The push-cart men and organ-grinders were terrorized by the policemen.  I hired an organ-grinder one summer afternoon to play for several hours, so that the children of the neighbourhood might have a dance on the street.  It was a joy to my soul to see these little bits of half-naked humanity dancing by the hundreds on the streets and sidewalks, most of them barefooted, hatless and coatless.  It was on one of these occasions that I discovered the petty graft exercised on the organ-grinders.  The push-cart men all paid toll to the policeman on the beat, and the captain of the precinct winked at it.  The officers of the precinct looked upon the religious leaders as “easy marks”—­every one of them.  The detectives of the Society for Prevention of Crime went through my parish and discovered wholesale violations of excise laws and city ordinances by the existence of bawdy-houses and the selling of liquor in prohibited hours and on Sundays.  The captain of the precinct came out with a public statement that these men were liars; that the law was observed and prostitution did not exist.  As between Dr. Parkhurst and the captain of the precinct, the public was inclined to believe the captain.

One Sunday evening after service, I dressed in the clothes of a labourer, took several men with me and went through the parish.  The first place we entered was the East River Hotel, a few blocks from my church.  We purchased whiskey at the bar.  I did not drink the whiskey, for under oath I could not tell whether it was whiskey or not; but my companions were not so hampered.  After paying for the liquor, we were invited upstairs, and there we saw one of the ghastliest, most inhuman sights that can be found anywhere on earth outside of Port Said.  We counted forty women on the first floor.  We saw them and their stalls, surroundings and companions, and we beat a hasty retreat.  A cry of alarm was raised, and the barkeeper jumped to the door.  It was secured by two heavy chains.  No explanation was made, but a straight demand that he open the door, which was done, and we passed out.

The grand jury, which at that time was hearing report and counter-report on the condition of the neighbourhood, had for a foreman a Tammany man who owned several saloons.  We went into these saloons one after another, purchased liquor in bottles, and next morning appeared before the grand jury armed with affidavits, and the liquor.  Dr. Parkhurst stood at the door of the jury room as I went in, and whispered to me as I passed him:  “This thing cannot last forever.”

The first few minutes of my testimony I was unconsciously assuming the position of a criminal myself, and apologizing for interfering with these gentlemen.  The assistant district attorney, instead of representing the people and standing for the Law, was inquiring into my reasons for doing such an unusual thing.  I objected to the foreman sitting on his own case.

“This man,” I said, “is an habitual violator of the Law.  I am here to testify to that; so are my companions.  We have the evidence of his law-breaking here,” and I pointed to the bottles that we had placed on the table.