My Road To Rotary

Chapter 21

A Tongue-Tied Feud

GRANDFATHER, with his abiding sense of tolerance and his custom of speaking no ill of men or of nations would seem to have been particularly immune from the hatred or even the dislike of neighbors, and so, generally speaking, he was. The most critical thing which men could in truth charge against grandfather was that he took little part in village affairs. His inability to express even his most deep-seated convictions clearly and convincingly was responsible for the fact that he left such matters to the eloquent speakers like Mr. Joel Ainsworth of whom there were several ready and willing to express their opinions on any and all public matters, whether such opinions were matured or spoken offhand. Grandfather would pay his taxes and perform all public duties which did not overstrain his faculty of speech. At the first indication of rancor or even of spirited debate, grandfather would silently glide away. To put it in other words, grandfather disliked controversy of any character.

With such mentality, grandfather would seem to be the last person in the world to be party to a feud; and yet there is no gain-saying the fact that he was party to a feud which began long before my time and was not terminated during his life. Who was the other principal in this unhappy affair? The very person with whom he most needed peace; his next door neighbor, he whom we called Uncle Ed, the husband of Aunt Lib.

Uncle Ed unfortunately also was tongue-tied in the face of controversy. If these two worthy New England gentlemen could have talked it out, or even shot it out, the feud might have ended short of the death of either of the principals but that was not to be the way of it. Nearly half a century passed; the fire smoldered but never once burst into flames.

Grandfather met Uncle Ed almost daily on the streets of Wallingford but no sign of recognition was ever passed. Grandmother and Aunt Lib, during the course of Aunt Lib's daily calls, at times spoke of the feud and sometimes speculated as to the cause of its origin but all was to no avail. Aunt Lib once said: "How on earth it could have happened is beyond me. Edwin has Mr. Harris to thank for everything he has in the world today." But even grandmother and Aunt Lib were utterly helpless in the matter; the feud had to continue its relentless course. Neither grandfather nor Uncle Ed even mentioned the name of the other. Uncle Ed vented his spleen at times on my father and on me but never a word about grandfather. It was as though grandfather had never lived.

Both families derived their supplies of drinking water from the same spring in the foothills and one common line of pumplogs carried the water to the coupling boxes on our property where the water was diverted to Uncle Ed's house and to ours. On occasions an ancient pumplog sprang a leak and the supply of water stopped. This was a calamity to both families and brought both grandfather and Uncle Ed post haste to the coupling boxes to locate the leak. On such occasions it was necessary for the two tongue-tied neighbors to work-sometimes frantically-together and it was astonishing how much they could accomplish without a word being spoken. When the job was done grandfather picked up his tools and Uncle Ed picked up his and they departed for their tool rooms in their respective barns, Uncle Ed in the meantime spitting quite furiously as many Vermonters do when they have bad tastes in their mouths. I used to imagine that Uncle Ed could happily have tried his crow bar or his pick axe on grandfather but that would have been against the law and Vermonters are law abiding folks.

While grandfather was a .listener more frequently than a speaker, he did sometimes break silence.

During one of our supper-time conversations across the table, grandmother asked grandfather if he had read a certain article it "The Springfield Republican" on "Our American Way of Life."

He answered, "Yes, I read it, every word of it and I want Paul to read it."

He stopped there and probably would have pursued the subject no further had not grandmother continued.

"I suppose you liked it, Pa; it is much as I have heard you talk.'

Grandfather answered thoughtfully, "Yes, I liked it and I don't see how any American could fail to like it. I think we all appreciate our privileges but we don't know just why we appreciate them and "The Republican" has told us why. It is good to live in a country dedicated to equality of opportunity for all. The Republican says some of the other countries are dedicated to the direct opposite of that. They are dedicated to the plan of special privileges. In such countries a few people have the privilege of education which is denied to others and naturally the few become the ruling class. In America we believe that the benefits of education should be enjoyed by all who care for them so that all may have a voice in governmental affairs and there will be no need of ruling classes,

Then grandfather turned slowly to me and looked long and searchingly at me, then added these words:

'That's the reason Paul, why I am so anxious that you have a good education. I can help you; I will help you, perhaps, may-be like-enough."

When grandfather finished with these words, I knew that the die had been cast; that I was to go to college, perhaps, may-be, like-enough.

It has been said of Lincolns Gettysburg speech that most of the editors of contemporary newspapers considered It a failure and Lincoln himself considered it to be so. Years passed before it became recognized at home and abroad as the greatest speech ever made in the English language.

Well, grandfather's speech was a Gettysburg speech to me, though grandfather doubtless considered it a failure and many years elapsed before it began to bear fruit.

Upon another occasion much later, grandfather made another speech during the course of another ceremonial supper which served to influence if not to define my future course in life. On that occasion, also, it was grandmother who rang the starting bell.

"Pa, Aunt Lib says there's talk of electing Lawyer Lawrence to be Judge in Rutland. I told Aunt Lib I guessed that would suit you alright. I know you think a lot of Lawyer Lawrence, but what you don't know about lawyers, Pa, would fill a book. You have never employed a lawyer in your life either to prosecute another man or to defend yourself."

"No, I never have, Ma, nor do I expect to but I have read every word the Rutland Herald has ever printed about Lawyer Lawrence and I think he is worthy of any honor they can show him."

"What have you read about Lawyer Lawrence, Pa, that makes you feel that way about him?"

"Enough to make me conclude he is different from many of the other lawyers. He always seems interested in justice. He don't make a lot of high-falutin arguments in order to keep in the public eye. He is sparing of his words but every word he does speak is listened to by both judge and jury respectfully."

That was not a very long speech compared to others I have heard but it was very convincing to the youngster sitting at the supper table and listening in with wide-open ears.

During the year of 1896, I took up the practice of law in Chicago and I tried to be the kind of lawyer that Judge Lawrence and grandfather would have liked me to be. As Chairman of the Committee on Professional Ethics of the Chicago Bar Association, I tried scores of cases of infractions of the Code of Ethics by unscrupulous members of the Bar.

But to the boy in Wallingford there were other vocations then more attractive than the Law. To be a locomotive engineer had the glory of sitting on a throne and ringing a bell. On the other hand for a talking job there was auctioneering for example.

Vermont farmers were tenacious. Having once gotten a grip on a place they could call home, only the direst of calamities or death could break it. In our valley as elsewhere there were occasional auction sales and they most naturally were of interest to curious boys. The most fascinating feature was the jargon of the auctioneer; some of it was sensible and some of it was senseless, the only requisite apparently was that it be continuous. The senseless part of course was of the most interest to boys. It was a wonderful display of linguistic ability with its twitters and burrs, its whistles and slurs, and still not a thing said that had any meaning to anyone. I used to think perhaps that its purpose was to make the farmers laugh and so keep their minds off the fact that they would be in danger of spending some of their hard earned savings if they didn't watch out. Anyway such performances met with our approval and we used to twist our own mouths into unrecognizable shapes emulating the example of the smooth-tongued auctioneer. I thought seriously of taking auctioneering up as a profession in case grandfather objected to my becoming a locomotive engineer, soldier, sailor, conductor, brakeman or maybe a spy.

The auctioneer mixed considerable business with his comedy and his efforts did not cease until almost every object which could be classed as salable had changed hands. To the sold-out householder, however, no matter how successful the sale may have been, it was a tragedy and the hollow jokes of the auctioneer were often more mockery than humor.

Every article no matter how dilapidated, from the baby carriage to the old family clock, had its story that reminded the survivors of the patient devotion and sacrificial frugality of some hardworking father and mother in days gone by. It seemed a cruelty to lead the domestic animals from their familiar home and even the inanimate objects-chairs, books, tables, sewing-machines and churns-seemed to share in the sadness incident to the breaking up of a loved home.