." Yes, I was learning how noble politics and
politicians are.

Well, on this night, broke, thirsty, but with the drinker's faith in the
unexpected drink, Nelson and I sat in the Overland House waiting for
something to turn up, especially politicians. And there entered Joe
Goose--he of the unquenchable thirst, the wicked eyes, the crooked nose,
the flowered vest.

"Come on, fellows--free booze--all you want of it. I didn't want you to
miss it."

"Where?" we wanted to know.

"Come on. I'll tell you as we go along. We haven't a minute to lose."
And as we hurried up town, Joe Goose explained: "It's the Hancock Fire
Brigade. All you have to do is wear a red shirt and a helmet, and carry
a torch.

"They're going down on a special train to Haywards to parade."

(I think the place was Haywards. It may have been San Leandro or Niles.
And, to save me, I can't remember whether the Hancock Fire Brigade was a
republican or a democratic organisation. But anyway, the politicians who
ran it were short of torch-bearers, and anybody who would parade could
get drunk if he wanted to.)

"The town'll be wide open," Joe Goose went on. "Booze? It'll run like
water. The politicians have bought the stocks of the saloons. There'll
be no charge. All you got to do is walk right up and call for it. We'll
raise hell."

At the hall, on Eighth Street near Broadway, we got into the firemen's
shirts and helmets, were equipped with torches, and, growling because we
weren't given at least one drink before we started, were herded aboard
the train. Oh, those politicians had handled our kind before. At
Haywards there were no drinks either. Parade first, and earn your booze,
was the order of the night.

We paraded. Then the saloons were opened. Extra barkeepers had been
engaged, and the drinkers jammed six deep before every drink-drenched and
unwiped bar. There was no time to wipe the bar, nor wash glasses, nor do
anything save fill glasses. The Oakland water-front can be real thirsty
on occasion.

This method of jamming and struggling in front of the bar was too slow
for us. The drink was ours. The politicians had bought it for us. We'd
paraded and earned it, hadn't we? So we made a flank attack around the
end of the bar, shoved the protesting barkeepers aside, and helped
ourselves to bottles.

Outside, we knocked the necks of the bottles off against the concrete
curbs, and drank. Now Joe Goose and Nelson had learned dis