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“That’s Mr. Hammond,” was the answer of the chief clerk. “He owns a couple of hundred thousand acres of timber land, and he’s got about twenty ships tied up at the harbor.”

“Oh,” said the young lady stenographer, “then he’s got a right to pound on the table.”

He exercised his right, and pounded, and cursed so freely that the young lady was moved to get up and close the office door; but still we heard the uproar. The substance of it was that the San Pedro strike, which had been on for about two weeks, must be smashed without another day’s delay. Mr. Rice argued and expostulated; they were doing their best. Finally he promised there would be “a meeting” that afternoon, and arrangements would be made. That you may understand clearly, I explain that Mr. Andrew B. Hammond, president of the Hammond Lumber Company, is one of the big “open shop” despots of San Francisco, a bigger man even than Mr. Rice; and he had come down on the night train to lay down the law to the timid crowd at Los Angeles and insist that his ships be moved. Wishing to make sure there was no mistake in identity, I engaged the head clerk in conversation, asking him how long he thought “those irate ship-owners” would stay in there. He rose to the bait and discussed the “irate ship-owners,” assuring me that they would not need to stay much longer; the Merchants’ and Manufacturers’ Association was not going to have any trouble in opening up the harbor. Subsequently, as part of the preparing of this manuscript, I wrote to Mr. Hammond, asking if he cared to deny that he was in Mr. Rice’s office at the hour specified. He did not reply.