p. 357 | Temperance

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, Cal. · Aug 10, 1882

Temperance.

Chicago's Disgrace.

This is what Chicago's mayor said, and what he forgot to say to the National Liquor Dealers and Brewers:—

GENTLEMEN: I have been invited by the reception committee to appear on this platform, and welcome you to Chicago. I do so with pleasure, because I recognize you as representing one of the grandest interests of our country. Next to the farmer, you gentlemen, engaged in the manufacture and sale of beer and liquor, are the largest organization in America. Four hundred millions of dollars stand behind you, furnishing employment to men of all classes.

He neglected, however, to state of how many millions it robbed the men, women, and children in the United States, and how many were rendered drunken, idle, and homeless to furnish those men employment.

He says again:—

"I don't believe that it was the intention of the divine Creator to create what he believed to be good, and then have a few fanatics, who cannot take a liberty without being brutes, say to you, 'You sha'n't drink, and you sha'n't manufacture, because we can't smell the stuff without going into the gutter.'"

He forgot to tell us which one of those distillers was recognized as "God's agent," as Guiteau would express it, or where the brewery is situated in which God creates the "stuff" that sends people "into the gutter."

Again:—

"In prohibitory Maine there is as much drinking as in free Illinois."

This is the stereotyped phrase which, vehemently repeated, has nearly convinced these men that "a lie well stuck to is as good as the truth."

The real truth is that Maine has only one dram-shop to every 860 inhabitants, while Illinois has one to every 300. That's why these men don't like prohibition. There are three counties in Maine where there is not a single open dram-shop, and in which the United States Internal Revenue officers with all their vigilance, have only been able to find fifty secret dealers—or one to every 2,000 inhabitants. Yet "there is as much drinking in prohibitory Maine as in free Illinois." Mayor Harrison ought to go to Maine in search of a Dutch lager beer picnic, and borrow a good microscope to assist in the search.

"If I thought you were men banded together to make drunkards, to degrade mankind, I would be the last to welcome you; but I find that there is not a single article of food which does not contain alcohol."

Mayor Harrison's brain, soaked with whisky "since a babe three hours old," could be pardoned for this round-about apology for the business of these brewers and distillers, as well as comparing himself to the great Leader of Christianity, as he welcomes these lowly publicans to the city of Chicago. He said, "Your faces show that you hate drunkards,"—but he did not tell why they should despise the article this "great industry" was manufacturing—and then rails out at the "fanatics" who hate the business.

"Every man in America has a right to do as he pleases, so long as he doesn't hurt his neighbors. Does liquor hurt? I am a pretty respectable looking man, and I've been drinking ever since I took some liquor for the colic when I was three hours old."

The testimony of Mayor Harrison's wife and children is not in yet. A man who has drank whisky since three hours old is not capable of telling whether liquor hurts or not, but five million women who live with these old soaks could tell whether "whisky hurts" or not.—Morning and Day of Reform.