Authors: Stephen; Birmingham
In nineteenth-century American politics, the Irish also had the strength of sheer numbers. In 1850 the Irish constituted 42.8 percent of the entire foreign-born population of the United States, which represented a goodly share of voters. The Catholic Irish loyalty to the Democratic Party, meanwhile, extended back to prefamine days into the earliest years of the Republic, and to the famous schism between Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton. Hamilton had advocated that only the propertied classes be allowed to vote, and his sympathies lay with England. Jefferson despised the monarchy and the whole social system of Britain, Ireland's ancient enemy. The trickle of Irish immigrants which had arrived before the famine sided with Jefferson's Republican Party (as the present Democratic Party was then called), and later arrivals followed the example of their countrymen. Allegiance to the Democrats was buoyed in the 1850's when the Know-Nothing Party came very close to overthrowing the Democrats on a platform dedicated to “checking the stride of the foreigner and alien, of thwarting the machinations and subverting the deadly plans of the Jesuit and the Papist,” and which stated publicly that “Americans must rule America; and to this end native-born citizens
should be selected for all state, federal, and municipal offices of government employment, in preference to all others.” At the time, only five years' residence was required for an immigrant to become a United States citizenâand there was not even, then, a literacy-test requirement. The Know-Nothings, however, wanted to deny citizenship, and therefore political franchise, to anyone who had not lived in America for a full twenty-one yearsânearly a whole generation's worth of votersâand to exclude “all paupers and persons convicted of crime from landing on our shores,” which would have been another heavy blow to the incoming Irish. There were celebrations in every American Irish household when Buchanan won the election, and the Know-Nothings ran a very poor thirdâand eventually collapsed into extinction.
As a result of all these factors compelling the Irish logically toward politics, Edward F. Roberts, in
Irish in America
, has said, “It is probably true that the political machine was not invented by the Irish or conspicuously by anyone, but it is certain that it was developed to its greatest extent and has reached its highest degree of efficiency through the peculiar genius of the Irish for political organization.”
New York's Tammany Hall, despite its long association with Irish Democratic politicsâand, more recently, with Italian-American politiciansâwas originally the creation of Old Guard WASP aristocrats, and was as bigoted against the Irish as, if not more so than, the Know-Nothings. Before the American Revolution, a number of groups who were opposed to the revolutionary cause and who proclaimed their loyalty to George III organized under such names as the societies of St. George, St. Andrew, and St. David. As a countermove, a group of revolutionary loyalists formed the Sons of Liberty, or the Sons of St. Tammanyâthe latter named after a Delaware Indian chief called Tammanend, a man celebrated for his wisdom, benevolence, and love of freedom. The “Saint” was thrown in just to mock the other saintly groups.
Though the Sons of St. Tammany proclaimed themselves “democratic,” their democracy did not at all extend to the lower economic groups, or to immigrants, and membership in what became the executive committee of the Democratic Party of New York Countyâor Tammany Hallâwas carefully restricted to the landed gentry and “native-born patriots.” As early as 1806, revelations of widespread political corruption among Tammany Hall's sachemsâas, Indian-fashion, its leaders were calledâresulted in the dismissal of a number of city officials, including the comptroller, the superintendent of the almshouse, the inspector of bread, and the society's founder himself. But in spite of these proven charges, these men remained powerful Tammany figures. On April 24, 1817, in protest against Tammany bigotry and its anti-immigrant stance, a noisy horde of hundreds of Irish immigrants stormed Tammany Hall, breaking into a general committee meeting, swinging sticks and hurling brickbats. It was really fear for their lives in the face of the fighting Irish that finally forced Tammany to take in the Irish, to help them become naturalized, and to join in the fight for manhood suffrage. Through sheer numbers, the Irish began taking over Tammany Hall, and by the time of the great wave of immigration in the 1840's the Irish were running the organization, so that the arriving Irishman found his staunchest political allies in Tammany's ranks.
Dan Bradley, on the other hand, was a vociferous opponent of bossism and machine politicsâMcLaughlin in Brooklyn and Tammany in New York. To him, Tammany was anathema, and he worked assiduously to avoid its “taint.” In this respect, he was the polar opposite of such political bosses as his contemporary, Mayor “Honey Fitz” Fitzgerald of Boston, and, later, Jim Curley. He considered machine politics morally dangerous (on his deathbed he warned his children to stay out of politics: it was too corrupting). Taking a political stance of righteous indignation, and charging out against graft and corruption with blackthorn stick in
hand, in his rough-hewn, blunt, and moralistic way, he rose rapidly in Brooklyn's political world.
In 1874, Bradley was elected to the New York State Assembly on a combined Democratic and Independent ticket. It had been a fierce fight and, in the process, a split had developed in the Kings County Democratic Party on the old slavery issue, between the “Hards” and the “Softs.” The Hards, or Hard-shells, were the more conservative faction, the Softs the more liberal, and Dan Bradley was a Soft. In Albany, Dan Bradley was placed on one of two rival Democratic committees, the other being presided over by Hard Judge John J. Vanderbilt, known as “Kings County's Favorite Son.” At the time, the Brooklyn
Eagle
commented that “The contrast between the two men could hardly have been more manifest. Bradley was a mechanic [meaning he had worked with his hands], a plain unlettered man and an uncompromising Democrat. Judge Vanderbilt was ⦠one of the finest looking men in the State of New York, a man of high culture, of commanding presence, well known throughout the State, having once run for Lieutenant Governor.” The
Eagle
refrained from pointing out that Dan Bradley was an immigrant Irish Catholic, and that Vanderbilt was a member of an old-established Dutch Protestant family, though the implication of anti-Catholic snobbishness is clear.
In the Assembly, to which he was twice re-elected, Dan Bradley became known as a fighter against graft and corruption in the state government. Once, walking into an office building in Albany, and seeing large checks from building contractors lying blatantly about on the desks of other Assemblymen, he strode from desk to desk, seized the checks, and tore them up. He became quickly known for his personal incorruptibility, earning the nickname of “Honest Dan,” and, as his grandchildren proudly point out, “In those days honest
meant
honest.” As his reputation grew, he was also called affectionately “Uncle Dan.”
In 1893 he ran for the New York State Senate as a “Reform”
Democrat, and this was another bitter fight. His opponent in this contest, William Van Slooten, was also a member of New York's Dutch Protestant Establishment. Though Van Slooten was a part of the powerful Hugh McLaughlin machine, he was otherwise relatively unknown, and Dan Bradley took the phrase “Who
is
Van Slooten?” as his campaign slogan. Shortly after Uncle Dan's resounding victory, which, though he was then almost sixty, made him the youngest man in the Senate (“Still on the sunny side of seventy,” as he declared in his acceptance speech), the question of who was Van Slooten was answered in spectacular fashion. Whether or not as a result of his defeat, William Van Slooten took a revolver and “blew his head off” in his house at 52 Sidney Place. The suicide filled the newspapers, and the weapon appeared to have mystified the authorities, who had never seen a revolver quite like it. The detectives couldn't operate the gun or even take the cartridges out and, when they tried to dismantle it in the coroner's office, the gun suddenly went off and a bullet pierced a desk and several thick books, and narrowly missed a man standing nearby. In the newspaper stories that followed, it turned out that Van Slooten had worked as a mining engineer for Hamilton McKeon Twombly, who was married to a granddaughter of the old Commodore Vanderbiltâ“My mortal enemies!” as Dan Bradley used to declare. If the dead do turn in their graves, something of this sort must have happened, many years later, when one of Uncle Dan Bradley's Murray great-granddaughters eloped with a Vanderbilt.
A tall, arresting figure who stood “straight as an arrow,” with abundant white hair, according to contemporary reports, Dan Bradley wore tall silk hats, affected semiclerical garb with reversed collar, and was frequently mistaken for a priest. Like his Irish ancestors before him, he was a devout and dedicated Catholic. He was a member of the Church of the Assumption at York and Jay streets in Brooklyn, was active in the Catholic Benevolent
Legion, helped establish new branches of the Legion, and was a member of the board of managers of the Catholic Orphan Society. Devotion to Catholic charities, particularly to orphans, would become a persistent theme in the lives of the F.LF.'s. In this latter capacity, Dan Bradley made frequent visits to the orphanage, and lectured his children on the importance of maintaining this visiting schedule. At one meeting of the Society, Dan Bradley and his friend Bernard McCaffrey were both presented with gold-headed canes for their services. The souvenir menu on this occasion stated that Don Bradley's age was seventy-seven. In his acceptance speech, Dan Bradley announced that he intended to christen his cane by breaking it over the head of the person who had inserted that figure. He was, he insisted, only seventy-four. (The menu, meanwhile, may have been correct; there is a possibility that he was born in 1830, and not 1833, and, since he enjoyed being known as the youngest man in the Senate, “Honest Dan” may have indulged in the not-uncommon politician's practice of lying about his age.)
One of Bradley's first bills in the Senate, in 1894, had been a proposal to establish fixed salaries for Senators. Theretofore, state Senators had been paid in a casual manner that consisted mostly of whatever graft they could collect from contractors and other constituents with special interests in mind. Bradley decided to stop all that. “My bill proposes,” he announced, “to pay the men elected under it one thousand dollars, but I'm willing to make it fifteen hundred, which is a nice salary. The man who takes more pay than he agreed to accept office for is something more than a salary grabberâhe is a thief! I represent all shades of politics. I am a whole party in myself. Those who had the best interests of the city at heart voted for your humble servant. I know a little about politics. I know what it is to bring out the vote!”
Pronouncements of this sort did not, perhaps, endear the humble servant to his fellow legislators. One newspaper report of the
period said, in commenting on his legendary honesty, that “He was so honest that those perhaps a little less scrupulously so than he thought that his honesty was âoverdone.'” On the other hand, no one really questioned his integrityânor his devoutnessâand he had become indeed the darling of the voters of Kings County, particularly those of Irish descent. Though he could proclaim himself “a whole party,” he could also be humble, and the day after he défeated Van Slooten, Dan Bradley appeared at the office of the editor of the Brooklyn
Eagle
and announced, “Mr. Editor, if tonight after I said my prayers, the Lord should come into my room and ask me, âDan Bradley, what else do you want?' I would say to him, âNothing, Lord, but more of Thy Grace.'”
In 1894, Daniel Bradley took an active part in the investigations of the “notorious” Lexow Committee of the State Senate, which uncovered scandal after scandal in the New York City Police Departmentâvoting frauds, policy and prostitution protection, sale of liquor licenses by the Excise Board, and cases of police brutality which make recent charges against New York's “finest” seem tame by comparison. It made no difference to Bradley that much of the New York police force was Irish, though, in his questioning of witnesses, he tended to make a distinction between a “good” Irishmanâone who didn't drinkâand a less-good Irishman, who had succumbed to the Irish weakness. As the investigation wore on, powerful forces were set in motion to call the hearings off. Tammany Hall was beginning to show up in a much less than favorable light. Bradley would have none of it, and told a reporter from the
Eagle
, “No power on earth can call the Committee off” (implying his recognition of a distinction between “power on earth” and “power in heaven”). He went on to declare in his flamboyant style that “We will not only finish investigating the police but we will fully investigate the police justices, the Excise Board, and other departments. Not one of the big officers will be allowed to escape the probe. Before the end of next week we will have Byrnes
and Williams and the other bigwigs of the police force on the rack.” True to his word, the hearings continued until some 57,666 pages of “shocking and revealing” testimony had been heard, and over 3,000 subpoenas had been served.
Dan Bradley and his wife, the former Julia Duane, had had four childrenâthree girls and a boy. Because of Bradley's preoccupation with the evils of the Demon Rum, his daughter Catherine mixed whiskey with her children's castor oil when they were sick, so they would always associate it with a vile taste. It worked. They always did. When, therefore, the enterprising young Tom Murray, already busily amassing a tidy fortune with his inventions, became engaged to Uncle Dan Bradley's youngest daughter, it was considered an imposing match. It was an alliance of both political and money power. The announcement of their marriage, in 1885, did not fail to note Thomas Murray's “poor, hard-working origins.” But it also called him a “master inventor” and a “millionaire.” The wedding write-up also commented on the bride's “handsome and useful presents ⦠from her friends and associates in the local Sodality of the Church of the Assumption.” Theirs was said to have been the first Nuptial Mass ever performed in Brooklyn. They went to Niagara Falls for their honeymoon.