We'll raise hell." At the hall, on Eighth Street near Broadway, we got into the firemen's shirts and helmets, were equipped with torches, and, growling because we weren't given at least one drink before we started, were herded aboard the train.

Oh, those politicians had handled our kind before.

At Haywards there were no drinks either.

Parade first, and earn your booze, was the order of the night.
We paraded.

Then the saloons were opened.