MARK FAGAN, MAYOR
This time I pressed him for it; he evaded the point, and I urged that if he knew a way, and a good way, to resist political temptations, others should know of it.
He was most uncomfortable. “It’s a good way,” he said, looking down. Then, looking up, he almost whispered: “I pray. When I take an oath of office, I speak it slowly. I say each word, thinking how it is an oath, and afterward I pray for strength to keep it.”
“A silent prayer?”
“Yes.”
“And that helps? Against the daily temptations too?”
“Yes, but I—every morning when I go up the steps of City Hall, I ask that I may be given to recognize temptations when they come to me, and — to resist them. And at night, I go over every act and I give thanks if I have done no injury to any man.”
“When you were considering whether you would give out that letter to Governor Murphy, why did you say, ‘Let the consequences go’?”
“Well, when anything is to be done that I think is right, and the rest say it might hurt my political career, I ask myself if such thoughts are tempting me, and if I think they are, I do that thing quick. That was the way of the Murphy letter.”
