knew that if he was to get into politics it must be with the backing of the party “organization ” and the endorsement of the party “boss.” The “Silver Republican” boss of the day was a man whom we both admired—George Graham. Everybody admired him. Everybody was fond of him. “Why,” they would tell you, “there isn’t a man in town who is kinder to his family. He’s such a good man in his home! And he’s so charitable!” At Christmas time, when free baskets of food were distributed to the poor, George Graham was chairman of the committee for their distribution. He was prominent in the fraternal orders and used his political power to help the needy, the widow and the orphan. He had an engaging manner of fellowship, a personal magnetism , a kindly interest in aspiring young men, a pleasant appearance— smooth and dark in complexion, with a gentle way of smiling. I liked him; and he seemed to discover an affection for both Gardener and me, as we became more intimate with him, in the course of Gardener’s progress toward his coveted nomination by the party. That progress was so rapid and easy that it surprised us. We knew, of course, that we had attracted some public attention and much newspaper notice by our legal battles with “the corporation heavyweights” in our three big cases against the surgeon, the tramway company and the factory owner. But this did not account to us for the ease with which Gardener penetrated to the inner circles of the Boss’s court. It did not explain why Graham should come to see us in our office, and call us by our first names. The explanation that we tacitly accepted was one more personal and flattering to us. And when Gardener would come back from a chat with Graham, full of “inside informa- [54.198.200.128] Project MUSE (2024-03-29 07:00 GMT) T H E CAT PU R R S c 19 d tion” about the party’s plans—about who was to be nominated for this office at the coming convention, and what chance So-and-so had for that one—the sure proofs (to us) that he was being admitted to the intimate secrets of the party and found worthy of the confidence of those in power—I was as proud of Gardener as only a young man can be of a friend who has all the brilliant qualities that he himself lacks. Gardener was a handsome fellow, well built, always well dressed, selfassured and ambitious; I did not wonder that the politicians admired him and made much of...