Millionaire Drinking Men Pledging Themselves to Vote for Prohibition
— Drunken Restaurant Man Will Vote "Dry" in Self-Defense—Other Drinkers Banding Themselves Together to Help Close the Saloons
By
EARLE ALBERT ROWELL
State Publicity Manager for
Oregon Prohibition
THE most remarkable development in the prohibition movement in the last five years is the change of attitude on the part of drinking men themselves toward prohibition. A few years ago, every drinker was so sure of his ability to "take it or leave it alone" that he resented prohibition as an insult to his boasted will-power and an invasion of his "personal liberty." It was next to impossible to get the tippler to view prohibition as an economic measure, on a par with laws prohibiting the general use of opium, cocaine, etc. How could a personal insult enacted into law be an economic measure?
FOUR MILLIONAIRES PLEDGE TO VOTE "DRY"
But to-day all this is changed. This altered view can not be better illustrated than by the actions and words of four of Portland's millionaires a few weeks ago. They were standing at the bar of the Hotel Portland, discussing various subjects while they drank their wine or champagne. The question of voting on prohibition this fall came up; and one of them, whose name I could give,—a man known all over the West as a rich club man,—said:
"I don't know what you boys are going to do; but for the sake of the poor devil who can not keep out of the saloon, and for the sake of my own children, who are never safe while the saloon exists, and because I believe it will help business, I am going to help vote old Oregon 'dry' November third."
The other three men, equally well known in the inner business and club circles, said they were going to vote for prohibition. Then the first speaker raised his glass, filled with an expensive liquor, and proposed that they drink a toast to Oregon "dry" 1914, and pledge themselves to vote for it. This was done silently and earnestly. Those men will continue to drink until November, and then they will cast their votes for prohibition.
THE RESTAURANT MAN AND PROHIBITION
But the rich drinkers are not the only ones who will vote for a "dry" state. One day I was eating in a small restaurant when a man beside me spoke to the proprietor: "Say, Bill, but you were gloriously drunk in Vancouver last night."
Bill grinned rather sheepishly. "I guess I did paint the town red," he admitted, but without the accent of pride in being notoriously drunk which one often notices in heavy drinkers. Instead, I detected a tone of sadness. That tone impelled me to speak.
"Why don't you vote for prohibition this year?" I asked. I thought to surprise him, but his answer came as a prompt surprise to me.
"I am going to," he said. The snap of his jaws as he said it, told me that if no one else did, he would.
"Why?" I asked. "You are apparently fond of your glass, and to vote for prohibition will deprive you of your personal liberty."
"I AM THE SLAVE OF WHISKY"
"Personal liberty!" he said in irony. "Personal liberty is the last thing on earth I have. I am the slave of whisky. All the money I have earned in this restaurant for the last twenty years, I have spent in saloons. I spend my money to help a rival business run a free lunch counter. I spend my money to help put myself out of business. I am a Simon-pure fool. And the only thing I can do now that smacks of sense is to do what I can to put the state 'dry,' and you can just count that I mean business." He brought his fist down on the table with an earnestness that boded no good for the liquor traffic.
"Of course," he went on, "I shall continue to get drunk until election; but the more I drink, the more certain I am to vote 'dry.' Look here," he said, as he opened a drawer and showed a list of names opposite which were various amounts. "These men all owe me for meals. It totals nearly $200, and I need the money. But they are all drinking men. They spend their money first in the saloon. Then if they have any left, they pay me. Usually they spend it all for drinks; and then when they get hungry, they come to me for food, because I have been a 'good fellow' with them. I was fool enough twenty years ago, to think that I had to patronize the saloon to get business. That is how I began to drink.
NOT A TEMPERANCE MAN OWED HIM
"But look at these names. Every one of those men is a heavy drinker. Not a temperance man owes me a cent. Then in order to get my $200, I want to see the state go 'dry'; for then these men, who are well-meaning and honest, only slaves to the habit, the same as I am, will be able to save money and pay me."
"Why not speak to them about it," I ventured, "and get them to vote 'dry'?"
"I have already done so," said he, "and they are to a man pledged to vote 'dry.'"
Before leaving, I got his written pledge to vote "dry," and left similar pledges for his friends to sign. He got them filled all right; and as I visited him from time to time, he introduced me to a number of his drinking friends, some of them half drunk at the time, but they were pitifully in earnest in their determination to vote their liquid enemy out of existence.
MUST DESTROY IT IN SELF-PROTECTION
The drinking men are realizing that in self-protection they must help destroy the liquor traffic. They are becoming fiercely in earnest. Many of them have reached the very last stage of desperation in the losing fight against the liquor habit, and are ready to turn and rend the liquor octopus limb from limb. In the dark cloud that shadows their future, they see in their own voting power a silver lining.
SIXTEEN SALOONS QUIT
That many habitual drinkers are preparing for the day when they will have helped to vote the state "dry" is indicated by the fact that in the month of June alone, in Portland, Oregon, sixteen saloons quit business because they could not make expenses. Thus Portland has fewer saloons today than at any time for twenty years. Yet twenty years ago, she had less than half the population she has now.
Why this recent sudden decrease in the number of saloons? The reason is not to be found in anything but the attitude of the drinking men themselves. A large number of them have declared deathless vengeance against the whole liquor institution. Whether they quit drinking now or not, they will strike the death blow in November. My labors among this class convince me that time and effort could not be more profitably spent than in seeking the support of the frequenter of the saloon against the saloon.
