America 1881: They Call Me Legend

Chapter 424 Five VIPs!

The wine bottles that flew to the old man came from the drinker's companions.

They react faster than their beaten friends.

But it could also be premeditated.

Among the "lunatic asylum faction", except for one who went to help the old man who fell on the ground, the others all rushed to the opposite side.

The two sides quickly scuffled together.

For a while, wine bottles and chairs flew around, the roar of punching, and the muffled sound of being beaten continued to resound in the beer hall.

The tavernkeeper is used to this kind of scene.

Things like this happen here every now and then. All he can do is wait for the people on both sides to finish fighting before leading others forward.

Those who lost the fight were not only ashamed, lying on the floor, but also compensated for the loss in the store.

However, things seem to be different today.

Just as the fierce battle between the two sides was in full swing, a team of policemen in uniforms and armed with guns broke into the door, led by Sergeant Porter.

"Dare to fight in my jurisdiction? You are probably blind!"

Sergeant Porter had his hands on his hips, his spirits high.

The tavernkeeper's eyeballs nearly popped out of their sockets.

God, I have opened a tavern here for so many years, and this is the first time I know that the police in this jurisdiction are in charge of tavern fights!
Today is an eye-opener.

The police not only dispatched the police, but also dispatched the police in seconds!Or the sheriff leads the team!

If he hadn't lived here for a long time, he would even have thought that the police station was just opposite the tavern.

Seeing the arrival of the police, the drinkers immediately put away their hands and rolled on the ground with their heads in their arms.

On the contrary, several generals from the "Mad Asylum School" turned red-eyed and chased and beat up the drinkers, especially the white-bearded old man, who was even waving a chair, completely unaware that he was nearly sixty years old.

"Tie them all up for me! Take them back to the police station! Lock them up for a few days and wake up!"

Sergeant Porter gave an order, and the police officers rushed forward.

In groups of three or four, they staggered, hugged their waists, pressed their heads, and quickly subdued the workers who were still in a hurry.

"I'm going to kill you!"

The old man with the white beard yelled hysterically at the drinker who rewarded him with a bottle.

He was pinned by two police officers and escorted out of the beer hall in full view.

The old man's head was cut open, his face was covered with blood, his mouth was dirty, like a wounded wild boar, he looked really scary.

Even the tavern owner, who was used to seeing the world, clicked his tongue again and again.

At this time, in the shadow of the street corner opposite the beer hall, stood a man with a beard and a strong man in a gray robe.

"What do you call this kind of hysterical and extreme behavior disease, what is it called?" Hanif circled his fingers and patted his head.

"Manic-depressive, sir, we call it manic-depressive," said the doctor with certainty. "And, I'm sure, the others are not very ill either."

"Mr. Hanif, why don't we just send them to treatment, but call the police?"

The joints in his hands were about to move again.

"Don't worry, there's nothing wrong with letting Potter know about this kind of thing. The police might even give them an official certification."

The restoration plans of the "lunatic asylum faction" did not leave the gates of the beer halls.

The five-member team was wiped out, and the workers who supported them did not know until the third day that they had been arrested by the police for fighting.

The white-haired old man and the others squatted in the small "single room" of the police station for three and a half days.

The alcoholics who fought with them were locked opposite them.

However, these people were only locked up for one night, and a man with a beard paid a fine and took them out early the next morning.

Before the drinker left, he still gave the old man a wicked smile and gave him a middle finger at the same time.

"I'll kill you ah ah ah ah!"

At this point, the old man's curses rang out in the police station for three days and three nights.

During this period, Sergeant Porter passed by once.

"Can't you find a way to shut him up?" The sheriff frowned.

"I tried it. After being beaten, I would be honest for an hour or two, but after a while, I would start cursing again," said the guarding police officer.

"What a psycho!" Sergeant Porter shook his head and walked out.

Three days later, the five were released.

They were greeted by Hanif and doctors from St. Elizabeth's Mental Hospital.

This time, they didn't attack on the street, but came directly to Potter's office.

"Take them all away, these bastards should be treated."

Sergeant Porter said, chewing on chewing tobacco.

He and Hanif are very familiar.

The Frontier Detective Agency, unlike the Pinkerton Detective Agency before it, would never operate in California without their own consent.

Best of all, they pay themselves some consulting fees on a regular basis!

The five people were stuffed into the carriage like pigs being slaughtered.

The St. Elizabeth Psychiatric Hospital has five more distinguished guests in the VIP ward.

Without those five diehards, the "lunatic asylum faction" quickly fell apart.

Some people chose to compromise, and some people quit the California Labor Knights and joined Dennis' California Workers Party.

This sudden surprise caught Dennis a little off guard.

Cronin is done!The Knights of California Labor are split!I have another chance!
See what their newest leader is up to!In order to cut off dissidents, all those who disagree with my views are sent to a mental hospital!I must let everyone see their faces.

Dennis found a reporter from the "San Francisco Pravda" and prepared to let him conduct an exclusive interview with himself.

However, the reporter did not seem to follow the routine.

"Mr. Dennis, because you disagree with your long-standing accusations against the Chinese, Mr. Wang Qingfu, a Chinese opinion leader in New York, declared in an interview that he is willing to have a fair duel with you, either with a gun or with a sword. Are you How do you feel about this matter?"

The reporter asked first.

"My accusation against the Chinese is true. They threaten our existence," Dennis explained patiently.

He explained his views to reporters in great detail.

The reporter writes like flying, quickly recording in the notebook.

"So, do you accept his challenge?" The reporter adjusted his glasses.

"It's not decades ago, and we're not cowboys in the West. The act of dueling is naive and ridiculous." Dennis froze for a moment, but still answered the reporter's question.

The reporter stood up and prepared to leave.

"Mr. Reporter, I have one more thing to tell you." Dennis wanted to keep him.

In today's interview, the reporter took the initiative when he came up. He didn't mention any of the things he really wanted to say.

The reporter took out his pocket watch and glanced at it: "Mr. Dennis, I have to go back and sort out today's manuscript, just a few minutes."

Dennis nodded, and he began to tell reporters what happened to the Knights of Labor and his speculations during this period.

The reporter began to write again.

The interview was published in the San Francisco Pravda the next day.

".Mr. Dennis said that the duel is childish and ridiculous. Only those stupid cowboys would draw their guns and shoot each other. Therefore, he refused to engage in a duel with Mr. Wang Qingfu."

".Because of the fear of threats from the East, Mr. Dennis's spirit is very unstable. He told everyone that there is a mysterious organization in San Francisco that specializes in kidnapping union leaders and driving them crazy."

Dennis was so anxious that he almost tore up the newspaper.

He didn't say a word about why he accused the Chinese, but made a big fuss about the duel between himself and Wang Qingfu.

In addition, why did everything he said change when it reached the reporter?

How did this person understand the meaning written in the article from his own answer?

Although he admitted that the writing in the newspaper is very eye-catching, but shouldn't the newspaper be reporting truthfully?What about the ethics of these reporters and editors?

Since reporters can't count on it, they can only rely on themselves.

Dennis restarts the long-awaited California Labor Conference.

"Brothers, my good brothers! We are under threat from the east! Those people are like locusts, overwhelming California!" He shouted to the small audience.

The workers are getting a little tired.

Ten years ago, Dennis talked about these things, and ten years later they will still be these things.

However, even during the period when the bill was first promulgated, Chinese workers left California one after another, but their working conditions did not improve.

The salary is still so low, I still work more than ten hours a day, and I still have to wait to die when I get sick.

"Now, an unknown danger is coming. They lie about some of us suffering from mental illness! And send them to St. Elizabeth!" Dennis said.

The workers looked at each other.

"Why is this man talking like a newspaper?"

"Could it be true? I heard that people who really have unions have been sent to mental hospitals recently."

"I saw it, but the old man seems really crazy."

"It's boring. I've heard all the stuff he said."

I don't know when the crowd began to gradually disperse.

Dennis was talking vigorously, but found that the number of people in the audience was decreasing for some reason.

He decided to stop his speech.

"What's the situation? Where's the person?"

After stepping off the stage, he questioned his subordinates.

The subordinate was so scolded that he couldn't lift his head up, so he hurriedly ran out to investigate the situation.

After a while, he came back with a slightly embarrassed expression:

"Boss, the Labor Knights are also holding a rally today, just two streets away, and everyone has gone to their place."

When Dennis heard this, he was instantly furious.

It doesn't open early, it doesn't open late, it has to be held at this time, and it has to be held only two streets away from my venue!

What is it if this is not a mess?
He waved to the remaining die-hard followers:

"These bastards are deceiving people too much! They are coming! Brothers, follow me, go over there! I want to see, what the hell are these guys from the Labor Knights doing?!"

(End of this chapter)