Plunkitt of Tammany Hall: a series of very plain talks on very practical politics, delivered by ex-Senator George Washington Plunkitt, the Tammany philosopher, from his rostrum—the New York County court house bootblack stand

In Short

This collection of reflections records the unfiltered, idiosyncratic philosophy of a Tammany Hall district leader from the turn of the 20th century. Through a series of informal talks delivered from a courthouse bootblack stand, the narrator explains the mechanics of political machines, the necessity of personal loyalty, and his disdain for civil service reform. The work remains a definitive primary source on the era’s urban governance, celebrated for its ruthless candor and for providing an unvarnished window into the transactional nature of local power.

The Story

The narrative arc follows the career of George Washington Plunkitt, a veteran power broker, as he navigates the changing tides of New York City politics. The story begins with a manifesto on the nature of "honest graft." Unlike a common thief, Plunkitt argues, a statesman merely observes upcoming city improvements—such as new parks or public works—and invests in the necessary land beforehand, profiting while simultaneously serving the public interest. He contrasts this with "dishonest graft," which he views as risky, illegal, and ultimately self-destructive for a political organization.

As the narrative progresses, Plunkitt details the daily grind required to maintain his hold on the Fifteenth Assembly District. He views his constituency as a family that must be fed, clothed, bailed out of jail, and provided with jobs. His loyalty is absolute; he helps widows, pays for funerals, and intervenes with judges to keep his voters out of trouble. In exchange, he demands a reliable voting bloc. He treats his constituents not as abstract citizens, but as humans whose needs must be met to ensure they "vote right" on election day.

The story broadens into a critique of the "reformers." Plunkitt dismisses these critics—the "mornin' glories"—as naive interlopers who lack the stamina for real political work. He mocks their attempts to impose civil service exams, which he believes act as a barrier between the government and the people it serves. To him, the "curse" of civil service reform is that it forces bright young men into anarchy because they no longer have government jobs as a reward for their party service. He treats the state government in Albany with equal contempt, portraying the "hayseeds" of the countryside as parasites who constantly scheme to milk New York City of its tax revenue.

The arc concludes with Plunkitt’s vision for the future. He dreams of a New York City that breaks away from the rest of the state to become an independent entity, free to govern itself according to Tammany’s practical principles. He reflects on the necessity of "the boss" as an anchor for the nation, suggesting that political machines are not the enemies of democracy but the very things that preserve it by maintaining order and human connection. He ends his career as he lived it: a pragmatist who views his own life as a model of success, famously noting that he never stole a dollar, but simply saw his opportunities and took them.

How It Unfolds

The distinction of graft Plunkitt opens by distinguishing between the politician who profits while benefiting the city and the "looter" who raids the treasury. He argues that the former is a pillar of stability, while the latter is a fool who invites ruin.

The war on reformers The narrative shifts to a scathing attack on the "mornin' glories" who attempt to replace political machines with civil service bureaucracy. He claims these efforts fail because they do not understand that politics is, at its heart, a personal, human business.

The machinery of loyalty Plunkitt details the exhaustive, round-the-clock labor required of a district leader to keep his voters loyal. He describes a typical day of bailing out bartenders, attending funerals, and finding jobs for constituents to maintain his grip on power.

The feud with the state The focus turns to the legislative battles in Albany, where Plunkitt portrays the city as the victim of rural legislators. He highlights how state laws, such as the Raines law, are weaponized to extract wealth from city saloons and businesses.

The final philosophy In the closing chapters, Plunkitt summarizes his worldview. He champions the role of the political boss in preserving order and expresses his hope for an independent, Tammany-led New York that is finally free from the interference of outside reformers.

The People

George Washington Plunkitt is the central figure, a self-made man who balances the roles of statesman, contractor, and district leader. He wants to maintain the power of the Tammany machine and preserve his status as a local hero, but he is constantly blocked by the "reformers" who seek to impose legalistic standards on his fluid, transactional world. He ends his life as an unapologetic, if aging, relic of the old guard.

The Reformers act as the primary antagonist. They view politics through the lens of morality and civil service examinations, whereas Plunkitt views them through the lens of utility. They want to purge the government of patronage, which Plunkitt views as the destruction of patriotism itself.

The Tammany Leadership (including men like Richard Croker and Charles F. Murphy) represents the ideal of the "practical politician." Plunkitt admires them for their unwavering loyalty to friends and their ability to remain sober, disciplined, and focused while others succumb to the temptations of drink or the vanity of "dress-suit" politics.

The Constituents are the lifeblood of the machine. They want immediate help—a job, a meal, or a favor—and Plunkitt wants their votes. This mutually beneficial exchange is the bedrock of his worldview; they are the people he believes he is serving, and he measures his success entirely by his popularity among them.

In Its Own Voice

"I've told you how I got rich by honest graft. Now, let me tell you that most politicians who are accused of robbin' the city get rich the same way."

Plunkitt explains that his wealth comes not from theft, but from the foresight to invest in city projects before they are announced.

"The civil service law is the biggest fraud of the age. It is the curse of the nation."

Plunkitt argues that merit-based hiring destroys the incentive for young men to engage in patriotic party work.

"I've been readin' a book by Lincoln Steffens on 'The Shame of the Cities'. Steffens means well but, like all reformers, he don't know how to make distinctions."

Plunkitt criticizes the famous muckraker for failing to understand the difference between the organized efficiency of Tammany and the criminal looting found elsewhere.

What It's Really About

The book is an exploration of the fundamental friction between formal, legalistic democracy and the informal, personal nature of urban politics. Plunkitt’s core argument is that government is not merely a collection of laws, but a web of human relationships held together by favors and loyalty. He challenges the reader to consider whether a "clean" government is truly more effective than one that acknowledges the gritty, transactional nature of human needs. The text asks whether the "honest" reformer, who treats politics as an abstract duty, is actually more detached from the people than the "corrupt" boss who solves their daily problems.

Why Read It Today

Readers will find a voice that is astonishingly direct and devoid of modern political polish. Plunkitt speaks with the confidence of a man who sees no daylight between his personal interests and the public good. Those interested in the history of urban America or the evolution of political machines will find it indispensable, as it provides a look at the "bottom-up" view of power. The book feels like a long, one-sided conversation in a smoke-filled room, capturing the cadence of a bygone New York with startling clarity.

However, the reader must be prepared for the period-specific attitudes that permeate the text. Plunkitt’s views on women, immigrants, and rival cities are frequently dismissive, reflecting the prejudices of his time. The thick, phonetic dialect—designed to capture the street-level speech of the era—can also make for a challenging reading experience at first, though it adds a vital layer of authenticity. Those who can navigate these hurdles will encounter a fascinating, if morally complex, portrait of a man who believed that the "boss" was not the enemy of democracy, but its most essential servant. It remains a stark reminder of how much, and how little, the game of politics has changed.