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

Page 240

over him; not a head was turned to see what became of him. I do not know. Who struck the blow I did not see. He was gone, that was enough. It was enough, and just right.
  Which reminds me of another and very different occasion, when I addressed a Sunday-evening audience in the Cooper Institute at the other end of the Bowery upon my favorite theme. The Cooper Institute is a great place, a worthy monument to its truly great founder. But its Sunday-evening meetings, when questions are in order, have the faculty of attracting almost as many cranks as did Elijah the Restorer to Madison Square Garden. I had hardly finished when a man arose in the hall and, pointing a menacing finger at me, squeaked out:
  “You say Theodore Roosevelt is a brave man. How about his shooting a Spaniard in the back?”
  I had been rather slow and dull up till then, in spite of my theme; but the fellow woke me right up. My wife, who had come over with me and sat in the audience, said afterward that she never saw a man bristle so suddenly in her life.