AS I SADLY WENT ON with my university studies,
awaiting news of grandmother's funeral and reflecting upon the scenes and
events of my boyhood, I felt homesickness as few of my age would have felt
it. I longed for the quiet orderly home in the valley and the loving
solicitude of my grandparents. I dreamed of my Vermont mountains, and when
I eventually saw those of the West tears welled to my eyes.
"I am homesick for my mountains
My heroic mother hills,
And the longing that is on me
No solace ever stills."
-Bliss Carman
While enroute to Iowa a year earlier the boy from
a Vermont village had spent a week in Chicago where the unrest and
wickedness of the bustling Western City possessed him with a weird
fascination. It was all so different from his Valley. But he sensed
something vital in it all. It was a place to study the ways of men. Was
there some place to which men flocked? If so, what was the attraction?
What were the underlying motives which influenced the lives of men? Why
were some good and other bad? Why did some make sacrifices? Did they pay?
If so, how? Why were others wasteful in their physical, mental, and moral
resources? What did they get out of it? Was there wisdom in grandfather's
precepts-or was he simply a well-meaning but deluded old fogey?
During his first year in Iowa the boy read law in
the office of St. John, Stevenson and Whisenand in Des Moines; but when
the summer months came he spent them at Lake Okaboja where be fished and
enjoyed outdoor life in general, reading law when there were no more
urgent demands upon his time,
In the autumn he entered the law department of the
State University in Iowa City and graduated in June of the year 1891. In
the Iowa University he encountered conditions quite different from any he
had met before. The students were older than those in the University of
Vermont and at Princeton. Most of them came from Iowa farms and many had
taught school as a means of raising the money necessary' to the completion
of their education. They were earnest men who had, for the most part,
passed their play period. The atmosphere was wholesome and groups of law
students frequently spent their evenings in their rooms, conducting
quizzes and discussing the theory and practice of law.
As the writer now looks back at his experiences in
the various educational institutions, he is prone to question himself as
to what, if anything, he got out of them; what, if anything, was there to
justify his grandfather's sacrifices and hopes? Was it worthwhile?
The best thing that the writer got from his
experiences in educational institutions came from his contacts with other
students. In scholastics he cannot lay claim to have gotten much except,
perhaps, a love of good books by writers of many lands.
During his last days at the University of Iowa the
boy had one absorbing interest and that was to know the ways of men; those
of his own country first and then the ways of the men of other countries.
But could he accomplish his purpose? In his heart of hearts he knew it was
a mad adventure. It would be a serious matter to violate the rules of
conventionality. All of the other members of his class would be sane and
sensible. Every one of them would be practicing law in a town of his
choice within sixty days of graduation. Folks back home would think that
he had gone stark crazy.
At that juncture an incident occurred to bolster
his faith. One of the lecturers on the commencement program of his
graduating class, a practicing lawyer who had graduated from the
University ten years earlier, stated that it might be a wise plan for each
graduate to go first to some small town and make a fool of himself for
five years, after which he could go to the city of his choice and really
begin his practice.
This advice resolved all doubts in the mind of the
boy; he would set aside five years to make a fool of himself, not in any
small community but in all parts of the world to which he could manage to
make his way. What an adventure! After having had his fling, he would hang
up his shingle in some great city, Chicago perhaps, and settle down and be
regular. So the boy embarked on his fool's errand and never once turned
back. His sustaining hope was that his absorbing interest in folks at home
and abroad would carry him through.
Why did races of men differ so in their ways of
life? He had read much literature in university libraries by English,
French, German, Russian, and Scandinavian writers but his curiosity was
whetted merely. Only visits to foreign lands could satisfy his desires to
know the ways of men.
In the accomplishment of his ambition it was
necessary for the boy to accept any and all forms of service, whether of
hand or brain. He walked many hundreds of miles in the mountains and he
tramped the streets of great cities. He slept in the open country and in
cheap city quarters, and even went hungry at times. Thousands of times his
thoughts drifted back to his Valley and the comforts of his grandparents'
home. When hungry, what in good conscience did he think of most
frequently? It was not the buckwheat cakes smeared with butter and maple
syrup, nor ham and eggs, nor New England pork and beans . . it was
something he really thought very little of in his boyhood days . . it was
his grandmother's "riz" doughnuts. Sometimes, when ill in distant lands,
it was grandmother's catnip tea or hot foot baths and her tender
solicitude that haunted him.
While his few remaining dollars lasted hunting and
fishing in the northwest was a grand vacation. Before long he arrived in
San Francisco, his money spent. He was on his own at last. A college
friend doing newspaper work on The Chronicle, owned by M. H. De Young, got
him a job as a reporter on that paper with payment only for what one could
produce but times were hard and competition was keen. Another reporter
also near the bottom of the list on The Chronicle was Harry C. Pulliam
from Louisville, who later became president of the National Baseball
League.
Harry and Paul became chums and decided to work
their way through the state of California. Within three days they were
doing manual labor on a fruit ranch in Vaca Valley. After making a "stake"
there, they set out from the Calaveras big trees on a three hundred mile
hike across the Trailless Mountain ranges. They explored now famous but
then little known Yosemite Valley. Their next engagement was in the
raisin-packing industry in Fresno. Finally they landed in Los Angeles
where Paul became a teacher in the L. A. Business College.
After nine months in California Paul's next
location was Denver, Colorado, where he demonstrated his versatility by
"play-acting" in a stock company at the Old Fifteenth Street Theater. This
adventure attracted more publicity than he desired. He received letters
from old friends who were sure he had "gone wrong." He climbed Pike's Peak
and convinced himself that the stride, which he had developed in the Green
Mountains and tried out in the Sierra Nevadas, would also work in the
Rockies. He got a position on the reportorial staff of the Rocky Mountain
News where he remained until he got a chance to try the life of a cowboy
on a ranch near Platteville, riding the range alone frequently for days
searching for stray cattle. Returning to Denver he worked on The
Republican where he encountered some of his San Francisco newspaper
friends drifting back eastward.
Florida was another land of romance which appealed
to Paul and as the fortunate beneficiary of a railroad pass he landed in
Jacksonville and became night clerk at the St. James, the best tourist
hotel in Jacksonville at that time. He found the hotel business prosaic
and soon left it to become a traveling salesman through Florida for George
W. Clark who dealt in marble and granite, a business of which Paul had
gained a slight knowledge while working for the Sheldon Marble Company in
Vermont. George Clark was a great influence in the life of the vagabond.
Employer and employee soon became fast friends. Years later George
organized and became the first president of the Jacksonville Rotary Club.
In March 1893 Paul departed for Washington to
observe the inauguration of Grover Cleveland as President of the United
States. While there he had a temporary job on The Washington Star. From
there he went to Louisville to which Harry Pulliam had returned, hoping
Harry could get him on The Courier or The Commercial. This hope was
dashed. So Paul got a position with another marble and granite house which
gave him the opportunity to travel through Kentucky, Tennessee, Georgia,
and Virginia.
On arrival at Norfolk, Virginia, he resigned his
position and took the boat for Philadelphia. From the period when Tom
Brown of Rugby had first won his admiration down through the days when the
pen-folks of Dickens, Thackeray and Scott had held him captive, Paul had
longed for a sight of the British Isles. For this he was willing to endure
any hardship. In the want-ad column of a Philadelphia newspaper he found a
notice that cattlemen were wanted by a Baltimore house making a shipment
to England. Before dawn the following day a ship was plowing the seas and
the young man who aspired to learn something of the practical side of life
was on board. It was a rough voyage. The privation and suffering on that
ship were unbelievable. The food scarcely deserved to be called that. The
crew and the cattlemen included some of the most depraved and vicious
characters one could imagine. It was a most trying experience.
Liverpool and its suburbs were all Paul got to see
before he had to return on another ship of the same line. Great was his
disappointment at not being able to see London and he resolved to endure
again even such hardships that he might visit the British metropolis. The
return voyage was not so bad-but no mattresses, blankets or eating
utensils for the cattlemen. "Scouse" composed mostly of potato and water,
with sometimes small fragments of meat, and mouldy sea biscuits
constituted the principal food. Vermin were plentiful. Immersions in cold
sea water were frequent.
While waiting at Baltimore for another and better
ship Paul walked to Ellicott City and soon found opportunity to exercise
his muscles in a hayfield. It was heavy work for him. He did the best he
could at it but soon shifted to chores around the farmhouse in exchange
for his board and lodging. A job in a corn-canning factory paid him $1.50
a day. While on this job he learned to his delight that another cattleship
of a better line was soon to sail. Returning to Baltimore he got a job as
sub-foreman on the "Michigan" whose destination was the Tillhury docks in
the Thames about thirty miles from London. Oh happy day!
Paul and a friend he had made on board were soon
walking the streets of London gazing at the Houses of Parliament and all
the famous places of history and fiction. However, the best accommodation
they could afford was a cheap boarding-house in the Whitechapel district
although this was a locality of exceptional interest to the embryonic
sociologist from Vermont. As the ship returned via Swansea for cargo Paul
improved the chance to see something of Wales.
Arriving back in the United States Paul
immediately took the train to visit the 1893 World's Fair in Chicago.
Enjoyment of that beautiful Columbian Exposition was a happy interlude in
his vagabondage. There he found confirmation of his faith in the future
possibilities of that fascinating metropolis. He had enough money for
train fare and no more. He found and became the guest of a college friend
who was working at the Fair. One day when entering the Vermont building to
his astonishment he observed his cousins, Ed and Mattie Fox of Rutland,
inspecting the exhibits. Instantly Paul turned on his heel and left the
building. The impecunious young man was in no mood to reveal himself to
his relatives.
One city of all American cities was alluring; it
was New Orleans, differing in so many respects from other American cities.
How to get there was the question. It might be stated at this point that
throughout his travels Paul stole no rides; he either paid his fare or
worked his way and he always carried luggage. He was always willing to
undertake any kind of work by which he could earn a livelihood and he
always gave the best that was in him and if he failed it was because of
physical or mental limitations and not because of indifference. Borrowed
money was always repaid.
A loan from his college friend in Chicago got him
to New Orleans. While there he discovered a want-ad for "a dozen men to
pick and pack oranges in Plaquemine parish." The next day a gang of men
including Paul, crossed the Mississippi river and were on their way to the
grove and warehouse of S. Pizatti in the delta not far from where the
Father-of-Waters empties into the sea. The business of picking, packing,
boxing and shipping proceeded satisfactorily for several days. But
suddenly a storm blew up. It became a hurricane and a tidal wave. Paul and
his fellow orange-pickers in the darkness of the night waded and swam
through the swirling waters carrying women and children from their homes
to the one place of safety-the Pizatti warehouse. Then with axes and
crowbars thcy endeavored to cut the dike to let the waters into the river.
When the storm subsided the top of the levce was covered with dead horses,
cows, hogs, hens and birds. That coast storm of 1893 took hundreds of
lives and the property loss was enormous. Although many years have elapsed
the horror and suffering of that episode still remain in the memory.
A return was made to New Orleans. Efforts to find
employment on newspapers was fruitless. There was much to see and study in
that historic city but the avidity of the traveler's longing for adventure
had somewhat slackened. His thoughts turned to the cordial hospitality of
his friends in Florida,
Paul's old position with the marble company in
Jacksonville was still open to him and he returned to it. George Clark
gave him territory over which he had not yet traveled. He covered the
Southern States, Cuba and the Bahamas Islands. His visits at the home of
the Clarks in Jacksonville were truly high times. The employer and his
salesman were most intimate of chums. After a twelve month period Paul
notified George of his intended departure. George said; "Is there nowhere
else you care to go?" Paul answered: 'Yes, there is one more place but I
doubt your willingness to send me." "Where is it?" inquired George.
"Europe," said Paul. Two weeks later the wanderer was once again on the
high seas, under orders of his employer-chum to visit the
granite-producing regions of Scotland and the marble-producing regions of
Ireland, Belgium and Italy for the purpose of making arrangements for
buying the products of foreign quarries.
The writer could enjoyably consume a great deal of
space in the relation of wonderful months spent in Great Britain, Ireland,
France, Switzerland, Italy, Austria, Germany, Belgium, and Holland. As a
visitor in the home of S. A. McFarland of Carrara, Italy, Paul was the
recipient of courtesies little to be expected from comparative strangers.
Among other things Mr. and Mrs. McFarland insisted on lending him funds
with which to extend his travels on the Continent. The loan was accepted,
and repaid in due course.
Upon his return to his native land the vagabond
spent several months in helping George Clark in a subdividing and building
project near Jacksonville and then turned his sights northward to Chicago.
George pleaded with him to remain in Jacksonville, saying among other
things: "Whatever the advantages of settling in Chicago may be, I am
satisfied you will make more money if you remain with me." To this Paul
replied: "I am sure you are right but I am not going to Chicago for the
purpose of making money; I am going for the purpose of living a life."
Paul knew little of New York City and desired to
learn something of the great eastern metropolis before settling down in
Chicago. George made one more manifestation of his friendship by recalling
his New York manager to Jacksonville and putting Paul in temporary charge
of the New York office.
You were a real friend, George Clark, a grand and generous friend!
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