PART II

Newspaper Experience

SAN FRANCISCO had occupied a position in Paul’s mind, second in interest only to Chicago of all Western cities.

Paul has his college friend, Robert Johnson, to thank for his introduction to newspaper work. Robert was unusually capable and ever ready to lend a helping hand. Through his influence and guidance Paul obtained a position on the Chronicle reportorial staff. Robert was at the time covering the hotels for the Examiner. The newspaper business was very slow in San Francisco and the city was full of capable Eastern newspaper men who had drifted to the coast, moved principally by the spirit of adventure. The Chronicle, then owned by M H. De Young, had a long list of reporters working without fixed salary. They were paid by the column for material considered of sufficient news value for publication and three dollars for every assignment covered. The men who had been longest with the paper were given first call on assignments and there were seldom enough to go around. This meant hard times for the recent arrivals unless they were capable of picking up their own stuff and that was not easy even for experienced newspaper men in a strange city. There were at the time reporters of extraordinary ability who could get their column or more on their first clay in a strange city. Robert Johnson was one. The writer has known him to accomplish this feat in several cities including New York, and when that city was full of the best newspaper men thoroughly acquainted with the metropolis.

Harry was a fine fellow and his words were sweet music in the ears of Paul, who had been looking for a chum; he therefore proposed that they work their way through the state together. The suggestion was immediately accepted and within three days the two were working at manual labor on a fruit ranch in Vaca Valley. After making a “stake” at that place, they gave up their jobs with the purpose of treating themselves to a three-hundred-mile tramp through the mountains of California, including the Yosemite Valley. Paul was taken ill of malaria in Stockton but recovered his strength during the first day’s tramp in the mountains. He was in his element again.

The camping outfits consisted of woolen blankets, provisions, a coffee-pot, frying-pan, and some standard literature.

Denver

After completing a nine-months’ stay in the State of California, Paul returned as far east as Denver, where he demonstrated his versatility by play-acting in a stock company in the Old Fifteenth Street—sometimes called the Peoples’ Theater. This adventure attracted more publicity than any other; in fact, far more than he desired. He received letters from old friends who apparently thought that he had gone wrong; and as he walked the streets of Denver, newsboys shouted at him the name of the part which he happened to be playing. As a matter of fact, Paul had no more intention of remaining on the stage than he had of remaining for any length of time at any of the other occupations by which he sustained him self during the, to him, eventful five years.

He had heard the expression “Pike’s Peak or bust” and was, very naturally, desirous of seeing what there was to it. He took a train to Manitou, climbed to the half way house, spent the night, resumed his climb to the peak in the early morning hours and ran all the way down to catch the eleven o’clock train for Denver, having convinced himself that the stride which he had developed in the Green Mountains, tried out in the Sierra Nevadas,  would also work in the Rockies.  [Sierra being plural for mountains, "Sierra Nevada is correct,"]

He soon managed to get a position on the reportorial staff of the Rocky Mountain News, where he remained until he was fortunate enough to be permitted to taste the life of a cowboy on a ranch near Platteville, Colorado.

Florida was another land of romance which appealed to the young traveler and his next jump was to Jacksonville, to which city he traveled on a pass. His first position in the southern city was that of night clerk at the St. James, the best tourist hotel in Jacksonville at that time.

Paul found the hotel business prosaic and he soon left to take a position as traveling salesman for George W. Clark who dealt in marble and granite of which Paul had gained a slight knowledge while working for the Sheldon Marble Company. George Clark was destined to have a marked influence on the life of the wanderer. He was only a few years older. Employer and employee soon became fast friends. Years later George organized and became first president of the Jacksonville Rotary Club.

The new position gave Paul an excellent opportunity to learn something of the old South—Kentucky, Tennessee, northern Georgia, and Virginia. On arrival at Norfolk, Virginia, he again resigned and took the boat for Philadelphia with the intention of finding a way to cross the ocean. From the period when Tom Brown of Rugby had first won his admiration, down through the days when the pen folk of Dickens, Thackeray and Scott had held him captive, Paul had longed for a sight of the British Isles. His longing was not half hearted; it was vigorous and determined; he was willing to endure any hardship, to pay any obtainable price. While in Philadelphia, he read much in the newspapers concerning the World’s Fair in Chicago with the result that his interest in that city was greatly augmented. He resolved to visit the Fair on his return to America.

Salt Water and Hardtack

He soon found in the want-ad column of a Philadelphia paper a notice that cattlemen were wanted by a Baltimore house making a shipment to England on a boat of the Johnson line named the “Baltimore.”

Before dawn the following day, the “Baltimore” was ploughing the seas and the young man who aspired to learn something of the practical side of life was on board, a duly enrolled cattleman.

Pen could not describe the hardships of that first voyage; the privation and suffering was unbelievable. The seas were rough and the boat had the reputation of being the worst boat of the worst line in the trans-Atlantic service. In this experience, Paul learned much of the need of human sympathy which greatly affected his own life and indirectly the life of Rotary. Without this experience, he never could have believed that human beings could sink so low. After being tossed about for fourteen days, the “Baltimore” entered the Mersey and the cattlemen were soon landed in Liverpool

The first day on shore, the men were so exhausted that they could do nothing except sleep; but youth has wonderful, recuperative power, and Paul and a new-found friend soon had the supreme satisfaction of gazing at the wonders of a great city in a strange land. They walked in all directions about the city and into the suburbs. Paul would have been surprised indeed had some occult power then informed him that within a few years he would direct the organization of a club in Liverpool which would wield an important influence in the life of that city. The stay was all too brief. They were soon “signed on” before the mast as is the custom with returning cattle men.

Paul was sorely disappointed in not being able to see London and he resolved to endure the hardships necessarily incident to another voyage across that he might visit the British metropolis.

The return to Baltimore was made in the “Parkmore,” another boat of the same line. It was not quite so bad as the “Baltimore” but it certainly could not be said to be even fairly good. Neither vessel provided mattresses, blankets, nor eating utensils for the cattle men. An alleged food which is known to the British seamen as “scouse” was served three times a day. It is composed mostly of potato and water, though on occasions small fragments of meat are added. “Scouse” and moldy sea biscuit constituted the principal food. Both ships were infested with vermin and when the sea was rough, vast quantities of water washed aboard deluging the cattlemen from morning until night. Lack of food of nutritive value, vermin, and constant irnmersions in cold salt water made the lives of the cattlemen anything but attractive.

Paul learned from some of the old-timers that a few boats of the other lines, carrying cattle, were reasonably good. The Atlantic Transportation Company, an American line, was mentioned with particular favor. One of the old sailors had crossed on the “Michigan” of that line and he spoke highly of its appointments.

On arrival at Baltimore, Paul asked the shipper for another trip and was abruptly refused—no men were needed. Later in the day, Paul was surprised to be hailed by the same person. On Paul’s approaching the shipper said: “Is your name Harris?” On being answered in the affirmative he said, “Well, young man, you can get a job with us anytime you want one; Billy Graham, the foreman, says that you are the best man who ever crossed the ocean with him.”

The compliment was more gratifying to Paul than any he had ever received. It gave him much happiness to think that he had really been able to make good in such an undertaking. He had tried to be alert, watchful, and helpful under all circumstances and his efforts had been appreciated.

Another boat of the Johnson line was about to sail but Paul was not looking for an opportunity to repeat his experience with that particular line; he preferred to wait. It was haying time and Paul resolved to go into the country to work while waiting an opportunity to sail under reasonably favorable conditions. He had never worked in a hay field but had heard much about it in Vermont and he coveted the experience. He walked to Elicott City and soon found work in a hay field in that locality. It was heavy work and called for the exercise of muscles which he had not been accustomed to use, but he did the best he could, scanning the newspapers for reports of sailings whenever he had opportunity to see them. To his delight he soon learned that the “Michigan” was about to sail. He returned at once to Baltimore, made application to the shipper and was soon in the Chesapeake. The boat’s destination was Tillbury docks in the Thames about thirty miles from London. Oh, happy day!

Paul then received a promotion. He became a sub-foreman and had charge of a gang. Living conditions were excellent, the voyage was delightful, and in due course Paul and a friend he had made in crossing were in the streets of London gazing at sights which he had longed to see. The two young Americans walked the streets from morn till night, covering great distances. They visited the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, the British Museum, Tower of London, St. Pauls, Hyde Park, Kensington Gardens, Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar, the Strand, and many other places of interest.

In 1911, Paul brought about the organization of the Rotary Club of London. There are now forty Rotary clubs within the metropolitan district and it is expected that there will be more. The original club has the exclusive right to use the name Rotary Club of London. Its offices are located in the Hotel Cecil and its meetings are held there. It is the rallying point for thousands of American Rotarians visiting abroad. The best accommodation the founder of the movement could afford on his first visit to London in 1893 was a cheap boarding-house run by A. Leslie on Commercial Road in the Whitechapel district, a locality of exceptional interest to the embryonic sociologist from the other side.

Another enjoyable surprise awaited. The “Michigan” was directed to return via Swansea in South Wales to take on coal and also a cargo of queensware destined for Philadelphia. It happened that the colliers were on a strike when the “Michigan” arrived in Swansea but even that circumstance was turned to good account and the travelers visited many points of interest in Swansea and in the surrounding country.

The World’s Fair and More Journeying

The return voyage was pleasant and on arrival in Philadelphia, Paul immediately took the train for Chicago to visit the World’s Fair. He had money enough for train fare and no more. On arrival in Chicago he looked up a college friend whom he knew to be selling tickets at the Fair grounds and be came his guest.

During the course of a week he covered the principal sights and had one noteworthy experience. It occurred during a visit to the Vermont building. As he entered the building he was immediately conscious of the presence of two persons, a man and a woman. Neither seemed conscious of his presence; they were inspecting the exhibits. A glance revealed to Paul a rather disconcerting fact; they were his cousins, Ed and Mattie Fox, of Rutland.

Secret of Success

It might be stated at this point that through out his travels Paul stole no rides; he either paid his fare or worked his way and he always carried baggage. People have frequently expressed wonder at his ability to land almost immediately on his feet after arrival in a strange city; even men of considerable experience such as roving newspaper men have expressed amazement. Harry Pulliam, for instance, used to call Paul the “wonder man.” To those who have sometimes been out of jobs for months at a time in their own home cities, Paul’s experiences would probably seem miraculous.

The reasons why he was successful were simple.

In the first place, he always made it a point to dress well and to appear well-groomed; in the second place, he did not limit himself to any particular class of work. He was willing to undertake any kind of work, mental or physical, by which he could earn a livelihood, and finally he always gave full measure of service. It was his aim to give the best he had in him and in case he failed to make good it was because of physical or mental limitations and not because of indifference. His manifest earnestness of purpose frequently resulted in his being transferred from work which he could not do to the advantage of his employer to other work to which he was better adapted.

To get to New Orleans was not difficult. He borrowed fifteen dollars from his college friend, invested ten of the fifteen with a ticket-broker for the return part of a round-trip ticket from Crawley, Louisiana, to Chicago via New Orleans. The ticket was cheap because it was within twenty-four hours of expiration.

On arrival in New Orleans early one morning, he sold the remaining part of the ticket to a broker for $1.00.

The traveler was able to engage good board and room with a respectable family for four dollars per week and he immediately set siege upon the newspaper offices. Times were unusually slow, especially in the newspaper business and nothing except the privilege of space-writing was available. Before his capital was exhausted, however, Paul was fortunate enough to find opportunity to add a new chapter to his story; how interesting and extraordinary the chapter was to prove, he could not have conjectured.

Picking Oranges

In a want-ad of a daily paper, he read:

“Wanted—A dozen men to pick and pack oranges in a grove in Plaquemine parish.”

The warehouse was on a high foundation, the floor being level with the top of the dike, thus permitting the trucking of oranges from the warehouse directly across the top of the dike to the wharf whence they were taken by river boat to New Orleans. The oranges in Louisiana are picked and packed while still green on account of fear of early frosts.

The gang began operations at once. Sleeping-quarters had been provided in the warehouse and Pizatti’s cook prepared the meals for the laborers in Pizatti’s rather substantial dwelling. The old Italian who had become wealthy importing bananas was present most of the time.

The business of picking, packing, boxing, and shipping oranges progressed satisfactorily for several days as it doubtless would have done the crop was harvested had it not been for a very extraordinary circumstance.

Fast and Furious

On a Sunday morning, several members of the gang, including Paul, rowed across the Mississippi River to dredge for oysters in a bayou. Returning in the afternoon, they encountered a heavy wind which made the crossing difficult. The wind storm continued with such force that the men feared that the warehouse standing so high above the ground would be blown down. They therefore sought refuge in the Pizatti house where they gained admittance.

The storm continued to rage during the early part of the evening, so the workers remained in the large kitchen. Frequently the door was opened and a family dripping wet, entered. As they were foreigners, their confused and excited words were unintelligible to the men. The house filled with shouting men and crying women and children, and it soon became apparent that they had fled from their homes to take refuge in the staunch house of Pizatti. Then to the amazement of the orange pickers a rush of water came into the house gaining ingress under the doorway. The structure seemed to be afloat. At this juncture some one raised a shout which sounded above the general hubbub. Men took children in their arms and burst through the door into the night. The women followed. It was apparent to all that the one salvation was to reach the high-standing warehouse; the water was more feared than the wind.

Paul and several other orange-pickers took children in arms and plunged out into the night. Paul held in his arms a little girl eight or nine years of age. The water at first was only about knee deep, but the depth increased rapidly as the low ground near the approach to the warehouse was reached. It was necessary for Paul to constantly raise the child higher and higher in order to keep her out of the water which was not far from his armpits when his foot finally touched the plank incline leading up to the warehouse. There in the light of a lantern were fifty or more men and crying, shrieking women and children. The orange-pick were young men and not easily upset. Moreover, they were ignorant of what had happened and of what might happen on the Mississippi river.

A man by the name of Granger from Jacksonville looked down at a frightened woman on her knees sobbing a prayer and seemingly impressed with some untoward sense of the ludicrous, began to laugh. A box maker from New Orleans who knew the river turned to Granger and said: “Don’t laugh. Prepare to meet your God.”

The only home remaining standing was Pizatti’s and the place of refuge, the warehouse. Fortunately some builder had done his work honestly and well.

The waters round about were strewn with wreckage of houses and with green thorn-picked oranges, but the strangest of all sights was a three-masted schooner standing where but yesterday had been dry land.

The newspapers described the great coast storm of 1893 which swept one island clear of every human being and devastated an area of hundreds of square miles, as a tidal wave. It was said that at Bayou Cook alone, eight hundred lives were lost. In Buras township the loss of life was tremendous.

In an incredibly brief period relief boats came down the river from New Orleans and the survivors were given every possible aid.

These coast storms are not at all frequent, so it seems as if it must have been by interposition of Divine Providence that he who was so interested in adventure should happen to have been present at that particular time.

The writer wishes he had the power to adequately describe this storm that descended so suddenly upon the Lower Mississippi. Although years have elapsed, the suffering and horror of that night still remain in memory.

Times continued to be hard in New Orleans and moreover the avidity of the traveler’s longings had somewhat slackened. But new adventure beckoned.

Back to Old Friends

Paul knew that his old position in Jacksonville was still open to him and that George Clark would be glad to give him territory over which he had never traveled before. The result of such reflection was a return to the post which had proven so satisfactory.

Henceforth, Paul had a second purpose to serve, that of saving up money for future needs. With his two purposes in mind he traveled for George Clark for an entire year, seldom, however, covering the same ground twice, it being understood between the chief and his salesman that the continuation of the engagement depended upon the supply of new territory. It was rather a remarkable arrangement and the profits from sales were not by any means large. When this fact was commented upon by Paul one day, George answered: “I figure that it pays me to keep you on the road even if there are no profits at all. The impression you create in the minds of the trade throughout the South does the business enough good to justify the expense.”

During, the year, Paul covered the Southern States, Cuba, and the Bahama Islands. His visits at the home of the Clarks in Jacksonville were truly high times. The employer and his salesman were the most intimate of chums; in fact, they so enjoyed each other’s companionship that very frequently they sat up until the wee small hours of the morning discussing every manner of business question. How Mrs. Clark ever put up with such interferences to an orderly household is hard to understand, and yet most of the time there were three in the party—George, Gertrude, and Paul! The writer is glad to be able to say that the friendship between the three has never abated; that it is now just as cordial and warm as it was more than thirty years ago.

A Post-Graduate Trip to Europe

As the twelve-months’ period was drawing to a close, Paul notified George of his intended departure. George answered: “Is there no where 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 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 revising arrangements for buying the products of foreign quarries.

He visited Edinburgh. Fourteen years prior thereto, there had been born to John and Annie Thomson, in that classic city, their fifth child, a girl, bonny, bright-eyed Jean. Her mother says that during the course of her very first breakfast, Jean looked up inquiringly in to her mother’s eyes and then settled back as if content. The confidential relationship then and there established has continued through life. Paul was at the time of his visit to Edinburgh of course oblivious to the fact that the future Mrs. Paul was one of “Jock Tamson’s eight bairns”; he was in truth ignorant of the existence of such a family.

The children of John and Annie Thomson were deeply grounded in the religion of Calvin and Knox. It was a rigorous training, one which could not fail to constitute a powerful influence on after life.

The baby Joey rode in the “pram” which was pushed by the parents and by the children in turn. When the distances were great, Mary or another of the younger children was also given a lift in the “pram.” Small wonder that the sight of rolling billows, the sniff of salt air bring tender memories to Jean; that they remind her of the sacred days of childhood spent in the companionship of father, mother, brothers and sisters. The meeting of Jean with Paul will be described later.

The writer could enjoyably consume a great deal of space in the relation of the wonderful months spent in Great Britain, France, Switzerland, Italy, Austria, Germany, Belgium, Holland and of the friends he made.

Mention will be made of two new friends only, Frank Watts of London, who later be came a member of the London Rotary Club, and S. A. McFarland of Carrara, Italy.

Paul was a visitor in the home of the latter and was the recipient of courtesies little to be expected from comparative strangers. He was introduced to many fine English, American, and Italian people residing in the little art center located in the mountains of Northern Italy and he enjoyed many wonderful drives about the country.

How friendly Mr. and Mrs. McFarland were is shown by a little incident which occurred near the end of the visit. The McFarlands knew it to be Paul’s intention to return by the shortest available route. They thought it a great mistake and urged him to continue his travels. Finally, Mr. McFarland said, “Paul, I don’t want to be impertinent but is the lack of money limiting your travels?“ Being thus driven to corner, Paul admitted that he was short of funds. “Well,” said Mr. McFarland, “Mrs. McFarland has been insisting that I ascertain. The point is we don’t want you to go back to America without first seeing Pisa, Leghorn, Rome, Florence, Venice, and Vienna. We don’t care where you go after that. The money will be provided and you can repay us after you get home.” The proffered loan was accepted in a spirit of gratitude and it was repaid in due course.

Before Paul arrived again in New York he had begun to make plans for his future life in Chicago. Three and one-half years of his allotted time had passed, a great three and one-half years. The realization of the need of money took him again to Jacksonville where he joined George Clark in a sub-dividing and building project then on hand.

Six very enjoyable months were spent in the undertaking and once again they came to the parting. George had offered Paul a partnership in his business and every inducement with in his power but Paul was going to Chicago to practice law pursuant to his life’s plan and with the wishes of his first and greatest benefactor, his grandfather, in mind.

George among other things said: “What ever the advantages of settling in Chicago may be, I am satisfied that you will make more money if you remain with me.” To which Paul answered: “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.”

At times George doubted or professed to doubt Paul’s ability to settle down, but he who was most concerned had no fears in that regard; his plans had been made. A few months still remained. Paul knew little of New York and desired to see something of the great eastern metropolis before settling in Chicago. George made one more manifestation of his friendship by recalling his New York manager to Jacksonville and putting Paul in temporary charge.

On the twenty-seventh day of February, 1896, four months before the expiration of his allotted five years, Paul arrived in the city of Chicago prepared to take up his life’s work.

The vision of a world-wide fellowship of business and professional men united in the ideal of service had not yet come; there were experiences of a different nature yet to be had, but a wonderful foundation had been laid; he had seen life in some of its worst as well as in some of its best conditions. It was a far cry from the peace of the idealistic home in the beautiful New England mountains to the turbulence of Whitechapel, London, or to the human maelstrom which burst its bounds on the occasion of the Haymarket riots in Chicago. Is it any wonder that a young man of impressionable mind who had found so much of good in the midst of evil, who had found so much friendliness in places which might have been barren, who had such reason for faith and confidence in business men, was receptive to the idea of a fellowship of business and professional men? Or that once having realized it he was eager to send it out over the trail he had already blazed and on around the world? Rotary was the child of his imagination and he coveted for his child every advantage which he had enjoyed.

Looking Backward

Is there anything to learn from a life such as that herein unfolded? Is there a lesson for fathers or for young men whose experiences are yet to come?

As the writer glances back over the period of nearly a half century, he thinks he can see that many a round-about route might have been advantageously shortened; that the given amount of energy might have produced far better results.

The reader must bear in mind that circumstances deprived Paul of the beneficial influence of his natural guardian, his father. His grandfather did everything which could have been expected of him and more—and yet, he was grandfather, not father. Grandfather was sixty-five years of age and grandmother fifty-four when they began to raise their second family.

It’s a long road from three to sixty-five. Grandparents are prone to be indulgent with their grandchildren and they seldom have the moral force to successfully and continually resist the impetuosity of youth.

Fortunate is that boy whose father is still young enough to be a hero in son’s eyes; unfortunate is he whose father is so far removed in point of years that the father seems of another age.

After many long years of observation, the writer has reached the conclusion that it is almost an invariable rule that children who have the close companionship of their parents render good accounts of themselves in after life. He believes that this holds true regardless of almost every other consideration. It matters not whether they are raised in high life or low life, in poverty or affluence, city or country, with educational privileges or without them; if dad is a pal to son and if mother is the confident of daughter, all will be well.

It will be apparent to all who have read this narrative, that Paul became his own master at an unwarranted age. At the critical period when he needed a kindly but firm hand, he was racing wild and free over the hills and mountains.

Splendid educational advantages were given him but he placed little value upon them. It is natural to appreciate least the advantages most easily gained. If it had been necessary for Paul to earn by the sweat of his brow the money to pay for his education he would have understood the cost and appraised it accordingly.

As matters were, Black River Academy, Vermont Academy, the University of Vermont, Princeton and the University of Iowa were links merely in the long chain of events called life. He needed discipline but he did not receive it. The one thing he did gain was experience; he found it in college and he found it in even more abundant measure in after life. Experience is a slow but certain teacher. Frequently, after men have turned their backs on every other opportunity of gaining wisdom, they gain it through toiling over the stony, tortuous, uphill pathway of experience.

Paul did undoubtedly benefit from adversity. He learned what it meant to be cold, hungry, and sick among strangers; what it meant to depend entirely upon his own resources. He was under no temptation to appeal to his own parents in times of trouble because he had never learned to depend upon them. On the contrary, it had always remained for him to help them in their times of need.

After the hardships encountered on the plains, in the mountains and on the sea, the trials incident to getting a foothold in Chicago seemed less appalling.

One thing was certain: that the five years of knock-about experiences broadened Paul’s vision and gave him a better understanding of men.

Life settled down in earnest during the early spring of 1896. Wanderings were over; the days of romantic speculation had passed; nothing except the prosaic remained and yet as the train from New York pulled into Chicago, into the city which was to be his permanent home, Paul did speculate somewhat on the future. Would he be able to achieve success? What of fifteen years hence? If he should then visit his old home town, would he be considered a success or a failure?

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