Jimmie Moore of Bucktown Part 13

CHAPTER XIII

_"f.a.gin's Meetin'"_

At eight o'clock f.a.gin's big bar-room was filled with people.

The crowd was mostly made up of men, although several women had ventured in to see the fun. At the bar men were standing three deep. Mike and f.a.gin were both working hard, but were unable to wait upon the crowd.

"Here they come," cried some one at the door.

In a moment every one was quiet and still, as Morton and his workers filed into the place. f.a.gin's place was known as a free and easy. In the rear of the room was a platform upon which stood several chairs, a table and an old grand piano.

"Go back to the platform," said f.a.gin.

Jimmie, Floe, Gene Dibble, Bill Cook, Mrs. Cook and Morton stepped upon the platform. Floe went to the piano and started to play the old song, "Jesus, Lover of My Soul." Without an invitation nearly every one joined in the singing and Morton was pleased.

As the song ended about twenty strong voices started to clap their hands and sing:

"Monday I got awful drunk, Tuesday I got sober, Wednesday night I stayed at home To think the matter over.

Thursday I went out again, Friday I took more, And Sat.u.r.day night they found me tight On f.a.gin's cellar door."

They repeated it three times, making more noise each time. Just as they stopped, Floe and Gene started to sing:

"On Sunday I am happy, on Monday full of joy, On Tuesday I've a peace, the devil can't destroy.

On Wednesday and on Thursday I'm walking in the light, Friday 'tis a Heaven below, the same on Sat.u.r.day night."

Without a stop they ran into Doane's greatest song, "Hide Me, O My Saviour, Hide Me."

Whatever f.a.gin's plans were, he had forgotten them. Never were two voices better adapted for this sort of music. Gene's tenor voice blended perfectly with Floe's rich alto. But, what is more essential in the singing of the Gospel, they both knew what they were singing about and to whom they were singing.

The best story teller on earth can not tell a story well unless he knows it, neither can the best singer on earth sing the Gospel well unless he knows it. The question so often asked to-day, Why are there no conversions in our church? could be answered sometimes by a glance into the choir loft.

Every one stood spellbound as Floe and Gene put their very souls into the song:

"Hide me when my heart is breaking, with its weight of woe, When in tears I seek the comfort, Thou canst alone bestow."

Every word was a prayer and Floe was singing to G.o.d alone; she seemed to forget the crowd and the place; she remembered the time she had taken her broken heart to Jesus with its weight of woe. Gene was self-conscious, but no one knew it, as every eye was upon Floe. She stopped playing and stood up as they very softly sang the chorus the last time. Falling upon her knees, she said: "Let us pray. O Father, we thank Thee, that Thou hast given us a chance to praise Thee in this room. In former days, in this same place, we blasphemed Thy Holy Name.

We thank Thee for forgiveness, for peace, for power to overcome sin, and now, O Father, our prayer is for the people in this room. We know that Thou lovest them all; may they realize to-night that Jesus is the sinner's Friend. For the habit-bound ones, we pray, set them free, O G.o.d!" With tears streaming down her cheeks she prayed for Dave Beach, f.a.gin, Mike, Ike Palmer, and the girls that were living lives of shame; the plea she made to G.o.d for Fred Hanks would almost melt a heart of stone. "Forgive these men for getting poor, weak Fred drunk to-night," she prayed.

"He is trying hard, but Mr. f.a.gin and his helpers are doing all they can to kill him; for Jesus' sake stop them, for the sake of his heart-broken wife and his little boy, stop them.

May every man, woman and child here to-night be saved for Jesus'

sake. Amen."

Not a person moved during the prayer; every word went straight to the hearts of the people; many of the women were weeping and the men were fighting back their tears with more or less success.

After f.a.gin had consented to allow a meeting in his place he and his crowd had gone after Fred and filled him full of liquor.

At the right time he was to be brought into the room and introduced as one of Morton's converts. This was to be the signal for the crowd to break up the meeting.

Floe had spoiled their plans by her prayer. Fred came into the room unnoticed while she was praying, and at the close of her prayer he pushed his way to the platform. In his drunken way he said he didn't want to blame the gang for his condition, but he had tried as hard as he could and it was no use, there was no hope for him. He began to cry and left the room by the rear door. He pulled the door open again and, waving his hat in the air said, "You pikers will never git another chance to make a monkey out of me," and slammed the door.

Morton jumped to his feet and said to the crowd, "I want Floe and Gene to sing for you, but before they sing I will ask Mrs.

Cook, one of your neighbors, to say something about Jesus in her home." Morton was afraid to have Bill Cook speak, but thought Mrs. Cook could keep the crowd still better than a man.

"Everybody here knows me," said Mrs. Cook. "We've lived here in this town for thirty years. All that time, until a little while ago, we've had a drunkard's home. Jesus saved me one night and my husband came the next night and we're havin' the blessedest time yer' ever heard tell on. Bill don't drink no more and I ain't been mad fer two weeks now, 'cept when f.a.gin and Mike tried ter git Bill ter drink. I don't see fer the life of me, what they want ter git Bill back inter the gutter agin fer"--Morton trembled--"they oughter be satisfied; they've had all his money fer years. I wouldn't do that ter them er their families if they was tryin' ter git along like we are," and she began to cry.

Before she could go on with her talk, Morton arose and said, "Floe and Gene will sing." The song selected was the duet, "They are Nailed to the Cross."

"There was One who was willing to die in my stead, That a soul so unworthy might live, And the path to the cross, He was willing to tread, All the sins of my life to forgive.

"They are nailed to the cross, they are nailed to the cross, Oh, how much he was willing to bear!

With what anguish and loss, Jesus went to the cross!

But he carried my sins with Him there.

"He is tender and loving and patient with me, While He cleanses my heart of its dross; But 'there's no condemnation,' I know I am free, For my sins are all nailed to the cross.

"I will cling to my Saviour and never depart, I will joyfully journey each day, With a song on my lips and a song in my heart, That my sins have been taken away."

After the song Morton gave an invitation. Mike stepped out from behind the bar, untied his white ap.r.o.n and walked up to the platform. "If you people think that I kin be fergiven I want it right now," he said. "I did try to get Bill to drink and I got Fred Hanks drunk and I'm an awful sinner, but I'm done with the whole business; I'll never sell nor take another drink in my life if G.o.d will forgive me the way I've used Him." Mike's wife pushed her way through the crowd and they both bowed in prayer at the old saloon platform. At least twenty-five men and women came forward that night and prayed to G.o.d for mercy.

f.a.gin stood with his elbows on the bar and watched everything that was going on, but he said nothing.

At nine o'clock Mr. Morton said, "We agreed to get through in this place at nine o'clock and our time is up. I wish to thank Mr. f.a.gin for his kindness to us, and before we close I wish to ask G.o.d to bless him and his family and get him out of this business."

f.a.gin bowed his head as Morton prayed, and as they pa.s.sed out he shook hands with all of them and invited them to come again.

The next night at the Mission the first man upon his feet to give a testimony was Oily Ike Palmer. "I was in f.a.gin's bar-room meeting, and before I went to sleep last night Jesus saved me.

Every one in the First Ward knows me and they know very little good of me. I was educated for the ministry and expected to be some one in this world. Everything was bright before me; my parents were both Christians and well to do. Every one, in the little place where I lived, pointed me out as a model young man. A so-called doctor gave me morphine for pain one day and told me to carry it with me always. Some of you know the rest of my story without my telling it; it soon got the best of me.

For fifteen years I have been a drug fiend. I have tried every known remedy and they have all failed. With the drug I began to drink whisky. In order to keep myself in these things, I became dishonest. For ten years at least I have made my money in a crooked way. My family have suffered everything through my sin. We were not raised in the slums, but have drifted to the very bottom because of my vicious habits. My brothers and sisters never mention my name, and in the old home my picture has been turned toward the wall. Last night, when Jimmie Moore came to my home and invited me to the f.a.gin place, I could not refuse him. He told me that Jesus could help me and that you people here would be my friend. I went to f.a.gin's and heard of my way out; I left that place determined to find G.o.d if I could; I spent half of last night upon my knees, and to-night, although very weak and nervous, I know that I am saved. I've been twenty-four hours without drug or whisky and I could never do that unless G.o.d was with me. I just want to say one more thing before I sit down. Jimmie Moore came to my house again to-day and invited me to this meeting. When I told him I had no clothing fit to be seen in a place like this, he took every penny he had, thirty-seven cents, I believe, and bought these pants from Rosenbaum. He has promised to leave an evening paper there for sixty-three days to make up the dollar--the price of the pants. I did not know that until this evening, or I should not have allowed him to do it. Jesus saved me, but that boy did his share of it and under G.o.d I want to thank Jimmie for my salvation."

Mike and his wife both spoke and thanked G.o.d for salvation.

Bucktown was well represented at the meeting and several professed conversion. After the meeting Jimmie said to Morton, "When we git Dave and f.a.gin, Fred Hanks and Doc Snyder saved, Bucktown will be just as good as der Bulevard ter live in. Jewey got pinched ter-day and he'll git a ten spot, 'cause dey found der goods on him."

CHAPTER XIV

_Fred and Doc_

When Fred Hanks left f.a.gin's, he started for the river determined to end his life. Fred had made many desperate attempts to live a sober life, but with him it was out of the question. He had made resolution after resolution. He had taken the gold cure and in less than forty-eight hours after being cured he was drunk again. His own father had said to Morton, "There is no hope for him, and I wish that he was dead." Five different times Morton had prayed with him and Fred had promised each time to stay away from drink and trust G.o.d; and he meant every word he said. Men do not get to be drunkards from choice; they cannot help it. It is the first drink that makes drunkards, not the last. The hundreds of thousands of young men and women who are drinking just for fun to-day will be a great army of helpless drunkards to-morrow. Of course, if they were told this, every one would laugh at the idea that they would ever be drunkards; but, allow the question, where else do the drunkards come from?

Many men say they can drink or they can leave it alone. Every drunkard in the world has been able to say the same thing sometime, but that time pa.s.ses for nearly every one. Men who say they can drink or leave it alone, invariably drink. The same thing is true with the poor fallen girl. Never did a girl start out with the intention of going into the very depths of sin; but Charles N. Crittenden tells us that three hundred thousand women are living in houses of ill-fame in the United States alone.

Their average life is only five years and it takes six thousand girls every thirty days to keep the ranks filled. Seventy-two thousand girls enter upon a life of shame every year; again, allow the question, where do they come from? No man starts out to be a drunkard; no girl starts out to be a harlot; why are there so many? Unconsciously they become slaves to sin, and the result is, our country is reeking with this cla.s.s of people.

One who has given a life among women of this cla.s.s says that nine out of every ten come from the dance hall. One thing is certain, they all come from our homes. Nearly all would gladly leave the awful life they are living if they could, but, like poor Fred Hanks, they are bound hand and foot by sin. Nothing but the power of G.o.d can save the fallen.

Fred went to the bridge over the East Side ca.n.a.l and, climbing to the top of the railing, deliberately leaped into the dark waters, twenty feet below. Several people saw him when he leaped and he was rescued from the water before he could drown. When the officer from the corner saw who it was he called the wagon from the police station and Fred spent the night in his wet clothing on the plank in a cell. As he was loaded into the wagon several people inquired who he was. "Oh, only a drunken barber,"

was the reply; "we get him often. It ain't the first time he's tried this."