CHAPTER XXXIII. I MEET THE INDUSTRIAL CAPTAINS

Elwood, Indiana, was a small village that had been called Duck Creek

Post-Office until the tin mill and other industries began making it into

a city. In my capacity as president of the local union and head of the

wage mill committee, I was put in personal contact with the heads of

these great industrial enterprises. This was my first introduction to

men of large affairs.

I approached them with the inborn thought that they must be some sort of

human monsters. The communist books that Comrade Bannerman had given

me taught me to believe that capitalists had no human feelings like

ordinary mortals. I therefore expected to find the mill-boss as cunning

as the fox and ape combined. I supposed that his word would be worthless

as a pledge and would be given only for the purpose of tricking me. His

manners I expected to be rude; he would shout at me and threaten me,

hoping to take away my courage and send me back to my fellows beaten.

What I found, of course, was a self-possessed man, the model of courtesy

and exactness. He differed from us men in one respect. His mind was

complex instead of simplex. That is, he could think on two sides of a

question at the same time. He had so trained his mind by much use of

it that it was as nimble as the hands of a juggler who can keep

several objects tossing in the air at the same time. We men were clumsy

thinkers, and one thing at a time was all we could handle without

fumbling it.

The great manufacturer never showed any emotion. He was never angry,

domineering, sneering or insulting. He kept these emotions under control

because they could do him no good, and because they would give pain to

others. We fellows never hesitated to show how we felt. We would jibe

one another, laugh at a fellow to his chagrin, and when we were angry

bawl each other out unmercifully. For a fellow to smile when he was

angry and not let the other fellow know it, was a trick we had not

learned. That a bloodthirsty, cruel capitalist should be such a graceful

fellow was a shock to me. I saw from the start that the communist

picture of a capitalist as a bristling, snorting hog was the farthest

thing from the truth. The picture was drawn by malice and not from a

desire to tell the truth.

I learned that when Mr. Reid and his fellows gave their word they never

broke it. It was hard to get a promise from them, but once they made a

promise they always fulfilled it. If they said they would meet us at a

certain hour, they were always there on the minute. They were patient,

firm and reasonable, and they always treated us as their equals.

They always gave us the reasons for the stand they took. At first I

doubted their sincerity, but in the end I learned that the reasons they

cited were the true reasons. At first they thought that they would have

to guard themselves against roguery and double-dealing on the part of the

tin workers. This showed that they had had unpleasant experiences. For,

men who knew their business as well as they did must surely have

had some cause for their suspicion. Baseless suspicion is a trait of

ignorant men, and these men were not ignorant. A burnt child dreads the

fire.

I decided to take them as my models, to learn all their virtues and let

them know that I was as square in my dealings with them as they were

with me. I studied their business as thoroughly as I studied the case of

the men. I soon got from them all the concessions we had demanded

when we called the strike. It was fortunate for us that the strike was

cancelled, for we kept our jobs and in due course got all the things

that we were going to strike for.

In fact, I got so many concessions by dickering with those bosses that I

made life a burden for them at times. I knew the cost of every different

kind of plate the mill put out, and so I could demand a high rate of

wages and support my demands with logic. My midnight studies had not

been in vain. It all came back in cash to the working man; and yet it

was my own pals who had rebuked me for being too bookish. This did not

make me sour. I loved the fellows just the same, and when they showed

their faith in me, it more than paid me back.

But I had learned this general rule: The average working man thinks

mostly of the present. He leaves to students and to capitalists the

safeguarding of his future.