without opposition. Indeed, it met with the same sort of honest but
ineffective resistance that attended the election of Stanton to the
Speakership of the Lower House. And like the campaign against Stanton
the opposition to Perkins got nowhere because of the lack of leadership,
organization and plan of action on the part of the resisting
legislators.

The machine had been preparing for Perkins' re-election for months; but
the opposition to Perkins made no move until after the November
elections.

The first outward sign of opposition came from Assemblyman E. J. Callan
of the Thirty-ninth District, the fighting reform district of San
Francisco. Callan, three or four weeks before the Legislature convened,
fell into a trap which the wily Alameda County politician had set some
time previous. Perkins had long before invited criticism of his
"record," which meant his votes on issues that had been passed upon by
the United States Senate. As a matter of fact, such votes mean little,
for the misplaced "courtesy of the Senate," under which schemers betray
the people, makes it possible for even recognized "reformers" to be
forced to vote against most desirable measures. The other fellows of the
Perkins stripe when brought to book on their "record" can always give in
defense: 'Why, your reformer, Senator So and So, did the same thing.' To
be sure, a La Follette does kick over the traces once in a while, in
which event he usually votes alone, while the solemn victims of
"courtesy" vote against him according to Senatorial custom, not to use
the more expressive word, stupidity.

Thus, when Perkins craftily invited his opponents to attack him on his
record, they dodged the trap gingerly, all save Callan. Callan didn't