"
I continued to sing this, with tears running down my face. When I
finished the song there was a great crowd; some of the men had tears in
their eyes as well. James Gano, the constable, was standing near the door
and said: "I wish I could take you off the streets." I said: "Yes, you
want to take me, a woman, whose heart is breaking to see the ruin of these
men, the desolate homes and broken laws, and you a constable, oath-bound
to close his man's unlawful business."
The treatment I got at the hands of this Mart Strong was told to the
mayor and councilmen, and there was great indignation. The councilmen
went to Mart's place that night. The door was locked and a number of
gamblers were in there. The mayor forced the door open and told Mart
Strong never to open business in the town again. He left next day; and
this closed up one of the worst places in the town. Then there was Henry
Durst, another jointist of long standing who was a German and had
accumulated quite a lot of property by this dishonest business. He was a
prominent Catholic. A Mrs. Elliott, a good Christian woman, came to my
home crying bitterly and between sobs told me, that for six weeks her husband
had been drinking at Durst's bar, until he was crazy. She had been
washing to feed her three children and for some days had nothing in the
house but cornbread and molasses. She said that her husband had come
in, wild with drink and run his family out and kicked over the table and
she said: "I came to you to ask you what to do.
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