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THE JEFFERSON IAI Vol. 111. No. 19. GUBERNATORIAL CAMPAIGN NOTES. The Jeffersonian innocently inquired whether there had been a secret con ference between Guyt McLendon and Gov. Smith, on the one side, and the big bugs of the Southern Railroad on the other. We had barely finished the ques tion before Guyt came tearing back with the queerest denial that ever went on record. The denial closely read, is an admission that such a conference was had at the time and place stated. Guyt re jects the word “secret,” but inasmuch as the conference was held in his pri vate room, in the hotel, its privacy was sufficient to be secret, for the fact of the meeting escaped all the reporters. People who have been wrought up to the point of frenzy by being told, in stump speeches, that the railroads were chasing Hoke Smith with cleavers, bush hooks, pitchforks, meat-axes and things, will be immensely relieved when they learn how chummy and comfortable are ,the Governor’s relations with the big bugs of the Southern Railroad. Here’s a conundrum: If Guyt McLendon is so ready to pub lish to the world the interesting things he has learned as Chairman of the Rail road Commission, why was it impossible for us to get a list of those fellows who had been riding around on free passes? In his full-column denial-admission, Mac said that Mr. Watson could learn many things by simply coming to him for the information. All right, Guyt, here’s Mr. Watson:— Now give us the list of the fellows who were riding on those dead-head tickets. * General Robert Toombs, after several years of arduous labor in the Courts, col lected about half a million dollars of back taxes from the railroads and estab lished a principle which was worth mil lions to the state. The General got a fee of $40,000. Boykin Wright, Hoke Smith and oth ers collected less than $400,000 of back taxes from the Georgia Railroad, and Boykin Wright’s own fee was $60,000! Our able Attorney-General, John C. Hart, had as much to do with winning the case as any one, but the others got the reward. The suggestion that Boykin Wright was worth $60,000 to the State, in one case, seems monstrous to one who knows him. A Weekly Paper Edited by THOS. E. WATSON and J. D. WATSON. Atlanta, Ga., Thursday, May 7, 1908. “I’ve never had a secret conference with Mr. Finley or anybody else.” So said Guyt McLendon. Then he went on to say that he and the Gov ernor had a private conference with Fin ley and somebody else. And the privacy of said conference was so great that the secret didn’t leak out until a week af terwards. There’s only one performance of the Yea-and-Nay sort that equals Guyt’s de nial-admission of the conference at the Majestic, and that is, Hoke’s Yea-and- Nay statements concerning the use of “light wines and beer.” We regret to learn that Chairman Mc- Lendon of the Railroad Commission is hampered in the discharge of his duties by rheumatism. Such a disease is a dread affliction and we sincerely pity the man who is its victim. At the same time, we would be glad to know what is the matter with the other four commissioners. What do they do, these days? We naturally suppose that they draw the four salaries, but what else do they do? Callers at the Executive office in At lanta are blandly informed by the negro door-keeper that the Governor is out of town. By a lucky chance, the high officials of the Southern Railroad happen in Atlanta on the same day when the Governor hap pens to be there. This is fortunate for all concerned! How would it do to swap around, for a change?—let the nigger make the ex cuses at those railroad conferences, and let us have the Governor at the Execu tive office. “Ride and tie,” you know. Let us have more of the Governor, and the Southern Railroad more of the nigger. * Here’s a recipe for becoming a Cham pion Prohibitionist: (1) Hang on to your interest in a profitable bar-room until it is shut up by a law which you opposed; (2) Flop, to Prohibition, when you see that the Prohibition bill has already se cured a sufficient number of votes to override a gubernatorial veto; (3) Write a dispatch for the Associat ed Press which, after all the erasures, interlineations and loop-holes are elim inated, favors a law which would permit the use of “light wines and beer” as food; (4) Loudly declare that unless you are kept in office the Prohibition law, which was passed in spite of you, will in some mysterious manner, be scooped, swip ed, eloigned, jugulated, disembowelled, smothered, strangled, par-boiled and oth erwise scandalously maltreated. (5) Shout this loudly, from Haber sham to Glyn, until the welkin rings, the teacups dance on the table, the dogs bark as they run under the house, the children fall off the fence as the excitement tears along the road, —and, the first thing you know, you will be the Champion Pro hibitionist, while such life-long heroes of the cause as Hughes, Edenfield, Cofer, Sibley, Poole, Jones, Hill, Wright, Cand ler and dozens of old vets of the cause will either be forgotten or will look like slick dimes. A little bird brought us this: “We’ve taken Watson’s followers away from him, and now we’ll bury him and get rid of him.” Did a certain Governor say that to a certain Rape Circular politician, named Joe Sid Turner? If so, we beg to remind them that Mr. Watson has no “followers” and never has had any. The principles for which he has stood since 1889, through all kinds of weather, have had “followers,” and still have “followers.” As long as the stars shall twinkle in the sky and the blossoms shall open their beauties to the sun, those principles will have life, will have followers, will have devotees who are willing to fight and die for them. In this band of men who stand by their convictions and who would scorn to bend a knee to get an office, or to court popularity, Mr. Watson has long stood, and will ever stand. When the Atlanta plotters succeed in “burying” the man whom all the ring sters hate, it will be a bad day for Jef fersonian principles in Georgia. Now that Governor Smith feels it nec essary to stump Atlanta, ward by ward, we guess he wishes that, while he was kicking somebody out of the Railroad Commission, he had kicked Obe Stevens instead of Joe Brown. It’s an awful thing to kick the wrong man. In fact, among the men who indulge in the lux ury of kicking other men we have always thought it was well understood that the (Continued on Page Thirteen.) Price Five Cents.