People's Pilot, Volume 4, Number 20, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 November 1894 — More Notoriety for McCoy. [ARTICLE]

More Notoriety for McCoy.

The Chicago Sunday Tribune last Sunday, under the head of “Freaks of the Campaign,” gave a pen picture of our own Mac and his monkeying. After speaking of Jap Miller, of Morgan, “Crankey Crawford,” of Sullivan, and “Foghorn Kelley,” of the twelfth district, it shows up A, McCoy, of Rensselaer, in the following manner:

None of tuese men, however, can compare with Alf McCoy, the Rensselaer hog and cattle buyer who has taken to the slump in the Tenth District to work off some of his superabundant Republican enthusiasm. McCoy has made enough money out of hogs to be the head of a bank at Rensselaer, but he lets the boys run the bank. Recently he hired a “choir,” bought a patent-medicine man’s wagon, and started out to stir up things in Jasper connty. McCoy is said to be one of the most profane men who ever drew breath, and the many stories that have been told on him have made his name a “cuss-word” almost in nretty nearly every county in Tenth District from Lake to Cass, His original way of holding a campaign meeting with his “choir” makes him a greater drawing card than Sam Jones at a religious revival. He will drive into a country town and pull up opposite the public square. The choir will sing until the crowd gathers, and then McCoy will stand up and begin as follows: “Friends, brethren, and fellow’Republicans: You know that under Ben Harrison’s administration times was good, and you know under Grover Cleveland’s administration times is harder than h—. If you don’t want to have to be makin’ soup this winter out of your undershirts you better vote the Republican ticket. The choir will now sing while I collect more thoughts.” After the choir has given the crowd a song McCoy rises and continues: “You know the factories at Hammond are shut down. They hain’t runnin’ at Kokomo, nor Logansport, nor Peru. When the men can’t work they can’t get money to buy meat, and when the people can’t buy meat how in the h— can I buy your hogs, and sheep, and cattle? The choir will sing while I collect more thoughts.” McCoy will go on this way for thirty minutes then drive to the next town. The other day a man in the audience interrupted McCoy and inquired whether he might ask him a question, and McCoy replied: “You can ask all you d—n please, but first tell me, are you a Republican?” “No,” said the man. “Are you a democrat?” “No, I’m not.” “Then what in the h— are you?” “I’m a Populist,” said the stranger. “You’re a d—n fool,” yelled McCoy. “The choir will sing.” A Populist orator in White County challenged McCoy to a joint debate and McCoy couldn’t accept it too quick. He hired a special train, loaded with 300 of his Jasper County friends, got all the bands in the county, and went forth to meet the Populist. The speaking was at a little village, and McCoy’s friends greatly outnumbered the enemy. McCoy spoke first, taking an hour and a half. When it came time for the Populist, McCoy’s friends set up a great shout, and accompanied by their bands marched back to the special train and rode home with another feather in the hat of Mr. McCoy.