"The club is open to men and women twenty-one years of age; their families come in free on their tickets. The dues are to be ten cents a week, or five dollars a year. This covers the gymnasium, the lecture hall, the library, and the baths. Now we are ready for any questions."
A very fat woman, with a well-developed moustache, rose to claim the floor, and began: "I want to know——"
Hopkins interrupted: "As the Chair is not acquainted with all present, will the speakers kindly announce their names?"
The woman made a gesture of impatience—evidently every one should know her name: "I am Dr. Mary Mudd, M. D., of Rush College, unmarried, Resident Physician of the Mudd Maternity Home and the winner of the Mudd medal for an essay on misapplied medicine. There! Now I want to know are women eligible for office in this club?"
To which Hopkins replied: "Since women are admitted to membership and pay dues, they are eligible for all offices."
"Well, now, I'm with you," said Dr. Mudd; and she sat down.
Now arose a thin, dark man with a wild shock of hair, a black beard, a red tie and a general appearance of having -ski at the end of his name. "I vant to know do you hev to be religious your vay in dis cloob?"
"Kindly give your name," said the Chair.
"Veil, I'm Isaac Skystein; I'm a renovator of chentlemen's deteriorated vearing apparel, and I vant to know of dis is a missionary trick, or do it be a cloob vere von can talk de freedom of speech?"
"You do not have to belong to any Church," announced the Chairman.
"Vell; is it to be de religious talk?"
"Once a week, or maybe once a month, there will be a debate in this hall, at which entire freedom of speech will be allowed."
"Dat mean I can get up an' say I doan take no stock in your dern religion? I vant de freedom of de speeches, Ya!"
"It means that, at the proper time, each will have a chance to get up and say exactly what he thinks within the decencies of debate."
"Vell, I tink I'll join for a vhile, anyvay."
Then a red-faced man introduced himself. "I'm Jack Hinks, teamster, and I want to know if any drinks will be sold on the premises."
"No, sir; nothing intoxicating."
"I mean on the sly."
"No, sir: nothing, absolutely nothing."
"Well, Mike Shay tipped me off that it was to be 'wet' on the quiet."
"He made a mistake; this is to be a strictly teetotal club."
"That settles it. What's the good of a club where you can't have no fun? Good night!" and out he went.
A lanky youth with unhealthy rings around his eyes and brown stains on his thumb asked if there were to be boxing lessons and would Mr. Hartigan tell them about the scrap between himself and Mike Shay. Mothers asked if a baby corral would be instituted, to set the mothers free for a few hours each day. A tall, pale young man with a Southern coo, asked "whether Negroes were to be admitted." The Chair dodged by saying: "That will be decided by the vote of the majority."
A male person, with a beard and a tremulous voice, asked what the club's attitude would be toward the Salvation Army. Before the Chair could reply, little Skystein jumped up and shouted: "Mr. Chairman, ve don't vant 'em; dey's all feelin's an' no brains. You don't see no Chews in de Salvation Army—it's too many emotions; de Chews got too much intellects, ve don't vant——"
"I rule you out of order!" shouted the Chair. "Sit down! Now for your question: The club will welcome the Salvationists as individual members. It does not recognize them as a body."
A fat, unsuccessful-looking man, asked if it held out any chance for a job; and a red-headed masculine person of foreign design rose to inquire whether the bathing would be compulsory. A preliminary vote was overwhelmingly in favour of the five-dollar dues, though a small minority thought it should be free; a group of four persons believed they should draw compensation for coming.
The meeting answered every expectation; it fully introduced the club and its leaders; it demonstrated the views of the possible members, and gave the Board of Deacons a new light on human nature. All the business of definite organization was deferred to the next meeting, to take place one week later.
CHAPTER LIV
The Formation of the Club
Foundation Sunday came, and with it a respectable crowd at the House. There were some who had brought babies—which was unfortunate, but unavoidable—and there were one or two men too hilarious for good manners; but the crowd was, on the whole, good-natured and desirable.
Mike Shay was not there, although Jim had tried to get him; but Mike had a curious diffidence about appearing in public. All his power was underground, and all his methods behind the scenes. Squeaks was there to keep an eye on things, and his little bleary, ferret eyes watched each person and detail with cunning, if not with discernment.
It was made perfectly clear that only members in good standing had votes.
"Vell, vot dot mean, dot good at stannin'? Don't ve vote settin' down?" demanded Skystein.
"It means members whose dues are fully paid, and who are not under indictment for serious breach of rules."
"I want to pay one year's dues for myself and Mr. Michael Shay," said Squeaks; and he walked to the secretary and paid ten dollars. This indorsement by the boss produced immediate results.
"I'll take a year's membership," said a big, coarse, red-faced man. And he rolled up the aisle to deposit his five dollars, giving his name as Bud Towler. Jim remembered him as the third person in the back room the day he met Michael Shay. He had not seen him since.
So many more came up now, mostly to pay a month's dues, which was the minimum, that Belle was worked hard and other business was stopped.
Then, when all who wished to pay and register had done so, the voice of Squeaks was heard: "I have here a list of names that I want to propose for charter membership," and he read off a list of twenty-five men, none of them present. Bud Towler got up and seconded the lot; the Chair was asked to put the names to immediate vote, as it was a charter meeting; all were carried, and Squeaks came forward and paid twenty-five dollars dues for the lot to cover the next ten weeks, that is, to the end of a year.
Belle whispered to Hopkins as Squeaks retired. The Chair nodded, rose and explained. "In drawing up our constitution, we deemed it best, in the interests of democracy, to do all voting by ballot and to exclude all proxies."
"Dot's right, dot's all right!" shouted Skystein.
"Mr. Chairman, I protest," came the wire-like voice of Squeaks; this measure, would, naturally, mean the disfranchisement of every man whose business happened to keep him away at election time. How much more reasonable it would be for him to empower some trusted friend to represent him and his views, etc., etc.
On the matter of the ballot he was not so strong, but he did think "that the manly, straightforward way was for a voter to announce his vote and not be ashamed of his principles. Of course, he was aware that there was much to be said on the other side, but he was in favour of proxies and open voting."
"So am I," shouted Towler. "We ain't got no right to rob a man of his vote because he happens to be a night watchman."
"Ah, vat's de matter mit ye?" said Skystein. "Effery-body knows you an' Squeaks is in cahoots to run de hull push cart."