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Jacob A. Riis (1849–1914). Theodore Roosevelt, the Citizen. 1904.

Page 204

streets of Dunkirk, arm in arm, breasting the crowds and yelling, “Yi! yi!” like a bunch of college boys on a lark, and again and again falling into the line that passed Mr. Roosevelt in the hotel lobby to shake hands, until he peered into our averted faces and drove us out with laughter. And I can see him holding his sides, while the audience in the Opera House yelled its approval of Sherman Bell’s offer to Dick Croker, who had called Roosevelt a “wild man”: “Who is this Dick Croker? I don’t know him. He don’t come from my State. Let him take thirty of his best men, I don’t care how well they ‘re heeled, and I will take my gang and we ’ll see who ’s boss. I ’ll shoot him so full of holes he won’t know himself from a honeycomb.” And then the wild enthusiasm in the square, where no one could hear a word of what was said for the cheering.
  But now it was all over, and we were on the way home to add our own votes to the majority that would carry our Rough-Rider to Albany. We were discussing its probable size over our belated supper,—each according to his experience or enthusiasm. I remember his friendly nod and smile my way when I demanded a