His eye was of vague gray-blue; his hair a dusty light-brown and
thin. His mouth--there was nothing impressive there. He was quite tall,
nearly six feet, with moderately broad shoulders, but his figure was
anything but shapely. He seemed to stoop a little, his stomach was the
least bit protuberant, and he talked commonplaces--the small change of
newspaper and street and business gossip. People liked him in his own
neighborhood. He was thought to be honest and kindly; and he was, as far
as he knew. His wife and four children were as average and insignificant
as the wives and children of such men usually are.
Just the same, and in spite of, or perhaps, politically speaking,
because of all this, George W. Stener was brought into temporary public
notice by certain political methods which had existed in Philadelphia
practically unmodified for the previous half hundred years. First,
because he was of the same political faith as the dominant local
political party, he had become known to the local councilman and
ward-leader of his ward as a faithful soul--one useful in the matter
of drumming up votes. And next--although absolutely without value as
a speaker, for he had no ideas--you could send him from door to door,
asking the grocer and the blacksmith and the butcher how he felt about
things and he would make friends, and in the long run predict fairly
accurately the probable vote.
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