In a precedin’ chapter I have alluded to some legislation that is contemplated at Albany in reference to the suppression of gamblin’ here in New York. I am told that some additional legislation is also on the carpet in reference to the better protection under the Excise laws of the legitimate liquor dealers of the metropolis. Already some of the solons at Albany are gettin’ their eloquence ready on this subject, pro and con, but I would advise any legislative friends of mine who intend advocatin’ the liquor dealers’ side of this question to see that their speeches are not tampered with, as were the speeches of a man named Tiffany who figured in the State Legislature a generation ago.
Tiffany had been in early life a “baggage smasher,” and had a pair of the biggest hands and a pair of the very largest feet ever seen attached to a human bein’. His gloves were things to wonder at, while his moccasins (he didn’t wear regular shoes, but affected the Indian “moccasins”) were absolutely tremendous, stampin’ him as a “big” Indian indeed. One year the Legislature had a long session, and before the time for adjournment came the freshets came and swelled the Hudson River at Albany so that navigation was impeded. At that period the bridge across the Hudson had not yet been built, and the Hudson River Railroad brought over its passengers to Albany by ferry, which ferry was now rendered by the freshets unavailable, so that considerable delay and inconvenience was caused. Under these circumstances various schemes of relief were suggested by various members, and, among others, Mike Walsh, then a member of Assembly, arose on a question of privilege, and gravely as if discussin’ the most solemn reality, moved that Hon. Mr. Tiffany’s moccasins be appropriated to the use of the Hudson River Railroad company as extra ferry boats.
This raised a laugh on Tiffany, but this laugh wasn’t a circumstance to another laugh that was perpetrated at his expense a little later on durin’ the session by Mike Walsh.
Tiffany was a poor speaker, and had not expected to do much in the speech-makin’ line, but goaded on by Mike Walsh and others, he finally got his wits together for a speech. Of course it was a very ordinary affair. But such as it was it was in favor of the “Teutonic element” and lager beer, and right enough, too, as it was these two elements that had elected him. He spoke his speech to a gaping house, but Mike Walsh pretended to be delighted beyond measure with it, and assured Tiffany that it was the crownin’ effort of his life. “If you could only get that speech of yours reported in the German papers you are a made man for life. The Germans will never forget you,” said Walsh.
Naturally, Tiffany was tickled by such praise. “But how am I to get my speech into German?” asked he of Walsh. “I don’t know a word of the lingo.” “But I do,” said Walsh, “and I will translate your speech myself. I will also send it to the German papers and order for you 5,000 copies of that issue, and then if you will send those papers broadcast over your Assembly district, why all about it will be that as long as you live the Germans of Buffalo will vote for you solid. You and you only will control the German vote.”
Tiffany thank Walsh heartily for this suggestion and offer, and accepted both. In a few days Mike waited on his fellow legislator and read him what purported to be a version of his speech in German, containin’ all his (Tiffany’s) sentiments in favor of the Teutonic element and lager beer, only much more elegantly expressed in the translation then they had been in the original. Tiffany was perfectly delighted, and thanked Walsh almost with tears in his eyes for his disinterested kindness. He even ventured to offer him money in part recompense for his services, but Walsh refused to accept. Whatever Mike Walsh was, or was not, he was not mercenary. Money was not his weak point. He insisted upon Tiffany’s receivin’ the German translation of his English speech as a present and slight token of personal esteem. And of course Tiffany consented.
Mike sent the translated speech of Tiffany to the German paper with a request to publish immediately and to send Tiffany five thousand copies with it in. The five thousand papers were received by Tiffany, who forthwith mailed ‘em to his constituents all over his district, expectin’ soon to hear from ‘em.
And he did; but not as he expected–not at all. Instead of gettin’ letters of thanks from his German friends, Tiffany received daily big mails full of solid abuse. Some of his correspondents even went so far as to threaten him with personal chastisement; others with a coat of tar and feathers. One prominent German politician in the interior, whom he particularly wanted to please in his speech, wrote him a long epistle, denouncin’ him as a traitor to his party and an ingrate, and demanded that he should at once resign the position of which he had proved himself so unworthy.
All this was pleasant (?) but paralyzin’ readin’ to poor Tiffany, who wondered if all his constituents had gone crazy, and if so, what about.
One day he met one of his indignant correspondents face to face and demanded an explanation. He was referred to a copy of his own speech as translated in the German paper.
“Well, what’s the matter with that speech?” asked the unconscious Tiffany, who continued: “I am proud of that speech, I am. It ought to fire the German heart.”
“That was just it,” said his angry correspondent. “It did fire the German heart–with rage at such an outrageous attack on ‘emselves as Germans, and on their favorite and national beverage, lager beer.” At this Tiffany thought for sure this particular German must have had too much of his “favorite and national beverage.” What did he mean by talkin’ about an “attack” when his speech contained the warmest possible tribute to Germany, and the finest possible tribute to German beer?
And then the German correspondent thought for sure that Tiffany was crazy drunk. For wasn’t his speech direct, unmistakable abuse of everybody and everythin’ Teutonic?
It was indeed. In the German translation, as published in the German paper. Mike Walsh had turned everythin’ complimentary into the very reverse, causin’ poor Tiffany to say the very things he would never have dared to say, and wouldn’t have said for the world.
Poor Tiffany groaned in spirit as his German correspondent, who could read and talk both In English and German, translated his speech from Mike Walsh’s German translation into the equivalent English. No wonder the Germans had been mad at him. As he listened he got mad at himself, and terribly angry at Mike Walsh.
But he wasn’t near so angry as Mike Walsh pretended to be against that malicious German editor, who, accordin’ to Mike’s unblushin’ account, had not hesitated, for his own partisan purposes to garble and alter to suit his own vile ends the beautiful and literal translation of his friend’s speech, which he, Mike, had with his own hands, sent to the German paper.
Mike acted so well, and talked so strong, and put it all on that “malicious German partisan of an editor” so firmly and fiercely, that Tiffany was satisfied that whoever was the guilty party, his true friend (?) Mike had been as grossly deceived in this matter as himself. But for all that Tiffany never got a chance to represent the liquor and lager beer men in his district again.
[Editor’s notes: The “Tiffany” referred to here was Augustus J. Tiffany, elected to the Assembly in 1856 from a district in Buffalo, New York. Tiffany was, by accounts, a rough but good-natured man, though he had started his career as a “emigrant runner,” conveying settlers on their way to the Western territories up Lake Erie on steamers. It was a highly competitive, cutthroat business–that often took advantage of the passengers. Tiffany later operated a boarding house hotel. There were suspicions on more than one occasion that he dabbled in counterfeiting.
There’s no corroboration of this anecdote; Tiffany died in Albany in 1858 before his term was complete. Walsh died a year later.]
