Free Brooklyn on Fire by Lawrence H. Levy

schools, wholesome neighborhoods, and have no desire to take on big-city problems.”
    “Brooklyn on its own is the fourth-largest city in the United States,” Green calmly answered. “True, we’re number one, but don’t fool yourself. You’re already a big city with big-city problems. There is strength in consolidation. A unified harbor alone will please your banking and merchant community, and the civic improvements we can make will increase real estate values. With our pooled resources, we can solve any problem that arises.”
    “Our people like being part of a smaller community.”
    “That doesn’t make sense, Alfred. A good portion of them are already commuting to Manhattan for work. Don’t you think they’d rather work and live in the same city?”
    Chapin paused, stuck for an answer, but McLaughlin wasn’t. “Look, His Honor is a nice fella. He doesn’t like sayin’ things that may sound unpleasant, so let me put it in plain English so there can be no misunderstandin’. We don’t want yer immigrant mongrels with their poverty, disease, and crime comin’ here and soilin’ our fair city.”
    “I’m confused, Hugh. Are immigrants mongrels or are they sturdy, and where do you fit in?” asked Huntington.
    “Yer family’s been here so long ya think all immigrants are the same. That’s yer mistake, and it’s a real jim-dandy. The ones comin’ in today, the Eastern Europeans and the Jews, are from a different stock, and we don’t want ’em. Is that clear enough for ya?”
    “We all have our prejudices,” responded Green. “I do have one question though. You have over eight hundred thousand people in Brooklyn. What are you going to do for water?”
    “There’s no water problem,” McLaughlin answered with a touch of disdain in his voice.
    “That’s not what I hear. You have four hundred thousand more residents than you did twelve years ago, and the water supply has stayed the same. Your aqueduct has already broken several times and left the whole city without water. We have plenty of water, and we can help.”
    “Mr. Mayor, will ya please tell these gentlemen from Manhattan that they’re barkin’ up the wrong tree?”
    “Yes,” said Huntington, “please do that,
Your Honor
.” And Huntington’s steely stare fell right on Chapin. In fact, Chapin felt it going through him. He seemed shaken.
    “To be perfectly honest, Andrew and Mr. Huntington, it was a concern, but we’ve recently addressed it and we’ll be fine. Thank you.”
    McLaughlin indicated Chapin. “See? I told ya he’s a nice fella. He’s tellin’ ya to take a walk, and it sounds like he’s gonna invite ya to dinner.”
    Huntington looked right at McLaughlin. “It may be foreign to your ears, but it’s called having class, Hugh.”
    “Then try something that’s foreign to your ears:
no
.” McLaughlin looked at Chapin, then they both rose and left.
    Green finished his drink before turning to Huntington. “So, Collis, which is it? Are they just angling for power or do they really think they can survive without us?”
    “Most probably a bit of both, but one thing is for sure. The mayor is bothered by something, and to use his words, it may
behoove us
to find out exactly what that is.”
    Green had noticed it too, but he was the epitome of an upstanding gentleman and had given them the benefit of the doubt. He wasn’t a fool. He knew people lied, but he thought the contingent from Brooklyn was being clandestine in order to get a better deal. Huntington knew something sleazy was going on. He could smell it.

    A S THE MAYOR’S carriage crossed the Brooklyn Bridge on its way home, Chapin tried to rationalize his behavior at the meeting.
    “I think I handled the water issue fine, Hugh. I don’t think they noticed anything.”
    “If I noticed it, you don’t think Collis Huntington caught it? The man’s not just a snake. He’s a cobra. And you know how a cobra thrives….It feeds on its own.”
    “Look,