Accordingly, I took the matter up personally.

I found that on the new patrolman's beat the preceding night--a new beat--there was a big saloon run by a man of great influence in political circles known as "King" Calahan.

After midnight the saloon was still running in full blast, and Bourke, stepping inside, told Calahan to close up.

It was at the time filled with "friends of personal liberty," as Governor Hill used at that time, in moments of pathos, to term everybody who regarded as tyranny any restriction on the sale of liquor.

Calahan's saloon had never before in its history been closed, and to have a green cop tell him to close it seemed to him so incredible that he regarded it merely as a bad jest.