Our New York Letter.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 916, 20 September 1889, Page 9

Our New York Letter.

On Thursday the papers announced the death of Maurice B, Flynn. The death of any man, however prominent, causes but little commotion in a community of a million and a half of peop e ; but there is something in the death of this man that callß for more than a passing notice. The struggle for political position and political power in a city like JNew York, iB constant, bitter, and unrelenting, and the man who succeeds in distancing all of his fellows and rising to superlative oommand aud wealth, must be possessed of that supreme quality which marks the ruler among men, He had no especial advantages for his start in life. The son of a poor Irish farmer, he came to New York city quite friendless, a little over twenty years ago, and he died this week aged forty, a millionaire. The story of Aladdin is re-enacted here every day, and the wonderful Lamp is but an Eastern symbol of that indomitable energy which can be rubbed to the brightness of the sun, and when properly used, lays bare ali the gold of Ophir and the glittering jewels of Golconda. All great cities are full of footfalls of unwary youth, and New York is no exception. Fortunate is he who passes them with unmeshed feet. The poor Irish-Ameri-can bay had sterling qualities which early secured him promo ion and gained him the confidence of his employers. When he left home he had no education, and he set himself down to the fight against Fate. In the munificent Institute founded by the good Feter Cooper is a free night school for poor boys, and here young Flynn could bo found night after night for years, until he had not only laid the foundation of a solid eduoation but had become an excellent linguist, speaking French, German, and Spanish wjth fluency. It is only ten years since he entered into politics, and five years after his advent he was one of the most powerful politicians in the State. The County or Reform Democracy had all the patronage and all the power. Tammany Hall, with its hundred yearß of Democratic traditions and triumphs, was driven to the wall—a shattered wreck, and many thought that there it would lie forever. Hubert O. Thompson occupied the position formerly held by William M. Tweed, and Maurice B. Flynn was the power behind the throne. Mayor Edson was about going out, and he. was anxious to appoint a Commissioner of Public Works to rob the incoming Mayor of the power of appointment of the beat office in the gift of the city. Hubert (>. Thompson had given mortal offence to s°veral members of the Board of Aldermen, and they would not listen to his re-appointment. In the nick of time Mr Flynn put in his fine work by nominating Rollin B. Squire, a political tramp, whose name was utterly unknown to New York politicians, and was unknown to the Mayor that appointed him. By one of the most shameful and humiliating bargains Mr Squire was appointed Commissioner of Public Works, and Mr Flynn and Hubert 0. Thompson proceeded to divide the fifty millions of plunder that lay in the new aqueduct job. Then Rollin B. Squire, finding himself firm in the saddle, turned upon the men who made him. The ingratitude broke Thompson’s heart and sent him to a suicide’s grave ; but Flynn was made of sterner stuff—he turned upon Squire ; the scandal became public pioperty. Mayor Grace, who had been robbed of the appointment, got Squire’s letter from Hubert O. Thompson before he died, wherein, in consideration for the office he abjectly promised to become the henchman of Flynn and Thompson. The integrity of. the party was in deadly peril when the Governor came to the rescue. Squire was knocked out of his office and Flynn was practically driven from public life. Highly sensitive, and proud of his great achievements, he had never up to this time met serious defeat. He held his rule with an iron hand that brooked no opposition. At last it became a life and death struggle between the two powerful Democratic organisations, Tammany and the County Democracy’s most able chieftains, and %they went over to the Tammany camp. In the last election Tammany won everything, aad the sceptre passed from Mr Flynn's hands, never to come back. From that moment he was a changed man ; his health broke, and the ablest medical skill was only able to postpone the day which was bound to end in death. Up to the last moment he was full of far-reaching plans in which fabulous millions were involved. Pallid, worn, and racked with pain, a vulture constantly’ gnawing at his vitals, hardly able to stand on his feet, he still thought death far off—and so he died. His life may be taken as a warning and an example. His natural instincts were those of a gentleman, and his life all through far above the average of men. He had sound principles and sterling character, which preserved him from falling amid temptations where weaker men perish. Stripped of power, suddenly burled from imperial position, the heart of the proud man broke. Deserted by those whose fortunes he had made, their ingratitude stung him to the quick, and his constitution, never strong, sank under his accumulated misfortunes. His obituary may be briefly summed up thuß :—Poor, ignorant and friendless, he came to New York at eighteen years of age ; by his own industry and self-denial he was an accomplished scholar at twenty-five ; ho was a prosperous manufacturer on the high road to fortune at thirty ; at thirty-five he was the greatest political leader in the Empire j State; and he died at forty a millionaire, but, with all his wealth, a brokenhearted bankrupt. The fatal step of his life

wsb when he was lured into politics. Up to that time his life had been a success ; but from that moment he trod the pathway of certain ruin. Let the young men who are working for political advancement measure their chances not by those called political failures but by tbe successes, and then ponder on the result. Webster, Clayand Douglas sank disappointed to their graves. Lincoln and Garfield were assassinated. Andrew Johnson was driven iu disgrace from Washington. Roscoo Conklin and Reuben E. Fenton were hounded out of public life. Tweed, John Kelly, Hubert O. Thompson all proclaimed life a failurb, and now the great leader Maurice B. Flynn sinks broken-hearted to his grave utterly wrecked at forty. Another death that caused a profound sensation was that of S L. M. Barlow, who stood at the head of the New York bar as a corporation lawyer. Mr Barlow will be remembered as a member of the law firm that was robbed by their chief clerk Bedell of four hundred thousand dollars, the great bulk of which he alleged he lost playing policy. The blow fell with crashing weight on Mr Barlow, for he had made tbe guilty man a friend and companion for twenty years. In fact he never recovered from the shock No attorney in New York lived in more liberal style. He had a fine house up town and a magnificent country ssat at Glen Cove, where he died. He was a royal entertainer—some of the very best company in the State being found at h;s table, and his judgment on art matters was of the very beat. He is another illustration of the possibilities of our American life. He, like Maurice B. Flynn, came to New York a country boy, poor and friend, less, but by his own indomitable energy he worked his way up patiently to the foremost place among the great lawyers of the land, and m the fullness of years dies, it is supposed, worth a couple of million of dollars, j I received a confidential letter the other day, saying : —‘My dear Broadbrim —Why don’t you give us a little more about sporting matters ? We would like to have your opinion about Sullivan and Kilrain,’ &c. I may as well once and for all give a general reply to all «uch inquiries. lam not thin skinned about anything. I try as hard as I know how to have no particular prejudices—no isms, no idiosyncrasies on any subject. I don’t set up for a saint, or high moralist, nor am I such a sinner but on due repentance of my many shortcomings I look hopefully forward to pardon. But those who have followed these letters for years past must certainly know by this time that I despise aud. abhor prize fighters, professional gam. biers, bunco steorers and all such vermin. My private opinion of the brutes who disturbed the peace of the State of Mississippi, on the Bth inst., iB that the pair of them should break' stones for the next ten years with a ball and chain attached to their legs, and that all their aiders and fellows should keep them company. . If either of them ventures within the limits of the State of New York, I hope Governor Hill will answer the requisition of the Governor of Mississippi. I believe in all kinds of manly and athletic exercises. I would teach a boy to box and fence just as I would teach him English grammar or arithmetio, but I would train him to hate sluggers aud all such criminals. There is a class, and a very large class, that looks upon success in the prize ring as the height of earthly ambition. It was this class that made Fitzgerald an alderman of Long Islaud City after his great walking match, and sent Johnny Morrissey to Congress. It would be a wholesome lesson to this community, if all the principals were caught and jailed, but I have no hope that the requisition of Mississippi’s Governor will ever be answered by the Governor of New York. The drunken brute who now figures as a champion has hosts of friends, and some loophole of the law Will be found to save him.

Governor Hill knew when the fighters were training for weeks. He knew when they left in a special car ; he knew that to leave the State for the purpose of witnessing or participating in a prize tight was punishable by law, but he let the fighters go. For the last ten years the public and the press have sanctioned it, the police have guarded it, and magistrates have strained the law to the uttermost to decide in its favour. If the participators in thi« last outrage shall escape unwhipped of justice, then indeed there is little hope for the future. A newspaper here that boasts its circulation by hundieds of thousands, has for several weeks past dished up the preparations and the fight with all their disgusting details. Whoever likes that kind of literature will find it in full there ; but not in the letters of Broadbrim.