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FIFTY YEARS of CLEVELAND NCO434/46/ FIFTY YEARS o CLEVELAND BY ONE WHO LIVED THE BULK OF THEM IN NEWSPAPER ROW AND SAW THE WHEELS AS THEY WENT MERRILY ROUND AND ROUND TO BUND A GREAT CITY. A BOOK LARGELY ABOUT DAILY NEWS- PAPERS SAID NOW TO BE OUR REAL GOVERNMENT! 1875-10925 By CHARLES E. KENNEDY THE WEIDENTHAL COMPANY CLEVELAND, OHIO Publishers « sew +. . tie v ay pe . SS Sti 3 ea ee Cateye - . -. . « a . . rN { « f C2 ’ owe eed a vee «Ens C2 Sue 0 Sy 300 yl dia se 0 als te * ey EA « sew aig et se 0 yt st sees et" COPYRIGHTED, 1925 BY THE WEIDENTHAL COMPANY CLEVELAND, OHIO Printed in the United States of America CONTENTS CHAPTER ONE - - - - =». PAGE 1 A NEWSPAPER ‘GOVERNMENT" CHAPTER TWO » » =» =. = - =. . PAGE 6 EDWIN COWLES CHAPTER THREE - - - = PAEELTY SOME STIRRING TIMES CHAPTER FOUR - - - » = PAGE 19 SCRIPPS COMES TO TOWN CHAPTER Five - - www PAGE 26 MARK HANNA BUYS THE HERALD CHAPTER SIX - - - ~ PAGE 33 DAYS WITH GARFIELD CHAPTER SEVEN -~- - - - PAGE 39 BIG TOWN MANNERS Carver Plguir - ~~ ~- - - - =. . DPaGE 48 IN THE EIGHTIES CHAPTER NINE - - ~ PAGE 57 DEATH OF THE HERALD I 081135 CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER TEN. et sss os THE FEDERAL PLAN ELEVEN - A MODERN PLAIN DEALER TWELVE. - - - as PLAIN DEALER TALENT THIRTEEN - - - THE DRAMA IN CLEVELAND FOURTEEN - - - STAGE CELEBRITIES FIFTEEN - - - A WOMEN’ S EDITION SIXTEEN - - - A YEAR OUT OF TOWN SEVENTEEN - - wom A CLOSE SHAVE EIGHTEEN - . HONEST JOHN FARLEY NINETEEN - - - CARTOONIST DONAHEY II PAGE 62 PAGE 68 PAGE 74 PAGE 81 PAGE 89 PAGE 96 PAGE 103 PAGE 113 PAGE 119 PAGE 125 CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER TYVENTY - - - A NOVEL TEST TWENTY-ONE - - - A GREAT MAYOR TweNTY-TWO -~- - JOHNSON IN ACTION TWENTY-THREE - = - HER STATESMEN TWENTY-FOUR - - - - STRUGGLING UP TweENTY-FIVE - - - A PEOPLE'S LIBRARY TWENTY-SIX - - - HOLDEN PERSONALITY TWENTY-SEVEN - - - CLOSE TO RICHES TWENTY-EIGHT - - - A SERIOUS SITUATION TwENTY NINE ~~ COURTS OF SYMPATHY III PAGE PAGE PAGE PAGE PAGE PAGE PAGE PAGE PAGE PAGE 132 137 145 154 164 172 179 188 192 197 CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER ToRYY - - = - » ws MEN OF THE PEN THIRTY-ONE - is CASSIE CHADWICK THIRTY-TWO . im . LOCAL MARTYRS THIRTY- THREE - - GETTING A CHANCE THIRTY-FOUR - - REVIVING THE LEADER THIRTY-FIVE . IN GEORGIAN BAY THIRTY-SIX - - QUAINT PERSONALITY THIRTY-SEVEN - - - MEN OF THE CLOTH THIRTY-EIGHT - - SOME CLEVELAND MAGIC THIRTY-NINE - - COMES THE “TIMES” Iv PAGE PAGE PAGE PAGE PAGE PAGE PAGE PAGE PAGE PAGE 202 209 216 221 226 235 246 254 262 269 CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER CHAPTER PoRTY - ~ + un ais IN SOCIETY FORTY-ONE - - - - POLITICAL BUSINESS Forty-Two - - - - “LEST WE FORGET" FORTY-THREE - - - CITY GOLD MINING FortYy-Four .- - - MAKING ART PRACTICAL ForTY-FIve - - - - CLEVELAND WOMEN ForTY-SIX - - IN LITERARY FIELDS FORTY-SEVEN - - - A “TUNEFUL TOWN" ForTY-EIGHT “iw - HELPS TO GREATNESS FORTY-NINE - - - J? CLEVELAND IN 1925 FiFrty - - - - ONLY A HALF TRUTH Vv PAGE PAGE PAGE PAGE PAGE PAGE PAGE PAGE PAGE PAsE PAGE 274 280 285 29] 298 305 315 324 335 341 348 CHAPTER ONE A NEWSPAPER “GOVERNMENT” Are We Living Under One, And What Do People Know About Their Self Appointed Rulers? Cleveland in 1925. Cleveland of the twenty story sky- scraper, fifth of American cities in population and the first in many things contributing to community welfare, in homing, education, clean living. Cleveland always loyal to the finer ideals, and progressive. Cleveland the hive of a million restless human units! Cleveland in 1875. Cleveland of fifty years ago, a town having much less population than the Akron of today. A Cleveland that knew nothing of high level bridges, electric cars, telephones, apartment houses, the phonograph, the radio, the automobile, moving pictures or the flying machine! This narrative is the development of a personal desire to recall and publish some local facts and conditions which, interesting to me, may in a degree interest Clevelanders of two generations. It contains no advertising, open or dis- guised. No lawyer, doctor, merchant, manufacturer or other doer or maker of useful things has paid for a fulsome “sketch” in these pages, thus differentiating it from the so called city histories. In most instances I have known quite intimately the people I write about, and I have not hesitated to point out weaknesses as well as strength in the characters of many who stamped their individuality upon this community during those fifty years. No Clevelander I ever knew was thoroughly angelic, unless perhaps we may make an exception of good old “Father” Addison, who himself poor, founded the fi) "FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND Fresh Air Camp for poor children. When it comes to pet- sonality most history is flattery and therefore inaccurate. There is no attempt at chronological sequence in these chapters. It amounts to little whether Charlie Brush invented the arc lamp in 1878 or a year or two earlier, or whether Myron Herrick, a country boy, carried his own valise up from the union depot in 1874 or later. The big point is that the world got the electric lighting and it got Myron! Of necessity I must inject my personal doings i into the general scheme, otherwise this would not be an “autobiography,” a word that if presumptuous to say the least sounds convincing. Nor am I offering apologies for devoting so large a portion of the book to newspapers. Somebody, perhaps a soured politician, perhaps a wise observer, has said that America today is governed by newspapers. If that is true then news- paper readers are entitled to know more about them—who are responsible for the things well or illy done in this paper and ink government—how newspapers are managed, and motives leading to ownership. Personally I believe the observation is overstretched. Having lived most of the years of my life in ‘newspaper row’ '—the last word to be pronounced as if rhymed with “crow” not “cow,” although much quarreling has been done there—I have always realized that newspapers are themselves governed by a power most potent and which they cater to and fear, the thing known as public “good will.” The newspaper man has from the nature of his calling opportunities to come into close touch with all human activities, and to know sometimes of inside conditions affect- ing the people in mass. A vast amount of such knowledge he never puts into print, else there would be much more bitter criticism of newspapers than actually exists. The value of an editor in whatever capacity depends upon his judgment [2] A NEWSPAPER “GOVERNMENT” of what not to publish. This rule, however, may not necessarily be applied to an ‘“‘autobiographer.” If you will accept the testimony of one who knows the inside of the newspaper offices, having held from time to time almost every job in both editorial and business depart- ments, the press of America is very sound of heart. For the most part it is inherently honest. The few exceptions have been financial failures. The expressions sometimes heard, “I wonder what the ———— got for printing that article,” or “The ———— must have been paid well for supporting Jones for office” have no foundation. Fortunately the great majority of newspaper readers recognize this truth. A newspaper must eventually depend for its existence upon the cash it takes in, which may explain why the adver- tiser is so adroitly courted by many enticements in the news columns—electrical news pages for those who buy electrical devices—food news pages for those who advertise to feed us—radio news for those who want to sell us noise through the ether by consonated key words—columns of Hollywood chatter for those advertising movie shows. This is legitimate, providing the publishers leave enough space in their papers to print all the important news of the day. But do not for a moment imagine the editorial pages are influenced by any sort of men who pour advertising money into the cash drawer. You will notice that the big display advertisements of candidates for office are carefully labeled “political advertising.” This is because the editor has a morbid fear that his readers may suspect an attempt to influence him. The business manager wants that advertising, and the men up in the editorial room wish he would refuse it. Besides recognizing honesty the public admires frankness and independence in newspapers. They know that the editor who is constantly trimming his sails is more of a nuisance [3] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND and menace than one who, honest in his convictions, becomes persistently noisy in his propaganda. The narrow minded opportunist in newspaper control if surrounded by a staff of intelligent workmen may slide smoothly over the bumps, but he is never respected by the keen among his readers or taken very seriously by any of them. In not one instance has a really influential newspaper been built by a timid, unimaginative man who turns and twists in his policies, fearing circulation and advertising loss in every passing shadow. Are newspapers clean? All of them? Not always, but even the sooty and soiled, newcomers into newspaper fields seeking circulation quickly by over sensation have in time experienced a change of heart, becoming less indifferent to the dictates of good taste. Just as newspaper editors have no hesitancy in writing and speculating about people their minds may light upon so I shall not scrimp in telling newspaper readers a lot about newspaper men I have known. And I shall not draw upon my imagination to supply the voids of fact. Which inci- dentally reminds me that when Fred Kohler was elected mayor two of the local newspapers in commenting on the erroneous supposition I was slated for membership in his cabinet said I was a “‘personal friend” of his. This was beside the truth. I knew Kohler as, when in newspaper har- ness, I knew a thousand other aspirants for local fame, but never met him other than in the most casual way. I make this correction to relieve Fred from any embarrassment this alleged social combination may have caused him. It has been said that turn about is fair play. And here, as hinted above, is where quite a number of Cleveland news- paper men, modest and retiring in disposition, will, if they see this book at all, find themselves in something of the lime- [4] A NEWSPAPER ‘‘GOVERNMENT” light they enjoy preparing for others. With most of them my relations have been such as to make it a joy that my lot was cast in Cleveland. Another class closely identified with the newspapers has always had my admiration and esteem. I refer to men occupy- ing positions of usefulness, trust and honor in the world who at one time or another were Cleveland newsboys or paper carriers. It is astonishing how many business and pro- fessional men one meets have risen from such humble beginnings. Only a few of the thousands in this city can be mentioned in these chapters. As before intimated this contribution of mine is in no sense to be considered a city history. Publications of that kind usually are expensive productions and out of the reach of people of moderate means. One, a three volume set entitled “Cleveland and Environs,”” was published in 1918 and edited by our own Elroy M. Avery Ph.D. The work is of course written in refined English, for Dr. Avery is a past master in the elegancies of language. This I know because of the communications he used to make to L. E. Holden, owner of the Plain Dealer, when I was its manager, calling attention to that newspaper's splitting of infinitives! It is hoped Avery will not see this humble effort of mine, for I am sure he would find enough of that sort of error to throw him into linguistic spasms! With which warning let us proceed with the story. [sl] CHAPTER Two EDWIN COWLES A Forceful Old Time Leader Editor In Whose Office I Was Given A Chance In the fall of 1876 James H. Kennedy, an elder brother, then city editor of the Cleveland Leader, got for me a situation as clerk in the business office of that newspaper. My job was no sinecure, entailing office hours from 4 to 7 o'clock mornings, from 1 to 5 o'clock afternoons and from 6 to 10 o'clock evenings, the highly profiteering salary attaching thereto being for the first year $8 per week. One dark morning as I was busily counting out copies of the Leader to the carrier boys I noticed that one end of the mailing room was stacked full of sealed mail bags, and with boyish curiosity I asked Robert F. Schade, the mailing clerk, what the big edition was all about. “Oh, those are O. A. U. pamphlets and going all over the country,” Bob explained. - “Mr. Cowles is the head of - that order, you know.” But I didn’t know, and Schade informed me that the organization was a secret one going under the title of The Order of the American Union, the chief mission of which was the prevention of public office holding by members of the Roman Catholic Church. Of course readers of the Leader of that period were almost daily reminded in its columns of the intense feeling of Edwin Cowles, its editor and founder, against the Catholic church as an institution, but up to 1877 little was known publicly of this national organization of which he was the front. [6] EDWIN COWLES It died out some years before the A. P. A., working along similar lines, came into existence. While it thrived the O. A. U. played quite a big part in politics, especially here in Cleveland, where, in the spring of 1877, the entire Republican local ticket, most of them members of the order, and led by William G. Rose, the candidate for mayor, was elected. This ticket was framed up in Cowles’ private office in the rear of the Leader's business office, and as night clerk out in front my slumbers of evenings were often disturbed by the loud discussions of those local patriots; therefore I speak with authority of this bit of political history. At this time the “war” between Cowles of the Leader and the Catholic interests in Cleveland, presided over by that fine old ecclesiastic and citizen, Bishop Richard R. Gilmour, was very lurid and uncompromising. The Catholic Universe, local organ of the church, issued but once a week and was thus at a disadvantage. But when the Universe went to press Uncle Edwin felt the detonation of its heavy editorial guns for days to follow! No one who was close to Edwin Cowles ever doubted the sincerity of the man in his attacks upon the Catholic church. To his intense and somewhat single track mind its rapid growth in the United States and its alleged domination of the Democratic party seemed a frightful menace, possibly entailing ultimate return to the days of the Inquisition, the removal of the vatican to these shores, and a swallowing of the state by the church in one large future gulp! Into the editorial page of the Leader he poured the same vitriolic quality of denunciation he had formerly and more effectively aimed at Negro slavery, for Cowles was one of the most able and fearless of the early abolitionists, and [7] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND played no small part in the formation of the Republican party. His fight, however, was against an organization not individuals. His newspaper fought openly. To have hidden his opposition behind the “hood and sheet” as is the method of today would have appealed to him as rank cowardice. During the four years I was then connected with the Leader, latterly in the capacity of news reporter, I witnessed many evidences of his kindness to various employes who were of the Catholic faith. The driver of his family carriage swore by ‘Mister Cow-les’”” whose name he divided and invariably accented upon the first syllable. I recall one evening when Cowles came out of his “sanctum” followed by this coachman and asked me for a ten dollar bill from the cash drawer to be charged to his personal account. “The Saints bless ye, Misther Cow-les,”” said old John as he pocketed the money. “This will come dom handy with the sick in me house!” Under no circumstances were writers for the news columns expected to assist in the Leader's war on the church. All the fireworks were reserved to Cowles and his editorial page, where sometimes in imperfect grammar, but always with blood drawing force, he hammered at the Pope and all his works. In reply to some unusually venomous assault on the church by the Leader there would come a return volley from Manly Tello, the fiery black eyed little editor of the Universe, so molten in its strictures upon Cowles the latter could only find relief by starting to write a heated reply. That Cowles during the more intense period of his warfare had a suspicion that some weak minded person might in resentment try to do him bodily harm was brought force- fully to me one day when I was engaged in passing out the Evening News to the carriers. Pistol shots began ringing merrily in the engine room nearby, and stepping to the door [8] EDWIN COWLES I saw Cowles banging away at a piece of board hanging on the brick wall. As a picturesque figure the proverbial French duelist had, as the saying goes, nothing on our editor, who, in long frock coat, danced about pulling a revolver deftly from his hip pocket and chuckling with self approval as the bullets sped into a pineknot. This target practice lasted several days, and the concensus of opinion in the office was that Cowles, who had received many threatening letters from anonymous and irresponsible sources was getting ready for a possible night attack. Usually. he walked alone after midnight to his house at the corner of Superior and old Erie street, but he always carried his revolver. Not that there was a cowardly hair in the massive head of this old time editor! Far from it. Old Leader employes well remember a cane of twisted wire that hung over two nails above his desk. It was bent half double, and preserved as a war trophy. A certain street commissioner embittered by Leader criticism dropped into the office one day to administer corrective chastisement upon its editor, who was so much at home to callers, his visitor hurriedly departed to find a surgeon. There were traditions of other affairs of the kind during Cowles’ rather turbulent newspaper career, with never any disastrous effects upon his person. Edwin Cowles brought to Cleveland the first perfecting printing press—a machine printing both sides of the sheet simultaneously and in the same operation delivering the papers folded. This was a mighty step in local newspaper- dom. Cowles had visited the Centennial at Philadelphia and seeing one of these innovations in operation stunned his efficient but more financially cautious business manager by ordering one for the Leader. I recall his visit to the circulation rooms, where he confided to me he was going to have a press that would fling out folded newspapers faster than I could [9] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND count them out to the boys. When in 1877 this little Campbell press was set up it was the talk of the town. Like many men of his outward showing of abruptness, which at times assumed a form of belligerence, Edwin Cowles was inwardly tender of heart. His kindness to those in his employ was very marked. Anybody who challenged the honest intention of those who assisted him in writing the paper was quickly placed in the chair of the defendant rather than of the plaintiff. Newspaper men will understand what I mean by this. Unlike many other newspaper owners Cowles was not to be shifted from a course by the expediency of the moment. He was unafraid. His newspaper was unfettered. His one great mastering and moving impulse was the ‘Grand Old Party,” loyalty to which was at times bad medicine for his newspaper property, but a loyalty grounded in absolute con- fidence and belief. His other conspicuous mistake, an unmerciful war upon a particular kind of religion, no doubt had something to do with the ultimate decline of his newspaper, for it was persisted in long after our people were awakening to a better understanding and toleration of religious views. His was a narrower age. I have sometimes tried to imagine the surprise of certain Clevelanders of those days were they permitted to return long enough to witness a community chest drive participated in by Jew, Catholic, Protestant—and my fellow Unitarians—and the unbelievers within our gates! [10] CHAPTER THREE SOME STIRRING TIMES In Which The Cleveland Leader Had A Part And Twice Was Under Menace Intensely partisan in politics, it was natural that Edwin Cowles and his newspaper played a conspicuous part in the great political drama in which Samuel J. Tilden was turned away from the White House. Employing a favorite newspaper expression the Cleveland Public Square ‘‘seethed and boiled”’ during the presidential campaign of 1876, when the down town streets were nightly illuminated with the torches of marching patriots of both the leading parties, and many notables from other states spoke of the merits of Rutherford B. Hayes and Samuel J. Tilden, the opposing candidates. My arms ached on that drear November morning when I counted out to the newsboys extra editions of the Leader on the front page of which, in letters black as the mental gloom of its editor, was announced the election of Tilden. But that ache was trivial when contrasted with the aching hearts of the local Republican leaders, who, for the first time in the history of their party were feeling the pangs of defeat in a presidential election. There followed a day of wild excitement. The Leader, always so politically hidebound and positive of success, had actually, and editorially, con- ceded the election of the Democratic candidate! Big crowds of wildly delirious Democrats were celebrating their victory by visits of congratulation to the Plain Dealer office on Seneca street and of derision to the Herald on Bank j11] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND street and the Leader on lower Superior, both Republican organs. “And the evening and the morning was the second day’’—another day indeed in the hopes and spirits of our happy local Democracy! How Senator Zach Chandler and his fellow Republicans in Washington got busy to reverse the situation is known to every school boy who has been properly educated in the primer of politics. The Cleveland Leader, in common with all the dependable and influential newspapers of the Republican faith, was wired to hold fast and make no concessions. It was claimed by the leaders in Washington that the vote was too close for immediate decision—that in all probability it would be necessary to have a recount in some of the southern states. So, on the morning of the second day the Leader's pages bristled with doubt. Among my complicated duties at the Leader was to keep open the business office evenings. This office was a small affair having one door and large window opening upon Superior street. During the exciting nights of doubt incident to the political manipulation at the seat of government this window was frequently bulletined with news of the moves making, and always the street was jammed with excited men, mostly Democrats, who howled their disgust at every bulletin showing strength for the Republican candidate. At night a half dozen uniformed policemen kept the mob—for at times it was almost that—at a reasonable distance from the window. The remarks from without some- times addressed to me, unwilling, youthful and lonely holder of the Leader fort, were seldom complimentary to me or my ancestors. I remember that on the first night of doubt the crowd turned musical and enlivened the waiting throngs with impromptu verses, sung to the tune of “John Brown's Body” and running like this: [12] SOME STIRRING TIMES “We'll hang Ed Cowles to a sour apple tree We'll hang Ed Cowles to a sour apple tree We'll hang Ed Cowles to a sour apple tree When Sam Tilden goes marchin’ in!” You see, the element of Cleveland Democracy the Leader has usually referred to as the ‘unwashed’ was having its innings. And these Democrats were especially incensed because, having at first conceded the election of Tilden, the Leader was exasperatingly prompt in claiming victory for Hayes, with as yet no really tangible proof in sight. After suspension of the window bulletins and when crowds no longer lingered near the office at night, I was told by a police lieutenant that on at least two occasions the police had dispersed groups of men who, around the corner on Water street, had selected leaders and planned a rush at the Leader building, which would have meant the demolishing of that window and the deviling news bulletined therein! One thing not entirely reassuring I had noticed all that exciting week. Editor Cowles and his valued staff came nightly into the office by way of quiet Long street, never by the Superior street stairway. Therefore, out there in the front alone with two or three thousand of the “enemy” I was forced for once in my life to pose as a hero! There comes to my mind the winter night when occurred that most terrible and pitiful disaster in Ohio history, the plunging of a passenger train on the Lake Shore and Mich- igan Southern railway through a bridge at Ashtabula. How humanly natural it is to call up acts trivial in themselves, yet within one’s personal experience, remembered as a part of things important. Again I was alone in the Leader office, busily entering up the few “want” advertisements for the leading ‘want’ page [13] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND of that more remote day in Cleveland journalism. The night was bitter cold, with scarce a passerby in the streets, as my brother, hurrying down from the editorial rooms, asked if I had any bills in the cash drawer. “The bank is further up street,” I ventured weakly to joke. “You might call there tomorrow morning.” “This is no time to get funny!” he exclaimed, and then he told me of a telegram just received upstairs from the station agent in Ashtabula. “They are making up a relief train down at the depot and I am going out on it,” he added. And as it transpired when the train reached the town he was the first newspaper man to arrive at the bridge, where by that time the scene had turned into a burning hell. Of the persons, many of much prominence, who suffered death in that modern holocaust, of the scenes that made of the Ashtabula accident one of the most heartrending in railroad history there need be no detailed record here. Per- sonally I saw none of it, beyond being one of the thousands of Clevelanders whose curiosity and sympathy drew them to an abandoned store on Bank street where for many days afterward were housed scores of partly burned bodies in the hope of identification. One of my first assignments after realization of an ambi- tion to become a reporter on the Leader staff was to assist in writing of the dedication of the new Superior street viaduct connecting the two sides of the Cuyahoga river. Not long ago when Cleveland's supposedly last real mayor, with more regard for public safety than for sentiment, closed this worn old bridge there was much amusement over its passage into oblivion. But the old viaduct was Cleveland's first really big improvement in the movement towards ways metropolitan. Before it was built the west side was reached by street cars [14] SOME STIRRING TIMES winding down South Water street hill, over a small bridge near the river's surface and around to Detroit street hill. Thus practically a half day was spent by the man whose business carried him from one side of the river to the other. Street car service was indeed primitive fifty years ago. Most of the east side lines turned their cars just west of Bank street in front of the Leader office, and the schedule outside rush hours permitted a wait of fifteen minutes at the turn- tables! It was a part of our daily diversion in the Leader office to envy those old horses sleeping peacefully in Cleve- land’s busiest retail district. From Woodland avenue and Garden street came one-horse cars, and from East Cleveland, of which 105th street at Euclid avenue was then the center, came jangling the only cars pulled by a full team. I chanced to live for awhile near the eastern terminal of the Woodland line, and it was the rule rather than the exception for all the able-bodied male passengers to get out and assist in lifting the car to the tracks from which it plunged sometimes a half dozen times on a single downtown trip. The fare was six cents, with the privilege of working one’s passage, so amply repaid by the smiles of the more privileged women riders. Those were the days when the man who failed to give up his seat in a street car even to a young woman was no longer welcome in polite society. When we went out to East Cleveland we paid five cents to get to Willson avenue (now East 55th street) and an additional nickel to achieve the entire trip. But being on Euclid avenue, and residents of that aristocratic thoroughfare then bossing local politics, the tracks were much better kept, thus depriving us of the lifting exercises. An incident occurring along in these late Seventies while I was a boy in the Leader office, and which was to lead to [15] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND world-wide recognition for a Cleveland inventor, was the completion of the arc light. Charles F. Brush, a native of a nearby town, began his experiments in a building on Ontario street a little north of Public Square. My introduc- tion to the fruits of his wizardry was on a certain evening while walking with a friend across the Square and observing a brilliant light coming across our path from the north. My friend remarked that he had heard that a young fellow named Brush was experimenting with a newfangled lamp run from a galvanic battery! Aside from stumbling through gloomy Public Square, where later on a futile attempt at street lighting from tall masts topped by Brush electric lamps was made and aban- doned, I had a couple of experiences growing from this valuable discovery. The first was when I was sent by my city editor to the Morgan Lithograph establishment on Ontario street to see a press room brilliantly lighted by the Brush lamps, and to write an item for the Leader, in which was detailed the phenomenon of successful color printing by artificial light. As I recall the incident, the jubilant Mr. Morgan told me that before this invention it had been impossible to get satisfactory color printing effects after dark. The second experience was listening to a mournful wail some years later from one John Sitterly, who at that time conducted a small restaurant where newspaper men drank strong coffee in the early morning hours. Said John to me one night, “I've just been figuring out how much money I lost by not closing a deal with young Charlie Brush. His company has I see recapitalized for $7,000,000. When he was poor like myself he ran up an account with me for meals, and I could have had enough stock for that in his original company to have netted me $30,000 today.” Sitterly was not alone in his regret and disappointment. [16] SOME STIRRING TIMES Joined with a small telegraph supply business of ten thou- sand dollars capital owned and managed by George W. Stockley in the old Leader building, the Brush interests grew in a few years to be one of the country’s great industrial successes. It was in 1879 that Dwight L. Moody and Ira D. Sankey conducted revival meetings in the old Doan tabernacle on Ontario street, which the city editor assigned me to cover. These notable men were at the height of their fame in evan- gelical circles, and for the entire week the tabernacle was crowded to its doors. The original Chautauqua in western New York was also at that period coming into national prominence. The interest was so great that sessions of many of the larger circles in Cleveland were reported in the daily newspapers. This led to the papers having special cor- respondents on the grounds in New York during the summer sessions. For two weeks in 1879 I was under sentence in a tent there with correspondents from Pittsburgh, Buffalo and other cities, and the Leader considered the news important enough to print two columns of the proceedings daily! Think of that, you news condensers of this jazzing genera- tion! One additional anecdote of the Leader's days of unrest must bring this chapter to a close. It did not come under my observation, but I was given the facts later. One night, after Frank H. Mason, the managing editor, and John C. Covert, assistant editorial writer, had gone home, Mr Cowles came into my brother's office with the manuscript of an editorial he had been writing. It was during the progress of the great railway strike of 1877. “How does this strike you, Kennedy?” asked the editor, as he began to read his copy aloud. It was a ferocious attack upon the railroad unions, written with the sledge hammer force Cowles knew so well how to employ. [17] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND Asked his opinion, Kennedy gave it to him straight. ‘Mr. Cowles, I think that would be a very dangerous editorial to publish at this time,” he said. “Dangerous? Dangerous? What do you mean?’’ demanded Cowles with heat. “Simply what I say,” replied the other. “Mr. Cowles, I had a talk today with the chief of police. He told me that labor in Cleveland is worked up to so high a pitch that it is going to be difficult for the cooler heads in its ranks to restrain men from acts of violence. And he told me further, Mr. Cowles, that on account of the Leader's uncompromis- ing attitude this office would probably be the first point of attack upon property should outbreaks occur here as in Pittsburgh.” This statement writhed the spirit of fighting old Edwin Cowles, who never quailed in his onslaughts upon condi- tions he thought antagonistic to public morals. He said nothing further, but lingering in his chair and lighting a cigar, as was his habit when thinking deeply, fell to exam- ining minutely the cracks in the old office flooring. A waste paper basket stood near by, and Kennedy working at his desk noticed that after some minutes the editor let his eyes rest thereon. Slowly tearing up the manuscript of the editorial he began throwing it in small wads at the basket. Then picking up his cane he started for the door. “Well, good night, Kennedy,” he called back. “I hope your liver will be all right again in the morning,’ and laughing at his joke he strode heavily down the stairs. Advice from sincere sources was always listened to with patience by this hard headed old abolitionist, though seldom asked for. [18] CHAPTER FOUR SCRIPPS COMES TO TOWN And Taking Advantage Of Local Newspaper Inaction Starts A Live One Called “The Penny Press” In the fall of 1878 two young men from Detroit dropped quietly into Cleveland and began the publication of a daily newspaper called The Penny Press. Imagine a sheet of paper about the size and shape of a scant picnic napkin, folded in the center to make four surfaces, the first page adorned with a crude heading—of such outwardly was the first issue of the Penny Press, the undersized and homely brat that climbed over the fence to disturb the solemnity of Cleveland's well clothed and self sufficient newspapers. Edward W. Scripps, its editor, and John S. Sweeney, business manager, had left behind them some newspaper experience in Detroit, where James E. Scripps, an elder brother of the former, had established the successful Evening News of that city. “Ed”, a strapping young sixfooter whose stride along Superior street under a big gray felt hat has always coupled him in my memory with Buffalo Bill, was, like most self-effacing, modest men, on occasion full of fight, as his editorial course in Cleveland soon demon- strated. His partner, Sweeney, furnished from the start a non-come-off smile captivating to advertisers and all con- cerned. These ‘‘hall room boys” knuckled down to real hard pan in the small office adjoining the Theater Comique on old Frankfort street just west of Bank street, allowing each other only enough immediate cash money to pay board and laun- dry bills. Only limitations of the calendar prevented them working more than twenty-four hours a day. [19] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND ; Chis newspaper molestation came along at a time when I was still clerking in the Leader office. One of my duties was to count out and sell all three editions of the Evening News, the Leader's afternoon paper, a two cent production and the only Cleveland newspaper selling for less than five cents a copy. Well do I remember the com- placency of the men operating the newspapers of that day over the advent of the little Scripps sheet. They considered it a joke. For several weeks after the first issue of the Penny Press it was my job to preserve each day a copy of it for Editor Cowles, and when he came to the office in the evening it was the first thing on his mind. In those days he was patronizing enough to call me “Bub”, and I can now see him storming into the business office—though a heavy man he invariably walked with the energy and decision of a trained athlete— and demanding ‘‘that little penny paper.” Then seating himself at a low desk back of the office railing and toiling laboriously with the stub of a lead pencil he would, at first joyously and to himself convincingly pro- ceed by an arithmetic of his own to locate the date when the detested Scripps sheet would be obliged to give up the ghost! Occasionally I would hear him chuckle, for contrary to general belief Edwin Cowles had a sense of humor. After carefully figuring the probable income of the Penny Press for that particular day and the cost of its production the old gentleman would estimate life for it extending into the future a matter of two months. This he later stretched to five or six months, and when a full year rolled round and the infernal little nuisance in Frankfort alley kept on making a daily appearance and cutting deeper into the circulation of his Evening News he was not again heard to predict the date of its removal to the newspaper graveyard. [20] SCRIPPS COMES TO TOWN Yet the success of the Cleveland Press, the name it was known by after many enlargements and improvements, was most natural and inevitable. Its young editor had the sagac- ity to recognize the truth in the observation of Lincoln that God must have loved the plain people, otherwise He wouldn't have made so many of them. It has always been very popular in some quarters to damn the Cleveland Press for its so-called coddling of the working man as exemplified by the trade unions. For my part I have recognized very deep insight on the part of E. W. Scripps in relation to social conditions and ameliorations. Before his arrival in Cleveland the established newspapers were a unit in kowtowing to the powers of wealth and political dictation, a stupidity of policy which in some cases led to loss of influence and afterwards failure. A great change was to be wrought. Scripps was wise enought to sense it. One has but to review the course of our Federal government during the world war to note the change of attitude towards organized labor. Indeed, we need go no further than Cleveland to understand the great social improvement, the insurance of public tranquility brought about by the railroad organiza- tions of labor. Why not be fair in these matters? If Cowles in his Leader was unselfish in his fight to free the slaves of color, why should we not recognize unselfishness in those who did something to create a better working condition for folks of all colors? Early in its career the Cleveland Press made a big find in Robert F. Paine, a local youth who in time became its editor. “Bob” was badly bitten by the newspaper bug when still a boy. If I am not mistaken, his father, Judge R. F. Paine, wanted Robert to follow in his own footsteps by qualifying for the legal profession. But “Bob” knew instinctively where his real bent lay. For a short time Major Armstrong [21] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND let him do reporting on the old Plain Dealer, but for Robert Paine that was rather slow and placid work, and a true measure of his brilliant and independent newspaper gifts was had only after his connection with the Penny Press. Harry N. Rickey was lieutenant to Paine long enough to imbibe much of the latter's gifts of newspaper conduct, but Harry had brilliancies all his own, as was demonstrated after he gained Paine’s desk as chief editor. Harry took long chances in news gathering and seldom had an important beat scored against him. He was a natural news correspond- ent, liking and doing nothing better than going in search of news of countrywide interest. Thus the Press gained a reputation more cosmopolitan in character than it ever had before. Another who made notably good in the editor’s chair of the Cleveland Press was Earle E. Martin, fresh from the Indiana literary belt. Martin possessed more of that mystical thing called idealism than all the other Press editors bunched—but he never let it interfere too much with the still earlier newspaper ideals of the paper's founder. Martin had a natural bent for finding the unusual, the unique, in news lines. This may explain why later he was at the head of the Newspaper Enterprise Association, which, owned by Scripps, gathers what many of us think are the most read- able things you find in the Press. Early this winter Earle Martin was recalled to Press editorship, and the enlivenment of the paper's contents became very marked. This was espe- cially noticeable in the increase of local news features. Another Press man whose work here over a long period of years has done a great deal to stir up the animals and madden the politicians is John W. Raper—‘Jack’” Raper— who conducts the department “Most Anything.” Raper [22] SCRIPPS COMES TO TOWN can sting a public ‘personage’ in more places at once with fewer words than any other newspaper writer on the con- tinent. I presume he excuses it on the ground that it is for the victim’s and the public's good. He is much more than a humorist. Raper is a philosopher and satirist who com- bines wit with humor. Think that over. We have had various kinds of humorists on the Cleveland newspapers since the days of Artemus Ward, but none with all the qualities possessed by Jack Raper. There is a point to every paragraph he writes, some perhaps sharpened too fine, hurt- ing without adequate compensation, yet always a keen and telling point. Two well known Clevelanders who were dependable cogs in the Press machinery, having had considerable to do with the success of the paper in its early days, are Charles J. Seabrook and J. J. (Jack) Lynch, the former for many years its advertising manager and the latter in charge of circulation and still assistant business manager. W. H. Roberts later was advertising manager of the Press, going from there to the business management of the Cleveland World. It was the Press that gave Cleveland its first cartoonist in the person of Charles Nelan, who died when his work was at its zenith of national appreciation. In many ways of betterment in the gathering and condensation of news the Press became an example for the other local newspapers. When prosperity permitted its management was quick to recognize that good pay for the services of competent and loyal employes was not only a pleasant but profitable policy to follow. And this too had its effect in the other offices. Before leaving the subject of the Cleveland Press I want to mention the spirit of E. W. Scripps in newspaper rivalry. There was nothing petty in his attitude toward competing newspapers. In this respect he greatly resembled Joseph [23] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND Pulitzer, a man who, believing in his own powers of con- struction, always went ahead with his newspaper plans utterly regardless of competition. When in the early Nineties I became manager of the Plain Dealer under the ownership of L. E. Holden it was, in a manner of speaking, a football for the other and more pros- perous newspapers. That its supineness probably deserved ill treatment did not lessen the discomfort of employes. Holden had warned them that the paper must never “descend” to arguments with its local competitors. Perhaps not quite so high minded in matters of that kind, and anyway in a better position to know how meekness hurt, I did not hesitate to resent competitive attacks. Seeing one day an item in the Plain Dealer about the arrest of a boy for stealing copies of the paper from doorsteps, Editor Paine printed in the Press an editorial paragraph something like this: “The one subscriber to the Plain Dealer missed his copy from his front yard yesterday.” Funny enough on Bob's part, and rather a trivial matter to make a fuss about, but a newspaper storm had been brewing for some time. Holden, if I remember aright, was out west at the moment; anyway, I got busy that evening and the fol- lowing morning the Plain Dealer's first page bristled with “Press news.”” I sought to outdo Paine’s spirit of newspaper humor. In a two column article based largely upon imagination the Plain Dealer charged the Press with almost every news- paper crime in the code. The merchants who advertised in the Press were asked to step around the corner and watch the Press delivery carts collecting unsold copies of that enter- prising sheet. The fact that “‘returns’’ were not counted as actual circulation made no difference in my ‘‘story’’, which was continued five or six days, under large headlines. In it was described an ‘‘advertising school” recently inaugurated [24] SCRIPPS COMES TO TOWN in the Press office by Will Kellogg, now a wealthy publisher in California, but then the hardest working advertising man- ager Cleveland had up to that time known. Advertisers were warned to take precautionary measures against the next batch of graduates from the school who would be sent out to worry and heckle them. One result of this departure from Mr. Holden's newspaper ethics was a friendly call I received from Proprietor Scripps a few weeks later when he came here from his new California ranch on a business visit. “Hello, Kennedy,” he said with much cordiality. “I think I enjoyed those stories about the Press more than the boys in the office. You certainly called them down hard! I've always told them it is foolish to get into newspaper rows. You won't have any mote trouble from that source.” Before leaving, Scripps complimented the Plain Dealer upon its plan of building up a morning instead of an eve- ning circulation, saying, and with truth, “You are working along the lines of least resistance.” [25] CHAPTER FIVE MARK HANNA BUYS THE HERALD As Its City Editor I Meet Some Celebrities, Including Two Famous Johns The Herald, Cleveland's first newspaper, established in 1819, was, until the early Sixties, the dominant news- paper of Northern Ohio, falling into second place through the death of its editor, George A. Benedict, and the aggres- siveness of Edwin Cowles, whose daily Leader had become the organ of the Abolitionists so numerous and vigilant in this section of the state. The Herald also was Republican in politics, but much more independent and fair in its dealings with party ques- ~~ tions than the Leader, which, under the direction of Cowles, rated most Democrats as traitors and canonized even the least worthy of the Republican leaders of that period. The rivalry between these two newspapers, both issuing morning and evening editions, was bitter to an extreme, and the Herald after several years of mediocre management was in 1880 bought by a group of local business men headed ~_ by Marcus A. Hanna, who, as its president and principal owner, ordered things politically in that office for five years thereafter. The Leader, with some degree of truth, characterized the freshly invigorated Herald as the organ of the Union Club, for it was patent that the street railroads and other capital- ized interests in which Hanna was involved never got the worst of it in the Herald columns. Yet throughout the entire Hanna regime labor in no other —_ Cleveland newspaper received fairer treatment. This I per- [26] MARK HANNA BUYS THE HERALD sonally know to be true, for two months after Hanna got control of the paper I was one of the several who went over from the Leader to the Herald office at a fifty per cent increase in salary. This proved to be quite a boost for the boys in other newspaper offices, for it provoked a new and much more equitable alignment in pay to staff men. For me the change to the Herald office meant considerable more than increased salary, for I was promoted to the desk of city editor, in which capacity I had a chance to come into contact with many celebrities of that time, one of whose hand shake I have never forgotten! Readers of my Cleve- land experiences have been warned that these reminiscences have no sequence or set ‘‘plot’”’ of action, so here is as good a time as any to tell of meeting one of America’s coming stars. One evening the door of my office was opened by a rather cold faced individual who, followed by a tall youth, walked to my desk and announced that he was manager of John L. Sullivan, and that they were on the way south to let John battle with the current champion, one Paddy Ryan. “This is John,” he said, taking the husky youth by the shoulder,. “Just feel them muscles!” By this time several members of the staff had gathered around the visitors, and young John with a blush of embar- rassment drew the sleeve of his shirt up to the shoulder and bending his elbow forced in view a bunch of human whip cord that looked, and felt, like steel. The next time I saw John L. Sullivan was many years afterwards when world fame and riches were his. He was appearing at a local theater in living statuary acts. A big crowd of Cleveland admirers had followed him about the city all day, winding up at the Weddell House bar room. Attracted by the mob storming the hotel, I stepped inside [27] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND and saw John balancing himself unsteadily against the bar buying drinks for at least fifty men. Keeping to a hoarse monologue more intelligible to the fistic fraternity than to outsiders, the champion drew big handfuls of silver from his pockets and piled it in a small monument on the bar. How, an hour later, he was success- ful in standing like a block of hewn marble before his audi- ence in the theater no one unacquainted with the erraticisms of John Barleycorn could imagine! But this happened before John whipped to a finish his namesake in the Barley- corn family. On another day the Herald office was visited by the eminent actors, Edwin Booth and Lawrence Barrett, who together were making a farewell tour of the leading cities in the Shakespearean roles which had won fame for both. At that time Mark Hanna owned the Euclid Avenue Opera "House in which they were playing and they were guests for the week at the Hanna home. I remarked that off the stage neither actor appeared to have the physical attributes that made him fit into heroic parts in the world of mimic. Barrett especially was a little affected in speech, rolling his “t's” quite recklessly, and I wondered if after all his name really was Brannigan, for one could discover none of the open bluntness of the natural Irishman in his language and expression. Booth said little while a guest of Hanna looking over the newspaper plant that day. Indeed, there was on his countenance the melancholy almost inseparable from his stage appearance. Another celebrity who called at the old Herald office at this period was Robert G. Ingersoll, the brilliant orator who capped his histrionic fame in the speech nominating James G. Blaine for the presidency, and who was in some quarters held anathema for his agnostic views. He was here [28] MARK HANNA BUYS THE HERALD while on a lecture tour. I shall never forget ‘“Bob’’ Ingersoll for the reason that, just as Senator John Sherman was the easiest man to interview, Ingersoll was the hardest. My Sherman experience in this line occurred when the great Ohioan was secretary of the treasury. Something of vast moment to financial stability was going on in Washington. Sherman was stopping over a Sunday night at the Kennard House en route from his home in Mansfield to the national capital, and I was permitted to see him in his room at the hotel, where he arrived after ten o'clock at night. When I stated my errand Sherman opened a rather dilapi- dated grip and taking out a large pad suggested that I write both the questions and answers of the interview at his dic- tation! Here was great luck, for what had bothered me half to death was my entire density regarding the whole subject. “You see, young man,” remarked the statesman as he began to walk with slow strides about the room, ‘‘I am very particular to avoid misquotation in the newspapers. So if you will be kind enough to write carefully out what I say while here I will know there are no errors. Take plenty of time.” It would be impossible to give a pen picture of this stal- wart, dignified old product of another generation as he talked to me in that room—his hands clasped together at his back only to be withdrawn as he made occasional gestures, as if lost for the time to the fact that he was not addressing a real audience. Dressed in part in a frock coat almost reaching to his knees, and with the customary stiff standing collar and black string tie, he gave me an interview of a column and a half in length, entirely his own both in question and reply, that, replete with explanations on the important sub- ject in hand, was published in all the newspapers of the country the following day. [29] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND After going over my copy with much care, Sherman made a few alterations, and what pleased me very much as a youth- ful atom in the newspaper world, he fell to quizzing me about my job. For a man reputed to be frigidly standoffish our Uncle John appeared to me that evening to be a delight- fully friendly old chap after all! As for “Bob” Ingersoll, nothing in the paper pad line was volunteered. I caught him just as he was hurrying to shave and dress for his evening lecture, as the train he came in on was late. In those days all newspaper writing in my line was done with the lead pencil and I prided myself upon doing a rather quick and accurate job in taking down extracts from speeches. But it would have been a live dictaphone that could have taken a third of the Ingersoll brilliance on this occasion. Words poured over his shoulder to me in a regular torrent, as in shirt sleeves he plied the razor, and by some hook or crook I salvaged enough of them to make a fairly readable interview touching current doings in the world, its public men then prominent upon the boards, with a slap or two at the prevailing theology so little to his individual liking. For the Mark Hanna of those days as well as in the years of his greater activity and prominence later to come I had the profoundest admiration based upon his keen sense of fairness in his dealings with men. An example of this spirit, of little importance in itself yet illustrating the point, grew out of the Newburg rolling mill strike of the early Eighties, one of the bitterest contests of those more primitive manu- facturing days in Cleveland. The strike in all probability would not have occurred had Henry Chisholm, the big hearted owner of the mills who had come up from the ranks of labor, then been living and in control. Our reporters could get all the news of the men’s [30] MARK HANNA BUYS THE HERALD side of the controversy, but invariably were coldly shooed away when they approached the Chisholm offices for infor- mation. One day I decided to put a stop to this state of affairs or, by throwing a wrench into the machinery, try to get us somewhere in news presentation. So I published in the morning Herald about four solid columns from a wage schedule that had just gone into effect in the Pittsburg iron and steel mills at a considerable advance over the rates in Cleveland. It was news, and bully news for the strikers, though rather out of line in the columns of a supposedly capitalistic newspaper! Then followed a truly hot night in the old Herald office. John C. Keffer, our editor-in-chief, had an early evening call from Mr. Hanna, accompanied by William Chisholm, head of the mills, and, incidentally, one of the wealthy stockholders of the Herald, and they both were much warmer than the chilling metals out in the strike area. I was summoned into Keffet’s office to explain my conduct. The offensive schedule article was spread out on the editor’s desk. When Hanna asked me why I had given so much space to the subject I replied that local interest demanded it. Then I told of the rebuffs our reporters had received at the Chisholm office, pointing out that if the company’s side of the situation was not published correctly the fault was its own, not ours. Backed by a twinkle in Editor Keffer’s eye, I nerved up enough to tell Chisholm that his better course was to deal openly and frankly with the newspapers, which meant the public and all concerned with his mill difficulties. The upshot to this episode was that Hanna turned to his friend and stockholder in the Herald and said, ‘Kennedy is right. I would have done exactly what he did under the circumstances. You fellows out there had better give him all the news the paper is legitimately entitled to.” [31] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND What was a threat at my job closed amicably when Chis- holm followed me into the city editor's room and invited me to get him at his house, if necessary at any hour of the night, should anything come up in the run of strike news upon which he could give information. [32] CHAPTER SIX DAYS WITH GARFIELD Beginning With The Excitement In Cleveland Over His Nomination For The Presidency The year 1880 was historical for the city of Cleveland in that it witnessed the nomination of James A. Garfield, a native of Cuyahoga county, for the presidency and the elim- ination of Senator Henry B. Payne of this city in his candi- dacy for the nomination for the same exalted office. I assisted in reporting for the Herald the convention in Cincinnati, where General Winfield S. Hancock walked away with the nomination after the friends of Senator Payne had put up a loyal but fruitless fight in his behalf. Many people remember, and those of the present genera- tion no doubt have read of the intensely exciting incidents of the Republican convention in Chicago where Grant and his famous “306” led by Senator Conklin of New York held the political trenches until they were fairly broken down by the rush that led unexpectedly to the nomination of Garfield. At home here during the struggle we kept the windows of the old Herald office on Bank street filled hour by hour with bulletins of occurrences in Chicago. It will be recalled that after the speech by Garfield placing Senator Sherman of Ohio in nomination before the conven- tion there was a quick drift of sentiment towards Garfield himself. Among the items written for publication in the Herald over the local excitement brought about by our bulle- tins I find in a scrap book the following: ‘Four votes for James A. Garfield—watch ‘em grow.” Of course this was more an expression of local pride and loyalty than any attempt at prophesy, for it was generally [33] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND thought that if the nomination came to Ohio at all it must come to Sherman, who had the support of the entire Ohio delegation. But the fates and Garfield's great nominating speech decided that once again Sherman was to be thwarted in his supreme ambition. Directly after his nomination Garfield came to Cleveland, where a great crowd of his admirers escorted him to the Kennard House and on the following day he went to Hiram to preside at the graduating exercises of the college of which he had earlier been president. On the afternoon of that day he made a trip by team and surry through several towns of his old congressional district to his home in Mentor on Lake Erie. Mrs. Garfield returned to Mentor by rail. This I refer to because of some vivid impressions I gained of Garfield and his family life, of which I made no publica- tion at the time, but which have lingered in my memory as rather strikingly illustrative of American life and habit. Cor- respondents of the Chicago Times and Chicago Tribune joining with me we hired another surry, and, following the newspaper manners of that time, I so arranged the trip that the correspondent of the Cleveland Leader had no inkling of my intended ‘‘scoop.”’ It was one of the perfect days a California songstress has since immortalized, and at Burton, the candidate’s first brief stop, the entire village with anvil gunnery was out to give welcome. At the hilltop in Chardon, which the General and party reached just at sundown, he was received by a shouting multitude led by school children who showered flowers in his pathway. Here, too, was Editor Converse of the Geauga Republican, who made a speech of welcome at the dinner arranged for the distinguished neighbor and guest. At 11 o'clock of the starlight night in which the party was for a time lost in a strange roadway the Garfield home [34] DAYS WITH GARFIELD in Mentor was reached, and with a cordial invitation from the General to the newspaper men to call and see his farm by ‘daylight, we hurried to the little Mentor railway station, afterwards to be the scene of a stirring visiting campaign. The one telegraph operator was given to the Chicago men, but routing out an amateur in the village I succeeded in getting into commission another wire to Cleveland, with the further satisfaction of a two column “beat” in the Herald concerning incidents of the overland trip and things said by the nominee of the G. O. P. When three sleepy correspondents arrived at the Garfield farm at 9 o'clock in the morning they found the General on the front porch ready with sincere greeting. Upon a table in the hallway I noticed an accumulation of several hundred letters and telegrams, as yet unopened. These Garfield dis- missed with a waive of the hand as he proceeded to pilot us over the farm, where, as if having unlimited leisure, he discussed the scenery and spoke feelingly of his love for this quiet place of retreat from the cares of public office. When we again reached the front porch he urged a further stay, and with the open geniality and frankness that always marked his associations with newspaper men he discussed matters, some very personal, without a thought of our lack- ing the discriminating sense of what might or might not with propriety be published. On that very topic he on this occasion voiced his belief in the sacredness of the obligations between newspaper writers and men in public office. To a question from one of us he made this reply: “During all my years in Washington I have made it a point to deal openly with newspaper correspondents, relying upon them to hold information until the proper time for its release. And never but once was this confidence betrayed.” Which, by the way, is a condition of newspaper etiquette known to be true in newspaperdom but which many persons [35] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND in public life have not the discernment of a Garfield to see and profit by. “Now, gentlemen, before you go I want you to meet Mrs. Garfield and see the new wing to the house we are just finish- ing,” said the General, and he led us through to another side of the building. When we reached one of the rooms I observed a woman whose head was adorned with an old- fashioned sun-bonnet, and who with sleeves rolled up was engaged in washing down the woodwork of a new window frame. “Mrs. Garfield, I want you to meet some newspaper friends,” was the General's introduction, and pushing back the bonnet to disclose a smiling face and excusing herself while she wiped the suds from her hands, we were in turn met with a friendly clasp of her hand. Afterwards this home-loving little woman who was soon to be the first lady of the land accompanied us to the front porch, and at this late day I feel no inappropriateness in relating some things she said to me. “The General tells me that you were a West Farmington boy and therefore belonged to his congressional district,” she remarked. “And I am going to tell you, Mr. Kennedy, that it is a great disappointment to me that the General has been nominated for the presidency. I was glad, and of course proud over his recent election to the senate, for that meant our living the same as we have for all the years he has been in congress. And we have just enlarged our home here expecting our life to go on as before with added conveniences for the family and our friends.” And as she said this there was a look of keen disappointment in her eyes. “Now,” she continued, ‘‘if the General is elected to the presidency it will mean four years of almost killing work for him and an entire interruption of anything like real [36] ‘DAYS WITH GARFIELD home life for all of us.”” As she made this remark we were observing the happy antics of one of her smaller sons half way up a tree in the yard. Many times since then I have wondered whether even at this time Mrs. Garfield, so per- fectly the type of the American wife and mother of home- making instinct and home devotion, was feeling the fears of tragedy that haunts the path of the exalted! Again at the inauguration of Garfield in Washington and at his funeral in Cleveland I had much to do in a newspaper way. One incident of the inauguration not published at the time occurred in front of the White House, where I was assigned to write of scenes at the presidential reviewing stand. Among those sitting near President Garfield and Rutherford B. Hayes, the retiring incumbent, was General Hancock, the defeated candidate of the Democracy, the latter there, among retiring cabinet members and those of the diplomatic corps, as head of the army. Once as the procession moved past the stand an intoxicated patriot in the background of the crowds lining the street yelled out, “Hurrah for Hancock!” I noticed that General Hancock, moving uneasily in his seat and frowning his disgust, regained his composure only when a passing company of soldiers provoked loud hand clapping. How profoundly chagrined was the old warrior over this ill-timed greeting can be imagined by all who ever came under the spell of his proverbial dignity of manner. Among the companies marching in the inaugural proces- sion was the Cleveland Grays, and lest somebody may over- look my modesty in these narratives, I will tell how they came to be there. As city editor of the Herald I had, late one evening, a visit from Col. John N. Frazee, the commander of the Grays, who coming from a meeting of that organiza- tion handed me a paper upon which was written a news item [37] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND to the effect that the Grays would march as usual on Wash- ington’s birthday, but had abandoned the plan of going in a body to Garfield's inauguration. “The boys all want to go, but it will cost $3,500 for a special train, and while my lads are willing to give their time they are not in financial shape to pay the whole expense like the members of the City Troop,” and rather wearily the Colonel walked out of the office. Instead of publishing his item I tossed it into the waste basket and wrote another asking if there was not enough local patriotism among the moneyed men of Cleveland to see that the Grays, the oldest military organization in the county of Garfield's birth, got to Washington on this big occasion in the town’s history. There was, for after reading the item Dan P. Eells sent for James W. Carson, and appoint- ing him a sort of treasurer, handed him a check for $1,000, which formed the basis of a sum sufficient to turn the trick. Talk about ‘the power of the press!” A few months and then the tragic close of the career of one of the intellectual giants in the succession of American Presidents. I use that characterization as one distinctively fitting James A. Garfield. It was shown by the range and depths of his mind so frequently manifested in his speeches in congress and upon the memorable visits of delegations to Mentor. His studies had been so profound that he never failed even in extempore speech to find the gold within the granite. As an orator he had few equals in American public life. Then came the week when in the catafalque in Cleveland's Public Square thousands of his Ohio friends and people from all the states passed by his casket. Then the tomb in beautiful Lakeview cemetery, where for a year during the construction of the imposing Garfield monument his remains were guarded by national troops. [38] CHAPTER SEVEN BIG TOWN MANNERS Cleveland Newspapers And Merchants Begin To Realize That The City Is Having Growing Pains! Although in the early Eighties the retail district was prac- tically confined to lower Superior street, the growth of Cleveland's manufacturing interests, increasing lake traffic and, better still, an awakening public spirit made of this decade a turning point toward things metropolitan. The telephone had arrived, street railway service was im- proving, our people were beginning to realize that Cleve- land had shopping facilities that no longer compelled the wealthy of far-famed Euclid avenue to flit to New York for their fineries. Down in the old Herald office the staff had actually in- creased to a round dozen men. In the city editor's room were five live wire reporters, including Harry L. Vail, Howard H. Burgess, E. W. Bowers, Sam J. Roberts (we called him “Canton Sam’ because he was even then blowing about his acquaintance with a down state chap named William Mc- Kinley living in his town), Robert S. Pierce, who had been on the Leader as a reporter and city editor and now was given the position of sporting editor, the first man to hold that job in this city. Bob was a baseball enthusiast, and had much to do in developing the game here professionally. Later on that desk in the Herald office was a rapid fire lad named Frank Brunell, born in London and so peppy there was hardly any living with him. It is something to my credit that through kindness I had Frank so well trained he finally resigned his job only once a week instead of daily. [39] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND Eventually he went to Chicago, established the Daily Racing Form and made a fortune that forever freed him from the exactions of mere newspaper editors. Upon the Herald local staff, too, was Maurice Weiden- thal, subsequently to be city editor of the Plain Dealer and for many years a star writer on the Cleveland Press, and Elmer E. Bates, who later became one of the best known sporting editors of the country. The late A. H. Hough was one of the owners and busi- ness manager of the Herald under the Hanna regime. “Allie,” as he was affectionately called, had, at the time I knew him, two hobbies; the Union Club, to which he re- paired daily precisely at twelve o'clock noon and remained until precisely two o'clock, afternoon, and a desk arrange- ment in the Herald office upon which was laid in perfect mathematical order each report and letter coming his way. It was at Hough's suggestion and the lure of a doubled income that in 1883 I resigned from the city editor’s desk and took the job of advertising manager of the Herald. Many years were to elapse before I again got into editorial work. Until the break came to lower Euclid avenue, all the leading retail stores with the exception of Sterling © Welch, Southworths, Taylor ¥ Kirkpatrick and E. R. Hull were located west of the Public Square. Many I recall from mem- ory: Hower © Higbee, E. I. Baldwin Hatch © Co., Levy © Stearn, Cowell 8 Hubbard, Webb C. Ball, Sylvester T. Hogan, T. A. Paddock, N. O. Stone, Ithiel Stone, Evans & Van Epps, Hudson Clothier, Wardwell’s, originally “The Dollar Store’; Bingham’s, hardware; Luetkemeyer’s, hard- ware; Steinfield, clothier; The Moriartys, furniture; Hern- den, furniture; Vincent Barstow, furniture; The Worthing- ton Co., hardware; Kinney © Levan, crockery; Jacob Man- delbaum, clothier; R. H. Fetterman; and several retail stores [40] BIG TOWN MANNERS of less importance. All the banks and wholesale establish- ments were also in this limited district. James B. Morrow, then city editor of the Leader, after- wards its editor-in-chief and a widely known newspaper correspondent, was making of the old sheet a better local paper. Eugene H. Perdue became, after the death of Mr. Cowles, its president and manager. E. H. Baker was its ad- vertising manager, and after I took a like situation on the Herald we usually got together Saturday mornings and decided, from the amount of advertising in sight, whether to make both Sunday editions twelve or sixteen pages in size. They never in those days went over that except in the holi- day advertising season. And these, too, were days of friendly comradeship, for, while there was at times bitter rivalry between the owners of local newspapers, the men employed thereon held no permanent grudges. This spirit led to the formation of a press club, in which we welcomed many men from other professions. One of these afterwards became a notable national figure, particu- larly upon the billboards of America. Dr. E. E. Beeman—we always called him “Doc’’—did at one time practice medicine, but found more profit—and leisure—in the manufacture of pepsin. From this experience was evolved his idea of com- bining that chemical with ordinary chewing gum, from which experiment the “Doc’’ graduated into the class of the idle rich. Really, as he told me at a later date, the idea was origin- ated in a spirit of fun by a young miss named Horton, clerk in the Evans © Van Epps book and stationery store. ‘‘And,” said the Doctor, ‘“‘you just ought to have tasted the first batch of that stuff I melted together on a kitchen stove! Glue would have been a highly aromatic compound com- pared to it. But I persevered and got the right formula.” [41] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND It was just prior to my resignation as city editor that I first met a man who afterwards played a large part in events coming with the development of the greater Cleveland. Business Manager Hough had settled out of court an action against the paper for libel. And as the alleged offense had been brought about by one of my reporters, he selected me to go to the office of Carr © Goff, attorneys for the plaintiff, and pay the debt. I found Fred H. Goff, a slim, keen, black- eyed youth, in an office about ten by twelve feet in size, located in the old Northrup-Harrington building on Superior street. The check I handed young Goff was for $100, but I think it looked fully as big to him then as any million dollar transaction passing through his hands when he became banker, capitalist and creator of the Cleveland Foundation. I am not sure but that it was the first law business of that size that had come to his young firm. The newspaper offices were among the first forty Cleve- land subscribers to the little telephone exchange first located on lower Superior street, and when its use became more general over the city the gathering of news was vastly ex- panded. Before that innovation the police stations were linked up by a slow process of telegraphy, and even with that we could get but little service, day or night. It was a period when even the most ordinary accident or a suicide was considered important news. I recall one instance when a boiler explosion in Newburg, entailing loss of life and much damage to property, was reported exclusively in our morn- ing edition only because we had a friend in the police station out there who sent in a Western Union telegram, to which our reporters responded after midnight by the aid of a handy livery stable. In those first days we were permitted to play any kind of prank by telephone that seemed humorous. There was [42] BIG TOWN MANNERS one night when a mischievous reporter in the Herald office— it must have been Howard Burgess—-called up the Leader editorial rooms and in a disguised voice put them next to an imaginary murder on the far west side. Then, darkening the windows, for the offices were near each other, our boys watched the Leader stairway until they saw a couple of re- porters rush down to the street, charter one of the night hacks and speed towards the viaduct. But an enlarging serv- ice and stricter rules in the telephone exchange soon put a stop to that sort of thing. When Cleveland was as yet only a big town there was greater liberty in the joking line. It was a time, too, when personalities were indulged in local politics, when anything was deemed fair in getting at and publishing the secrets of the opposing parties. On one occasion a Herald reporter secreted himself unobserved on the top of a high bookcase in the law office of Echo M. Heisley, then a leader of the younger Democracy, to get at the facts of a secret meeting of local party managers. But, unfortunately, the accumulation of dust inseparable with the dens of the legal talent of those days got into his nostrils and Howard—it was Burgess—was hauled down and shown the door! On another night one of our reportorial sleuths, with the aid of a friendly janitor, had himself locked in the office of Mayor R. R. Herrick in the city hall, where, sitting close to a closed door next to the office of William Heisley, a Democratic city solicitor, he obtained and published a two column story of a supposedly secret meeting of party men. And, what made the occasion rather newsy for a Republi- can newspaper, the entire Democratic ticket for the coming local election was there decided upon with great stealth. Everything was fair in politics of this early date. And what was equally an impertinence, we had a habit in the Republican newspaper offices of publishing the names of [43] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND citizens of the Democratic faith whom we whimsically thought ought to be nominated for office. This actually brought about the nomination and election, not then fore- seen, of “Honest Joe Poe,” a farmer Democrat of the county, wha became a state representative, and much to the chagrin of the aristocratic element of his party, a dominating factor in its councils. It was through repeated suggestions of the Herald that Martin A. Foran, an unusually able lawyer who had come up from a cooper’s bench, was nominated for congress. The thing that displeased the Republicans much more than it did the newspaper men who knew and liked him was that, chancing to be an off Republican year locally, Foran got the election. Some years later he was elected a judge of the common pleas court. Along about this time the Herald initiated a crusade against gambling dens, which had become a public nuisance from disregard of all local law. My attention was called to the condition by a member of the city council whose brother had been fleeced in a place on St. Clair street. Reporters were sent to several downtown gambling rooms, and when sufficient evidence was gathered the Herald began the publi- cation of details, with the location and names of proprietors so far as known. Nothing was done by the police, which inaction led to the paper's warfare being transferred from the gamblers to officials of the police department. City newsgatherers were given a wide latitude in the Eighties. We even went so far as to explain in the Herald columns that the chief of police had, accessable of course to the mayor, a list of all gambling places. This drew fire from R. R. Herrick, then mayor, who as the chairman of the existing police board introduced a resolution at a meeting of that body inviting the ‘‘stock- [44] BIG TOWN MANNERS holders” of the Cleveland Herald to appear before the board and “‘relate what they knew about gambling places” in the city. Of course His Honor was indulging in sarcasm, but his little ‘“‘come back’ at the paper only intensified the fight, which eventually resulted in the closing of every gambling room in Cleveland, and a hurried departure of the profession to other foraging grounds. Indeed, acting upon the hint from Cleveland, many other cities, such as Cincinnati, St. Louis and even in the east began to raid the gambling fra- ternity. It is presumed some of them came back to Cleve- land when the spasm blew over, but it is probable the nui- sance was never again quite so openly prevalent here. Space permitting, I might devote a full chapter of these recollections to early Cleveland newsboys and newspaper carriers who graduated into positions of prominence and trust. Just now my mind goes back to the late Seventies and a grinning little figure hustling out of the old Leader circulation room with a fistful of papers—Jake Mintz was his name, in the years to earn recognition as one of the lead- ing private detectives of the country. Jake once told me that his first attempt at sleuthing was while still a newsboy and hidden safely away under a pile of mailing bags in the Herald office he kept account several mornings of the revolutions of the slowgoing press. His client in that highly secret mission was the circulation man- ager of the Leader, and Jake doubtless earned free copies of that newspaper for many days to come. Another ambitious little chap I knew then was in time to become the general passenger agent of all the Vanderbilt railway lines. Warren J. Lynch was the youngest of three boys of his family here who had to do with helping dispose of the Leader. The older brothers carried a delivery route [45] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND while Warren also got out before daylight to sell a few copies of the Leader on the downtown streets. From this there was almost for me a tragedy. Not so many years ago I chanced to meet Warren Lynch for the first time since he was a Cleveland newsboy. He had arrived at the pinnacle of his railroad career. It was in the lobby of the Hollenden hotel, and he was introduced to me over again by a brother. “You have never realized, Kennedy, how close you once came to being beaten up and possibly put out of the news- paper business for life,”” said Warren. “There was a morn- ing when the boys of our family held a council of war against you. It was when you discovered that my brothers were in the habit of buying ten extra copies of the Leader so that I could get out on the street with them an hour earlier than the other boys, who under the rules of your office could buy no copies until the regular carriers were served. You cut off my monopoly, and what us boys would have liked to have done to you would, if brought about, have landed us in the electric chair!” “But they hung them those days, Warren,” I said. “Well, even that might have been endured if we had got away with you,” he reported with a smile. Among the boys who earned a little money out of school hours by carrying newspaper routes at this time and a little later were Frank B. Fretter, now president of the National Refining Company; Samuel and Frank H. Haserot, after- wards to build up a large wholesale grocery business and canning industries; Warren, Edward and Frederick Palmer, who developed the Cleveland Window Glass Com- pany; Attorney Jay Comstock; the late Charles H. Eich- horn, afterwards prominent in Ohio Masonic circles; Albert [46] BIG TOWN MANNERS Lynch, patent attorney; Herman Herkomer, later to become a noted artist, and many others. Which reminds me that when recently I mentioned these incidents to ‘‘Billy’’ McLaughlin—as he is now one of the partners in the Pickands-Mather Company I perhaps should dignify him with his baptismal name of William—he re- marked that all those old paper carrier boys I knew were of a belated generation. “Why,” says “Mac,” “I was helping carry the Woodland avenue morning newspaper route when the civil war broke out! There are still living here four or five men who gath- ered in the old office before daylight to wait for the slow- going press to turn out copies for the routes. One morning, that following the day of Lincoln’s assassination, I remem- ber quite vividly. A kid, innocent of the size of his offense and probably the offspring of a voter in the opposition political party, made some slighting remark about Uncle Abe. And then the fur flew!” L47 | CHAPTER EIGHT IN THE EIGHTIES Conditions Familiar To Older Cleveland Residents Which Now Would Seem Antiquated When I came to town and for some years later Cleveland had a “White Way” of a kind that would be thought ex- ceedingly dim and commonplace to tired business men of a later generation. It was located on Ontario street between the Public Square and the city market house, the outstand- ing feature being a half dozen music halls conducted by a fleshy good natured citizen named Trinkner and others of Teutonic origin. Therein would gather whole families to sit about the tables, listen to band music and imbibe the same sort of beer and sour wines many of them were used to in their native homes over the seas. Evenings and Sundays always found these places well crowded, but on all occasions carousing and the presence of known characters of ill repute were taboo. A city ordinance compelled closing of these beer halls at midnight, and they could not open on Sunday before 2 o'clock in the afternoon. Forty years ago the so-called foreign element of Cleveland was principally composed of Germans, Bohemians and Irish, with only a sprinkling of the other nationalities. On Wood- land avenue and nearby streets were still residences of many early settlers, notably those of Harvey Rice, E. P. Hunt, Judge John Foote, the Severances, Dr. William Mayer, Alexander Schwab, the Davises, the Blacks, Dr. Krause, the Ruffins, Jacob Mandelbaum, Dr. Seely, the William Quin- lans, the Wattersons, the Lowmans, and other well-known families. [48] IN THE EIGHTIES Those who fostered public dancing parties for charitable purposes could choose between Garrett's Hall in a two-story building where looms the present Williamson building on Public Square, or Weisgerber’s Hall, half way out Prospect street, and Geissen’s Hall, on Woodland avenue. Before Sterling turned the big ice skating fink on lower Euclid avenue into a carpet store, Cleveland had still earlier one really large place for social gathering. Later'on we had the big tabernacle built by W. H. Doan, on Ontario street, to be followed by another bearing his name on Vincent street. You or your father or grandfather probably heard Patti sing in the latter. In the early Eighties, R. R. Herrick, a Cleveland mayor, met with a big disappointment. When the city rented for a long term of years the building erected by Leonard Case, the city hall recently torn down, Herrick in some manner got an impression that upon the death of that wealthy citi- zen the city would be handed a quit claim deed to the prop- erty. The mayor confided this to me with an air of absolute conviction when I was city hall reporter on a local news- paper. It transpired, however, that the owner had a broader plan in view. After his death it was found that the city hall building had been trusteed for the purpose of founding a college to be known as The Case School of Applied Science. Thus Cleveland, abundantly able to pay for its own pub- lic buildings, got something of greater value which other- wise it may never have possessed. This jumping around from one subject to another would hardly be permitted from anybody but a full licensed auto- biographer, but all I set out to do was to sketch some things coming for the most part under my personal observation over a long stretch of time. I want at this point to state that party leaders are no novelty confined to the two expert gen- tlemen holding local party reins today. In the older times [49] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND they were inelegantly referred to as “Bosses,” and Silas Met- chant, a contractor, not only bossed the Republican party but in certain elections he was thought also to control the Democrats. I am sure Sile was a greater political power in the Seventies and early Eighties than Maschke or Gongwer have ever dreamed of becoming. Silas once tried to buy me with the alluring suggestion of the county clerkship he affected to vision for me on the far distant horizon. It was at a time when the old Herald was trying to become more independent in politics, and as city editor I was doing a little missionary work by uncovering some Republican mistakes in city affairs. Having real love for newspaper work I gave no heed to Uncle Silas. Whether his dazzling projects for me were genuine or not affected me not in the least. And whether the party leaders of those days were always responsible for it or not I am unable to testify, but I do know that in certain elections money was passed out to sus- ceptible voters. And, as this was before the days of regis- tration, I have seen crowds of voters herded at the polling places in downtown fire engine houses by lieutenants of these leaders, the same men appearing and casting votes elsewhere on the same day. Of course, it was this exploiting of human chattels that led to safeguards against repeating. Cleveland was raw in many ways in those days, and in as many ways it was clean. Even with its open saloons the per capita of devilment was much lower than it is now. Once when a resident of the east side was held up and beaten by a footpad the novelty of it was so surprising the newspapers commented upon it for days to follow. A murder furnished newspapers material for weeks on end. Even a suicide among people scarcely known got dis- play headings in all the daily papers. We never heard of a [50] Fran IN THE EIGHTIES payroll holdup. The word ‘‘bandit”’ was seldom employed outside of novels dealing with abductions in the mountains of foreign countries. The only society flappers who pub- licly imbibed alcoholic drinks took them in the presence of their families in beer gardens. The boys smoked mostly cheap cigars and pipes, for cigarettes were unknown. If caught, their parents administered the customary ineffective punishment. At this time Cleveland fell a victim to the roller skating fad sweeping over the country and affecting whole families as the movies do today. Large rinks were built in different parts of the city, where to the music of full brass bands people of ages eight to eighty careened on wood skates by the hour. Everybody caught the skating disease, and while it lasted there was visible expansion of leg muscles. In some communities most of the afternoons and all the evenings up to midnight found the inhabitants at these rinks, where frequently star skating performers from other states were paid to give exhibitions. The craze drew all classes of society, and it was no unusual sight to see whole families, father, mother, a half dozen children and sometimes the grand parents on both sides, hand joined together, gliding and sliding along without a care for the duties of the mor- row. The amount of chewing gum consumed by patrons to offset the dust they raised probably accounts for the gum barons who still are making millions annually. Suddenly this craze gave way to the bicycle mania, which also caught whole families in its thrall. Originally the bicycle known to Cleveland was that treacherous combina- tion of steel and wire built on the pattern of the giraff, the front wheel four to five feet high and the little one in the rear only a foot or so. I owned one of them and recall scaring a maid into spasms one dark evening as I wheeled down Euclid avenue. Coming suddenly out of the driveway [51] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND of one of those mansions she saw what must have appeared to be the devil himself, for he was walking in the air four feet from the ground. Her screams ring in my ears still. This monstrosity was soon replaced by the sensible type with wheels of the same height, and it was after the advent of the latter that everybody was doing it. Carnegie avenue, the first large Cleveland street paved with asphalt, was the principal rendezvous of the bicycle crowds. At night with each machine displaying a headlight and thousands of them moving at once the scene was a very pretty one. Those who fell off were properly jeered, as is the way of carnivals. All members of the family excepting the dogs who tripped these machines up, flocked to the streets with their “bikes” immediately after dinner. Preceding the deadly automobiles these riders of the high- ways had nothing to fear but wagons. Thousands of our respected citizenship, old, staid, young and reckless, sped from one street to another with clanging bells. Pedestrians had at certain hours less chance to cross the streets in safety than they have even today, for there were no crossing cops. Clubs were formed, and great pleasure was had in long country trips. A word to the Harolds and Agneses. The next time father or grandfather begins to storm about the “petting parties” of today ask them, of course with proper courtesy, and humility, to tell you all about the hand holdings and waist measurements incident to the skating, bicycling and sleigh ridings of the early Eighties! If granddad drops his pipe to hide his blushes, you have made a hard hit! Having lived five decades in Cleveland, I fail to discern much difference in any of them respecting the magnetic sex attractions of - youth. It has been only a question of degrees of crudity, and tests of inherent modesty. [52] IN THE EIGHTIES Now Cleveland revels in the delirious joys of the jungle or jazz dance. Two great halls for the convenience of danc- ing folks have been built upon Euclid avenue and another still larger will occupy all the space of two former mansions at East 90th street. The Euclid Gardens, neighboring Masonic Temple and the Crystal Slipper at East 101st street are crowded every night. It is good exercise. Fat men grow thinner and lean women grow plump in the slumberous toils of the fox trot, one and two step. In winter the dance makes amends for motor joy riding. Cleveland has indeed become a wide awake and jazzing town! Fifty years ago the smoke belts of Cleveland had their density confined practically to the flats along the river bed and on the lake shore. The few exceptions were hardly noticeable or annoying. In fact our people paid little atten- tion to the smoke nuisance. An industrial era was on, and the town was smoking itself into prosperity. There were no apartment houses and only an occasional business block in the downtown district emitted its flood of undigested fuel to mingle with the drifting clouds which then made for scenery over a city boasting its tree lined streets and well kept lawns. To one familiar with the Cleveland of fifty years ago the change most convincing of a stupendous growth is the rapid shifting of activities. Little is left of Payne's pastures, once a part of the old Perry farm, and until a comparatively recent date site of the circus grounds, easily reached on foot from the center of the retail district. Gone are the old Seelye water cure grounds of large acre- age adjacent to Woodland and Willson avenues. Gone are the open hills surrounding much of the flats, once the play- grounds for children who knew nothing of public grounds set apart for recreation. Woodland Hills and the Heights and all surrounding territory then still in the hands of farmers of land have given away to the harvester of real [63] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND estate crops, a process of tearing down and rebuilding to accommodate the needs of a million inhabitants. It would be difficult to point out in this community of wide dimensions and substantial growth the spot in which the greatest change has been wrought. The resident of only ten or fifteen years might conclude that the locality about East 105th street and Euclid avenue has achieved the most remarkable transformation, and in a sense he would be right. The multiplication of values there is rather convincing. Others find in the districts closer to the Public Square equally astonishing changes. When in 1875 I came to Cleveland, Prospect street nearly to its outlet at Ontario street was a thoroughfare of homes, as was Euclid avenue almost to the Square. All the territory south of Prospect was covered with dwellings of moderate cost. Where the new Union Trust Company structure of twenty-one stories now helps to set a pace for a greater sky- line of office buildings to come I see it as the third of a series, the first a small frame building occupied by Dr. Sapp’s dental office. Between forty and fifty years ago in front of the site of the present Rose building at Prospect and East 9th streets I stopped at times only to acquire a longing for the old village home, for in a deep yard given over to lilac bushes, peonies and hollyhocks stood a wood dwelling house of ancient de- sign. When it gave way to a two-story business and office building, where you older Clevelanders were patrons of John H. Asplin’s drug store, it almost seemed that business ‘‘dese- cration’”’ could go no further, or higher. Startling as have been the territorial changes in this swiftly moving tide, quite as remarkable was the shifting of the people themselves. Whole settlements have arisen only later to be abandoned by the original inhabitants. This, of course, [54] IN THE EIGHTIES has been in larger measure due to the influx of people from foreign countries—the natural desire and necessity of those speaking another language to live in neighborly contact while learning the speech of their country of adoption. A half century ago the bulk of territory out Central ave- nue way now occupied principally by Negroes contained the homes of native Americans and Germans, the latter in the majority. The poorer classes of Irish made their earlier homes along the lake shore, both east and west of the river. When the Bohemian immigrants began to arrive they settled more densly out Newburg way. The Poles located to the west of Broadway, soon building up two large settlements, extending far to the southwest. The west side out Brooklyn way had one of the largest and most thrifty German settle- ments of those early days. What then was Cross and Orange streets and vicinity and upon Broadway the Jewish emigrants first founded a com- munity of interest. The movement of this race eastward and into better resident localities has, however, always been prompt. Not only was he equipped with an instinct for earning, saving and advantageous investment, but back of it the emigrating Jew while in the process of Americanization had a passionate urge for education, and for the ultimate enjoyment of the luxuries of life. One of the large open spaces of that day was known as Case Commons, south of Prospect street, its eastern boundary at the present East 40th street. The Forest City baseball club, forerunner of Cleveland's association with professional baseball, met on these commons the famous Cincinnati Red Stocking and the other clubs then forming the nucleus for a country-wide organization, The early location of factory sites on the lake shore was convenient, but seen now in retrospect that was a serious [565] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND error of the city’s builders. What might have been the most sightly city front on the great lakes and made of Cleveland a real waterfront town, even more accessable for boating and park facilities than Detroit, was surrendered to manu- facture that much better had followed the course of a Cuya- hoga river, deepened and widened to meet the demand. There are those who believe it is not too late to redeem the situation; that before expending millions upon a chain parking system miles away from the center of the city the lake front from Gordon Park to the far west side should be made accessable to the people. It is easy to imagine what this would mean to the city Cleveland is bound to become within another fifty years. From a scrap book containing local news written by Maurice Weidenthal, and published in the Cleveland Herald in 1884, I copy the following significant item: Before the expiration of another month, or perhaps a week or two later, Cleveland will be able to boast of the only street railway operated by means of electricity in complete running order in the United States. Successful experiments have been conducted for six months past at the works of the Brush Electric Light Company, by Mr. Walter H. Knight, one of the inventors of the system, and the results have warranted Mr. Knight to put his invention to practical use, by running an electric road from the Garden street car barns to New street, up New street to Quincy street as far as Lincoln avenue, altogether a distance of over one and one-half miles. Should this experiment prove successful, as Mr. Knight has every reason to believe it will, the system will be adopted on all the branches of the East Cleveland Street Railroad and then the long suffering street car horse's occupation will be gone. “This will be our first practical test with our invention,” said Mr. Knight. “We certainly do not intend to confine our operations to Cleveland. Our objective point is New York City, and the reason we selected Cleveland is on account of the Brush Electric Works being handy for our experiments.” [56] CHAPTER NINE DEATH OF THE HERALD Bought By Liberty E. Holden And The Leader It Gives Way To The Plain Dealer As a financial investment the Herald under the Hanna ownership was a losing game, unless some of its stockholders having semi-public business interests or political ambitions felt repaid in ways other than in cash dividends. Anyway, in the spring of 1885 it was bought jointly by the Leader Company and Liberty E. Holden, once a professor of geol- ogy, a graduate lawyer, once a real estate operator in Cleve- land, and then the owner of rich silver mines in Utah, in which state he had lived for several years while developing his mining interests. Known to be a very wealthy man as riches were measured in those days, Clevelanders were a little puzzled when, in the fall of 1884, Holden bought from William W. Arm- strong that shabby old organ of the Democracy, the Plain Dealer, an afternoon paper kept going by the continuing piling up of debts. When, however, the new owner began to let go with editorial bombardments in favor of bi-metal- ism public bewilderment ceased. Holden had again become a teacher! Following the death of the Herald, and when its garments were divided by the two purchasing interests, the Plain Dealer took possession of the office and machinery on Bank street and promptly appeared as a morning, Sunday and evening paper, dressed practically in the Herald style outside the headgear. The Leader portion consisted in securing the scalp of a hated rival and the satisfaction of publishing for [67] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND a few months the words ‘and Herald’ in small letters under its own title. So far as Herald circulation went most of it remained with the Plain Dealer. In a way the wrecking of the old Cleveland Herald was tragic. John H. A. Bone, who had grown up with it from boyhood and who had for years been its chief editorial writer, was retained by Holden in the same position. And to Bone was given the sad duty of bidding the Herald readers farewell. I remember how he sat that day at his desk, pale of face and suffering as one bereaved by the death of a dear friend. The editorial as it appeared in the Herald of March 14, 1885, was a classic. Of this man so valuable to the newspaper life of Cleveland I shall speak more at length in later chapters. But three executives on the Herald staffs were retained in the new Plain Dealer office, Mr. Bone, George R. Agate, cashier, and myself as advertising manager. His newspaper deeply in debt, Armstrong had been glad to quit his activities and clear himself from the obligations he had accumulated over a series of years. Everybody who knew this plucky little journalist of the old school was sympathetic in the fate that overcame him in his declining years. His was an illus- tration of too much stress laid upon the political function of a newspaper. This he afterwards admitted and commented upon with much bitterness when in later years he frequently called on me in the Plain Dealer editorial rooms, where I was in charge. I well remember his last visit. The “Major’—a perfectly gratuitous title he had long held in the community—enjoyed dropping in the office to look over the exchanges, sometimes carrying home a bundle of them for leisure examination. They were reminders to him of the old editorial days, and I was always glad to observe how his eye would light up and part of the trembling leave his hands as he grasped and spread [58] DEATH OF THE HERALD out a copy of some familiar daily visitor from the presses of another city. = On this occasion, early in Nineteen Hundred, he sat for a long while at my desk, finally saying to me in a voice very husky and low, “Charlie, just thirty years ago today I came to Cleveland and bought the Plain Dealer. I was worth $180,000, and at the end I found it pretty hard sledding. Today the old paper is worth many times that, and the big reason is that you fellows are wise enough to keep politicians from dictating to you.” And good old ‘Billy’ Armstrong never made, or printed a truer statement than that! Holden brought with him from Utah to manage the busi- ness department of the Plain Dealer a kindly old gentleman named George F. Prescott, a man much more wedded to the job printing end of the office than to the newspaper itself. Between the distaste of Cleveland's merchants of the Holden free silver doctrine and little activity by the management in the way of enticing folks to read the paper I found rather rough traveling as advertising man. But the elimination of one newspaper through the sale of the Herald helped some. After a few lean years of inactivity on the Plain Dealer's part, during which the Press circulation was mounting rapidly and even the slow going Leader was becoming more prosperous, I accepted with another doubling of pay the job of advertising manager for the thriving firm of E. R. Hull © Dutton, going a couple of years later to New York to assume a like position with the owners of Scott's Emulsion. The closest shave I ever had from becoming an author was when that enterprising concern published over ten million copies of a twelve-page booklet I created. If that wasn’t authorship, and if my claim therein that the cod liver preparation was “almost as palatable as milk” didn’t display some imagina- tion, then I am no judge of novels! [59] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND f During this period of my personal activities, which of course is of no especial interest to readers of my Fifty Years, Mr. Holden spent most of his time at his mines in the west. On his return to Cleveland he was kind enough to make some inquiries about me, which led to my buying a small interest in the Plain Dealer and my return from New York in Janu- ary 1893 to Cleveland as its general manager with the chance to put in practice some modern methods both in the handling of news and the winning of circulation and adver- tising. Things in the Plain Dealer office were in a decidedly chaotic condition. The paper was at the fag end of a printers’ strike and boycott, brought about by the introduc- tion of the Mergenthaler typesetting machine, then a novelty. I found little if any enthusiasm in the editorial departments of the newspaper, where as a rule one expects to see some life and optimism even in times of stress in the financial end of the business. The first task in hand was to clear up the strike situation. Through an entirely mistaken idea of dignity Holden and the management had failed to publish in the Plain Dealer any explanation of the paper's side of the controversy with the printers’ union, while the fact was it had all the rights in this particular labor war. It was but another instance of unreasonable antagonism on the part of labor—so-called— toward a labor saving device afterwards to prove a real means of labor betterment. Having always been considered the ‘“‘under dog’ in Cleve- land newspaper circles, the Plain Dealer was rapidly being reduced to a mere living skeleton. The competing newspapers were losing no time in assisting to remove what remained of its standing with advertisers. But the merchants of Cleveland have ever been intolerant of the boycott, and in this case were not disposed to be used as a catspaw. With but one [60] DEATH OF THE HERALD exception—and that enough to make any self-respecting newspaper steer clear of selfish politicians—all the advertisers in the Plain Dealer were disregarding this boycott. That exception was the county sheriff, a Democrat whom the Plain Dealer in its former blindness, a tool to all who got on the party ticket, had supported for the office. At the demand of the strikers he promptly withdrew his share of the “pap” in the way of advertising that in those days was supposed to fall to party organs. But later on this experience had a lot to do in helping me convince the paper's owner that he had much better throw off the political yoke and make the Plain Dealer independent, at least in things affect- ing interests here in Cleveland. During the heat of the strike Holden had served notice on the men who had left the office and upon the local typo- graphical union that so long as he owned the Plain Dealer no member of the union would ever again be employed there. But that was a very natural state of mind on his part. So far as I ever could read him—and no man was in closer touch with this man of contradictory sentiments and emotions— Holden was at heart in no sense an enemy of labor interests. His resentment was justified in this case. As adjustment of the difficulties was turned over to me as manager I reinstated a score of the printers in their old jobs, all with union cards in their pockets. Thus, while the Plain Dealer continued as an open shop, there was never during my years in its management any question of the right of an employe to be associated with organized labor. I had grown up in the newspaper business with many of these men, and our relations were always close and harmonious. [61] CHAPTER TEN THE FEDERAL PLAN And A Visit With Notable People In The City Of Brotherly Love Strangely, as my mind travels back to the time ‘“Bob‘ McKisson was mayor of Cleveland, I think first of an inci- dent which avoided, McKisson might never have held the office at all. And it is something connected with my early newspaper publishing experiences I very much dislike to recall, although personally I had no part in it. In 1895 the two leading Republican candidates for the mayoralty were James W. Stewart, a public spirited and high type of citizen, and Robert E. McKisson, a young lawyer of political ambition, well liked by the younger element of his party. Men on the Plain Dealer staff were confident that Stewart would get the nomination, and indeed the success of McKisson at the primaries was a surprise to almost every- body. The primaries were held on Tuesday, and unfortunately in the Plain Dealer the day previous there appeared a local article to the effect that on Sunday agents of Stewart had passed out several hundred free beer checks in certain liberal societies on the south side of the city. The charge that it was done by friends of Stewart was later found to be untrue. I always suspected the story was inspired by McKisson’s backers to injure an opponent dangerous to their candidate. McKisson slipped in by a small plurality. All the paper could do in rectification of its careless error was to apologize, but that came too late to help Stewart, some of whose sup- porters believed enough temperance and strict Sunday ob- [62] THE FEDERAL PLAN serving voters over the city opposed Stewart on account of the alleged acts of his agents to bring about his defeat. Of course this could never be definitely known, but the incident served to put a stop, in at least one Cleveland newspaper office, to the publication of ‘‘eleventh hour’ political stories of doubtful accuracy. In a way the elimination of McKisson would have cheated Cleveland of a rather picturesque figure in the person of a chief executive afterwards to be known as ‘“‘the curly headed boy’ who provided plenty of excitement from the day he entered the mayor's office up to the time he fought Mark Hanna in the Ohio legislature for a United States senatorship. Many things, such as the starting of water- works improvements and filling in of the lake front, were initiated by him. Some other things, including the appoint- ment of inferior politicians, were not so satisfactory, although he promised so well in his first administration and was so astute a machine maker that he secured a second term. However, the dumping grounds, grown to thirty acres of new land on the lake are still there. And the city is still here. And ‘““Mac” long ago passed into a land not made with hands. It is pleasant to remember how at times he called together groups of intelligent citizens as committees to assist him in city problems, for sometimes he acted on their advice. Returning for a moment to the Eighties, I wish to note that George W. Gardner, a real Cleveland product and one of the most genuine of its sons, twice held the office of mayor, besides serving in the city council and devoting a very large part of his life to the old board of trade and numerous charitable activities. Mayor in 1885-1887 and again in 1889-1891, he gave the city a clean and business like administration, in method a replica of his own successful business career. Here was another Clevelander who when a [63] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND boy sold newspapers. His trading ground for newspaper wares was down at the old river steamboat docks, and he enjoyed telling of his experiences there. George had an advantage over some in his selection of well-to-do parents, but he loved to sell goods, and he loved the water. One of the early ‘““commodores”’ Gardner did much to make yachting popular on Lake Erie. He enjoyed handling all sorts of water craft, once, with “Billy” Eckman, city clerk, making a trip of several weeks by canoe down the Ohio and Mississippi rivers. His generosity to all who needed help was proverbial. Elmer E. Bates once printed a story of sitting near Gardner's desk in the mayor's office and seeing him pass out all of his current week's salary to those who dropped in for help. I have a picture in my own mind of Gardner carrying a crippled boy up to a picnic ground in Lorain on the occasion of a steamboat excursion for poor children. Honest, tender of heart, keen in the conduct of city affairs, a splendid friend and neighbor, cosmopolitan Cleveland could use to advantage more men of the type of George W. Gardner! Then there was Brenton D. Babcock, a successful coal operator, who was talked into taking the mayoralty in 1887 by ambitious Democrats, but who did not enjoy a minute of the lime light into which he was thrust. Prominent in Masonic circles, his side diversion to that activity was the driving of spirited horseflesh. It was under Babcock’s administration that Cleveland decided upon adopting the federal plan of city government, then being first tried out by the city of Philadelphia. He headed a commission, the other members consisting of George W. Gardner, J. T. Logue, Barney Mahler and M. M. Hobart, sent to that city to investigate the workings of the plan. At the time going occasionally to New York in quest of advertising for the Plain Dealer, I was temporarily invited [64] THE FEDERAL PLAN back into staff work, and, joining the commission in Phila- delphia, I wired daily reports of what it was doing and finding. Mayor Fitler, who afterwards became a national figure, was enthusiastic over the federal plan as applied to municipalities. A carriage was placed at the disposal of the Cleveland men who visited every department of the city and examined closely into the system. Seeking sidelights on this innovation in city government, I called upon some local notables, including John Wana- maker, then owner of the largest department store of his generation. It was in a made-over railroad depot, in which was employed 3,000 salespeople, a total no other merchant prince, in fact or embryo, then dreamed of rivaling. Wanamaker, in his courtly and best Sunday school manner, let me inside his office railing and gave me a convincing interview about the federal plan as far as it had been tried in his Quaker City. If IT linger some over my visit to George Washington Childs, editor and owner of the Philadelphia Ledger, please remember that this is an ‘‘autobiography’’ by a newspaper man, who, then young and disillusionized, had much venera- tion for all the older members of the craft. The office Mr. Childs welcomed me into was more like a richly furnished private library than a newspaper workshop. Not a battered chair or desk in sight. The walls lined with ornate bookcases filled with richly bound volume; rugs of fabulous price upon the floor. Not much like Cleveland newspaper dens, this! From a case Childs drew out and handed me one of a full set of Dickens, each book of which had a personal note of com- pliment to the Philadelphia editor written by the author. Several other writers of renown had shown him a like courtesy, and the office contained many tributes in the form of loving cups, paintings, expensive bricabrac from literary [65] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND and artistic friends. For indeed, George Washington Childs was a friendly man in a city of brotherly love! What has become of that valuable collection his heirs probably know, but they get no more enjoyment out of it than did the thousands of guests who, rich, poor, famed or obscure, for years visited this gregarious editor, always sure of welcome. I forgot all about city governments and plans for their welfare as Mr. Childs unwound to me the story of his struggles. He took me to a window of his office and pointed to a building where, as a clerk in a book store, he dreamed of some day getting into the newspaper business. Coming to an hour later, I asked the editor to give me his opinion of the federal plan, only to be told that he really had not thought much about it, saying that Col. Davis, his managing editor, might throw some light upon the subject. Mr. Childs sending for that executive, I found him also to be a friendly man in a town of friendship, but at the time did not know that he was the husband of Rebecca and father of Richard Harding Davis, famed, and to be famous, in American literature. At the suggestion of editor Childs, I was accompanied by Col. Davis to the office of the lawyer who framed the state law putting the federal plan in operation in Philadelphia, and secured a valuable interview for the use of the Cleveland commission. Briefly, the federal plan was adopted for Cleveland, thus doing away with the older method of management by boards elected directly by the people, and instead establishing a cabinet appointed by the mayor, who was given almost unlimited power in the city’s government. The federal plan, lately rejected in Cleveland, and its successor, a government by city council and a manager of its selection, now on probation, are problems for the wise of a newer generation [66] THE FEDERAL PLAN to contrast, arbitrate and solve. One thing we learned while in Philadelphia was that a state law there provides for a small tax—one mill, I think—on all moneys on hand or in banks. I have always thought something of the kind in Ohio would, while bringing in considerable revenue, salve the conscience and quicken the memory of those who are expected to swear truthfully to tax lists. [67] CHAPTER ELEVEN A MODERN PLAIN DEALER How And When It Actually Was Made And Some Of The Obstacles Met With The Cleveland Plain Dealer as it is today, barring increased size, natural with the growth of the city, and some inner qualities I shall not undertake to analyze here, was created during the years 1893 and 1898. If there is too much of my personality in this and some subsequent chapters upon newspaper events in Cleveland, I can only offer the excuse of adherence to facts, and a determi- nation to clear up in part a phase of local newspaper history which has been misrepresented and befogged. There has been much of smug and complacent sailing under false colors in regard to the rehabilitation of the Cleveland Plain Dealer. Should any reader of these reminiscences care enough about the subject, he has but to consult the files of the Plain Dealer of the above dates to decide wherein, if at all, I misstate the facts. Up to 1893 both morning Cleveland newspapers had issued weak, uninteresting sheets, eight pages in size, seven columns to the page. The make-up and manner of news handling of the Leader and Plain Dealer appeared to be uniform. Both papers were members of the Associated Press. About the only distinguishing feature between them was that one was bitterly partisan in its Republicanism and the other a weak dilution of Democracy, clamoring for free silver. In neither office was there any idea of making for growing Cleveland a real, modern morning newspaper—one that would compare favorably with the papers of Pittsburgh, or other progressive cities near at hand. [68] A MODERN PLAIN DEALER The field lay rich and serene for doing just that thing. Earning fair profits, the Leader was best equipped to meet the demand and thus retain its supremacy in the morning field. But, as its manager some years later explained to me, he was handicapped by a will left by the Leader's principal owner under which most of the earnings must be paid out to his famiiy in dividends. No surplus was winnowed into the Leader’s bank to provide for expansion. From the start, Mr. Holden realized the difficulties before his newspaper, but for the most part I had from him courageous support in its development. In the instances where this was doubtful I knew his hesitancy arose from an utter lack of knowledge of the newspaper business. There never was any question of the Holden pluck and perseverance. And, too, he was a man of much public spirit, and all that spirit was not selfishly based upon the welfare of his large personal interests. He was ever ready with counsel and money to help any movement for the advancement of the city. Given practically a free hand, I gradually made a complete overhauling of the business and editorial departments. The morning edition went to press at 3 o'clock, and the subscribers found their copies of the Plain Dealer on the doorstep at 6 o'clock instead of any hour up to 8 or 9 o'clock, as often happened in the past. We installed a press which was the first in a Cleveland office to insert a single leaf to produce a paper of ten pages. Then followed a photo engraving department, also the first in Cleveland newspaper offices, which did away with the crude chalk plate process of illustration then employed in all the local offices. Especially important, an entirely different policy in the handling of news was inaugurated. In this I ran counter to some traditions in the morning newspaper offices here. When a reporter for the Republican organs, it had seemed [69] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND to me unfair and poor newspaper business to misrepresent and belittle meetings of the Democrats, and to exaggerate constrastingly the doings of the Republicans. But this was the rule. One morning, some months after I was put in charge of the Plain Dealer, our city editor published a two column account of an important Republican meeting in the city armory. In the introduction it was said—and truthfully— that the armory was crowded to the doors, and that it was a very enthusiastic gathering. The report in the Leader, organ of the Republicans, was tame in comparison. I com- plimented the city editor upon what I considered a good piece of local work. But Holden did not pass any compli- ments on to me as manager. “Why, I am surprised to see the Plain Dealer boosting the Republican party in that way!” he said to me when he called at the office later in the day. ‘“That reporter ought to get a job on the Leader!” In all our years of close contact there were never any really unpleasant passages between Holden and myself. I usually could convince him our newspaper manners were not below par. So, on this occasion, I gently pointed out to him that as a newspaper the Plain Dealer had a charter to print the news, and it was going to be printed as near as possible in an unadulterated form. And if we could ‘‘beat” the Leader in giving Cleveland news of its own political party so much the better for the Plain Dealer's circulation. Holden was not entirely convinced of the logic of this, even after I told him our sales were perking up a bit in the strong Republican wards. Soon after reorganizing the staff, which included promot- ing Ralph D. Williams, one of the youngest reporters, to the city editor's desk, I introduced what seemed a hazardous [701] A MODERN PLAIN DEALER change in the paper's make-up. For many years the Leader and Plain Dealer had run from two to six full columns of display advertising on their first pages, thus limiting the news to a minimum. And still worse, the space left for news was usually filled with long drawn out reports of the daily legislative grind in Washington and Columbus. The effect was deadly. There was a decided shock all along the line, notably in the newspaper offices and among the larger advertisers, when one day the Plain Dealer came out with its first page containing nothing but news—just forty-nine items in all—the large advertisements relegated to the second and last pages. The change had, of course, immediate and beneficial effect upon circulation, and even the two or three advertisers who seriously objected to it soon admitted that it was a move in the right direction. But the thing that ultimately did the most to make the Plain Dealer a financial success was a drastic cut in its selling price from twenty to ten cents per week for the morning and Sunday edition delivered into homes. This went into operation on October 2, 1893. Everything had conspired to make feasible this radical change. The linotype, the new rapid type setting machine, had reduced the cost of composi- tion by more than half. The cost of print paper had been reduced even more than that proportion, and the opportunity for increasing advertising with higher rates much enhanced through the progressive spirit of the local merchants. It was fortunate for the plan, and as things turned for the Plain Dealer, that it had the support of the proprietor’s son, L. Dean Holden, who, successful in placing the Hol- lenden hotel, the other important Holden property in Cleveland, on a metropolitan basis, was as anxious as myself to do something in that line for the newspaper. In many [71] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND ways Dean was my good right arm, especially in dealing with his father. Right at this time he was giving many hours each day to learning the inside of the Plain Dealer business, willing to take on any of the work I offered him. Through these close relations I got to know Dean Holden as few in Cleveland knew him, and to admire his many fine qualities of heart and mind. His death, while just ripening into much usefulness, was, to the newspaper and to myself, a grievous loss. He alone of the members of the Holden family knew all of the disheartening struggles we were obliged to go through in those formative days of the newer Plain Dealer. Dean was quick to see the possibilities of success with a popular priced newspaper in the morning field. But not so his more cautious father. “I will admit that the Plain Dealer is not worth twenty cents a week,” said the elder Holden, when it was proposed to him to cut the home delivery price to ten cents, ‘but 1 am not quite willing to see it go into bankruptcy! Why not reduce it to fifteen cents?” “Because the Leader would, without doubt, promptly meet that price and the newspapers would be exactly in the same relation, the Plain Dealer worse off than ever through reduction of circulation receipts,” I explained. “Besides the point aimed at is to build up a big circulation, and that can be done by practically meeting the selling prices of the afternoon papers.” After thinking the problem over for several days, during which I am sure his son Dean stuck to him like a leech, Holden surrendered, and the morning Plain Dealer went out to the homes at just half the former price. Upon the streets and at news stands the price was reduced from three to two cents a copy. To make the situation logical, we [72] A MODERN PLAIN DEALER issued the first Plain Dealer of cheapened price much smaller in size—six columns in width but six and eight pages in total—a little sheet indeed, and quite entitled to the derision with which it was received in the Leader office! As anticipated, the Leader went on record as opposed to any form of reduction from established prices. It promised editorially to greatly enlarge and better the Leader of the past and to avoid the error of cutting price and ‘‘quality.” But nothing more in this line was heard from the Leader when, within a few weeks, the Plain Dealer, meeting with popular approval, felt obliged to resume its normal size, eight and ten pages, of seven columns, later to be increased to eight columns. And a rather pathetic part of it all was that, adhering loyally to its published resolution, the Leader, for the next six years persisted in its old price of twenty cents a week and three cents a copy, finally meeting the Plain Dealer price only to find that it had lost the morning newspaper field of Cleveland. [73] CHAPTER TWELVE PLAIN DEALER TALENT Bone, Rose, Lilley, Callahan, Knight, Hoffman And Others Who Assisted In The Paper’s Development After the reduction in price of the morning Plain Dealer and reconstruction of news policies were rapidly turning the circulation tide to the paper its owner decided to increase the Plain Dealer capital stock from $100,000 to $500,000, to which, as a comparatively small stockholder, I fully agreed. Subsequent events showed clearly that the good will of the paper earned between 1893 and 1898, if it were translated into dollars, had a value far above the half million figure. I especially want to speak of the men who contributed to the making of this good will value. Whenever I think of John H. A. Bone it is with a degree of reverence no other man in the profession has inspired. Bone began his newspaper career when still a young man, and was editorial writer on the Herald during all its years of uncertain management following the death of Benedict. Coming to the Plain Dealer in the same capacity, after the Herald was bought in 1885, he continued with the paper until his death, in 1906. In the first place Bone was one of the most dependable, accurate, and whenever occasion demanded, incisive editorial writers Cleveland has known. Age did not affect the vigor of his work and its adaptation to a more modern range and demand. His was the heart of youth in combination with ripened experience. At times he wrote the entire page, and readers of the old type newspapers, with their multiplicity of editorial topics, will realize what that meant. Most [74] PLAIN DEALER TALENT modern newspapers have abandoned this infliction. In addi- tion Bone was a perpetual fount of information to the younger members of the staff, the least of whom might ap- proach him with certainty of attention, no matter how disturbing the interruption to his own work. During the middle Nineties, when the Plain Dealer was growing very vehement in its free silver propaganda, Bone was for a while unseated by the paper's owner, but permitted, at a much reduced salary, to do the book reviews at his home. Fortunately this condition lasted but a short time. It came about through some brilliant editorials on the silver doctrine written by Charles Grant Miller, a former member of the Plain Dealer local staff. At this time I had charge of Plain Dealer affairs with the exception of the editorial page, which Mzr. Holden himself looked after—when he happened to be in the city, or disengaged from more pressing activities. Miller's copy resulted in his employment by the owner with full swing on the editorial page. I recall a very effective, and in a way, truthful cartoon the Press published at the time. A shaky ship appeared to be putting out to sea. On a small tug by its side stood Bone with an old fashioned valise which had been handed to him from the outgoing vessel. ‘Putting Off the Pilot” was the title of this tribute from a local contemporary. Some weeks later Holden, much excited, came into the business office one morning and demanded to know if I had read an editorial in the morning Plain Dealer on Coxey. I had. It was a half humorous screed about the eccentric Ohio gentleman who once led a ragged army to Washington to urge national road building at a time of labor distress. “I want that man Miller discharged!’ said Mr. Holden. “I will not let this paper commit itself to Coxeyism!”’ [75] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND “Mr. Miller was selected by you as editorial writer,” I started to explain, “and of course if you decide to inform him his services are no longer needed 2! “But I want it made official!” interrupted Mr. Holden, and later in the day he dictated a request for Miller's resignation, which was duly and solemnly signed by himself as president and myself as secretary of the company. While I detected no commitment of the paper to Coxey in the editorial in question, but did recognize some meritorious work done by Miller in other ways, his retire- ment entirely from the paper was a matter out of my hands. A good effect, however, was the return of Bone to his old position, a thing gratifying to every person connected with the Plain Dealer. Later, when the paper was operated under the Kennedy- Baker contract, I had a chance to secure for Bone a recognition rather unusual in the life work of a man of his advanced age. On the date of his seventieth birthday Baker and I together visited his office and told him his salary had been raised. Just five years later we made a similar call of congratulation, and, again raising his salary, informed him that another writer was to be added to the editorial page. He was urged to confine his work to no more than one article each day, with the suggestion that when he saw fit this contribution might be sent from his home. We knew, however, of his affectionate attachment to his office desk, and that ill health alone would willingly separate him from it even for a day. For the next few months and until he was seized with a fatal illness every week day found him in the office he had so well served. Almost to the last he was as alert of mind, as quick to grasp a suggestion and as deft in the play of words as in his prime. [76] PLAIN DEALER TALENT There are editorials written by J. H. A. Bone which, for their simplicity of style, or vigor, or spirit of truth and helpfulness, or their grace of expression, might well serve as a pattern for newspaper writers of a newer generation. These still exist, though hidden in musty newspaper files; but the personal charm of their author, his friendliness, his other lovable traits of character are now merely memories, cherished by none more than by the many who came under his influence in the offices of Cleveland newspapers. William R. Rose, still an active member of the Plain Dealer staff, came, upon my invitation, to the paper in 1896, the year the paper was moved from Bank street to its present location. Prior to this Rose had for some years been associated with Orlando J. Hodge on the Cleveland Voice, a weekly paper, purely local in news character. Cleveland had long known Rose as a writer of unusual originality, particularly along humorous lines. His brilliant work on the Plain Dealer's editorial page soon made itself felt. It was a real touch of sunshine woven into a department of the paper ordinarily serious in tone. Many will recall the timely local hits in his ‘Back Platform” street car talks. For years all the editorial paragraphing was done by Rose, as I presume it is still. Early in his Plain Dealer engagement William R. Rose began to write short stories for the Sunday editions, a feature I have always thought had much to do with making the paper popular. How they might have been cast into the newspaper discard will probably never be known to their author unless somebody calls his attention to this chapter. Some months after Rose’s stories had become a fixed feature of the Plain Dealer, Mr. Holden asked me why I persisted in publishing them. “You surely do not call those stories literature, do you?’ he inquired. [77] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND “Probably not, if you draw too fine a line,” I replied. “And neither does Rose, but the stories are liked by readers of the paper, and you know we are trying to make a newspaper, not a high priced fiction magazine.” Many of the early Rose stories were rather suggestive of that old basic plot in which the poor but open eyed country boy picks up a pin from the floor of the city merchant, is hired on the spot for his frugality and afterwards marries the merchant's only daughter. And Rose never got this youth mixed with the less fortunate one who was promptly arrested for stealing the pin. “It may be so,” agreed Holden, ‘‘though it is hard for me to believe that anyone considers it literature.” “Perhaps you are right,” I said, “but some highbrow newspapers in the Boston literary belt seem to take kindly to the Rose imagination.” Then I sent to the exchange room for recent copies of the Springfield Republican, the Hartford Courant, and, I think, the Boston Transcript, which were reprinting every week a Rose story under the credit line, “W. R. Rose, In The Cleveland Plain Dealer.” This exhibit, while for the moment rather staggering, was effective. Anything with the New England label was likely to make a distinct hit with L. E. Holden. Few Clevelanders were more saturated with Yankee spirit and tradition. In Maine, as a boy, he was obliged to learn lessons of thrift, and there, by the way, he also acquired a religious toleration which was reflected in his staunch support of the liberal church movement here. Rose is now turning into the thirtieth year of his connec- tion with the Plain Dealer. Recently I learned that during this long period but one Sunday issue has gone to press without a story from his pen. Probably this is a record in [78] PLAIN DEALER TALENT continuous work of the kind in the newspaper history of the country. Among the young men who worked loyally and intelli- gently for the paper in these days of reconstruction were: Edward B. Lilley, who began as a reporter and was advanced by me to the position of managing editor; Ralph D. Williams, with a like record of advancement; Percy W. Knight, who at one time and another was telegraph editor, managing editor and editorial writer; William E. Sage, dramatic editor; Munson Havens, now secretary of the Chamber of Commerce; John M. Mullroony, Ira W. Hoff- man; Robert K. Beach; George Smart, Will S. Lloyd; A. E. Heiss; A. J. Wright; Walter Robinson; W. S. Parr; Louis Newman, staff photographer; Will McKay; Fred Prentiss; Felix Rosenberg and others, whose names I do not now recall. George V. Callahan, veteran marine writer, the best known on the Great Lakes, still in harness on the Plain Dealer, was conspicuous among those whose record for news “beats” have never since been overshadowed. Of others in staff work who came to the paper at a later period I shall speak in another place. At this time, however, I had the pleasure—and it was distinctly that—of employing the first woman ever regularly connected with a Cleveland newspaper staff in the position of society editor. She was then Miss Birdelle Switzer, and her arrival was hailed with delirious joy by all the male reporters who always shuddered at the mere mention of an assignment in society circles. There was to be no more guessing at the intricate fabrics worn at functions of the four hundred, or how they were put together—I mean the clothes. They were glad to let Birdelle do it, and she did it so well even the harshest critic in feminine circles found little to find fault with. Happily wedded, Miss Switzer gave way for women such as Miss Millecent E. [79] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND Olmsted, Miss May L. Bassett, Miss Mary Dickerson, Miss Jessie C. Glasier and others whose writings created a distinct and attractive atmosphere in the old office and in the columns of the paper. This, you know, was quite a while before the advent of the “Sob Sisters’—those little ladies who play upon the emotions of newspaper readers over the misfortunes of our youthful banditry and whose stories are expected to make you weep while you wait. Nor did we then know much about the women departmental writers, who answer the questions of the unmarried youth as to the exact psycho- logical moment for patting a girl's hand. The office humorist was supposed to answer questions of that kind, and he usually did it right! In this division the newspaper of today has created a circulation pull I confess to have overlooked. Just a few years back, if a girl wanted to know something of the unexplored fields of romance, she went and found her mother, or an aunt, or a kind-hearted matron in the neighborhood, who had been through the mill and could give her first hand advice. They now are saved all that trouble, and the mother can go ahead with her canning or other household duties without unnecessary interruption. Alice writes a throbbing letter to the newspaper. In a day or so she reads it in cold print, and absorbing all the emotional advice shows it around among her school friends as evidence of her own unusual heart throbs and literary facility. The bachelor who is too timid to ask a girl to the movies can now write Mrs. Some- body on the local newspapers and, as in the twinkling of an eye, he reads himself into the caveman class. Talk about circulation getters! [80] CHAPTER THIRTEEN THE DRAMA IN CLEVELAND From The Days Of John Ellsler And “Gus” Hartz To Robert McLaughlin Back in the early Seventies I had my first glimpse of the stage in the old Academy of Music on Bank street, where my boyish senses were enthralled by the acting of young Lawrence Barrett in the play “The Marble Heart,” in which he was then starring. This was at a period when the Academy was under the management of John A. Ellsler, who, in 1875, transferred his brilliant local company of actors to his newly built Opera House on Euclid avenue. Later I became personally acquainted with several of these early stock actors while living at the same boarding house owned by a Mrs. Minckley, at the corner of High and Middle streets. How many Cleve- landers can now recall this typical and cheerful old house, among the few where professional and business men, preferring it to the cheap restaurants, took their mid-day meals? Four of the latter I remember with distinctness— Judge E. J. Blandin, Attorney George H. Foster, Attorney George H. Groot and Robert Linn, who founded Linndale. Some of the young actors in Ellsler’'s company, notably Roland Reed, afterwards made for themselves a prominent place on the American stage. Others who, under the tutelage of Ellsler, made a great name in the theatrical world were his daughter, Effie, and, at a still earlier date, Clara Morris. It was while in the employ of John Ellsler at the old Academy of Music, where he passed out programs, that our own “Abe” E. Erlanger dreamed of great things to come. From the Academy he progressed to the Euclid Avenue Opera [81] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND House ticket office, to the management of prominent actors and finally leading place in theatrical management in the United States. John J. Collins, a finished all-round actor, was for a number of years Ellsler’s stage manager, and in my early newspaper experience I came to know him as a personal friend. Because of this acquaintance I now have in my possession an autograph book containing many letters received by himself and Ellsler from noted actors and other celebrities of their managerial days. Some of these letters are so significant of the struggles of the profession fifty years ago, and also in many ways connected with stage affairs in Cleve- land, I think them worth a separate chapter. Owing largely to a general business depression over the country and the unlooked for heavy cost of the undertaking the Euclid Avenue Opera House did not, under John Ellsler, prove profitable. Later it was bought by Mark A. Hamna, who, one of the alert business men of Cleveland, was disposed to help along any activity that could perform a part in the city’s progress. Whether he ever coined money from the venture is an open question, but for some years thereafter the best things in dramatic art were given Clevelanders through this medium. In was only with the advent of Augustus F. Hartz as lessee and manager that the old Opera House began completely to fulfill its mission. If kind hearted old John Ellsler, finished actor and one of the most conspicuous builders of the legiti- mate American stage, could himself have made a selection he undoubtedly would not have asked for a successor more gifted than “Gus” Hartz. In this, as in all things theatrical he undertook, “Gus” Hartz gave people the worth of their money, and when in [82] THE DRAMA IN CLEVELAND him the stage lost one of its remarkable illusionists, it gained one of its most conscientious and able managers. His dis- appointment over the loss by fire of the Park Theater, on the Public Square, built for him to manage, is still fresh in the memory of many local theater goers. This led, however, to his lease of the Opera House, and a very forward movement in the life of the drama in Cleveland. It was my good fortune to know A. F. Hartz in the sometimes confidential relations between newspaper editors and those responsible to the public for its leisure entertain- ment, and I want to add my tribute of esteem paid to him by all Cleveland when, in 1921, he retired from active participation in the local theatrical field. Many suggestions in the conduct of the Plain Dealer’s theatrical pages came from him. And these suggestions were never of a selfish nature, for it was in the soul of the man to wish all men well, and this did not exclude competing theater managers. When I think of Frank M. Drew I find myself back climbing again those old wooden stairs in the ramshackle building on lower Superior street, where was housed Drew's Dime Museum, consisting of the lady who fondled live snakes, canibalistic bushmen dancing barefoot on broken glass, the living skeleton, and his wife, the fat woman, interspersed with acts of the variety order on a small stage in the rear. There was always a knowing look in Frank's eye when he called at the newspaper offices to boost a new attraction, as if to say, “They like my little show, but it is only a stepping stone. Wait until you see me on Euclid avenue.’ For things with him fell out that way, and not so many years after his humble beginning further down town. The next step was a little variety theater on the avenue not far [83] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND from the Square, and subsequently a lease of larger quarters still further east, where the Star, operated as a burlesque theater, owned by Drew © Campbell, flourished and enriched its owners. In due time, and in the furtherance of an early ambition, these men also got control of the Colonial, on Superior avenue, near East 9th street, where Clevelanders were treated to the best of legitimate drama. Frank Drew came from one of America’s greatest family of actors, and while he has never admitted having an ambition to play Hamlet, or any other role, melancholy or the reverse, he has in fact contributed much to the mirth of local mankind, and outclassed all the rest of his family in managerial ability. Setting aside many minor ventures in the theatrical life of Cleveland, I come to more recent and history making changes in a city where rapid change and improvement is the order of the day. Now we bave a ‘Play House Square,” located where but two decades ago stood only mansions of the rich, upon an avenue once famous the world over for its beauty, but now running in the class of Fifth avenue in New York and Michigan avenue in Chicago in the gradual overhauling and destruction of homes by the irresistible spread of business. If, a half century hence, some aging citizen has the hardi- hood to write of his fifty years in Cleveland, and if he chances to fall upon a copy of this ‘autobiography’ in the Museum of Natural History, he may, while reviewing scenes along Euclid avenue, with its five miles of solid business blocks, stretching out to University Circle, and perhaps far beyond, wonder why I stressed this small section of the thoroughfare no further east than Twentieth street. But if he could look backwards as I do to the time when practically all of Euclid avenue down to the Public Square was occupied by private residences, he might find reason in my astonishments. [84] THE DRAMA IN CLEVELAND The ghosts of those old houses arise to me as in a dream. I close my eyes and lo! there go Billy Edwards, George Short, Brenton Babcock, Charley Wesley, Tom Coe, Sylvester Everett, John Huntington and a ghostly host of other old timers, racing their cutters over a frozen roadway set apart for winter sports on lower Euclid. The sidewalks are lined with shouting crowds. There are no street cars west of Fortieth street to spoil the sport. Every man who can com- mand a horse and cutter is out to show his gait. 3 Thanks to the “movies,” which revolutionized things theatrical here as elsewhere, Cleveland has become a really important center for the drama, spoken and reeled. Happily the reel has not in any sense lessened interest in the legitimate stage. At this writing they appear to be running an even race, with the chances rather favoring the latter as a future fixture. This brings me to a consideration of one who is doing a great deal toward preserving and advancing the drama in Cleveland. And I particularly enjoy writing about Robert H. McLaughlin, playwright and manager, for a few years ago “Mac” was one of my own on the Plain Dealer staff, where he did efficient work as reporter. Even then he dis- closed a liking for the stage, although he never let it interfere with the duties of the hour. He possessed all the qualities of a thinker, and a determination of will that made itself felt when, by gradual process, he fastened himself closely to the theatrical business. Few men so practical of mind have disclosed to the world such keen sense of the artistic. His success as a writer and producer of plays serves to overturn many preconceived theories of erraticisms supposably inseparable from stage genius. Of course McLaughlin traces heredity back to Scot- land, and he has markedly in his make up that blending of veneration for beauty and poetry with hard headed common [85] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND sense the centuries recognize in the sons of that rugged land. To date he has successfully managed the Colonial, the Opera House and the newer Ohio Theater in Cleveland, with side diversions in London, England, and on the “road.” Where he will stop is a question of the gods—gallery and otherwise. The old Theater Comique, on Frankfort street, between Bank and Water streets, run for many years by a Frenchman named Montpellier, was popularly supposed to be a lure of Satan to corrupt the youth of this city. Compared, however, with the feminine distractions of the stage of today old Monty's playhouse was a demure and conservative institu- tion! Its exhibition of physical female charm was limited to eight or ten girls sitting in a circle with black stocking exposed almost but not quite up to the knee. The view of silk hosiery and low neck seen today on the streets, in society, and even in the busy marts of trade, if permitted in that old theater, would surely have suggested a return of the ducking chair and whipping post! There were no physical culture magazines then. It was there I first saw Denman Thompson in a crude variety sketch which, after much elaboration, grew to be a great American play, for years to have almost unprecedented success in the leading theaters. “Joshua Witcomb’’ was the title of this first sketch, changed to “The Old Homestead” in the enlarged drama. But in both Uncle Josh, casting aside his cowhide boots and dancing in polite society, was the central figure. Some time before this Ellsler had grievously distressed the New England element in this part of the state by taking on at the Academy of Music a French adaptation called “The Black Crook,” in which there was a ballet of several dancing girls actually clad in black tights! I did not see this [86] THE DRAMA IN CLEVELAND devastating, unmoral play, but well remember the envy of the loafers in Jim Crane's store, in our village, where I clerked, when Hank Bundy returned from the city and made himself out a gay dog by bragging of attending one of the performances. Again in this case, comparison of “The Black Crook” with similar plays in the big theaters of this generation, where the formality of putting on tights at all is overlooked, and where the bald heads in the auditorium are playfully thumped with bladders, seems to place the former in a class of Sunday school drama by itself. Whether this evolution in things stagey is for better or worse I am too inexperienced to attempt analysis, preferring to leave that to Archie Bell and other local doctors of the drama seen, spoken and danced in more sophisticated times. Even a hit and miss review of theatrical life in Cleveland would be incomplete without a reference to men who have had to do with the publicity features of the business. Many will recall Ariel Barney, once a reporter on the old Plain Dealer, who from advertising agent for a local theater became a prominent manager of stars of the profession. When, in 1887, I began to visit New York in quest of advertising for the Plain Dealer, he had become conspicuous enough that a drink at the old Hoffman House bar, a popular resort for the actors, had been named ‘‘Barney’s Dope.” Unlike the others, it contained little alcohol, consisting mostly of raw milk. Frank Strauss, a Cleveland boy, after publishing theatrical programs here, also went on to New York and made a fortune from contracts for programs with nearly all the theaters of the metropolis. Our own Dan S. Wertheimer succeeded to his contracts with the theaters of Cleveland, and [871 FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND is largely responsible for bringing theater programs into the realm of real art. Among the Cleveland men who contributed much to the earlier theatrical life of the city was Charles L. LaMarche, now a resident of Lakewood. And speaking of the large number of successful men who in their tender years had to do with newspaper delivery, Charlie was there with alertness. His route for evening papers was out St. Clair street way. The thing he remembers best about this business activity was that one time he won a prize offered by one of the publishers for folding by hand the largest number of papers lifted from the old style daily newspaper presses. For fifteen years he managed Haltnorth’s Garden, located at the corner of Willson and Woodland avenues, a very popular summer resort in the Eighties and Nineties. It was under his management that Cleveland was provided for four or five years with summer light opera there. The company, a talented one, presented all of the Gilbert and Sulliven operas, Pinafore and the rest, besides the other productions of popularity that came along in those days. In 1901 LaMarche built the Empire Theater, on Huron street, near old Erie street, which he conducted for a couple of years before selling it to other theatrical interests. He has recently told me of managing for two years J. J. Corbett, at that time champion of fistiana. The monologue which “Gentleman Jim" discoursed to the audience was written by Will R. Rose and Will E. Sage. Keith's theaters, at Euclid avenue and East 17th street, and in the 105th street district; the Ohio, on Euclid avenue, the Hanna, at Prospect and East 14th street; the Hippo- drome; the Stillman; the Allen; the Park; the Mall; the Circle, and a hundred lesser houses, devoted to motion pictures, are too new and well known to the resident of today to require any extended mention in these chapters. [88] CHAPTER FOURTEEN STAGE CELEBRITIES Letters From Famous Actors, Including John Wilkes Booth, Received By Ellsler And Collins Not so many years ago my old friend, William E. Sage, whose brilliant theatrical criticisms in the local newspapers won for him admiration and sincere friendship from all Cleveland, spent an hour in my house going over the letters from which I shall quote in this chapter. Before his death he often reminded me that they were to be left him in my will. Some of the letters are too long for reproduction here, but several, especially those written by Lawrence Barrett to John J. Collins while the latter managed his tours over the country, shed a good deal of light upon the hard work and difficulties met with by the stars of an earlier date. Perhaps the most important of the lot is the following, addressed to John A. Ellsler: New York, Oct. 18, 1864. Dear John: Have not heard from you of late. November 23d and 3oth is i. the only time I have for Cleveland. I asked for Feb. 1st and 8th in Columbus. I can still give you that time I guess, but let me hear from you at once, as I must answer Nashville. If you can not ar- range that time for Columbus I may be able to give you Feb. 29th and March 7th for Columbus, but you must answer at once by telegraph. I play tomorrow, Monday 19th here in Providence and the next night in Hartford. Yours truly, J. WILKES BOOTH. This letter from the assassin of President Lincoln written six months before the tragedy was, as customary in those days, in his own handwriting. At the time Ellsler was [89] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND managing both the Academy of Music and a Columbus, Ohio, theater. A letter from the famous actress Charlotte Cushman, indicates the rather stilted correspondence of the Sixties: 20 West 16th Street, New York, Oct. 25, 1860 Dear Mr. Ellsler: Both of your letters have been rec'd. I did not think the first asked for a reply—therefore delayed writing. It is not at all likely I shall go to the west. As told you before it’s not in my intentions. Should I change my mind and negotiations with you seem desirable you shall hear from me. Wishing you all success, Meanwhile, Yours very truly, CHARLOTTE CUSHMAN. While acting as stage manager for Dion Boucicault, eminent Irish playwright and actor, Collins received the following note, upon the envelope of which he made this memorandum: “Letter from Boucicault when at Louisville, Ky., Oct. 17th, 1877, and read by me to the company at twelve o'clock rehearsal same day.” It illustrates that some at least of the big stars in the theatrical firmament are con- siderate of the feelings of the underlings: My dear Sir: I would ask you to beg the ladies and gentlemen to speak with more deliberation—not slowly—but they injure their effects by indistinct rapidity. In my scenes I was not so much disturbed, but I was sorry to see those scenes in which I was not concerned injured and rendered ineffective. After speaking perhaps too sharply last night Moli- neux and Claire played their (kitchen) scene in excellent time and consequently reaped the benefit in applause. I don’t want to reduce actors to the mean condition of “support- ing” me. It is degrading to them and I want to elevate them. I can take care of myself without putting them under my feet. So I was not annoyed for my own sake but for theirs. [90] STAGE CELEBRITIES Please get the gentleman who plays Sullivan to learn the business of the wake scene perfectly, and to take the L. H. corner when Reily takes the R. H. corner. As we play the piece for the next 10 days we should get the words and cues perfect. I fear the parts do not correspond with the manuscript. Yours, DION BOUCICAULT. The following from John E. Owens, famous in the play of “Solon Shingle” and in other parts, gives us a little insight to the spirit of generosity rather proverbial in the fraternity: Russell House, Detroit, April 18, 1877. My Dear Collins: Kindly place the proceeds of the enclosed check for $50 at the disposal of our unfortunate and suffering little friend Frankie McClellan, and convey to her my profound sympathy (in which my wife earnestly joins) in her deep distress, with the sincere hope of her speedy recovery to health and usefulness. With kind regards to yourself, I am sincerely yours, JOHN E. OWENS. Those who had the good fortune to see and hear W. J. Florence in “The Mighty Dollar” may be able to detect some of his stage oddity in this letter, also received by Collins, at that time stage manager at the Olympia theater in St. Louis: Grand Hotel, Indianapolis, Nov. 24, "76. My Dear John: Enclosed find the mss and music of “The Mighty Dollar.” Will you please have as many rehearsals as possible. Frank Weston played in the piece one hundred times and knows all the “Buss.” Have the orchestra for Monday when we arrive. But I send you the leader's part that you may release music with rehearsal of the comedy. Confound this election excitement! It has caused a drop in our business. I had hoped Tuesday last would have settled it but it seems to “Stretch to the crack of doom.” “Great Tribulation!” W. J. FLORENCE. [91] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND The Frank Weston referred to was the husband of Effie Ellsler, and well known in Cleveland. The Tilden-Hayes presidential tangle apparently was hurting the theater as well as all other business of the country. By a coincidence the following letter from James H. Hackett, another among the celebrated actors of America, speaks of the presidential election in 1868. Incidentally it discloses the uncertainty of the theatrical business of those days even as affecting the stars of the profession: 107 East 35th Street, New York. Sept. 9, 1868. * “Mr. J. A. Elisler, Cleveland, O. Dear Sir: In June last I wrote intimating my annual and regular shooting expedition west in October and inquiring whether my acting with you going thither and returning hither might be desirable and practicable in your arrangements. I received no answer whatever and implied a negative, and since resolved that, until after Nov. 3 the New York state Presidential election, theatricals in Ohio par- ticularly, would be in that excitement comparatively neglected, and therefore declined to play sooner than Nov. 9 when I commence this season at Louisville, play the week of 16th (Nov.) at St. Louis— that of 23d at Cincinnati, and thence hasten to Boston and Phila- delphia, and to New England in January. My motive for this communication is to ascertain where your company will be from Monday 28th Sept. inst. to Oct 1 or 2, and whether my acting then may be practicable to you, or consistent with your other arrangements; and if so whether your stock of scenery would admit of my doing my dramatic version of Washing- ton Irving's (not Boucicault’s and Jefferson's) “Rip Van Winkle,” should I play five nights including a Benefit. Yours faithfully, JAS. H. HACKETT. And this is a suggestion of the kindly sort of letter to be expected from that fine actress of the old school, Mrs. Drew. [92] STAGE CELEBRITIES It was evidently written when young Collins was seeking for wider managerial fields: Philadelphia, March 17, 1875. Dear Sir: Yours of the 15th inst. just rec'd. - I have already engaged the stage director for the ensuing season. What is your style of Business as an actor? You will excuse my asking this question— but it is so many years since I have been west that many persons are now occupying prominent positions who were then unknown. Yours Resp'y, LOUISA DREW. It has been said that Lawrence Barrett was a keen business man as well as a great actor, and this estimate was faithfully carried out in the long, detailed letters he wrote to John J. Collins, his manager, for several months. I selected but one for the limited space in these pages: Arcade Hotel, Sacramento, May 17, 1879. Dear Mr. Collins: Yours received. There will be no difficulty about trifling details. I will write more fully about them hereafter. I understand that you are free and will accept my proposal. While I am unwilling¥at present to arrange for any time beyond the last week in November I have no doubt of going still further as soon as I get home and sur- vey the field. I offer a few Points. In selecting a company it will be well to choose good dressers and other young people for the inferior roles. And only get two or three high priced people. The salary list must not exceed $500 a week for 9g men and 4 ladies. I name some few whom I would accept at fair salaries. Miss Cummins, not over $70. Mrs. Augusta Foster, $40. She will play seconds and heavies. W. F. Owen for general business. Milnes Levich for chief support, if he can be had for $80 or $100, with some young chap for the juveniles. H. Meredith for heavies, not over $50. I like Haywood and lady for general utility, not over $55 or $60. **¥***¥*** Send me your idea of a route. I shall be kept out here perhaps all summer, having now an offer for six weeks longer at a certainty of $10,000. You may sound Mr. Whitney of Whitney's Opera House about his theatre and the Michigan circuit, including Detroit, and such towns as Port Huron, Grand Rapids, Bay City and Saginaw. [93] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND You can take 8o of gross, or certainty of $3,000 weekly for com- pany and self. ****** Avoid kindred entertainments as far as pos- sible—give them a wide berth, and when you have fixed your route deluge the papers with notices and squibs. My Business con- tinues very fine. I played in Virginia City to nearly $10,000 in 14 performances—a perfect ovation. And the week here will go over $5,000. Fanny Davenport doing nothing at the California— Boucicault the closing two weeks of his time to empty benches. Pardon this long letter. Very truly yours, LAWRENCE BARRETT. A significant addition to these letters, connecting as it does the present with the past in the stage life of Cleveland, was the receipt of the following note just before this chapter had been sent to the publisher: Statler Hotel, Cleveland. February 10, 1925. Mr. C. E. Kennedy, Dear Sir: I was much interested in the notice in Sunday's News-Leader, read upon my arrival here, of your forthcoming book on Cleveland; particularly in reference to the chapter on theatricals. I acted in the old Academy of Music (under John Ellsler’s management) with Lawrence Barrett in the winter of 1873-4 and have most vivid and pleasant memories of that visit. I was Mr. Barrett's acting stage manager at the time. We played with the Cleveland stock com- pany. In later years I paid many visits to Cleveland, notably in 1898 with Sol Smith Russell at the Euclid Avenue opera house, and in 1918 with the Red Cross all-star production there. Two and a half years ago I was here with Helen Hayes at the Ohio in “To the Ladies” and am now at the Hanna with “The Goose Hangs High.” Consequently I have acted in the four principal theatres of your city. My wife's sister, Fanny Daven- port, was also a frequent visitor, and a favorite here many years ago. Pardon my intrusion. Very truly yours, WILLIAM SEYMOUR. Mr. Seymour, for years a successful actor-manager, is one of the few of the old school still active on the stage, though [94] STAGE CELEBRITIES he confines his work to the less strenuous parts, and as one of the trustees of the Actors’ Fund of America gives much of his time to the comfort and happiness of unfortunate mem- bers of the profession. It was interesting to discover during a conversation with Mr. Seymour while here that as a child ten year of age he played with John Wilkes Booth in New Orleans. CHAPTER FIFTEEN A WOMEN’S EDITION The Making Of Which Helped The Newspaper But Nearly Wrecked The Regular Manager Some matters to be spoken of in this chapter have suggestions of that get-together spirit of Cleveland people for which the city has wide reputation. The issuing of an edition of the Plain Dealer by two hundred women in support of a local cause did much to stimulate the great work of womankind in the community. F. Jennie Duty—a past generation knew of the unselfish devotion of this sweet faced little woman to the weak and friendless—came one afternoon in the middle Nineties to the Plain Dealer office with a proposition that the paper be given over for one day to a committee of women, the profits, above the ordinary expense of getting out that day's edition to be applied to saving the Friendly Inn, a worthy charity in the old haymarket district, then in financial distress. Without realizing that I was signing up for one of the most nerve racking yet gratifying newspaper trips of my young life, Miss Duty left the office with a contract which six weeks later would put every man on the editorial and business staffs out of commission for twenty-four hours and land the paper the Lord alone knew where! As my recollections of Cleveland events have so generally to do with men, I feel it a privilege to speak at some length of the extraordinary intelligence the women displayed in putting on this novelty. It resulted in a net profit of $5,300 to the Friendly Inn, enlisted the warm support of all Cleve- land, furnished a fund of excitement in society circles, and, [96] A WOMEN’S EDITION incidentally, introduced the morning Plain Dealer into many homes where it never had been welcomed. The staff of this edition, issued January 24, 1895, con- sisted of the following women active in good works: Editor-in-Chief, Mrs. Howard M. Ingham; Managing Editor, F. Jennie Duty; Business Manager, Mrs. J. W. Sheppard; City Editor, Lizzie Hyer Neff; Telegraph Editor, Ella Sturtevant Webb; Exchange Editor, Mrs. Geo. A. Robertson; Commercial Editor, Alice Webster; Financial Editor, Candace A. Pratt; Sporting Editor, Nettie Nelson Amsden; Musical Editor, Mrs. N. Coe Stewart; Art Editor, Georgie Leighton Norton; Dramatic Editor, Mrs. Frank J. Martin; Society Editor, Helen DeK. Townsend; Circulation Manager, Mrs. A. R. Timmons; Cashier, Mrs. A. E. Bowler. Headquarters for this one day newspaper proposition were secured in a vacant store on Euclid avenue, near 6th street, where for a month a business staff of wide-awake women planned a city wide drive for advertising and paper sales. For over a month I found plenty to do there in the way of suggestion and arbitration, for ideas extremely original, and, contrary to the newspaper code, were developed every few minutes! To make it financially effective the Women’s Edition must be made in size five or six times larger than the regular issue. A score or more dummy pages with headings such as “Financial and Commercial,” ‘‘Railroads,”” ‘‘Steel and Iron,” “Retail Merchants” were prepared by the artists and routes for the solicitation of advertisements carefully laid out. And no manufacturer or banker, or wholesaler, or retail merchant could withstand the demand of those gentle solicitors that they sign up for space at three times the regular Plain Dealer advertising scale! [97] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND For a month all the local newspapers reported the events of each day's progress and the forthcoming edition became a topic of conversation wherever two or more gathered together. As the “ads” and fat bank checks began to pour into headquarters, still more intense became the drive. An idea of the enthusiasm can be had from an experience of Mrs. T. D. Crocker, a well known society leader, who driven by coachman to her numerous assignments left her carriage and climbed to the top floor of the old Western Union Telegraph building, at Superior and Water streets. There she wheedled the manager into signing a hundred dollar contract. An unusually bulky woman, this feat earned her a shout of approval on her return to headquarters, where she triumphantly flourished the bank check. My worriments thickened as the date of publication drew near, although I tried to conceal them from the two hundred enthusiasts who were making a joy ride of the whole event. In the old Plain Dealer there was but a single printing press. It was one thing to get out a two-part Sunday issue and quite another to produce a paper of five parts with one day cir- culation five times larger than ordinary. Those indefatigable women had even organized their sister “‘uplifters’” in all the nearby towns, and orders for big bundles of the edition were coming in every mail. Meanwhile the members of the women’s staff were taking lessons from our regular editorial department men, so that at a critical moment there would not be too much mixing of current news style with the more deliberate methods of the literary club. This safeguard persisted all through one night before publication. The city editor sat by the side of the female city editor pro tem, with blue pencil in handy reach. The police reporter accompanied his lady alter ego to the central police station in quest of the latest happenings. The marine editor untwisted some information secured by [98] A WOMEN’S EDITION his other self that afternoon, seeing that the lake vessels were steered to the right ports. The city hall reporter saw to it that the current mayor was not called out of his name— and so on all along the news channels. The women’s edition was to make its appearance on a certain morning, and arriving at the office at 8 o'clock I never left it or closed an eye until 6 o'clock the following evening. To make the press problem more difficult it was found almost at the last moment that fully four pages more of advertising had been contracted for than provided in the schedule! This meant either still another section to the issue or the sacrifice of a thousand dollars real money. A council of war resulted in a decision to tax the old press still fur- ther, for there was no denying the soft pleadings to save that money! Going ahead with forty-four pages instead of forty looked to me like suicide. But the outcome was a lesson in the possibilities of press strain I never forgot. Changing back- ward and forward, printing each section in quantities of ten thousand, stretching and straining the backs and temper of a loyal press crew, we managed to get out over 90,000 complete copies of the edition between 4 o'clock in the morn- ing and 6 o'clock at night! The demand at news stands and on the streets after the homes of regular subscribers had been supplied, increased hour by hour all day long. In the final windup copies were selling at a premium. The newsboys were jubilant over un- expected riches. The thing was a big success financially and artistically—though some of us upon whom the responsi- bility rested slept more than one round of the clock after the strain was off. Another lesson from this experience was the adaptability of women to newspaper work . For the most part their pet- [99] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND formance was excellent, both in the conduct of business and editorial results. Indeed, one woman in the business depart- ment was so efficient and enthusiastic over the experience that I afterwards employed her regularly for several months on the advertising staff. Again, this close association with the perplexities of the newspaper publishing business communicated to newspaper readers a much better understanding of it—a better tolera- tion of unavoidable newspaper mistakes—a more general surprise that in the hurried making of a daily newspaper, different each day in its possibilities and treatment, it can be put out with so little error. Closely associated in my mind with this experiment was another emphasising the spirit of helpfulness always exhib- ited by Cleveland people. It took a world war to bring to many persons the real significance of the work of the Salva- tion Army. Long before then some of us had in a very public way a chance to note the workings of this organiza- tion. The winter of 1896-97 was unusually severe, and to make matters worse thousands here as elsewhere over the country were unemployed. The Plain Dealer had recently removed from Bank street to the two old structures on the site of its present building . At the suggestion of a major then in charge of the local Salvation Army I arranged tem- porary relief quarters in the Plain Dealer building. The collection of cash, clothing, fuel and provisions was to be urged by the paper and their distribution to be made by seventy-five members of the army who could contribute their services. For several days the Plain Dealer published local stories of destitution among the very poor of the city, and when [100] A WOMEN’S EDITION" i". on a zero morning in January a plea was made’ for. assist ance the response was instant and impressive in its magni- tude. Carriages of the well to do drove to the Plain Dealer doors all that first day leaving cash contributions, and this was kept up for a week. One merchant sent over 500 suits of underwear; another cases of warm caps; another several hundred pairs of shoes; another suits for the children; another many boxes of stock- ings—all from fresh new stocks. Dealers gave orders for hundreds of tons of coal. To the donations of the retail merchants there was added second-hand clothing from the homes, collected by the delivery wagons of merchants, laun- dries, etc. A line of applicants was almost continuously waiting to get inside, where a force of army lassies fitted the women and children with clothing to wear home. At the time the infirmary department and Associated Charities were over- whelmed by applicants for relief, but in the case of this Sal- vation Army effort there was reached by the hundreds those families in dire want who were too proud to seek help from the constituted charities. It was a part of the work of the army to seek out just this class of unfortunates, and they did the job to perfection, I have recollection of the sympathetic visitors to the Plain Dealer building that week, and the insight and understand- ing they gained from a personal touch with want at its worst. ‘“‘Bob’’ Blee, a former mayor, big of body and heart, chanced to call in one day just as two little girls had been discovered half frozen in the waiting line and brought into the room. As they stood closely to a roaring fire in a stove placed in one of the rooms for the occasion, and as Blee looked at their ragged stockings and thin ice incrusted shoes tears filled his eyes—mot so thickly, however, that he couldn’t find a handfull of bills concealed about his person, [101] " ‘FISYY YEARS OF CLEVELAND which ‘he handed to Me. as a further contribution to the work going on. The records of a week showed that 2,300 families had been helped by the Salvation Army. But that was only a part of it. From this more public exposition of distress not before so fully realized by the prosperous, a much closer sympathy was established between them and the unfortun- ate. Since that time my hat has always been off to the men and women who follow the banner raised so many years ago by old General Booth in the slums of London! [102 | CHAPTER SIXTEEN A YEAR OUT OF TOWN And Interesting Experiences With Joseph Pulitzer, A Really Great American Newspaper Maker In the spring of 1897, while still general manager of the Plain Dealer, I found on my desk one morning a letter from Mr. Holden which to say the least was startling. It was a time of general business depression, and in his letter the Plain Dealer's owner set before me a gloomy picture of hard times ahead, winding up with the statement that he had just decided upon a cut of twenty-five per cent in the operating cost of running the Hollenden Hotel, and insisting that a like retrenchment be made in the Plain Dealer office. This mandate might have astonished me more had I not known that Holden usually felt low in spirits right after monthly statements of the paper came in showing red figures instead of profit. Yet the letter was signed officially, and it was followed later in the day by its writer in person, who seating himself by my desk and assuming a stern and impres- sive air he on occasion employed said, “I suppose you got my letter. I think we should act upon it at once, don’t you?’ “You once suggested to me, Mr. Holden, that my plan of price reduction would lead the paper into bankruptcy,” I replied. “Instead of that the circulation has already quad- rupled, your monthly deficit is much less and the Plain Dealer has overhauled the Leader in the morning field. A twenty-five per cent reduction in the cost of producing it would, in my opinion, if you permitted it, settle any question of keeping it out of the hands of the sheriff.” “But all sensible business men are reducing expenses now,’ returned the proprietor heatedly. “I tell you, Charlie Ken- [103] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND nedy, we are in the midst of a panic and no man can foresee the end! They wanted a gold standard and now they are getting it! We have decided to make a cut at the Hollenden, and the Plain Dealer should do the same.” “Do you want me to state frankly why I think you are wrong about that?” I asked. “It is always interesting to learn what is wrong with any simple sum in arithmetic,” admitted Mr. Holden, more good humoredly. “Well, then, to my way of thinking you make a mistake in comparing a newspaper with a hotel,” I replied. “You have I believe some 800 rooms in the Hollenden. When in hard times only half the rooms are taken your manager can, without loss of prestige, fire half the chambermaids. And if the dining rooms are only half filled he can discharge some of his waiters, and kitchen help, and I presume reduce wages. But nothing like that should happen to a newspaper strug- gling for place in a big city. It has taken time to get together a competent staff. Men working in the mechanical depart- ments are upon a scale of wages in force in all the offices. We are down to close figures in operating expense. I am with you in trying for retrenchments in every possible way. But as for the drastic action you propose, I think you would find it ruinous business.” Mr. Holden pondered this, and after asking several ques- tions left me with an impression he would worry along making up the losses—or more correctly, the investments— then averaging a sum very trivial when compared with the splendid opportunity for his newspaper property. He little imagined that eventually his Plain Dealer would be worth millions, earning in single years more money than he had ever invested in it! [104] A YEAR OUT OF TOWN But that is another story. An interruption of my part in the Plain Dealer’s troubles was on the way. The following summer I had a call one day from Samuel E. Williams, for- merly city editor of the Cleveland Press, who was on the staff of the New York World and at the time he visited me was a confidential secretary to Joseph Pulitzer, the World's owner. The purpose of his call was to ask if I would care to go to Bar Harbor, Maine, where Pulitzer had his summer home, to consider taking on the business management of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, also owned by the World editor. Briefly, after selling my interest in the Plain Dealer to Mr. Holden, I went, and a month later my desk was in the office of another ‘P. D.”” this time in the state of Missouri. My excuse for uniting this chapter with a story of Cleveland is that my stay in St. Louis for several months led to an arrangement that gave much impetus to the growth of the Plain Dealer and also afforded me close insight into the char- acter and methods of Joseph Pulitzer, whom I consider the greatest newspaper maker this country has ever known. It was not true that young Pulitzer, fresh from his place of nativity in a foreign land, swam the Mississippi river to get into St. Louis from lack of bridge toll, but it is true he went to work for a German paper there for $6 per week. He told me that himself. And it is generally known how, making a success of the Post-Dispatch, he later bought the New York World, a rundown daily, and introducing more modern and some western methods and a unique style all his own made of it one of the most forceful and successful newspapers of this country. When I took hold as business manager the Post-Dispatch was in process of reconstruction. Pulitzer had just bought back a minority interest in the paper from its editor and manager, who, for five years, under a contract the courts refused to break, committed it to free silver and other politi- [105] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND cal tendencies Pulitzer did not agree with. In this respect I found that I had fallen heir to conditions similar to those lived with on the Plain Dealer at home, excepting that St. Louis advertisers were even more bitter against the silver bug. But with a changed policy resentment gradually died out, and the St. Louis “P.-D.” made growth. There was a popular impression that because of a nervous breakdown rendering him quite blind Pulitzer was at this time paying little attention to his newspapers. Nothing could be farther from fact. With astonishing persistence and energy he held firmly the reins of their government. Whether at his home in East 10th street in New York, at Bar Harbor in summer, Jeckel Island in winter, in Europe or on his yacht in any part of the world he kept informed by secret tele- graphic code of all important moves in newspaper manage- ment. : As an illustration of this I quote here a dispatch received from Bar Harbor when negotiations were on between Elbert H. Baker of the Cleveland Leader and myself through which Baker came to the St. Louis newspaper as advertising manager: Kennedy-Post Despatch, St. Louis. Please telegraph complete comparison between Verdure and Cleveland man. Character; age; address; height; energy; intel- ligence; experience; your judgment about his value and work. “Verdure'’ was the code name of the retiring Post-Dispatch advertising manager, wherefore I can attribute only a facetious habit of Pulitzer, for I never found anything “green’’ about Billy Steigers. This rather sardonic treatment in code titles is shown by the name “Orlando” he fastened to me. I recall also that Willis E. Osborne, once business manager of the Cleveland Press, then in the New York World office, was referred to in the code as “Rebecca.” [106] A YEAR OUT OF TOWN Not to be outdone in the above ‘cross examination’ of my motives in the selection of an old Cleveland acquaintance for the advertising job I wired Pulitzer as follows: Cleveland man eight years younger; half head shorter; blue eyes; energetic; quick on feet; cool judgment; fourteen years in same capacity; strong control and popular; dissatisfied because Leader's inactive management; owns stock in Leader; as able as Verdue; known him for years as honest and industrious. The earnings on commissions of the former Post-Dispatch advertising manager were growing so excessive Pulitzer had called a halt, resulting in his retirement, and Baker was ultimately given the position. There was nothing small about Joseph Pulitzer. I never knew a man more uniformly fair and generous in his dealings with people in his employ. I recall an example of this growing out of the war with Spain. For weeks we got out editions of the Post-Dispatch earlier in the forenoon, entailing some extra work upon the staff. Pay was doubled all around, and as a further appreciation Pulitzer wired me to hand each man, and charge to his personal account, a substantial check with his thanks. His indomitable will and industry in spite of blindness was impressed upon me on one occasion when in his private apartments in the New York residence he pointed to a plain deal table over which were scattered large sheets of pencil paper. ‘Here is where I sometimes get back into the editorial harness,” he said, and groping his way to the table he gath- ered up some of the sheets and with a lead pencil demon- strated how, entirely by sense of touch, in large, spreading letters he managed to write down his thoughts. Upon that table Joseph Pulitzer had composed a series of editorials for the World on the Spanish-American war situ- ation perhaps the most virile, uncompromising and helpful to the administration appearing in any of the newspapers. [107] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND This was conceded generally by magazines and newspapers of the period. But to me the inspiration they conveyed appeared much more admirable after seeing this great editor and patriotic American fumbling in darkness to line out the convictions of his heart and mind. His blindness preventing close association with the news- paper offices, Pulitzer was naturally dependent upon the men intrusted to the more important tasks. And these men he wanted to know all about. I had been at first amused and then greatly impressed with my reception when, a stranger, I ar- rived from Cleveland early in the morning at Bar Harbor to meet one of his secretaries at a small summer hotel. “Mr. Pulitzer will come down in his carriage in an hour or so to take you for a ride,” says this functionary. ‘‘He requests that you write out the general scope of your newspaper experience, theories of the business, your schooling, family connections, and if you will, your opinion of the World and Post-Dis- patch.” To this I could add of course anything else that seemed pertinent! Willing to try anything once, and as the secretary was to wait for my history so that Pulitzer could hear it read to him and digest it on top of an early breakfast, I was obliged to do a hurried job. Possibly a former experience in reporting early morning fires and political conventions came handy here, for within twenty minutes I handed the secretary some thirty pages of hotel stationery containing my pedigree, family, scholastic and journalistic to date. If the manner of construction and poor spelling confounded the New York editor he was too courteous to mention it during our subse- quent ride. Readjustment of the Post-Dispatch to the policies desired by its owner and growth of circulation and advertising satis- factory, F. D. White, its editor, was later called to the New York World and I was placed in charge of both the editorial [108] A YEAR OUT OF TOWN and business departments. Late in the winter a condition arose, however, that was far from satisfactory either to Mr. Baker or myself. Pulitzer, relenting in his attitude towards his old-time advertising manager decided that he should be reinstated in his former position, and that Baker should go to New York and take the place of an agent whose contract for handling the Post-Dispatch foreign advertising had just expired. After a time this plan was followed out, but I felt it was unfair to Baker, who was just getting an acquaintance with the local advertisers, while in his New York position he had to meet the opposition of a combination of “special repre- sentatives” who sided with the Post-Dispatch agent, thor- oughly embittered by his removal. How Baker was hectored is shown by some convincing letters he wrote me at the time. The result was he resigned and returned to his home in Cleve- land. During my residence in St. Louis I had received brief visits from L. Dean Holden and Frank Brobst, the latter then manager of the Hollenden Hotel . Brobst especially had spoken of how Mr. Holden was daily and hourly besieged and, as he put it, annoyed by the existing Plain Dealer man- agement. In a general way I knew that things in the old office were not running smoothly. So, while unexpected, it did not astonish me much to receive a telegram from E. H. Baker saying that in a talk with Mr. Holden the latter said that if I would return to Cleveland he would give us a joint contract to publish the Plain Dealer. Thus I was confronted with a real divergence of roads. On the one hand I had good prospects before me in St. Louis. On the other was a possible opportunity to assist in building a newspaper property at home, a newspaper the future suc- cess of which I never doubted, providing it could be man- aged by newspaper men without erratic interference. I had [109] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND been through the Plain Dealer mill, partly at least. To my dilemma was added a feeling of discomfort over the displace- ment of Baker in that I had taken him from a permanent position in Cleveland. If Holden was willing to make with us a long-time contract giving over absolute control I would have no hesitancy in throwing up a fairly certain future with Joseph Pulitzer and embarking upon the Plain Dealer venture. A trip to Cleveland resulted in finding that Holden was in 2a mood to make a contract of the kind I had in mind. While under increased expense due to the war with Spain the paper’s receipts were but little less than its expenses, and the circulation was increasing. The Kennedy-Baker con- tract—my companion in it always called it a lease—was something new in newspaper publishing circles. So different I shall give its essentials further on. After signing this contract I returned to St. Louis and sent Pulitzer my resignation as manager of the Post-Dis- patch. There followed a month of delay in getting a release and in closing up affairs in St. Louis, but Baker being foot- loose began at once to acquaint himself with Plain Dealer matters. For one thing he satisfied himself that the morning circulation was away ahead of that of his older attachment, the Leader. He wrote me of a house to house canvass he just had completed on old Republic street in the Republican east end, where he found the Plain Dealer was in the lead seven to one! Learning of the new deal in Plain Dealer management the Cleveland Leader began to publish local articles in belittle- ment. Among other things it said Holden had already sunk $300,000 in his paper. It was in this connection that Mr. Holden wrote me a letter which showed no regret over past gz [110] A YEAR OUT OF TOWN performance of his newspaper in which I had so long had a part. I feel at liberty to quote it: Cleveland, May 8th, 1898. My Dear Mr. Kennedy: kd*x* 1 suppose you noticed the compliment which Mr. paid me, you and Mr. Baker in his article published Thursday morning in the Leader. I have no doubt of your ability when you get into the ring to handle him in a fitting manner. Let me suggest one point; four years ago the Leader stock was worth 132, or the property at that rate $1,320,000. Today it is very difficult to get 50 cents on a dollar for it, a shrink- age of $820,000 on the property. I think the investment that the Leader claims has been made in the Plain Dealer is a pretty effec- tive investment; at any rate if I had never put the money into it, I would go straight at it and do it again and consider it a most ex- cellent investment. Let me show you: in the job department there is substantially $75,000; in presses and other machinery, linotypes, etc., $75,000 more. I submit whether the Leader would take $150,000 for its associated press franchise, to say nothing of the good will of the Plain Dealer, of its large business at present. There are assets right here of $300,000. I do not like newspaper squabbles but I am inclined to think Mr. better keep his hands off from you when you get here or he will remember the time he threw down the glove, ****¥** The poor old Leader does feel very badly to think you boys are coming on to the Plain Dealer. It is my opinion she will get no better very fast! Very truly yours, L. E. HOLDEN Baker, my partner in the Plain Dealer undertaking, was one of those fortunate enough to get as much as fifty cents on the dollar for his Leader stock, selling it to a Leader official some weeks after we began operations. Besides attacking us in its columns, I found that men connected with the Leader were intimating that I could no longer hold my job on the Post-Dispatch—that “after almost ruining Holden before, Kennedy is coming back to finish him” and other {111] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND . 3 : little pleasantries of the kind. In view of this, and things that later transpired in my Cleveland connections, I feel justified in reproducing here the following letter from Joseph Pulitzer: New York, May 15, 1898. Dear Mr. Kennedy: I have received your letter of resignation and am sorry. Before acting upon it will you be kind enough to read over your own proposition of engagement with me (of which I presume you have a copy) and explain to me how you could sign a contract which must terminate your present service by June first, when you had another contract not expiring at least until August 8th. Or is my impres- sion incorrect as to dates. This, however, must not prevent my thanking you for your admirable management of the paper lately. Sincerely yours, JOSEPH PULITZER. Satisfying Mr. Pulitzer that I had no contract whatever with him or the Post-Dispatch beyond an agreement by the week, which he might have terminated at any time, my connection with the paper ceased. Almost a year after the Kennedy-Baker contract was in force at the Plain Dealer I unexpectedly received this letter from Mr. Pulitzer: 10 East 55th Street, New York City. Dear Mr. Kennedy: My justification for the following remark, or hint, is what I must assume to be absolutely reliable knowledge, that the Plain Dealer has been, or may be offered for sale. If by chance you should want to leave Cleveland for some other position, it might be worth while to send me word. Of course I do not know what my situa- tion will be at that time. You ought to know, I always regretted your leaving the Post-Despatch, and always felt you would have had a splendid position for life, had you remained there. I appreciated your capacity. For instance, at this particular moment there might be a chance, as Mr. —— has resigned. Yours truly, April 15th, 1899. JOSEPH PULITZER. [112] CHAPTER SEVENTEEN A CLOSE SHAVE How A Contract To Operate The P. D. Was Nearly Voided By A Sale And The Holdens Deprived of Millions Not because of the importance of the persons involved but to give newspaper readers an example of the uncertainties of the business which constitutes this so called ‘newspaper government’ I shall explain here a transaction in newspaper management which had never before, to my knowledge, been put into practice. The contract with Charles E. Kennedy and Elbert H. Baker, dated May 3, 1898, had for its essential features the following provisions: The first party (the Plain Dealer) hereby agrees to furnish the plant now in use, including job department and machinery, and all other apparatus, utensils, existing contracts, and good will of the Cleve- land Plain Dealer, morning and evening editions; also the building on the corner of Bond and Superior streets, for the period of this contract. The second parties (Kennedy and Baker) agree to take entire charge of the business of said first party, to edit and publish the paper morning and evening editions, to preserve the good name and character of the paper equal to or better than the present standard, and to devote their entire time to said business; and said second parties shall employ and have control of all help, except the treas- urer. *kkxkkk Out of the net proceeds, after the payment of salaries and all operating expense, there shall be paid to the first party $20,000 for the first year, $25,000 for the second year, and $30,000 for the third year, and all net earnings over and above said amounts shall be paid to the second parties. *¥xkE* It is agreed and understood by and between the parties hereto that said newspaper shall be published and maintained as an independent Democratic paper, and that the policy of said paper, [113] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND or the price of the same to subscribers, shall not be changed except upon the mutual agreement of the parties hereto. *¥*x¥x* This contract shall continue for a period of three years from and after the date June 1st, 1898; and it is hereby agreed by and between the parties hereto that in event said business under the management of the second parties shall pay to said first party $30,000 out of its net earnings during the third year under this contract, then this contract shall continue and remain in force for an additional period of five years, with the following modification: Said first party shall receive the net earnings of said business each year of said additional period up to the sum of $30,000, but all net earnings over $30,000 per year shall be divided between the parties ‘hereto as follows: One-half to the first party and one-half to the second parties. As Baker's newspaper experience up to this time had been confined to the advertising department it was decided that in the division of our personal work and responsibility he would take the business department and I would look after the news and editorial parts of the paper. This plan was adhered to from 1898 to 1907, although we worked, for the most part entirely harmoniously, in a mutual considera- tion of ends and means in most of the important matters affecting the property as a whole. When on the occasion of the recent national Republican convention the Plain Dealer stated that, “in 1897 E. H. Baker assumed general direction of the paper’ the statement was erroneous by exactly ten years. In 1907, after my re- tirement from the Plain Dealer, Baker became for the first time its general manager. Its editorial and news policies were instituted by myself and associates upon the editorial staff. The assumption of Baker having been at the head of the newspaper from the very beginning of the Kennedy-Baker control in 1898 has, however, frequently been impressed upon the paper’s readers during elapsing years. The war with Spain was nearing its end when this contract went into effect, and while the expense of operating news- [114] A CLOSE SHAVE papers had been increased we got through the summer and early fall in pretty good financial shape. In October, how- ever, we were treated to a surprise. I received one day a letter from Emerson P. Harris of New York, a former Clevelander who founded the Street Railway Journal here and afterwards removed it to New York. He was then at the head of a newspaper brokerage business. In his letter he wanted to know whether the Plain Dealer could be bought. We took the letter to Mr. Holden, who for the moment rather floored us by saying that he would sell the paper, providing proper terms could be made with ‘us to cancel our contract for management over a term of years. After much discussion Baker and I signed with Hol- den a memorandum by which the owner agreed toc pay us the sum of $50,000 to cancel our contract in the event the Plain Dealer was sold. Harris came on from New York, bringing his principal in the contemplated deal, who, by something of a coinci- dence, was the Col. Jones who only a year before sold his interest in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch back to Joseph Pulit- zer. After several sessions, to some of which Baker and my- self were admitted, Holden made a price of $350,000 for the entire property, morning, Sunday and evening editions and the job department. This, after paying for the release of our contract, would have meant but $300,000 net to the owner. And Col. Jones went back to New York without buying! It was only a few months later that Holden began fully to realize his narrow escape, for even in the first year of our contract he was paid a small dividend from the paper's earn- ings. The McKinley and Hanna ‘full dinner pail’ had ar- rived. War clouds had disappeared. Cleveland was in the midst of a real season of prosperity. The Plain Dealer was sharing in the revival. The merchants began to advertise as [115] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND never before. Circulation was on the bound. We felt rich enough to put on a leased news wire from New York to Chicago to supplement the associated press. Another thing troubling to the mind of Mr. Holden had been adjusted. Acting upon a suggestion I made to him, fol- lowing correspondence between us while I was still in St. Louis, all names were omitted from the head of the Plain Dealer editorial page. This continued for only a few weeks, when Holden said to us that many persons were asking him if the paper had been sold. Then followed some rather amusing discussion. Baker suggested a standing heading read- ing: “The Plain Dealer Publishing Co., L. E. Holden, President; C. E. Kennedy and E. H. Baker, Editors and Publishers.” This didn’t suit Holden's idea of seeming still in control of the paper, although the contract if it meant anything meant that he was not. So, on the spur of the moment, Holden invented a title entirely new in the newspaper world, giving me the honor of existing for a few years as the only ‘Editorial Manager” in captivity! Outwardly this might be construed to mean I was anything between a real editor-in-chief or a managing editor, or both, or neither, as it might affect Holden’s peace of mind. Afterwards I found that this elasticity of nomen- clature—as Wilson G. Smith, the Press musical expert per- haps would phrase it—came very handy to the paper's owner. When I first supported Tom Johnson for mayor he per- mitted his Union club friends to lay all the ‘blame’ to me. When the paper stood out against Tom’s theory of street railway operation Holden was willing to personally bear the editorial responsibility! Some—to me— richly humorous situations grew out of this dual condition of personal editor- ship as it existed in the mind of Mr. Holden. [116] £ 1 : 4 3 A CLOSE SHAVE Cleveland was about to have a new monumental govern- ment building. The Ohio stone interests got busy. Congress- man Beidler urged the use of sandstone. Congressman Burton at first was noncommittal, but afterwards seemingly sur- rendered to the stonecutters’ union, which had been pressed into service by the quarry interests to make a plea for sand- stone. A committee from the union visited all the local news- paper offices to urge the use of native Ohio stone in the gov- ernment structure. With the exception of the Plain Dealer the Cleveland newspapers all clamored for sandstone. A double leaded editorial appeared, however, in the Plain Dealer one morning insisting upon the use of granite. It pointed out that for some seventy years Cleveland had been helping to pay for government buildings all over the country and now when its turn had come the best of material was not too good for us. For many years but one important gov- ernment building, a limestone structure over in Indiana, had been built from anything but real granite. It is astonishing how double leading an editorial may appear to strengthen argument—anyway the following noon the chamber of commerce through its directors organized a delegation with Mr. Holden at its head to visit Washington, where they succeeded in reversing everybody on the stone question but Beidler. Cleveland got a granite government building, even if Holden was sleeping peacefully in Brat- enahl when I conceived and wrote that editorial. This was an occasion when an ‘‘editorial manager’ was lost in the more visible personality of an ‘‘editor” in the flesh! There was a time when Charles E. Bolton ran for a con- gressional nomination. His was a personality of grace and dignity that appealed strongly to artist Donahey’s sense of distortion and disproportion. His cartoons of Charlie’s quest for the office were very funny. Holden was in Europe, and [117] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND he must have met a later visitor there from Cleveland, for one day I received a cablegram from him tersely telling me to “Stop booming Bolton.” The best fun I got out of this situation was the consternation of Donahey who in common with the rest of us and the public could see nothing in those cartoons helpful to the Bolton ambition. Quite the reverse! [118] CHAPTER EIGHTEEN HONEST JOHN FARLEY Experiences With A Rough Diamond Clevelander And A Midnight Call Upon Mr. Holden The first conflict of the Plain Dealer managers with its owner under the Kennedy-Baker contract, blame for which I cheerfully acknowledge, occurred when John H. Farley got the Democratic nomination for mayor in 1899. Farley, who was mayor from 1883 to 1885 and who in that capac- ity and later as head of public works in the Blee administra- tion in 1893 to 1895 earned the soubriquet of ‘“‘Honest John”, again decided to take charge of city affairs. So, following McKisson’s renomination for mayor in 1899, John secured the nomination to oppose him. For years there had been an unfriendly feeling between Farley and Holden. During the Blee administration Farley had carried this to the extreme of refusing Plain Dealer reporters news at the city hall. This, of course, was resented by the Plain Dealer management, which felt entitled after its sup- port of Blee to have at least as fair treatment as any other newspaper. With a determination that the offense would not be repeated should Farley defeat McKisson I purposely awaited a call from the Democratic nominee before immedi- ately taking any side editorially in the campaign. This resulted in a visit by Farley to Holden in his office at the Hollenden, the outcome of which was that late that evening a messenger brought to the Plain Dealer an editorial written by Holden indorsing Farley for mayor, with orders to publish the next morning. No word had been spoken either to Baker or myself on the subject. It was a direct vio- lation of our contract to edit, publish and control. [119] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND The hour was late and Baker was at his home in the east end, where I reached him by telephone and informed him of the incident. Baker agreed with me that here was a test as to whether we were really in control of the paper or to be considered office boys with a little enlargement of powers. At my suggestion he came at once to the office and knowing Holden was then living at his hotel we paid him an unex- pected midnight call. Our interview was amusing and a trifle picturesque. Hol- den had a very keen relish for things humorous, and as he sat propped up in his canopied bed in the Hollenden tower on the occasion of this sudden invasion and when the con- versation took on some lively but outwardly good natured turns he at times laughed aloud. It was not, however, en- tirely a laughing matter. He agreed with me in my arraign- ment of Farley for his constant slaps at the Plain Dealer, which for years had befriended him in his public life. He even went so far as to agree that the editorial in ques- tion should have been submitted to the Plain Dealer man- agement, saying it came to his mind late that evening and he thought we would in no way disagree with its contents. After an hour of agreeable conversation in which our host told interesting stories of queer politicians in Utah we with- drew from his audience chamber. But I saw to it that no editorial in support of John Farley appeared in the morning Plain Dealer sent out a few hours later. In this case the expected happened. Finding at last, as many other poli- ticians did later, that the paper was being edited in the Plain Dealer office, not in the Hollenden, Honest John toiled one evening up the long flight of stairs and into my office. “Good evening, Charlie,” said John. “Why don’t you fellows put in an elevator? Suppose you know what I'm here for,” and he went on to explain that he had an ambition [120] HONEST JOHN FARLEY to round out his life by once more occupying the mayor's office. He named many men in both parties who had urged him to battle McKissonism, and wound up by asking the Plain Dealer’s support of his candidacy. I had known John Farley rather intimately from the date of his membership in the city council and like all who did thoroughly know him admired his sterling gifts and absolute honesty in public affairs. “Would you think it a reasonable ambition for a news- paper to want to round out its life by printing all the news?” I inquired. John thought that was a sensible inclination. Then I reminded him of what I had lived through as Plain Dealer manager during the Blee administration, which he knew that I knew was steered by Farley himself. I also recalled a few incidents in which he had unreasonably attacked the Plain Dealer through the columns of the other newspapers. “Of course you should be preferred to McKisson,” I told him. “And the Plain Dealer in common with the best ele- ments in both parties will support you. There is only one request I have to make, and you can grant it now and avoid friction in the future. It is that, if elected, you will, regard- less of animosities between yourself and Holden, treat the paper fairly in news matters—not with partiality, but with fairness. Our men will if given an even break take all chances of getting their share of the information due the public from city officials.” Seeing the point quickly and clearly John promised faith- ful performance of his part in a request so reasonable, and I do not recall any violation during the two years he admin- istered with his old-time attention to details the city’s business. In this conversation I found that Holden's prompt action toward editorial indorsement was due to Farley's support of the Plain Dealer owner as delegate to the national [121] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND convention when, three years before, Holden worked for and voted for Bryan, the apostle of free silver. John Farley was a many sided man. For some years he ruled the local Democratic party with a closed and com- pelling fist. Intolerant of opposition he made enemies in the party. I know that Holden's antipathy had some basis in Farley's intensely partisan and domineering methods. Prob- ably L. E. Holden was the first of the earlier Democrats to resent that sort of attitude in the local party. Of Farley the man rather than the politician I best like to speak. His sudden death three years ago brought to the minds of a great many people traits of his character in which real friendship played a part. Only a few months earlier I had spent a day with him at his summer home, a beautiful island in Georgian Bay, where for years he had almost half of his time lived far from the distractions of political and business cares. For hours on stretch John could talk entertainingly of a busy life in Cleveland. His quaint and forceful descrip- tions of incidents and persons would if gathered together make a “‘best seller’”” among books. It was while on a vacation at the Bay some fifteen years ago that, spending a day with Farley, I made a discovery giving me, as later it gave many others, a new insight to the man and his capabilities. He called my attention to a large case on the wall of his living room which appeared to con- tain enough medicine bottles to stock a small drug store. Then for the first time I learned that in boyhood John wanted to become a doctor, and that he had made consider- able study of medicine, only to be talked out of his ambition by his father. The idea had, however, never been entirely abandoned, for away up there in the wilds of Canada John was practicing medicine without heed of constituted medical societies or thought of compensation! [122] HONEST JOHN FARLEY For years the native Indians and Frenchmen invariably addressed him as ‘““Doctor’” and many a night John was called from his sleep to administer simple nostrums and palliatives to sufferers on nearby islands. The lesser surgical cases confused him not in the least, but there was one that might well have found its way into the medical journals. “Take a look at this Dion boy,” said John to me, calling to him a limping lad, son of his caretaker. Then from a drawer in his desk he took a bottle half filled with pieces of human bone. It seemed that the little fellow had suffered from tubercular trouble, and after physicians in neighboring towns, I was told, pronounced the case incurable, Farley patiently spent many hours of one spring and summer in removing the cause of the trouble. At the time I published in a Sunday issue with appropriate illustrations a story of Farley and this limping boy. Three years ago I saw the boy again, now in young manhood and able to pull a row boat in the toughest of fishing waters. Another side of John Farley in his life up there in what he called the ‘‘bush” was the ingenuity he displayed as a builder. On his island in a large workshop were complete sets of tools for carpentry, plumbing and other self-helps usually unknown in the wilderness. Two large boats pro- pelled by steam and gasoline were products chiefly of his own hands. He once told me how after the loss of Mrs. Farley, who died one summer on the island, he labored all night long making a box in which to convey the body to the far away town where suitable facility could be had for shipping to Cleveland. He told me, too, of how that shop was his con- solation on many sleepless nights. Nothing pleased him quite so much as visits from old Cleveland friends. Joint owners with him on the island were John J. Stanley and Maurice Rohrheimer, and the first salutation I usually had when my [128] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND boat reached his landing was, “How's John and Maurice; have you seen ‘em lately?” Cleveland never had a more intelligent and faithful pub- lic servant than John H. Farley, but personally I like best to recall him as I last saw him, ripe of years in the wilds of Georgian Bay sitting on a crude bench at his dock clad only in collarless shirt, well worn trousers and big carpet slippers, and with a pet dog under each arm! [124] CHAPTER NINETEEN CARTOONIST DONAHEY My Biggest “Find” And Some Other Staff Men Who Made Good In A Newspaper Way During the first year of the contract to edit and publish the Plain Dealer there was a young artist on the staff of the Cleveland World whose cartoons, though produced by the ~ crude chalk plate process of that time, were attracting much local attention. J. H. Donahey, born in West Chester, O., later lived in New Philadelphia, where, after learning to set type, he saved up enough of his own money to come to the Cleveland School of Art, in furtherance of his ambition to become an artist. It was at the end of 1899 that I succeeded in enticing “Donny” away from the World. With the modern methods ‘of the Plain Dealer’s photo-engraving department his work at once came into prominence. Instead of the imperfect tooling of his subject on ordinary plates of chalk he now could draw with a free hand and on a large scale with pen and ink, the reproduction bringing it out in clear lines and with vastly increased effect. We began publishing every day on the front page a Donahey cartoon and they almost invariably made a hit. At first those on political subjects made the greatest dent in public appreciation, as indeed I think they have during his entire career. Those of the Plain Dealer readers who cared little about editorials in cold type could get the ‘message’ as we wanted to deliver it by a study of a Donahey cartoon. I recall one that so well illustrated Donahey’s adaptability it may be worth mentioning here. ‘Bill’ Crawford was [125] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND just then the local Republican party leader and Bill was in a sense a character. At a convention in Grays Armory he had so deftly and successfully generaled his forces from a seat with his ward delegation as to make him the central figure in the news columns the following day. Not having attended the ccnvention Donahey found himself with only a youthful photograph of Bill, whom he had never seen in person. The difficulty was overcome when I posed a member of the staff in a picturesque attitude of Crawford's with cigar tilted at an angle and a soft hat drawn well down over his right eye. The features and other visable eccentricities of Bill were there all right and no Donahey drawing of him during that and succeeding campaigns was more true to life. “Donny” duplicated in a way this feat of delineation by suggestion in a later campaign with a sketch of E. W. Doty, then active in local politics and still leader in the single tax propaganda. The drawing disclosed only Ed’s shoulders and the back of his head, but no one who knew him failed to solve the puzzle! My association with J. H. Donahey over a number of years were bright spots in a busy newspaper life. At times together we went daily over the current situation and selected a subject for his fanciful and keen cutting humor or sarcasm. But for the most part he had his idea well in mind before I came to the office, and he never failed to recognize that a newspaper cartoon is an editorial expression. One afternoon he brought to me several small drawings of a typical village blacksmith for whose extremely bald head “Donny” had made amends by giving the character the widest and wildest spread of whiskers ever seen on a human face! “Where did you capture that?”’ I inquired after the laugh those pictures provoked was out of my system, and “Donny” [126] CARTOONIST DONAHEY stood grinning by. In all my experience with him I never noticed anything more than a humorous half-apologetic smile on his face even over his greatest comics. “I thought we might run a little figure of the kind in single column for a few days on the editorial page,” he said with some hesitation. “What would you name it?” It chanced I had just read that quaint story ‘““Oncle Ben- jamin” and observing that one of ‘“‘Donny’s’”’ drawings depicted his blacksmith braced against an anvil with raised hammer ready to strike, I suggested that he call the old chap “Oncle Biff.” And so it was, and so it remained for quite a number of years, until a succeeding management more practical and which evidently didn’t like my French changed the name to “Uncle Biff.” In his creation of this character and the hundreds of posi- tions he caused it to assume about the anvil Donahey exhib- ited a phase of his own character that helped to make him the finished cartoonist he soon became. After the Biff sketches were well under way I learned that he had spent an entire afternoon in a blacksmith shop in a nearby village studying the various tools of the trade, and absorbing ‘‘atmosphere’ to make himself letter perfect. “And I'll bet you even shod a horse?”’ I challenged him. “Not exactly,” said “Donny’”’. ‘But I shooed one out of my way that tried to trample my feet.” This punning atrocity did not remove the artist perma- nently as far away from the office as he might have gone had its owner then the right to interfere with the staff. As in the case of W. R. Rose, another Plain Dealer star, Mr. Hol- den some time after Donahey’s connection with the paper saw fit to adversely criticise his work. ‘Don’t you think [127] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND Donahey has about worked out his stope?’”’ he said to me, using a mining term familiar to him in the west. He suggested that we try to get instead an artist named Bowman from a Minneapolis newspaper. But Donahey un- disturbed in the Plain Dealer office lived to become one of the chief factors in putting the property where it is today. The nearest we came to losing ‘Donny’ was when the Herald once asked him to go to New York to consider a position in its art department. Knowing how greatly Dona- hey was attached to the Cleveland newspaper office and its spirit of mutual helpfulness I felt that if he journeyed down into the New York maelstrom the experience might incline him to stay ‘here. The office handed him railroad tickets for the trip with the customary caution to look out for bunko men. The idea worked out perfectly, for during the few days he lingered around in the chill of an average New York newspaper office with its cold jealousy slant at imported talent, he was quite ready to come back home to Cleveland and warmth. The Herald offered him $150 per week. We had been paying him $75, but although he protested that he did not want New York at any price we cheerfully raised his weekly draw to $110 . Since then he has earned and deserves both fame and riches. Another “find” along that time was Carl T. Robertson, who like Donahey cannot be lured away from the newspaper where he is doing notable work. Incidentally he has become an American authority in the field of natural history. His inclination to a newspaper career was inborn. George A. Robertson, his father, devoted the most of his life to news- paper work in Cleveland, once editing and publishing a morning paper called the Record. He also was one of the men who built up the World, a bright little afternoon and Sunday newspaper afterwards combined with the News. [128] CARTOONIST DONAHEY George called at my office one day to say that his son just home from Harvard college wanted to -get into newspaper work. ‘“He doesn’t cotton much to my little sheet,” said George with a smile, ‘‘and considering its limitations his idea of starting with one of the established papers is wise, don’t you think so?”’ I thought so, and also I reminded the elder Robertson that when he was city editor of the Leader in 1879 he en- couraged me in an ambition to change from the business office of that newspaper to its reportorial staff, for which I had always felt a deep sense of obligation. Two days later Carl took a desk in the Plain Dealer local room and afterwards his fine service to the paper doubled my obliga- tion to the Robertson family. Like most newspaper men gifted along special lines, Carl had no desire to hold an executive job. In agreement with a policy I had established and enforced in the Plain Dealer office of invariably promoting our own men to positions of responsibility instead of taking on outsiders to go over their heads he was entitled to reach the city editor's desk, but I found he had other views. The editorial page was his goal, and gradually I worked him into it, first as a reviewer of books, then as assistant editorial writer to Mr. Bone and Percy W. Knight. Follow- ing the death of these two principals he took first place in the department. It was after I left the paper that Carl began his nature writings and made of his Outdoors Diary a regular and attractive feature of the page. A charming writer and a student of the natural sciences, his contributions always are entrancing to those of us who neglectfully stumble over the more hidden things in a world of natural wonders. Among other members of the Plain Dealer staff who came to it while under my editorial direction were Erie C. [129] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND Hopwood, now chief editor, who began as a reporter; A. H. Shaw, in charge of the editorial page, first employed as assistant telegraph editor; F. F. Duncan, dean of local finan- cial writers, now with the News and Sunday Leader; W. G. Vorpe, still with the paper as Sunday editor, a very able all around editorial executive; Archie J. Kennel, now connected efficiently with the county courts; George E. Quigley, B. W. Harding, Thomas W. Henkle, William Ganson Rose, Cleve- land’s finished toastmaster and brilliant creator of publicity; Dan B. Cull, now a common pleas judge; Stanley McMichael, who after large experience as real estate editor founded one of the city’s progressive real estate companies and developed into a successful writer of books on the subject; Warren C. Platt, who since founded the Petroleum News; William S. Couch and Ben F. Allen, both later to be Washington correspond- ents of the paper; Maynard H. Murch and Lewis B. Wil- liams, now prominent in local financial circles, and Henry P. Edwards, a high type of sporting editor who reflects credit upon his city as well as his newspaper. Back in the days of Major Armstrong's control of the Plain Dealer a quiet, studious man named Gilbert W. Hen- derson was for a number of years employed on its staff. A brilliant writer of editorials, dying in young manhood he left a legacy to newspaperdom in a son not less brilliant. It so chanced that in the rounding of the years I became editor of the paper upon which the elder Henderson had done his best work, and in 1901 this son, Charles T. Henderson, was too given a position on the Plain Dealer. From the days of his first assignments in local reporting he displayed unusual newspaper talent. His later work on the paper as city editor, dramatic critic and Sunday editor has never been excelled in this city. When lured to other lines of larger financial gain Charlie Henderson could not get entirely away from the fascination [130] CARTOONIST DONAHEY of newspaper life. As editor of Cleveland Topics he is turn- ing out a line of editorials many of which should reach the millions instead merely of a few thousands who now see them in a gilt edged and purely local publication. They remind me of the force of Edwin Cowles, who slammed his points home with a sledge hammer, the keen satire of Charles A. Dana, the rapier thrusts of Henry Watterson and the delicate word shading of Joseph Pulitzer who, I know from personal experience, could make even an ordinary business letter to a subordinate read like a finished bit of literature. Still others who from time to time went away from the Plain Dealer to build reputations more national in scope ate spoken of in another chapter of these recollections under the title “Men of the Pen.” [181] CHAPTER TWENTY A NOVEL TEST Which Greatly Pleased The Press And Plain Dealer And Led To A Newspaper “War” Advertisers especially may be interested in the plan adopted early in Nineteen hundred by local merchants for determining relative newspaper circulation. This was, of course, before the days of sworn reports required by the government. We knew that the morning Plain Dealer had forged far ahead of the Leader, but the difficulty was to make the merchants of Cleveland believe it, and to willingly pay the Plain Dealer the higher rates for advertising it deserved. One day when in conversation with Wilbur F. Dutton, head of the clothing firm I once was connected with, I spoke of Baker's canvass of a certain section of the east end showing an overwhelming lead for the Plain Dealer over the Leader in home delivery. “That is a good test,” said Dutton. “Why don’t you extend it over the whole city? No, that would not do. Advertisers might suspect your figures. The thing to do is for the advertisers themselves to conduct a city newspaper poll, and if you say so I will start the movement!” Within a week thirty-five of the local merchants, using the bulk of the advertising space in the newspapers—this was when there were much fewer stores—held a meeting in the parlor of the old Forest City hotel to which newspaper managers were invited. An offer from the Plain Dealer to pay all bills for a house to house canvass was rejected. Those merchants had become tired of newspaper circulation quarrels and were determined to find out themselves where to spend [132] A NOVEL TEST advertising money to the best advantage. Each of the thirty- five agreed to contribute the sum of $100 to begin operations. The Leader declined to send a representative to the meet- ing, and what was worse for it, began publishing articles belittling the plan. Later it began to bluster and threaten, going so far, after the result of the merchant's canvass was aired to the public, as to threaten suit in the courts for heavy damages against them. That the merchants meant business was shown by their employment of the city directory staff to carry on the house to house inquiry as to which local newspapers were read therein. The job of visiting every street in town and sub- urbs appearing too big, several hundred, well scattered, were gone thoroughly over by the canvassers, with the result that the Plain Dealer's morning circulation was proved to be fifty per cent larger than that of the Leader, and the Press in the evening field fifty per cent ahead of the morning Plain Dealer. Then followed a newspaper battle that threatened to drive all readers of the Leader and Plain Dealer to the Press. The Leader charged fraud in the canvass because every house in the city was not visited. Finally its attacks upon the Plain Dealer led to our preparing a letter which Holden as presi- dent of the company signed, challenging the Leader to join in a detailed circulation examination of both offices by a committee of outsiders, the result of its findings to be pub- lished in both papers. Strangely, under the circumstances, a reply came back from the Leader’s president accepting, but days elapsed with- out his coming to the scratch to assist in selecting a committee. Instead the Leader turned its heavy editorial artillery upon Holden, whose official signature was attached to all com- munications on the subject passing between the two offices. [133] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND Kennedy and Baker, the men responsible for bringing on the war, were for the time retired from the scene of the Leader’s battling. But Holden stood loyally by his guns! Once during the carnage, and in spite of the desultory shooting that we of the office kept up in the hope that the Leader would not entirely lose sight of the circulation inves- tigation, Holden wanted to spike the Leader guns by taking it into the courts of justice. In casting about for ammunition the Leader, so frenzied it disregarded the ordinary rules of newspaper warring, raked up some former litigation between Cleveland men and Holden over Utah mining. Holden was about the maddest man I ever met the day that editorial appeared in the Leader. First he came to the Plain Dealer office and told us he was going to sue the Leader for libel. Then he hurried to the office of Virgil P. Kline, his attorney, and demanded that the suit be brought forth- with. Calmer council prevailed, for returning to my office Holden said that Kline advised against it. “He knows I have a perfect case, but thinks that in view of the bad blood stirred up in this newspaper wrangle little good would come from a libel suit,” he explained to me. Speaking for the newspaper I agreed with Kline. “The thing is a threadworn lie!”’ continued Holden refer- ring to the Leader's mining editorial. “If you will take the trouble, Charlie Kennedy, and I wish you would for your own satisfaction, just go over to the court house and you will see on the records that those old lawsuits against me were dismissed at the plaintiff's cost—in every case at the cost of the plaintiff!” “Let the Leader keep on lying,’”’ I suggested. ‘All that stuff about your mining deals has been worked and over- worked by Leader people ever since you bought the Plain Dealer. They have carried it to every merchant who adver- [134] A NOVEL TEST tises in Cleveland newspapers. If half of what I have heard about you told me in the stores as gospel direct from the Leader office actually were true I am sure you would not be anxious to bring a libel suit to clear your record. We have them licked legitimately in a newspaper way, and all the stories they may manufacture will not change the situation.” So the war ended without further attacks upon personal character, and it ended rather abruptly, when some days later a letter from the president of the Leader informed us that because of the seventy-five stockholders of the Leader having scruples against going into circulation examinations the Leader would cancel its agreement so to do. It is only fair to state that this prolonged and bitter war nuisance between the two newspapers took place under the Leader management dating back to the time of Edwin Cowles, and before the arrival of Medill McCormick to take charge of the Leader's affairs. The house to house circula- tion investigation resulted in the Plain Dealer taking first place in the morning field in the estimation of advertisers, as it long before had taken precedence with newspaper read- ers. Higher and more commensurate rates and a much larger volume of business promptly followed. When Holden sold the evening Plain Dealer to Charles A. Otis soon after the Kennedy-Baker contract became oper- ative for, I was told, $250,000, the morning edition having then grown to 72,000 daily, easily commanded the same advertising rates formerly received for the combined papers. The cutting off of the evening issue of the Plain Dealer meant a saving of almost a thousand dollars a week, which was turned into net profit for its owner. By the purchase of the evening Plain Dealer, Otis, then owning the World (into which he had merged the News, the Leader's evening issue), [135] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND got exclusive afternoon membership in the Associated Press. As is generally known, the World was again named The News after its ultimate purchase by Dan R. Hanna. [136] CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE A GREAT MAYOR Side Lights Upon The Acts Of Tom Loftin Johnson Who Gave Cleveland A Better Civic Spirit It was my privilege to know Tom L. Johnson and to know him well. Mine was not the acquaintance of a poli- tician, or a personal friend, or in any sense a household familiar, yet our friendship had in it a little of all these features, with the added advantage of my being in a position to act as a friendly critic. This acquaintance dated back to the first appearance of Johnson in the old city council chamber immediately after he bought the little street railroad in the suburbs of Brooklyn and was making a fight to extend the road into and through Cleveland. As city editor of the Herald, then in control of Mark Hanna, who also was interested in the west side street railway lines, I reported most of the council meetings. The fight to keep Johnson and his railway ambition out of the city was bitter and long drawn out, but as is known, he finally won. It was during this intensely heated passage between con- tending politicians that Cleveland got to know the “Johnson smile,” back of which was a determination of will and a brilliance of mind that carried its owner far in business and politics. In the preliminary skirmishes in the council cham- ber it was noticeable that Tom always sat well in the back- ground and let L. A. Russell, his attorney, do the heavy battling. This seeming timidity wore off in time. Later it was found that Johnson having a natural fear and distress in attempts at public speaking, Russell at the young man’s [137] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND request had been tutoring him privately in the law offices in the declamatory art! Johnson never did things by halves. Tom detested the Herald because of its inclination to Hanna interests, and at the time he probably thoroughly dis- liked me as the youth who was obliged to report council doings for Hanna's newspaper. Associated with Johnson's street railway manipulations was a younger brother named Albert, who will be remembered by many as a patron of professional baseball, and, in his more youthful days, as live a wire as any afterwards strung over his trolley poles. It fell to brother Al to entertain councilmen of convivial habits at after-council suppers in the old Weddell House, mention of which gatherings in the Herald in no way in- creased the paper's popularity with Tom L. When in 1894 the Plain Dealer fought Johnson in his congressional contest with Theodore E. Burton I got to know him again. As manager of the paper for Mr. Holden and thoroughly in agreement with the owner in his attitude against Johnson's free trade and single tax theories I did all possible in the paper to help defeat the Democratic candi- date. One thing I recall is my employment of Charles Nelan, formerly cartoonist for the Cleveland Press but then on the New York Herald to make a series of cartoons for the Plain Dealer. Charlie never did anything in his career more scath- ing and effective. Supporting Johnson for congress and for mayor of Cleve- land were, however, two quite different things. That I was in a position to have a hand in the latter when responsible for the editorial end of the Plain Dealer in 1901, is a very pleasant memory. Our plea for the election of Tom L. John- son to the mayoralty was on higher grounds than partisan- ism. The Plain Dealer urged his election as a man of ideals in city government, with a wealth of successful business ex- perience to strengthen his administration. How generally [138] A GREAT MAYOR such sentiment was shared in Cleveland was shown at the time in the published expression of Myron T. Herrick, staunch Republican, to the effect that in the choice of John- son for mayor Cleveland had a $100,000 executive for $6,000 a year. The Plain Dealer editorially disclaimed any indorsement of Johnson’s twin hobbies, single tax and free trade, nor did the paper agree with his fight for three cent street car fare, believing that better service would ensue from a renewal of existing contracts upon a basis fairer to the city. In that Johnson was probably nearer right, as subsequent settle- ments under the Tayler plan have thus far proved. Although pitted against a popular business man, William J. Akers, Tom was elected by a safe, although not a large, majority. Then came the making of his cabinet and Tom's impetu- ous hurry to put in force some of his cherished ideas of city government. I shall touch upon only a few of these incidents, which may serve to throw light upon his breadth of vision, his impulse to help the under dog, and the many contradic- tions of a many sided man who was afraid of nothing, a man who saw far and felt deeply when dealing with human kind, and whose mistakes were of the head and not of the heart. The morning after his election he asked me to call at his house, where, after introducing me to Mrs. Johnson he spoke feelingly of the Plain Dealer’s support of his campaign, con- cluding half facetiously with the remark, ‘Now that Ken- nedy has helped to elect me he is in duty bound to stand by my administration!” Speaking for the Plain Dealer I assured him that the paper would not fail to back up any of his efforts if he put the welfare of the city ahead of party advantage, and that it assuredly would criticize and oppose any departure from ideals professed by him during the campaign. This at the [139] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND time struck Tom as fair, although on several occasions in the three terms he held the office during my connection with the Plain Dealer he thought our criticism rather harsh, coming from a supposedly Democratic source. He invited me to name a couple of members of his first cabinet, which I declined with appropriate thanks and in full understanding of the enthusiasm, not unmixed with gratitude, which for the moment controlled him as a successful candi- date. This incident ended with my assurance to Tom that men on the Plain Dealer were not in politics, and the best I could do would be to advise against unworthy appointments if I knew any of the cabinet timber he had in mind. The very next evening he rather stunned me by asking what I would think if he put a preacher in his cabinet! Our conversation ran something as follows: ‘Rather an innovation,” I replied, ‘‘but surely a big improvement over the agitator you had in mind yesterday as a representative of the labor interests.” He had told me he thought of appointing a man who I knew helped to stir up sentiment leading to the dynamiting of Cleveland street cars two years before, at a time when Johnson was away from the city and unfamiliar with many happenings here. I had cautioned him to go slow on that appointment, which, by the way, was not made. “Who is the preacher?” I asked. “Harris R. Cooley,” said Tom. “I have attended his church for a long time, off and on, and I know him like a book. He is just the man to carry out my ideas of reform in the treatment of the unfortunate and I want him in my cabinet as director of charities, to look after the workhouse inmates, where men and women are often treated like dogs, and to protect the city’s poor and infirm, so badly provided for.” [140] A GREAT MAYOR Here Johnson arose and pacing the floor denounced in language not entirely churchly the methods he declared were often employed in handling inmates of these institutions. Rev. Cooley received the appointment, and with the help of Mayor Johnson completely revolutionized workhouse practices in Cleveland, leading to similar reforms in different parts of this and other countries. One of Johnson's best memorials is out in Warrensville. Tom L. was spectacular in this as in many other of his adventures into municipal idealisms he somehow made practical. One day soon after Dr. Cooley got into harness I accompanied him and the mayor to the workhouse, then out on Woodland avenue, to witness what Tom called a delivery of inmates from too much punishment. Tom had a desk placed in an open hallway, and sitting as magistrate, passed upon the cases of some twenty male and female prisoners who had been sent up for minor misdemeanors. Only two were sent back for further detention. The others were dismissed, after the mayor had lectured them, several departing with five dollar bills from Tom’s pocketbook. At this time the workhouse was under the superintendency of Richard A. Butler, now associated with the Federal Reserve Bank here. Early in his administration Johnson inaugurated the famous ‘‘tax school” in the city hall with Peter Witt as interpreter. Here could come our city land proprietor and consulting big charts upon the walls find out which of his neighbors employed the best legal talent to keep down valua- tions. Peter now was in his element. For many years he had preached on a soap box in the Public Square against the inequalities of taxation and the dangers to society of the concentration of too much wealth in a few hands. And Peter was sincere, else following a hard day’s work in the foundry he would have spent the evening resting at home instead [141] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND of talking to newsboys and to traveling salesmen on their way to the Union Depot. His disinterested preachments led, however, to fame and pecuniary profit when later he held successive public offices and qualified as a high priced traction expert and street car inventor. In one instance, according to the testimony of Tom Johnson, Peter's early oratorical practice, said to be strengthening to one’s lungs, secured for him an office he filled with great ability. Riding one morning with Tom in his famous “Red Devil” automobile and looking over the McKisson ‘dump’ on the lake front, the mayor said to me that he was going to give Peter Witt the city clerkship. ’ “You see,” says Tom, “many mistakes are made in the council chamber because of the members failing to hear distinctly the reading of ordinances and resolutions by the clerk. Peter has a loud voice.” Of course I recognized both the joke and the fitness of Peter for the office, and as things turned out Johnson had no more loyal or able assistant through his entire career in Cleveland. While ever with a verbal chip on his shoulder, I never had but one encounter with Peter. It was during, I think, Johnson's third campaign for the mayoralty and Witt was given stereopticon political lectures after each of Johnson's tent speeches. Our reporter was instructed to make no mention whatever of the Witt speeches. This finally got upon Peter's nerves, which usually were plenty and hard of penetration, and one evening he unexpectedly paid a visit to the Plain Dealer office. “It is none of my business, but I am curious to know why you have told the reporter never to print anything about my speeches in this campaign,” said Peter, with a friendly smile. [142] A GREAT MAYOR “That is easy,” I replied. “We are trying to re-elect Johnson.” “Just so,” agreed Peter. “And I thought I was doing something that way myself.” “Yes, but you should keep your lantern out of the Republican wards,” I suggested. “Attacks upon Republicans will not get you very far there. If you are for Tom Johnson from a purely partisan standpoint that is between you and the politicians. The Plain Dealer is not, and it is read daily in thousands of Republican homes. Perhaps you get our point of view?” “Yes,” said Peter, “and I wouldn't want you to shock your Republican readers by giving them any information about rich Republican tax dodgers in this community. But I intend to keep right on illustrating them with my magic lantern,” and shaking me warmly by the hand he departed from the office. This was, I think, the year Johnson carried every ward in the city, and no doubt Peter's stereopticon had something to do with it—in wards solidly Democratic. This brings me naturally to consideration of another youth who made a big place for himself in local politics through association with Tom L. Johnson. W. B. (“Burr”) Gongwer was one of the Plain Dealer's brightest young reporters. To him was given the assignment to attend and report all the Johnson meetings when, in 1901, Tom made his first run for the mayoralty. This he did so well that Johnson, after the election, craved to make him his private secretary. Burr's eyes glistened when, one evening, he told me of this prospective enlargement of his opportunities—and pay envelope. Here, I thought, was a chance for a little all around office discipline, not without its aspects of humor. [143] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND “What kind of an ingrate is this man Johnson, anyhow?"’ I asked Burr. “He had the advantage of the work of one of our best reporters all this spring and now proposes to take him away from the paper. Please don’t resign until I have a chance to do a little talking with him.” Burr went away in a saddened mood, which was not much lessened when, the next day, Johnson, believing I was very much in earnest, told him that he did not feel at liberty to appoint him unless I agreed to the change! This situation lasted for a week, and after all the boys in the office had been sufficiently impressed with our determi- nation that not, habitually, could reportorial jobs on the Plain Dealer be made a short stepping stone to political office, I “‘relented’”’ and Johnson appointed Burr to the office in the City Hall, which led to his job as collector of customs and present leadership in the local Democratic party. This incident reminds me that many Cleveland men holding political positions owed their places to acquaintance with the politicians made while doing newspaper work. Harry L. Vail of the old Herald became county clerk. Howard H. Burgess of the same paper was elected to the office of city clerk. Charles P. Salen, for years a leader in the Democratic party, began as a reporter on a little paper called the West Side Signal. Randolph Y. McCray, a Plain Dealer reporter, also reached the city clerkship. Youth hankering for office and inclined to the political road of advancement— or retrogression—in life have always found the newspaper office an easy stepping off place. Indeed, the country is full of office holders who either owned or worked for newspapers. And as a rule they fill the jobs quite as successfully as the lawyers who, more learned in diplomacy and with greater gift of “gab” manage to secure the majority of seats in the halls of legislation. [144] CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO JOHNSON IN ACTION His Debates With Opponents And Success In Regulating Public Abuses There is no intention to give in these pages any detailed account of reforms instituted by Tom L. Johnson during his long tenure in the office of mayor. Others, himself included, have written fully of these matters. I refer particu- larly to his publication entitled “My Book,” in which is given a history of his street railway fight, and to a book written soon after his death by Carl Lorenz, then city editor of the Waechter and Anzeiger. Rather it is Johnson, the man, his rare qualities of states- manship, and the way he unfolded new and better sugges- tions for community service, that appeals to me most. Fearless, convincing in argument, and sometimes mistaken, Tom Johnson, amid any surroundings, public or private, always commanded alert attention. His smile provoked it, and his rapid speech prevented undue interruption. Among those who disagreed with his policies were some who called him an actor, a political acrobat. On debating ground few, however, meeting him in verbal gymnastics, were able to pin him to the floor! I recall one of these heavyweight contests indulged in by Johnson and Theodore E. Burton, when they were opposing candidates for congress. It took place in the old riding academy on Willson avenue, just north of Euclid avenue. Tom, short, fat and smiling; Theodore, tall, gaunt of frame and solemn, baited and teased each other for three hours before a closely packed audience, about equally divided in partisan support. Quicker to size up a proposition, Tom [145] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND was able to cover any deficiency of argument by an adroit turn of the subject into other channels. The first of his mayoralty debates was with William H. Boyd, his opponent in 1903—Boyd, the master pleader in court, a magnetic speaker, and one who dazzled with facts ever ready in mind. It was this series of public debates that placed political gatherings upon a much higher plane in Cleveland. A thing practically unheard of before was the attendance of women in large numbers. The clock was beginning to strike for the entrance of the gentle sex into active politics. No Clevelander in politics encouraged and welcomed this innovation quite as much as Tom Johnson. I know that he urged his political intimates to bring their wives and daughters to his tent and other meetings. Johnson was victor over Boyd for the mayoralty, but he admitted that the latter chased him clear up to the City Hall door! One of the most entertaining of the Johnson debates was his contest with Homer H. McKeehan, then a young lawyer, who, in a series of tent meetings, in a summer of early Nineteen hundred, undertook to annihilate the three cent street car fare doctrine. Now in the “A” class of the local legal profession, Homer was not then so well known. He appeared almost boyish beside Tom Johnson—another David out to slaughter the giant! Present at one of the Johnson-McKeehan debates in the Johnson tent, located in Edgewater Park, I arrived just in time to hear a lusty voiced Johnson admirer shout, ‘Break him in two, Tom!” Nothing like that occurred, physically or forensically. Namesake of the original poet, and with early forebears in the hills of Scotland, who thrived on fighting, young Homer held so well to his ground that he actually drew from the immense audience most of the laughter and applause, [146] JOHNSON IN ACTION although the crowd was decidedly with Johnson in support of his street car propaganda. Early in his career as mayor, Johnson began to popularize the public parks. On the theory that they belonged to all residents alike, he had the keep-off-the-grass signs removed, much to the consternation of members of former park boards and those who in their carriages were shocked by the temporary litter left by families out for a day or evening of recreation. “It’s too bad they feel that way,” said Tom to me one evening, while discussing his critics. “Anyway, while I am mayor, there will be no ‘verboten’ proclamations on public rest grounds.” This broadening of the real function of public parks, their beautification, the creation of large expanses for ball playing and other sports, all contributing to health and exhilaration of spirit would alone serve as a monument to the man who fearlessly brought the reform about. It was left to later and less altruistic mayors to sit idly by and see the parks in some cases degenerate into unkempt fields and a real disgrace to the city. Just as vigorously Johnson went after the professional gamblers of the city. He did not believe in hunting hares— or tigers—with a brass band. He went quietly out and got them—the tigers. If they surrendered upon request it was all right with Tom. They could remove peacefully to better forage and easier picking. If they backed up or attempted evasion of his order, uniformed policemen were stationed at the entrances of their resorts and the patrons turned away. This plan was also instituted in dealing with keepers of immoral resorts, which finally brought about a segregated district, later involving a decided division of public opinion and destruction of the system. It had its practical side, if [147] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND not a moral one. The residence districts were not then, as now, subject to the wide scattering of the nuisance throughout the city. No one questions that under Johnson a real reform was worked out in the readjustment of taxes on property. As I recall it the county officials worked in harmony to that end. A few narrow politicians labored hard to prevent, but to the credit of many of our people of large wealth they attempted no obstacles. Perhaps the best example of the new thought is found in the person of John A. Zangerle whose successful dealing with tax problems is now nationally known and admired. Public bath houses, clean streets, greater police and fire efficiency, improved methods in the health department were visible signs of real business management in the City Hall. Johnson not alone knew business, but he knew how to handle politicians. By nature uncompromising, he became elastic when, seeing no other way to a desired culmination, he felt obliged to temporize. While always attentive to the advice of those believed to be disinterested friends, he frequently took the bit in his teeth, and went his gait, successfully or otherwise, as his determi- nation finally came to fruition. In one instance which I have always thought the biggest mistake of his career here, he set a stern face against all opposition. It will be recalled that only a few months had elapsed after his first election to the mayoralty when he unexpectedly announced his candidacy for the governorship. This was a serious matter to the Plain Dealer. It had given Johnson unstinted support on the theory, if not an exact promise, that he would stand by his pledges and devote his entire time to city management. Here in the very beginning he was out for larger political plums! [148] JOHNSON IN ACTION When news came in confidence to the office that he would seek the gubernatorial nomination I hastily telephone his house from which he was just starting for Columbus. Johnson said he would call at the office and wished I would accompany him to the depot that we might talk the matter over. Mrs. Johnson was with him, and in the carriage she joined me in urging her husband to give up his idea. On behalf of the Plain Dealer I pointed out that his course was putting us in a hole, to say nothing about the people who had elected him to the office of mayor. “But you don’t understand,” he said, and reiterated this with increasing vehemence. “I can best serve Cleveland by getting a reasonable control at Columbus. There are many problems affecting the administration of Ohio cities we can work out only through legislative action. That is my only excuse for my present action.” “What about the charge you will have to defend of your using the city as a stepping stone to further a personal and political ambition?”’ I inquired. “It is not true, and they can say anything about me they see fit!”” he retorted. ‘If what I have set in motion in Cleve- land public affairs in not appreciated, and if my motives are impugned, I will be sorry but not thwarted in what I think is right.” That he was “thwarted” is a matter of record in his defeat for the governorship by a majority thought rather tremendous in those days. How his single tax doctrine stampeded the farmers of Ohio, even members of his own party is history. How he came to a realization that his place was in the city hall, wiser if not chastened, is also history. As a means of illuminating the stand taken by the Plain Dealer when under my editorial control against partisan bias [149] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND in city affairs, and, more to the point, the inclination of Johnson himself in that direction, I reproduce here the following letters: 667 Euclid Avenue. March 23, 1902. Mr. Chas. E. Kennedy, Ed.; The Plain Dealer, City: : The editorial in this morning's Plain Dealer in which I am re- ferred to as a “Political Dictator” and a “Political Boss and that candidate Cadwallader’s nomination is “Machine made and boss dictated” seems to me very unfair. I have no word of criticism for anything else you may say in relation to the Democratic side of the question, and certainly have no right to complain of anything the paper says on any subject, but nevertheless, feel that it is only fair to say that the hard name, applied to me personally, hurt me worse than anything I have read in any paper in a long time. I expect that sort of talk from partisan newspapers, either from ignorance or malice, but I have been treated so fairly by the Plain Dealer in the past, and was so confident that you knew my motives generally, and especially the circumstances leading up to Mr. Cadwallader’s nomination, that the statement was quite a shock. I had one object from the beginning of this school contest—to keep it out of politics—as I have desired to keep school management out of politics. I knew Mr. Cadwallader’s view on the subject and believed in his ability to carry out this plan, but he at first declined positively to enter the race. I then made an earnest effort to get Mr. Flower to withdraw and run as an independent candidate, intending if posssible to give him, in addition, the Democratic nomination; that is, throw the weight of the Democratic support in favor of the Independent Republican. Of all the plans this appealed to me as best. Mr. Flower was persuaded that it was the right move, and gave as the reason for not adopting the plan, his inability to bring his friends to view the question as he did. I then took up the question with Mr. Cadwallader and urged on him the importance of becoming a candidate as, otherwise, some cheap political skate would probably, in spite of anything I could do, head the Democratic ticket. [150] JOHNSON IN ACTION His public pledge to keep politics out of the schools, I believe. He has made no pledge to me or anyone else that I know of, and there is certainly no implied obligation to make partisan appointments or in any way recognize politics in the schools. I have given to this subject my best thought and most earnest work, and do not see how I could have pursued a course more in accord with what I believe to be your views on this subject. While it is easy to criticise, I think that in carrying it out you will find great difficulty in specifically pointing out a wiser course, or in answering the question “What would you have done had you been in my place,” for I am no more in favor of boss rule than youare. I oppose political dictatorship as much as you can and am just as earnest in keeping politics out of the schools, personally, as you are. In looking back over matters I am unable to see how I could have followed a different or better line of action and more in harmony with the prin- ciples that I laid down on this subject in the beginning. I hope you will not misconstrue this letter. It is written in great friendship and kindness of thought with no desire to influence you in the support of Mr. Cadwallader, for on this subject I feel that I ought not to say a word; my sole objection is to what I con- ceive to be an unnecessary slap at me personally, which was not quite warranted. I suppose I feel this more at this time, since I am in the midst of a bitter fight with the spoilsmen, who have been constantly at war with me but brought the crisis on at this time hoping to over awe me by their implied lukewarmness in the coming election. They have over reached themselves as you will clearly see by my response to them next Tuesday night. I hope you will not be bored by this long letter, and above all will not think I have over-taxed your patience or friendship, which you know I prize highly. Sincerely your friend, TOM L. JOHNSON. My reply for the Plain Dealer to this letter, with some eliminations, was as follows: My dear Mr. Johnson: I have read with much care your letter regarding the editorial on school matters in Sunday's Plain Dealer. Personally I am sorry that any expression used in the editorial was distasteful to you. [151] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND The intention was to be exactly fair to both parties, and the position taken was the result of careful consideration of the situation. Your letter was so frank and kindly in tone that I am constrained to point out to you in the same frank way why the Plain Dealer felt it a duty to discuss the school question in the way it did Sunday. It is possible that outside views of the political situation as it affects you and your administration may be of assistance to you. In any event the Plain Dealer wishes you success and would go far to render you assistance along right political lines. Frankly, Mr. Johnson, while I think the average citizen of intelli- gence has great confidence in your personal sincerity, there has been an unmistakable change of sentiment towards the administration because of the political work of your chief lieutenant, Mr. . And when as is frequently the case, your organization is referred to as a “machine” the sentiment takes its rise from a natural objection to this form of politics. If it has been made possible for him to so entirely dominate the appointment of incompetent politicians to office in his own department that practically a revolt is on, why should the independent: voter have confidence in the election of a school director supported by the administration? Is it not a fact that there has been too much partisanism in your administration to warrant a plea for the support of any candidate on the Democratic ticket ona pledge of nonpartisanism? **¥*¥** The comments in the Plain Dealer touching the Democratic side of the question were but a natural result of the machine methods injected into your administration by your most important associate in the city government. Had this machine feature been eliminated there would be ground for argument in favor of ousting a Republican machine at school headquarters. I want in this connection to add that wishing to be open and fair in a criticism of this kind I am quite willing that this letter be read by Mr.————. I note what you say in regard to the fight being made upon the superintendent of the water works department by a certain class of office holders, and of course am pleased with the intimation that you intend to stand firmly in support of the merit system as enforced in that department since it was placed in the hands of Mr. Bemis. You can depend upon the Plain Dealer to indorse any position you may take against cheap politicians, the men who look upon public office as a soft snap. I will say frankly that the Plain Dealer people feel that you have been materially injured by the association of men of that class in your administration ***** Anything tending to the [152] JOHNSON IN ACTION elimination of such undesirables cannot but reflect credit upon yourself. In fairness to Tom Johnson and remembering the whole- some influence of his life in this community I can knowingly add that he was sincere and for the most part successful in his war upon those he graphically referred to as political “cheap skates” in his party. There were no suspicions of irregularities in contracts under his administrations. His purchasing department, under A. R. Callow, became a model of its kind. Disliking party spoilsmen, Johnson was always on the alert for downright boodlers who infest governments. [163] CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE HER STATESMEN One Man’s Opinion Of Cleveland’s Contribution To The “Seats Of The Mighty” Anybody seeking detailed information about eminent men considered in these personal recollections must of course go to the histories. Mine is purely a running comment upon those Clevelanders highly placed with whom I chanced to come into contact when newspaper reporter, city editor and editor-in-chief. The grading of statesmen, near statesmen and mere politicians is after all entirely a matter of individual opinion. The Century dictionary defines a statesman as follows: A man who is versed in the art of government, and exhibits con- spicuous ability and sagacity in the direction and management of public affairs; a politician in the highest sense of the term. Therefore, taking two local Democrats as an example, I might insist that Tom L. Johnson, four times elected to the office of mayor in Cleveland, was a statesman because of his extraordinary ability in handling city affairs. And—for the sake of comparison—that Newton D. Baker did not scale the heights of statesmanship for the reason that he failed to exhibit the keenest of business sagacity in national affairs. And you might take issue with me; and your neighbor, fully your equal and mine in judgment, might say we both were wrong. One thing deeply impressed upon my mind in youth was that we should not believe everything we see in the news- papers. This conviction was greatly strengthened as I got further along in the newspaper business. About the easiest mark I know of is the average newspaper editor, and for [154] HER STATESMEN good and natural reasons. He wants to believe in and recognize the best in human nature. He dislikes to turn people down. And this attitude of mind is largely responsible for the prominence sometimes secured by self seeking, and in some instances, detestable politicians. If it is true we are governed by newspapers this condition may continue indefinitely, although it might be modified. Naturally the people I am discussing are exempt from this observation and criticism. Cleveland has been fortunate in the average and balance of its men in public life. Take, for instance, John Hay. Cleveland has always claimed Hay because he married a daughter of Amasa Stone and lived here early in his career. Few, if any, will disagree with me in placing John Hay foremost in the ranks of statesmen of local derivation. As ambassador to England, as secretary of state and in the legacy he has left through speech and written word we must recognize such pre-eminence. Upon the one occasion I met John Hay I was impressed with his quiet affability, for, while a man of considerable dignity there was an absence of the strains of pomposity often detected in the manner of those we describe as dignified. It comes to my memory that I had the courage to ask if it were true that he was the author of “The Bread Winners,’ a novel about Cleveland, dealing with labor conditions, which, it transpired, he actually did write although he never acknowledged parenthood. He waved this aside, and as the things he said to me were with the understanding they were not to be published, I can only write down at this late date that, in discussing his authorship of ‘Little Breeches,” ‘‘Jim Bludso” and other poems written in early youth he exhibited none of the aversion he was popularly believed to have [155] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND against these red blooded images of his brain being recalled to public notice. Great in public life, John Hay was equally eminent in pursuits purely literary, of which we have an example in his writings of Abraham Lincoln, whose secretary he was. The newspaper fraternity alsc claimed him. He was drafted into that line at times by Horace Greely and afterwards by White- law Reid of the New York Tribune, where all the force of his brilliant mind was brought to the consideration of current events. In the early Eighties Henry B. Payne, a cultured Cleve- land lawyer and in a sense a pioneer here, was elected to the United States senate. He was wealthy without ostentation; a “‘gentleman of the old school,” whatever exactly that term may mean. His son, Oliver H., one of the Cleveland boys enriched by Standard Oil and no amateur in practical poli- tics, made heroic efforts to get for his father the Democratic nomination for the presidency. In this he had the backing of a host of party men who knew of Senator Payne's ability and integrity. As I under- stood it at the time the Senator himself had no special per- sonal urge to take on the worry and risk; anyway, the “buck” was passed to General Hancock. Quite advanced in years, Senator Payne took little active part in senatorial lead- ership, but always displayed sanity in the voting rolls and the kindly courtesy of manner for which Clevelanders of all political affiliation held him in high esteem. When I come to Myron T. Herrick there is so much of the personal magnetism and friendliness of the man to intrude that the task of analysis would be better performed by a cold blooded historian. A less vindictive man than Herrick was never met with in public affairs. In no instance [156] HER STATESMEN has be been known to nurse a grudge againsts those who in newspaper print or otherwise chanced to go the length of bitter opposition to him and his ambitions. This trait is so unusual that I single it out as one of the reasons for his popularity with all classes of people. Not bigoted, he could see the other man’s point of view. Measured by the position he held abroad, Myron T. Herrick is entitled to a seat with John Hay in the front row of American diplomats. His success in France in the opening days of the world war surely implies statesmanship of a high order. A natural Yankee shrewdness and pluck, coupled with a personality that made loyal friends, fitted him with exactness into a situa- tion where prompt action and unerring judgment alone could win. If his handling of a sensitive political puzzle in Paris, his superb work in hospital preparation and his genuine optimism were not statesman-like then the Century dictionary is in error. Of Herrick’s administration as governor of Ohio there has been much criticism. Party men under the leadership of Mark Hanna elevated him to office, and there were those who believed that, sensible to that obligation, he permitted his creators to dictate unreasonably in its operation. At least that was the opinion of many newspaper men. On the other hand, I have been told by officials who ought to know that no other Ohio governor has made as searching investigations of state institutions or contributed as much to their proper regulation and operation. Under his control the state was run on business principles. About the only Cleveland people I ever heard condemning Herrick’s admin- istration with much heat were those interested in race track affairs, who claimed he ran in a “cold deck’ on'them when a movement was made to close the pool boxes. “Stand pat” and ‘Let Well Enough ‘Alone’ and “The Full Dinner Pail,” slogans of national renown, are always [167] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND coupled with thought of Marcus A. Hanna, who succeeded John Sherman in the United States senate. Here is where “ability and sagacity’”’ in the management of public effairs ~~ meet squarely together in recognition of statesmanship. Hanna was a great business man and, applying business methods in governmental control in a country where men too often are measured by the dollars they amass, he was acclaimed by many as an ideal statesman. The Hanna theories of government were never thot- oughly tested. Had he lived he would undoubtedly have been nominated, and probably elected to the presidency as successor to McKinley. That he was in line for the honor, and wanted it, came to us in the Plain Dealer office from -.every source newspaper men rely upon to gain early insight into movements on the political chess board. I recall that I caused to be published in the Plain Dealer an editorial some months before his final illness in which, in a neighborly way the query was made, ‘Hanna for President—Why Not?” Will S. Couch, our Washington correspondent, later gave to me his impressions of the situation after Hanna had read and commented upon that particular editorial. “I tell you the senator is as sure of succeeding McKinley as we are ~the sun is coming up tomorrow morning!” said Will. “And he was immensely pleased with the editorial in the Plain Dealer. Of course he admits nothing, but all the correspond- ents in Washington believe thoroughly in his ambition, and one of these days they will be given a chance to announce his candidacy.” It has been my observation over a series of years that where there is absolute unanimity of speculation and opinion among the newspaper tribe in predicting a coming event the chances for error are extremely slight. We must also take into account the confidential relations between newspaper [158] HER STATESMEN writers at the capitol and the men high in office there. Much of information can be intimated or implied without the definite use of words. A natural fighter, Hanna always fought in the open. With a disposition to avoid the limelight, when his time came to take a commanding place in the public eye he displayed unex- pectd qualities. From a timidity in public speaking that was congenital he suddenly developed a gift of oratory which rather astonished his intimates. In considering the claims or qualifications of Theodore E. Burton for location in the Washington hall of fame I find something of the difficulty experienced in the case of Colonel Herrick, but from a different cause. Just as Myron is warm and impulsive in his associations with the mass of people, Burton is the reverse. I knew him for many years, yet never got acquainted with him. Even when as editor of the Plain Dealer under the contract for its management from 1898 to 1907 I surprised the community by giving him the support of that supposedly Democratic sheet in one of his races for congress, I couldn’t get to know him. Brains? Theodore has them abundantly—and ability of the highest order. But magnetism generated anywhere than from his vast reservoir of intellectuality there was none ever discernable to me. Most readers of this bock are familiar with Mr. Burton's career in congress and the senate. When the Plain Dealer's support was turned his way early in Nineteen hundred, as unexpected to him as to anybody else, he had made a record for attention to Cleveland interests which, it seemed to me, entitled him to endorsement by members of all political parties. And this move on the Plain Dealer’s part caused some merry agitation in the party Tom L. Johnson then controlled locally. A conversation I had [159] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND with Tom at the time was to me interesting enough to remember. “How does the Plain Dealer justify its course in giving aid to Theodore Burton?’ asked Tom. “In the consciousness of a deed well done and doing,” I made reply. ‘“The Plain Dealer is now being operated under a contract with its owner which provides that it be maintained as an Independent Democratic newspaper, and we are merely putting the accent on the independent patt of it.” “Oh, I see,” says Tom. “And I do recall that you ex- plained in the paper that you were not supporting me for mayor as a Democrat.” “In other words you ‘see the cat,’ as you single taxers phrase it,” I explained. ‘If the Republicans show greater foresight in the nomination ofl candidates for office than you Democrats the Plain Dealer will be found supporting more of them. With growing common sense I am hoping some day to see the old paper backing the best men of both parties for office, clear up to the presidency.” This is getting a trifle off the subject of Burton, but that fairly good seed was sown in Johnson's political yard was disclosed two years later when he placed no candidate what- ever in the field against Burton. This vastly annoyed the chairman of the national Democratic congressional commit- tee, who came to Cleveland to pick a fuss with Tom about it. Ohio has had no representative in Washington who worked harder than Theodore Burton. Plenty of people thought he worked too hard, especially in the senate, where according to the counts made by a local newspaper he voted for 114 measures indorsed by Senator Aldrich, an apostle of the money interests. Burton is a student. Our Washing- ton correspondent once told me of running across him one [160] HER STATESMEN summer in London, where he was thought to have gone for a rest. Theodore was coming out of a library over there with a bundle of books under each arm. His resting con- sisted of reading all day and half the night into the history of English politics and kindred subjects. Some have thought that after his long public career cul- minating in the United States senate Burton was entitled to a real and permanent rest from office. His resurrection by the Plain Dealer, in imitation of its course in a past genera- tion when conditions were very different, possibly had root in a desire on the part of that newspaper to palliate the offense of supporting so many Democrats, and, to say the least, Burton was a safe man for practicing newspaper “‘inde- pendence’”’ upon. His speech in the national Republican Con- vention last summer contained much of the old-time Burton fire. One other local celebrity who while still tender of years adopted Cleveland as his home should, of course, be con- sidered in any review of the men who have made a stir in the political world. Newton D. Baker's name is a house- hold word in Cleveland. Of several young men Tom L. Johnson discovered and assisted to political honors Baker is the most widely known. A masterly gift of oratory with a strain in his make-up of adroit political manipulation brought about this result. Where Hanna rose to the ranks of the mighty through busi- ness ability, Baker, more of an idealist than practiced in the channels of trade, owes his ascension to a genius for sway- ing the multitudes with the spoken word. And in politics this gift of enthralling speech carries at critical moments more weight than the word offered in cold print. Few men here have been, or today are, more genuinely admired. This was shown by the largest plurality ever given [161] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND a candidate for mayor when he was elected to the office his friend and sponsor had filled so acceptably for four continu- ous terms. That he never approximated the genius of John- son in the conduct of city affairs was hardly to be expected. Some things he did while mayor gained approval, but the things that might have been done, or which were only half done by his subordinates probably outweigh the actual per- formance. Clevelanders who looked upon the office of mayor as a business proposition were generally inclined to take that view. But of clean, wholesome civic spirit Baker lacked nothing. With a determined hand upon the local party machinery Baker paved his way to bigger political things—if the streets were not so well paved. Whether his attainment of a place in President Wilson's cabinet was because of the latter's appreciation of the Baker gifts of mind or more directly in payment of a political debt is often a matter of speculation. It is likely that both elements entered into the situation, for Newton ‘swung’ the Ohio Democracy into line for the seer of Princeton. In any event it is in some quarters thought that Wilson sadly fumbled the portfolios when giving the one out by which Baker became secretary of war. Here again comes up the matter of individual opinion in selecting your lists of statesmen. There are plenty of Cleve- landers who think Baker would have shone much more brilliantly in some other section of the Wilson administration. Others, and with enthusiasm, have gone so far as to rate him the greatest secretary of war since Stanton! I have found few business men who take the latter view. That he coped well with the purely psychological features of a situation unparalleled in the world’s history his most malicious critic must, if reluctantly, agree. And it is easy to voice disapproval of business methods after the fogs surrounding a dilemma de- manding prompt and drastic action have cleared away. After [162] HER STATESMEN all, who is to say that a Morgan, a Mellon or a Hanna, trained in big business, would have negotiated the affairs of the war department with better ultimate results? It is a guess, and everybody is entitled to one. That Newton Baker will go still further and perhaps higher in national affairs is scarcely to be doubted. His masterly speech to the Democratic Convention in New York last year alone would insure for him a lead close to the rail for the presidential nomination in 1928. In a world of too much personal disloyalty, Baker's unfaltering devotion to Tom L. Johnson and Woodrow Wilson, two men who did so much to shape his career, is, in my opinion, even more admirable than any other outstanding trait of his character. Perhaps still another Clevelander once well seated with the political mighty should be mentioned here. James Rudolph Garfield, a son of a former president, was honored by Theo- dore Roosevelt with a cabinet position. It would require some imagination to conceive that without parental prestige so distinguished an honor would have been bestowed. The plunge into great political prominence was too sudden. Yet, as a Northern Ohio boy of unusual capacity, studious of habit, a competent lawyer and good citizen the younger Jim Garfield has powers all his own. As a member of the Ohio senate he ran true to party form. Many applauded his courage in joining with the immortal “Teddy” in the pro- gressive movement. That showed belief in and loyalty to the man who had made of him in Washington something more than merely the son of a president. A serious handi- cap to young Jim’s leadership in politics is his lack of mag- netism, which was so conspicuously a trait of his very demo- cratic father. The latter knew the values in politics of the impulsive hand grip and the friendly pat upon the shoulder! Too much dignity, natural or cultivated whichever it may be, gets nowhere with the common herd in politics. [163] CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR STRUGGLING UP How Some Local Fortunes Were Made By Pure Grit From Very Small Beginnings It is said that Jay Gould, master railroad manipulator, began his business career selling rat traps. And John Jacob Astor may have dreamed of owning the best chunks of New York city real estate while out buying muskrat skins. Cleve- land, too, has had its ambitious youth willing to attack any humble problem in which there is a hint of future success. The illustrations recorded in this chapter chanced to have come closely under my observation, and are, of course, but examples of many other successful attempts to win largely in life under similar conditions. Some years ago I had a very pleasant and kindly neighbor on old Brookfield, now East 87th street. In his side yard was a wealth of flower beds, and a glass enclosed building filled with birds from every clime, the delight of their owner, William E. Telling, now chief of the milk and ice cream in- dustry, efficient regulator of automotive street traffic and generous supporter of clean, healthy out-door sports. Will was raised in one of the eastern townships of this county, where his parents owned a truck farm. His yearning ambition when a small boy was to take a ride on a street car, and he accomplished it one chilly morning when, leav- ing the truck wagon and his father after a three o'clock visit to the old city market house, he boarded an East Cleve- land car and, despoiled of pennies he had saved up for the expedition, rode half way home. [164] STRUGGLING UP The neat uniform of the conductor with its glittering buttons had never before been stared at so enviously! Then and there this roundfaced, open eyed lad decided to one day himself conduct one of these gorgeous chariots on iron wheels. And when he grew up he did it, for three years smiling his way into friendships with thousands of street car riders, friendships afterwards to prove a valuable asset in his business career. From this he was lured to a milk route all his own, and as you know, there is close affinity between milk and ice cream. In this case it led to the establishment by Will Telling and a brother of a little ice cream factory, where, shoveling his own ice and mixing his own ingredients, Will gave to Cleve- land its first ice cream by wholesale. The business grew by leaps and bounds, for not content with the crude methods of that day Will Telling went to New York city and enlisting the support of a big ice cream con- cern, and better still, adopting all mechanical devices known to the industry, he forthwith began to take in so many dol- lars every day that the local bankers wondered if after all Cleveland had its financial basis in steel and iron! Now at the head of the big Telling-Belle Vernon organi- zation Telling continues actively in business, still cheery of heart, public spirited, a hard fighter against the inroads of rivals, and withal a living example of what almost any poor boy unafraid of hard work can do for himself in a country of doers. Coincidental with this pioneering success in the ice cream industry of the city has been the building of two other large concerns in the same line, one by Frank B. Tabor and the other by Phillip H. Baker, both for years connected with the Telling Company. Out on University Circle is the Elysium for ice skaters, now neighbored by the thirteen story Fenway family [165] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND hotel, the imposing art museum and Wade Park Manor, housing many rich but not idle Clevelanders. At the Ely- sium one may at times run across D. S. Humphrey, its founder and principal owner. And in his ripe old age he may, if in a reminiscent and confidential mood, tell of his boyhood venture, the making and selling of popcorn on this very site. Older Clevelanders recall all the territory out there merely as approaches to Wade Park. When young Humphrey came into town from a nearby village and pre-empted that corner of the circle land was exceedingly cheap. Before his coming people popped their own corn. Humphrey thought they were wasting their time and not getting the seasoning right. Within a few years his corner on the industry there and later at the May drug store in Public Square made him enough money to acquire Euclid Beach, which he developed into a clean, attractive and profitable summer resort. Two big recreational resorts both evolved from popcorn, and the only product of corn, with the exception of breads and pastry, Humphrey would ever tolerate around his prem- ises, for he is temperance to the backbone. Hip pocket youth, or even those immodest of dress are not permitted to gather at either place. Here we have in Cleveland an illustration of how pleasure resorts can be profitably conducted without appeal to the sensuous. No road house or drinking resort has ever been as profitable to its owner. The late William J. White laid the foundation of a for- tune in the kitchen of his modest home on the west side of Cleveland, where he first manufactured his Yucatan chewing gum. And at that time the struggle to get a foot-hold in the gum world was desperate. In the beginning he carried his product and most of his quick assets in a basket on his arm, [166] - STRUGGLING UP visiting the retail store to enlist custom. Long after riches had come to him he told me of those early trials. “Old Man Despair nearly got me down and out several times,”’ he said. ‘“There were evenings when I came home so utterly fagged with toting that basket I would have to stop and hold on the fence to rest. No, nothing like that, my boy. If I'd wanted it I had no spare cash to buy a drink those days. Champagne was none too good later on.” To add to his difficulties, W. J. was not then in robust health. Some will remember how gaunt was his figure of six foot and more. But in it was a pluck nothing could smother. His yacht, the Say When, and his Two Minute farm, where in the days of affluence he bred fast horses, were possessions close to his heart and of much local importance. Friends led him into the temptation of politics, for which he had no especial fitness or longing, and he went to Congress for one term. Soon thereafter I ran across him while on a fishing trip in Georgian Bay. “No more politicians for William!” he said to me. “They got the money and I got the experience, all right. Say, boy, I never knew there were so many new church projects in Cleveland! They used to call Brooklyn, New York, the city of churches, but you watch little old Cleveland! If I signed up for one I surely did for a hundred. And the folks who always chewed only Yucatan, and who were willing to accept from me a trifling cash loan!” ? “Well, you got to Washington,”’ suggested a listener. “Yes, and back home alive again!’’ said W. J. “For such a hot climate you never saw so many cold people. These Indians up here are sunny in comparison. When they wanted me to vote for something or contribute to something those Washington folks could warm up like a soapstone, but as [167] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND far as a place for real neighboring and comfort give me any other locality, including the open deserts.” Alexander Winton’s pioneering of the automobile had its beginning from a small bicycle repair shop he with George H. Brown opened here in 1891. The transition from bicycle to automobile came by degrees and after much experimenta- tion. Winton was one of the first to make the grade. Right in the middle of its emergency from crudity I fell heir to a Winton machine. It was the two-cylinder type of 1903, just before they began to make real automobiles. As that big, unwieldly, barn-like structure I undertook to manage in the summer of 1904 really started newspaper automobile advertising in Cleveland I want to tell about it here. A proposition came from Winton to the Plain Dealer for the exchange of a new car for advertising space in the paper. This was considered too good a chance for developing a new source of advertising to lightly overlook. The thing was wished on to me. Holden and Baker both showed an un- canny foresight in the avoidance of this untried and danger- ous experiment, so foolishly I bit. While it lasted my news- paper work seemed easy to perform compared to running that mate to Tom Johnson's ‘Red Devil.” In the first place I couldn’t bring it down to a slow walk. It either went like the wind or stopped dead in its tracks, it so seemed. A boy from the Winton factory usually accom- panied me on trips any long distance from the city, such as Painesville or Elyria! People stopped on the sidewalks to look at the thing as a curiosity . The Winton boy sat at my side when with a party of friends I ran into a Greek’s peanut cart in the streets of Hamilton, Ontario, and grabbing the steering wheel avoided a further trip into a store window. The local newspapers over there wrote the accident up as real news, and roasted the Greek as brown as his peanuts [168] STRUGGLING UP for pushing his cart on the wrong side of the street—which was true. Motoring was so new to horses and pedestrians that my erratic machine caused three teams to run away before I finally got rid of it. The pedestrians all had sense enough to stay on the sidewalk when they saw me coming. Many day laborers who now drive their own cars to and from work looked upon the automobile as a toy and would stop and jeer at me when I ventured in public places—for which I roundly and mentally abused Baker and Holden. The only compensation for my shattered nerves was the half page advertisements Winton began to place in the Plain Dealer, which led to similar ones paid in cash by makers of the White steamer and other manufacturers. A brand new element in ‘advertising had arrived to stay and add thousands of dollars to the receipts of Cleveland newspapers annually. And the victim of it lives to tell the story. It seems almost incredible that only twenty-two years ago Winton made an historic trip from Cleveland to New York City in one of his first one-seat cars! Charles W. Shanks, who had left the Plain Dealer local staff to join the Win- ton organization went along to boost the publicity, sending dispatches to the Plain Dealer, under whose auspices the trip had been arranged. At that time I was editor of the paper and I recall the crowds who read the office bulletins record- ing each day’s mileage. Newspapers all along the route, at Buffalo, Albany and even in New York City gave liberal space to the then novel experiment of a long distance trip to the metropolis by gaso- line. A little later Winton and Shanks undertook what was to be a trip of several weeks from San Francisco to Cleveland with the same car, also backed by the Plain Dealer. Differ- ent parts for the little machine were in readiness at various points along the entire route. The journey was featured [169] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND under big headlines in the paper, and I inaugurated a ‘‘guess- ing’ match for readers in which was hung up prizes of sev- eral hundred dollars for those who came nearest to naming the exact number of weeks, days, hours and minutes that would be required for these pathfinders to land at the Cleve- land city hall. On their second day out from SanFrancisco there came to me from Shanks a terse telegram reading something like this: “Stuck in the sand.—Impossible to get through.— Trip given up.” Think back to this incident, you who now con- sider a tour to California by automobile a pleasant summer jaunt! And what will the airplane passenger to the coast twenty-two years in the future think of your slow, plodding automobile gait of today! Along in the first years of the Eighties a young man named Julius I. Lamprecht came to Cleveland from his native home in Cardington, Ohio, bringing with him a vision, lots of pluck, a restless ambition but mighty little cash money. You have guessed it. He was the man who founded the National Refining Company . And the rather sublime courage of it was that he tackled the job right at the doors of Standard oil, at that time scooping into its folds nearly all the existing oil companies and pricing oils and byproducts at levels calculated to keep newcomers from the field! But “J. I.” had a card up his sleeve probably no other independent oil refiner had thought of, or, thinking of lacked the courage to play. Borrowing $4,000 and getting his little plant up the Cuyahoga river under way he reasoned that in this great and growing country there are a good many people who believe the purchase of a superior article though it costs more money is sound economy. ‘Quality First,” adopted as a slogan and lived up to resulted in the survival of his company and ultimate prosperity where many others [170] enn STRUGGLING UP led into cheapening of quality and price-cutting succumbed to a vast and devouring oil competition. Early in his struggles Lamprecht was fortunate enough to annex a young man to the business whose capacity for in- telligent organization has seldom been equalled in any indus- try. A very unassuming man, Frank B. Fretter, doubtless would try to put the brakes on me if he knew I was talking about him in this way. But I feel a certain right in his case, for away back in old Leader-Evening News times I first knew him as a tow-headed, keen eyed, youngster who carried a paper route. Frank since told me that in my capacity as clerk I occasionally slipped him an extra copy which he sold and added to his schooling funds. If so I am sure that in view of his helpful business life in Cleveland, and his astonishing development of big sales forces in the years to follow, Leader stockholders would forgive my generosity with their property. Upon the death in 1920 of J. I. Lamprecht, who had lived to see his modest undertaking expand into a corporation with nearly $30,000,000 of assets, international in operation and including every feature of a great industry, he was succeeded by Frank Fretter in the presidency and general management of the company. [171] CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE A PEOPLE’S LIBRARY How It Grew Under Brett And Set An Example To The Libraries Of The World As these reminiscences go to press Cleveland's new $4,500, - 000 public library building on Superior avenue near East 6th street has almost reached completion. What I may write about the public library from its earliest days to the present has at least the novelty of a personal touch with it almost all the way through. While I was in Cleveland in 1875 waiting for a promised situation in the Leader office, I found enough hard work to keep the muscles of a country boy in play as shipping clerk in the sash and blind factory of House ¥ Davidson down on the flats. But the pay envelope was easier to carry around than the doors and other heavy articles, so I welcomed as a pecun- iary godsend a chance to put in my evenings in the capacity of page at the public library, for which I was paid $3 per week. The library was not much of an institution at that period, occupying part of the second floor of the city hall, then new and on the site of the present library structure. The staff con- sisted of a sometimes querulous and unhurried old gentleman named Beardsley and eleven handsome young lady assistants, Mary F. Hutchinson, Mary B. Purcell, Mary G. Everett, Julia E. Gruninger, Lorena Young, Franciska Schaper, Maria T. Hubbell, Charlotte Perkins, Emma E. Kenney, Vashti L. Dixon and Mary E. Wadsworth. My associate page was Eustice Allen, afterwards to become the manager of W. J. Tyler's wire works. Then of an impres- [172] A PEOPLE’S LIBRARY sionable age I confess young Allen and myself were much more attracted by the assistants than by the cumbersome baskets of back-broken books we were obliged to carry every night to a book hospital on the floor above. Quite a numbet of years later Tom L. Johnson, mayor and leader of the local Democrats, asked me to let his Democratic board of education elect me to the library board. As I was then in charge of the editorial end of the Plain Dealer I declined on the ground of plenty of work watching the antics of others in public trusts. “But the fact is there has been partisan politics in that board of late and I think it should be separated entirely from politics,” explained Tom, and I believe he meant it. Anyway John H. Clarke and myself were at that time elected for a three-year term. During the seventeen following years while a member of the library board I gained knowledge of the inner workings of a public institution whose value to this com- munity, highly as it is rated, has never been thoroughly appre- ciated. Indeed, I think to get a real estimate of the standing of the Cleveland public library one has to visit the libraries of other cities, view their work and talk with the people who manage them. And the achievements here are substantially due to the efforts of one man, William H. Brett, whose tragic death in August, 1918, at the hands of a speeding automobilist shocked the community and the library world. This is no attempt at historical detail and measurement of Cleveland's library, and I can touch only upon a few of the outstanding facts. The library was moved from the old city hall to a former high school building on Euclid Avenue at East 9th Street on the site of the present Union Mortgage building. In 1884 when John G. White, the man Cleveland honors next to Brett as most responsible for its admirable library system, was first president of the board it was decided to select a librarian more alert and in touch with the times. It was at [178] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND the urge of James H. Kennedy a member of the board that William H. Brett finally was chosen. Kennedy had known Brett when the latter was still a clerk in the Porter book store in Warren, Ohio. At the time he was elected librarian he was connected with the wholesale and retail book store of Cobb © Andrews on Euclid avenue. That young Brett had a genius for library work soon be- came apparent. Not only was he a lover of books, but com- bined with the passion there was a very practical business side, which developed executive traits the library had not before known. This in later years was widely recognized in national library circles. His whole heart and soul were in the work. For Brett there were no lines to be drawn in hours of duty — he lived and breathed library all the time. He had no thought of compensation beyond the mere needs of living. Painstaking in the expenditure of money entrusted to him for the work, he personally cared less for a dollar than any man I ever knew. : This trait was brought forcefully to me when during my first term on the board the members discovered that out of his meager salary Brett was footing all bills for the entertainment of visiting library managers, and people from other countries who came frequently to Cleveland to investigate the library system, even then attracting worldwide attention. This the trustees rectified by the creation of a special fund. And a salary more commensurate to his real value also was voted to him. A rather pathetic incident at that meeting was a suggestion from Brett that a part of the increase be retained each year by the board and invested for his future benefit. Impractical, you say, and so thought the trustees; but in a way it showed how he distrusted his powers of restraint when it came to doing something for his library even at his own expense. The Cleveland public library, at the suggestion of Brett, was one of the first, probably the first, among the large libra- [174] A PEOPLE’S LIBRARY ries of the world to adopt the open shelf plan, under which, instead of the filling out of blanks, those coming in for books had free access to the shelves. He had, too, a theory that in large measure the books should be taken to the people instead of - compelling patrons to go long distances for them. This led to enlargement of the school house circulation — primarily the public library was a branch of school activities—and the development of the branch library system in which Cleveland excels. From the beginning of his library philanthropies Andrew Carnegie had in Brett a wise counsellor, and this resulted in a warm friendship between them, accounting for the interest in and financial aid of Carnegie in extending library facility here. I recall a letter received from him by Brett and read to the board in connection with the announcement of still another $50,000 donation for a branch. It stated that Carnegie was very happy to add that amount to the Cleveland list because next to his own home library in Pittsburgh the sums for maintenance provided in the Cleveland budget were larger than in any other city here or abroad. No better understanding of this relation can be had than indicated by a letter written by James Bertram, secretary of the Carnegie Corporation at the time of the Cleveland librarian’s death, and from which I quote the following: “No one who had not occasion, as I had, to consult him continually on library matters, can imagine the loss Mr. Brett's passing is to the profession he loved. His long experience in library work, always in the van of progress, his knowledge of everything and everybody in the library world, and the trust and affection with which the whole library world regarded him, made Mr. Brett an invaluable counsellor. His knowledge and ability were always at the service of those needing help, notably myself, and it may be said that he spent of both freely and without stint.” [175] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND Among the pleasant memories of my fifty years of Cleve- land life are the associations with trustees and library workers during my long connection with the board. It was there I got to know more intimately several men who as trustees gave willingly of their time to further a vast educational institu- tion. There to the sessions came for some years Martin A. Marks, a man who placed service above dollars. He then was at the head of the local Jewish philanthropies, the breadth and wisdom of which led to the present day Community Chest activities. I chanced one day to sit next to Marks who seemed uneasy over the length of the session. He was consulting a pocket diary. And I made the discovery that this was the sixth meeting of eleven engagements he had for that day, all but two of them having to do with works purely altruistic! The story of the service of Martin A. Marks to this community was etched deeply in that little book. Then there was Caesar A. Grasselli, a man of millions and a man in a million in public spirit. Nothing was too good for the Cleveland public library when his advice was sought. We jointly had one grievance that lasted over the years. It was not the thing to smoke cigars at sessions attended by a woman assistant librarian and a woman stenographer. The legal fra- ternity was in my time well represented on the board by John G. White, John H. Clarke, afterwards to become a member of the United States Supreme Court, Emil Joseph and A. A. Stearns. From the church we had Bishop Charles D. Williams, then dean at local Episcopalian headquarters, a member who could keep up a regular artillery of rapid speech but all aimed truly at a desired result. The genius of finance, and it counts in a public body, had representation from men like Oliver H. Stafford, E. G. Tillotson, William A. Harshaw and F. F. Prentiss. The late Dr. Charles Gentsch was for years a valuable member, as also was Carl Lorenz who long was secretary, and Elliott H. Whitlock, an experienced construction engineer. [176] A PEOPLE’S LIBRARY Visitors to the imposing new library building will find a large section that more adequately will house the John G. White collection, already close to 50,000 volumes, and con- sisting chiefly of folklore. As a book benefactor Cleveland never has had or probably never will have one approaching John White. And it is not alone in the giving of books. He was as an intensely interested member of the board William Brett's mainstay and strength. No puzzlement of law in a practice at times the most exacting in this city prevented the giving of his time and valued advice in matters affecting the public library. If anything is the desire of the writer of these recollections it is to avoid flattery. The Lord knows it has been done to death in previous talks about Cleveland people. But it is simply just to say, and in this instance it is said from observa- tion largely personal, that John G. White side by side with William H. Brett will have in this new library building a monument to faithful public service effectively, if always modestly, bestowed. Humorous, kindly, a hard fighter as the courts all know, just, quick and usually unerring of judg- ment, this aging lawyer will have the gratitude of more Cleveland generations than one. His personality has had especially strong appeal to me since one day when, intending to be facetious, I asked an assistant librarian if Mr. White read all the books he donated to his collection. “I hardly think so,” said the young woman. ‘‘He usually asks whether we have plenty of the latest novels, and seems to dote on Joseph Conrad!” Afterwards I discovered that, like my old friend and associate J. H. A. Bone of the Plain Dealer, White revels in what Bone called the ‘‘thrust and parry” novels, the red blooded duelling romances of land and sea, the humorous if exaggerated doings of the buccaneer and stage coach robber, reading of which in leisure hours makes all true novel reading men akin! And John G. White would count the year lost if during the summer he was not active [177] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND in the wilds of the west or Canada seeking big game and leaping trout! For many years Brett's loyal lieutenant in the development of our public library Miss Linda A. Eastman, his successor in the chief position, has as masterfully succeeded him as Cleve- land’s factor in the councils of the associated libraries of the world. It was my privilege to cast a vote for her election as librarian. Many said Miss Eastman’s selection in the face of several men candidates of national prominence was a distinct recogni- tion of the values of womankind in public life. It was more than that. In the unanimous choice of Miss Eastman the trustees paid a debt to one whose creative, intelligent work along library lines has never been surpassed. The honor and the trust were properly hers. Had it been possible for all Cleveland activities to keep pace with the ratio of growth made by the public library within these fifty years New York City would today be trailing us in second place. Let competitive cities look at the following Cleveland public library figures for the year ending March 31, 1924, and weep! Books loaned for home use 5,206,625; loans in school branches 124,646; borrowers of books 292,700; readers and reference workers in the libraries 3,456,913; estimated number of consultation of books 15,000,000; number of library employees 640. And to emphasize the value of the library to our people I may add that the total of books accessible to the public has now nearly reached the 1,000,000 mark! And I feel that my little library story would be far from complete if acknowledgment were not made to A. A. Stearns, chairman of the building committee, who contributed so large a part of his time to the exacting duties involved in the con- struction of the magnificent new building, long to be a very visible sign of a greater Cleveland. [178] CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX HOLDEN PERSONALITY A Father And Two Sons Whose Attitude Toward The Plain Dealer Differed From the start I have assumed that readers of Cleveland newspapers are considerably interested in knowing something about inside newspaper facts. Surely if the papers are our governing power we are morally entitled to know all about them. During my three separate connections with the Cleve- land Plain Dealer between the years 1885 and 1907 I had, and have preserved, much correspondence between its owner and myself, some of which would make very entertaining reading, but have used in this narrative only such as directly throws light upon the incidents recorded. Recently I was told that trustees of the Holden estate had been approached by parties wanting to buy the Plain Dealer at a figure somewhere between $6,000,000 and $8,000,000 and they were promptly turned down. The rumor may have taken its rise from the sale of the Hollenden hotel, another Holden property, for $5,000,000. This interested me in that it recalled to mind that in the middle Nineties I had a contract with the Plain Dealer's owner under which forty-nine per cent of its capital stock could have been mine for a sum that today would appear insignificant, but a sum then as prohibitive to me in struggling Plain Dealer days as the larger one of today would be, providing that paper could be bought, and I were in the market to purchase a newspaper at present so highly valued. In 1894 when I did own a modest part of the papet’s capital stock, and when Holden was in a quandary as to whether he should put any more money in it or sell it [179] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND outright, a tentative offer came from a down state publisher to buy at a price of $200,000. At that time Charles H. Bulkley, a brother-in-law of Holden, owned a part of the Plain Dealer stock and was vice president of the company. He strenuously urged a sale of the property. He knew that just then the Utah silver mines were a liability instead of an asset upon the Holden incomes. Mr. Holden himself told me he was sending $15,000 a month out there instead of winnowing a like sum as in previous years. It seems that mines, like newspapers, must, to maintain their value, keep going in lean as well as flush years. The quality of pluck in Holden's composition was never exhibited more strongly than during this phase of the Plain Dealer’s struggles. ‘I am going to stick to this proposition,” he said to me, “I have never taken hold of a business having better possibilities.” And in spite of handicaps he did not at this time listen to family appeals to get rid of this par- ticular strain upon his purse. I can bear witness to the strain! As before intimated, LL. Dean Holden, the younger of two of Holden’s sons active in business, was of great help to me in developing the paper. Both these boys passed over to the silent majority before fairly reaching middle age. It was Dean Holden who influenced his father to make a really first class Hollenden hotel. This was known to every hotel man in the country and to thousands of hotel patrons. In a like manner Dean assisted in every way possible in our work of rehabilitating the Plain Dealer. Together we worried over pay rolls. On more occasions than one I cooled my heels in his Uncle Bulkley’s outer office while Dean importuned for an advance of $500 or $1,000, to see the paper clear for the current week! And through it all Dean smiled and cheered me along our dismaying newspaper road. [180] HOLDEN PERSONALITY On the other hand, Albert F. Holden, the older son, had nothing outwardly to do with the property until it was well on the road to prosperity. Then it appealed to him and he wanted to own it. His activities had been confined to the west, where, like his father, he individually made a fortune in silver mining. So far as I ever was in the confidence of the brothers, Bert and Dean, they furnished a study of direct opposites, frequently seen in brothers. Bert's was the keener mind in money making. His father told me in 1904 that Bert had made over $2,000,000 in mining since he graduated as an expert metallurgist and took up mining in Utah. Some four or five years after the Kennedy-Baker contract for Plain Dealer control had been entered into Bert came back to Cleveland to live, building a residence near his father in Bratenahl and taking offices in the Plain Dealer building. Before that time the Leader had, in its attacks upon Holden, stated that the Plain Dealer stock was ‘in eight Cleveland banks’’ as collateral for loans. I think the estimate of the number of banks was too high. I do know that it was good collateral. One day Bert informed me that he had personally taken up all outstanding Plain Dealer paper. “The next time the Leader throws that up to you call them hard,” said Bert. The sum he advanced was, I think he said to me, $400,000. “I am going to own the Plain Dealer,” he also confided to me. “Dean can have the Hollenden but I think more of the newspaper.” Much less tolerant than his brother of changing conditions and devoid of real newspaper instinct and experience, Bert Holden found much to criticise in Plain Dealer attitudes along these days in its history. For instance, I had found that our support of Tom L. Johnson was the greatest single thing next to the cutting of its price to subscribers, in pro- moting its rapid increase of circulation. By far the largest [181] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND growth had before been made in the Republican sections of the city. The support of Johnson added thousands of readers from the Democratic west and south sides where Tom had always been exceedingly popular, and where the opinion was general that the Plain Dealer had flopped to “Republicanism.” But that support in no way added to any popularity I may have had with Bert Holden. There had always been a much different personal spirit between Bert and myself than in my associations with Dean, who died before the ter- mination of the Kennedy-Baker contract. Where Dean was friendly and sunny his brother was cooly distant. Where the one openly appreciated helpful quality of effort the other always found himself too busy to acknowledge such. This probably strengthened my determination to adhere strictly to the legal interpretation of our contract to ‘‘edit, publish and control.” And my policies won for the paper, if they did not always fit with the elder brother's ideas of how a news- paper should be conducted. An example of this difference of views was furnished in a letter I received from him growing out of his occasional visits here from his mining interests in Utah. His criticism of the paper's course had no justification either on points of fact or any right he had to make them; so I have no hesitancy in reproducing his communication: Auditorium Hotel, Chicago, Feb. 27, 1902. Dear Charley: For the first time since you and Baker took hold of the P. D. I have heard nothing but condemnation for the paper. Everybody that I met and talked to about the paper on my recent visit to Cleve- land took a jump on it. The impression seems to be that Tom L. Johnson has bought the paper. It is commonly referred to as John- son's private organ. Then too the stand you have taken on the Parks is beyond the comprehension of the Clevelanders that I met. Johnson apparently has you and Baker hypnotized. [182] HOLDEN PERSONALITY To me there is little or no difference between Johnson and Bryan. Both men represent the dangerous element. That both are sincere I do not doubt, but I feel sure the success of either would mean serious damage to the whole country. The country is too strong and too great to be permanently hurt or even partially ruined. I do not see the game you are playing but I do see the other side. If there is any gain that will offset Johnson I should like to know it. As Cato of old said: “Carthage must be destroyed,” so I say: “Bryan and Johnson must not succeed!” Sorry not to have seen you while I was home. Truly yours, A. F. HOLDEN. As a part of the story of the Plain Dealer and the conten- tions I particularly had while responsible for the policies of the paper I add the following reply to Bert's criticisms, although any reference to the classics were omitted as unfortunately I had no regular college education: Cleveland, March 8, 1902. Dear Mr. Holden: I just returned from a trip east and find your letter sent from Chicago. Knowing that it is the earnest wish of Mr. Baker and myself to be consistent and fair in this work toward politicians in both parties I will say to you frankly that the Plain Dealer is not entitled to condemnation in its attitude toward Tom Johnson. The paper is under no obligation whatever to Johnson, and no one knows that better than Johnson himself. He knows that I even went so far as to refuse to indorse a single person for appoint- ment under his administration, and that it is our policy to keep the paper free from all entanglements, so that we can always hold him and his subordinates to strict accountability for their actions. Johnson has done many things to the advantage of the public, and when he does these things he is entitled to credit. His recent attitude on the grouping plan is an illustration of this. I shall not go into details regarding our troubles in these political matters, or attempt the removal of any suspicion in your mind that the John- son brand of hypnotism is expansive enough to cover brother [183] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND Baker and myself to the detriment of the important interests we are living with. Yours very truly, C. E. KENNEDY. The reference in Holden's letter to our editorial stand on the public parks took its rise in Mayor Johnson's sensible plan of throwing the parks open to the people who owned them, a departure from old park policy when L. E. Holden was a member of the park board, and a change of policy which many of Bert's social and business intimates here regretted. Naturally, under the circumstances, I considered his criticism of my course a compliment. His strictures upon Tom L. Johnson, viewed in the light of later events, were distinctly humorous. In 1907, several months after my connection wth the Plain Dealer had ceased, it not only supported Tom in his fourth run for the mayorty and manifestly with Bert Holden's sanction, but endorsed his three cent street railroad plan! The one conces- sion of importance I had before made to L. E. Holden in our editorial policy was to oppose Johnson in his three cent propaganda. To employ a favorite facetious expression of the Plain Dealer's owner, the relations between Albert F. Holden and myself “got no better very fast.” He had from me, in the offices he had conspicuously taken in the Plain Dealer building, no visits for advice or instruction. So far as I was personally concerned there was no deviation from the policy Baker and I had mutually agreed upon from the outset, to conduct the affairs of the newspaper without erratic or inexperienced interference on the part of its owners or otherwise. That A. F. Holden chafed under the obligations of this contract to edit and control was made clear to me in many and sometimes devious ways. [184] HOLDEN PERSONALITY Of course the partition of earnings between the Holdens and ourselves had much to do with the situation. During the eight years of its operation under our control we paid to the owners of the Plain Dealer some $215,000 in cash dividends, although receiving nothing ourselves in a dividend way until the fourth year. During those first years we willingly turned back an average of $60,000 each year in actual profit to better and strengthen the property. Had we thought more of our personal revenue than we did of improving the paper much of this profit would have come to us under the contract. It was then no surprise to me that, nearing the end of the Kennedy-Baker contract, the owners decided against a renewal on the basis of earnings for each of us as before. Much of this decision I knew was due to the lack of com- patibility between Bert Holden and myself. It was for the Holdens to decide. My chief regret over the termination was parting with the splendid staff of employes I had been able to gather for the paper. That the efficiency of its members could not be disregarded was at once made evident by their continuation in the office, and in most ways a continuation of the policies they had loyally helped me work out in bringing the paper to success. The opportunity denied to me for equitable financial return for my part in this success was never as disturbing to me as the spirit later developed by the Plain Dealer management to appropriate and to exclude me from fair credit. The sacrifices I had made and the years of work I had put in Plain Dealer development were not even to have a recognition costing its owners no dollars whatever! Frosting had appeared upon the Plain Dealer cake. Where it had for a short time been cut into four quarters under the provisions of the Kennedy-Baker contract discontinua- tion of the latter meant that the Holdens would in future [185] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND have at least three-quarters instead of one-half of the cake, you see. The dead line was raised and an arrangement made with Baker under which he would for some years continue to receive a substantial part of the earnings above twelve per cent first to be paid upon the capital stock, instead of above six per cent as before. The paper had overcome all difficulties and, as is the way of newspapers once boosted into popularity its growth (to change my metaphor) was as the proverbial snowball, each revolution on an easy grade adding a large percentage of snow—or sugar—to the frosting! Within a few years Baker, my former partner, was, I understand, annually taking a chunk of the cake estimated at $100,000 in value. That Bert Holden had an ambition to engage in the newspaper business upon an enlarged scale was disclosed some years before his death when, with his associate, E. H. Baker, he bought the old Boston Traveler, a run down paper much in the condition of the Plain Dealer in the Nineties. The resurrection of a newspaper property and the taking over of one rebuilt by others perhaps were found to be two quite different propositions, for after a few months of experi- mentation Holden sold out the Traveler and withdrew from the Boston field. Like his father, A. F. Holden was deficient in the qualities necessary to successful newspaper making. Left to their own inclinations and devices no newspaper controlled by either could, in my opinon, have made much headway. Had the son, Dean, lived I am confident the Plain Dealer, which after its lean years became a property of such great value, would have in time been under the personal and intelligent direc- tion of a member of the family which owns its entire capital stock. Knowing him as I did this opinion is not very [186] HOLDEN PERSONALITY hazardous guesswork. Ingratitude was no part of Dean Holden’s nature. Nor was he over grasping in money matters. He was broadminded and progressive. While he lived every move toward improving the paper had his unstinted sympathy and help. [187] CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN ~ CLOSE TO RICHES A Ride With John D. Rockefeller And The Present Of A Paper Vest The nearest I ever came to great riches was on one bleak October day when upon invitation of John D. Rockefeller I accompanied him upon a sixty mile motor trip about Cleveland and adjacent Cuyahoga county townships. This unexpected approximation to the supposed owner of a billion came about when, in charge of a Cleveland news- paper, I placed him under what he saw fit to overstress as an obligation. Rev. Charles D. Williams, formerly of Cleveland, then bishop of Michigan, had been interviewed by a New York newspaper, and having strong ‘progressive’ if not exactly socialistic opinions, he was prone to courageously proclaim them in pulpit, press or wherever he felt they would get across. In the interview in question he bore rather heavily upon young John D., then conspicuous in New York Sunday school work. This provoked in the New York Times, a two column defense of the young man, written and signed by George Thomas Dowling, pastor of the First Baptist church in Cleveland when John D. Junior was a Sunday school scholar. It was an illuminating document from one who knew the boy and could speak with authority of his personal traits. Because of this, and as the principals in the controversy were all well known in this city, the article was reproduced here quite as a matter of course. It was Rockefeller’s almost daily habit during the months he lived in his Cleveland home, to take the air in his swiftly moving cars, and on this occasion he was accompanied by [188] CLOSE TO RICHES some members of his family, Rev. W. W. Bustard, newly come to take charge of Rockefeller’s First Baptist church, and wife, and myself and wife. The first thing that impressed me when we got under headway was that John D. had a sense of humor. Most of it he directed at the minister, but the newspapers were not lost sight of. When Bustard complained of his difficulty in getting a house to live in at a hundred dollars a month our host was shocked that a preacher had the worldliness to want to pay that much. When the reverend passenger observed vast columns of smoke issuing from a standing railroad engine and made conversation by seriously inquiring if he ever investigated any processes to prevent the waste of coal, John D. referred him to me with the dry remark that news- paper men knew all about such problems. Once on the trip John D. unbuttoned his overcoat and called attention to a neat fitting paper vest wrapped closely about his body. Pointing to a package under the chauffeut’s seat he informed us that it contained several vests of the kind and added, “I must not forget to give each of you one of them when we part. They are the most effective garment to keep out the cold I ever ran across. I buy them by the dozen in New York at a cost of thirty-seven and a half cents apiece.” This was said with much solemnity but I detected the twinkle in his eye. Nearing home the incident had passed from my mind until I heard Mr. Rockefeller caution his driver not to forget “to give Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy their vests!”” Thorough in all things, forgetful of no detail his mind once grasped, no matter how trivial, perhaps, I thought, here is one explana- tion of the colossal success of Standard Oil! Many have speculated upon the breaking down in quite recent years of John D. Rockefeller's extreme reticence, for [189] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND during the period of his greatest activity in money getting he was seldom approachable, especially by newspaper men. My guess is that a natural shyness of disposition had a lot to do with it. Knowing himself to be a target, and believing that he was misunderstood, he sedulously withdrew from public inspection. But when finally he decided to step outside the circle of family and business associates and touch elbows with the world the trick was turned with genuine Rockefeller completeness. Back in my reportorial days I made some attempts to beard him in his den in the old Standard Oil building on lower Euclid avenue. Louis H. Severance, one of his lieutenants and then himself training for great wealth, would greet me with the smile so many of us were familiar with in Sunday school days at the old Woodland Avenue Presby- terian church, but John D. locked within an inner office might not be seen, much less spoken to. An incident showing the quiet methods of this many sided old man, of whom more words have been written and printed than even he has dollars, will close what little I personally have to say about him. It was related to me a couple of years ago by my brother, James H., who was for years a neighbor in Montclair, N. J., of the late Starr Murphy, secretary of the Rockefeller Foundation. While J. D. was upon one of his winter visits in Florida he sent for Murphy to join him there for mutual golf and business. Together they did considerable foot exercise off the golf grounds, and upon a certain morning Rockefeller suggested a rest upon a shaded bench back in the yard of an unostentatious villager. To give the purport if not the exact words used by Murphy in telling of the occurrence: ‘During the short time we sat there, Mr. Rockefeller, between pauses to remove the perspiration from his face accumulated from [190] CLOSE TO RICHES a rather rapid walk, gave away through his Foundation $35,000,000. And I have since wondered just what members of the family owning the place who peered from the windows at the intruders in their yard would have thought if they had known what was going on just outside their door!” [191] \ CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT A SERIOUS SITUATION How The Cleveland Newspapers Assisted In Preventing A Run On Banks And Loss To Depositors Many Clevelanders will recall the troubles some twenty years ago of the Everett-Moore syndicate controlling large traction interests in Ohio and elsewhere, which, after an exciting week in banking circles, were ironed out without loss and to the satisfaction of all concerned. But some incidents connected with the affair were not told to the public, one reflecting considerable credit upon Tom L. Johnson, then mayor. Dean Holden, a director of one of the local banks, came to the Plain Dealer office one noon and in great excitement explained the serious difficulty in which the syndicate was involved. He said that a committee of bankers was forming; that unless the matter was handled with great care a run upon at least two banks, with possible failure of them both, and injury to innocent people and the business interests of the city would be likely to follow. Dean was by tempera- ment easily excited, and to get at the core of the situation. Baker and myself immediately called upon W. F. Carr, attorney for the Plain Dealer, and also one of Henry Everett's legal aids. “I will say right off the reel that any newspaper ventilation of the trouble before the bankers’ committee can act will, I am afraid, mean a local panic such as Cleveland has never seen,”’ Carr warned us. He was told that we were there to offer any assistance the Plain Dealer could render to avoid such a situation. We [192] A SERIOUS SITUATION found that representatives of all the leading banks were at that moment in session in the offices of the Citizens Savings and Trust Company with the hope of rescuing the traction companies, which in reality were financially sound. But equally important they had in mind the protection of the thousands of depositors in local banks. The afternoon newspapers were by this time sending out their early editions with as yet no knowledge of what was happening up on bankers row. Knowing that every Cleveland newspaper would look at the matter as we had if given the facts, I called up the editors of the Press, the Leader and the evening World and explained what had happened. Later in the day an agreement was drawn up and signed by the editors of the four daily newspapers binding each to publish nothing whatever about the difficulty until the bankers’ committee, which had promised the closest newspaper scrutiny into its investigations, was ready to release the news. One of the few times I ever saw Tom Johnson thoroughly alarmed was when, that afternoon he called at the Plain Dealer office. He had been informed of the shadow hanging over financial circles, and as custodian of the city’s money had been placed in what he called a real fix. “We have nearly $1,500,000 on deposit in the banks, the largest sum in the ”’ and he named a bank that, although afterwards relieved from the Everett-Moore pressure, has since been merged with other and sound banking institutions. “Now, what would you do about it?”’ Tom shot at me. “Is it my duty as mayor to draw that money out or leave it there?” : Being in no sense a financial expert I, of course, felt entirely competent to advise. So I told Tom that if I were [193] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND in his shoes I would let the cash all stay there and trust to the inborn sagacity of those bankers who, I reminded him, were supposed to be ordained by a wise Providence to succor and save people awkardly falling intc deep financial waters. “But,” says Tom, “this is no joking matter for me. What are you newspaper fellows going to say about me and my administration if that pile of city money is left in the banks and in jeopardy.” The mayor was assured that the Cleveland newspapers were not exclusively in business for their health, and even at that moment were sitting on the anxious seat subject, in company with all the business interests of the city, to be hurt by a local panic. Then I showed him a copy of the arrangement just made to withhold any publication of this really big piece of news until all danger was passed. The city money was not withdrawn for, probably consulting with real financial adepts, Tom decided that it would be best not to hasten the feared run upon the banks in question. Within four days the Everett-Moore tangle was straightened out, and a complete statement of the facts, so reassuring that nothing disturbing to local business occurred, was issued by the bankers for simultaneous publication in the papers. This episode is but one of many where banking genius has combined to safeguard the general public welfare. It is known that Cleveland has always been singularly free from bank disasters. The few in its history have really emphasized by contrast the ability and conservatism of our banks as a whole. If space permitted I might tell much about the astonishing development of Cleveland's banking institutions within the fifty years under discussion. But the subject is too big. When we see in the Cleveland of 1925 two great banking companies, The Union Trust Company and The Cleveland Trust Company, each with resources approxi- mating the $300,000,000 mark, another, the Guardian [194] A SERIOUS SITUATION with over $100,000,000, another, The Central National Bank Savings © Trust Company, with $50,000,000, not to mention several others smaller but healthy of growth, the mind of one who can see back into Cleveland fifty years is considerably staggered! Then to make the contrast still more amazing, we glance at that comparative newcomer, the Federal Reserve Bank of Cleveland, drawing into this city scores of millions from a territory including other states. And added to it all are the hundred or more millions of deposits in building and loan companies. Just to think about it makes the poorest of us feel loaded down with Cleveland money! And the personality of local banking business past and present; a mere listing of it would fill many pages of this book. As a newspaper reporter (not as a borrower) I knew some of those early ones—of course not as far back as the days of Leonard Case, Truman P. Handy, J. L. Severance the elder, Norman C. Baldwin, Charles M. Giddings, P. M. Weddell, Samuel Williamson, T. C. Severance, Richard Hilliard, A. W. Walworth, James J. Tracy, Joel Scranton, Alexander Seymour, Charles Denison, John W. Allen, Joseph Lyman, Edmund Clark, T. M. Kelly, James Rockwell, Lyman Kendall, and some others who pioneered banking in Cleveland. These and contemporary people in other professions and in mercantile life, with some coming on the boards later, were probably the founders of what a lady society friend of a friend of mine now speaks of with reverence as ‘‘Cleve- land’s oldest and best families.” But reaching the days of Henry Wick, Edwin R. Perkins, Jeptha H. Wade, Solon L. Severance, P. M. Spencer, Sylvester T. Everett, H. R. New- comb, Demaline Leuty, Samuel Mather, George A. Garretson, John F. Whitelaw, O. M. Stafford, C. I.. Murfey, John J. Jaster, Thomas H. Wilson, J. J. Sullivan, Henry P. McIntosh. [195] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND E. B. Hale, and others of what might be designated the second banking crop, with these I did, as one of the local gatherers of news, come into quite frequent contact. And I am reminded of a story Liberty E. Holden, who enjoyed a joke, once related to me showing that there are humorists in the fraternity. A banker and Holden were having a friendly chat about the joy of church going, a form of rest they mutually and regularly indulged in. “And I want to tell you, Holden,” said the banker, “I enjoy it even much more than I did when a young man. You know even under the spell of the best of preaching ones thoughts will stay to things earthly. And as I sit and ponder in my pew it is ever much more soothing to recall that nowadays interest money is at the moment piling up for instead of against me!” The third crop of local bankers is so large and growing so rapidly no ordinary autobiographer can hope to keep track of it. Joseph R. Nutt, Harris Creech, Corliss E. Sullivan, John Sherwin, George A. Coulton, Arthur House, I. F. Freiberger, E. V. Hale, D. D. Kimmel, Charles A. Paine, W. M. Baldwin, S. H. Robbins, Frank H. Hobson, Charles E. Farnsworth, L. J. Cameron, A. B. Marshall, John R. Geary, A. G. Tame, E. L. Mason, J. H. Dexter, A. L. Assmus, Joseph R. Kraus, Walter S. Bowler, Leonard C. Ayres, A. R. Horr, E. B. Greene, F. H. Houghton, these are some of the fraternity today conspicuous in the public eye, and objects of intensive cultivation by those needing money lubrication to grease the wheels going round and round to build a still greater Cleveland. [196] CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE COURTS OF SYMPATHY In Which Punishment Is Second To The Thought of Protection Of The Unfortunate In this hasty glance backward a half century to the inti- mate life of Cleveland it is impractical to attempt even roughly an outline of its courts of justice and their adminis- trations. To suggest, perhaps, a fair estimate of them all in the spirit displayed by two courts very close in sympathy with many in the community is all I can be expected to do. Let the larger subject go with the assertion that Cleveland has been proud of its judiciary as compared with many an- other section of the country, and over a very long period of years. Only the incidents of extreme old age and death while in office has interrupted continuous administration of our Pro- bate court since, in 1855, Judge Daniel R. Tilden was elected to that office, retiring thirty-three years later on account of declining health. Henry C. White succeeded him and served until his death in 1905. Alexander Hadden was appointed to complete the unfinished term and now has been in charge for two decades. To a person who has never had relations with the probate court no idea of the paternal, protective features of its admin- istration can be formed. There are, however, thousands of families who in one way and another have had experience with its wide-reaching influence. Here is where we have evi- dence of a close relationship with humanity ‘‘from the cradle to the grave.” Under certain conditions the mere babe is protected; the growing child is sent forward to school; the youth is provided with a license to marry; old age falls and [197] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND the estate at death passes into experienced and faithful hands for settlement. Family dependents unused to business are guarded all along the way! It has never ceased to be astonishing to most of us how one man can perform the feats of memory required by the judge on that probate bench! We can understand how a lawyer may know intimately of several estates in his care. To keep in touch with thousands of estates and be able to discuss the details and conditions of each almost at a moment's notice is beyond an average comprehension. And that is but a part of it. In Alexander Hadden we have, as in his predecessors, an official of sympathetic understanding. This is a trait of character inborn—seldom acquired. And it is indispenable for the proper administration of the peculiar and exacting duties of the probate court. Associated with the court for many years is Henry Schwab, who, it chanced, was born upon the very spot now occupied by the new court house. Rather similar, yet with a different range of responsibility, is our juvenile court. The duties of the office have been multiplied since in Cleveland, many years ago, the second regular juvenile court in America was established with Judge Callaghan in charge. It was a little later that this court, doubling in volume of business and becoming recognized as a vital and magnificent contribution to the city’s welfare, was enabled, under Judge George S. Addams, who was elected to the office in 1902, to have its own and trained probation officers. At the beginning many men and women were willing to give, of course without compensa- tion, of their time and experience to many of the children brought under its protection. It was my own experience for a while to be one of these “official fathers” and while I lasted in such capacity the in- sight gained into mischievousness closely bordering upon [198] COURTS OF SYMPATHY pure deviltry lasted me for a lifetime! It was my luck to father two youngsters much gifted in originating new forms of annoyance to persons and property. Neither was actually depraved, though both finally earned a brief outing at Lan- caster, and better still reformed and, I know, now are sensi- ble hard working men. Nothing to my mind illustrated to what a large degree the spirit of simple mischief-making is the basis of youthful mis- conduct than an incident in the career of one of my boys when I had editorial charge of the Plain Dealer. I had secured for him work in the job printing office, and one noon hour I chanced to glance into Superior street and saw him leisurely making his way across the street far from a crossing and toward a lunch room. In that short trip, with seeming un- consciousness and nonchalance, he slowed down a crowded street car and stopped a pony phaeton until he could pat the pony on the head! A few weeks later he piled burning news- papers under the door of a hermit-like old gentleman in a shanty out near Woodland avenue to see how promptly the smoke and his victim could emerge. His trip to the reform school and some real discipline graduated him to the position of driver for a laundry wagon and ultimate habits of thrift. I presume Tom Lewis, for many years since chief probation officer, could tell of hundreds of incidents more interesting. and show to us how a host of boys have been reclaimed to society. Dealing with thousands of cases, many such as the boy just described, it is fortunate that the Juvenile Court is in charge of a man like George S. Addams. A stickler for im- partial investigation and fact and, when passing on extreme cases, wrought up to a high pitch of severity, his sympathy and intense desire to help unfortunate and misguided youth is never withheld. [199] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND Not long ago I had an opportunity to witness a little scene disclosing this close and very charming personal con- tact of Judge Addams with the waifs in his charge. It was at the Detention Home on Franklin avenue, where some sixty boys were living while their cases were under consideration. In charge of an instructor most of them were doing light carpentry work. Said the Judge to me, “These boys like to sing, and they know how.”” And they proved it with lusty lungs. Before going away, accompanied by ringing cheers, Judge Addams took time to teach these little fellows a college song from his “dear olu Oberlin,” and he led the racket with a zest that made amends for any lack of harmony. Some idea of the range of Judge Addams’ court activities can be had from the statement that in 1924 he granted 669 divorces and dismissed 276 petitions for divorce in Insolv- ency court, heard forty-eight appropriation cases, passed on about 5,000 cases in Juvenile court, which with receiver- ships and the handling of matters pertaining to debtors, gen- eral supervision of Detention Home and the bureau of Moth- ers’ Pensions made what might ordinarily be called a pretty lively year. This department caring for dependent mothers is one of the high points in Cleveland community progress. The first appropriation made for its support in 1914 was but $15,000. Last year $264,256 was paid out to 476 mothers, caring for a total of 1,572 children! A staff of nine women probation officers devote their entire time to these pensioned families. Remembering conditions surrounding the average newsboy in my earliest newspaper experience I confess to a feeling of very close sympathy with the work of the juvenile court. Had the little news vendors of that far off day the support of an official of George Addams’ temperament much oppres- sion and actual suffering would have been avoided. News- papers did all that was possible to make conditions easier for [200] COURTS OF SYMPATHY them, but it was impractical to furnish safeguards that must take their rise in the home. It was in 1910 that this same Judge Addams started the movement for a children’s code, making laws affecting them general over the country. At a national convention of Chari- ties and Correction in St. Louis he proposed and argued for the plan, and backed by the enthusiastic indorsement of that body he returned home, and with the assistance of Arthur Baldwin spent some months disentangling the hodge-podge laws of the various states to form a new one for general adoption. The Ohio legislature furnishing this start, simi- lar codes were afterwards legislated in many other states. In other words, when you want something done and done right come to Cleveland and pick your man to do it! [201] CHAPTER THIRTY MEN OF THE PEN Cleveland Newspaper Boys Who Gained Distinction In Larger Literary Fields One of the pleasant recollections of my many years of newspaper work in Cleveland is the association with young men who from a modest start here have succeeded well both in this and in enlarged fields. I can mention only a few of them, among whom were several I was intimately acquainted with because of their responsibility to me in newspaper offices here. There 1s Eugene Walter, whose string of startling and brilliant plays held long sway on Broadway and throughout the country from the date of his sudden success in ‘‘Paid In Full.” Gene was for a time police reporter on the Plain Dealer, where, in connection with the usual run of reportor- ial work he found many of the characters he afterwards portrayed so livingly in his stage scenes. I never then sized Gene up for any very deep thinking or strenuosity of appli- cation to work. Rather he was much of the boy, bubbling with fun and always one to put the office force in good spirits—a practi- cal joker quite willing to let others do the worrying. As a reporter he was not an overly painstaking writer, yet critics since have said that his play “The Easiest Way’’ has quali- ties of analysis and rhetoric unsurpassed in the writings of any other American dramatist. When I recall the office monkeyisms of our little Gene I feel profoundly impressed with the validity of an expression once made by a Trumbull county farmer of my boyhood days. Speaking of a young Methodist minister new fledged in our community he said, [202] MEN OF THE PEN “How that little cuss can make good as a preacher beats hell a mile!” Of course he forgot that the young man’s mission was to beat that very thing, or place. With Eugene Walter there was an insistent craving to do something connected with the stage. While still a newspaper reporter he loved to loiter around the theaters, and it devel- oped later, many of his spare hours at home were devoted to play writing, though the thing bit deeply only after suffer- ing the despair of an early failure—or supposed failure— with a play submitted before he went to New York and ultimate stage honors. The late John M. Siddall, successful editor of the Ameri- can Magazine, began as a Plain Dealer reporter fresh from Oberlin, his native town. I recall him as a tall, rather gang- ling youth when the city editor introduced him to me. As editor I put the O. K. sign upon his promotion to the desk of assistant city editor, from which he would surely have climbed much higher on the staff had not some impulse bidden him shake newspaperdom for a position in the office of Phillips 8 McClure, magazine publishers of New York City. John was a splendid soul. His ideals in the handling of local news were a little more unique than those of any city editor I have ever known. The reporter could hand John only facts, yet he wanted them dressed in good English and with plenty of originality and ‘“‘pep.”’ Forcefulness was John Siddall’s first, last and middle name when a thing was to be said in print, and he could reinforce his demands with a line of critical conversation which made plain talking seem trivial! On occasions of profound density on the part of his repor- torial victim John would excoriate him in a half beseeching way while showing him how to do differently and better. Not suave like his brother George Bennett Siddall, polished [203] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND member of the Cleveland bar and eminent clarifier of corpor- ate confusion, nevertheless John Siddall was as straight of shoulder and in habit of thinking as any Oberlinite who ever went out in the world to lighten places of gloom. What then could be expected but that in due time he would make for us a really great magazine, building it, too, on the remains of an earlier failure. As is generally known his suc- cess came from a constant presentation of human documents, sketches of busy people of affairs, of men and women who are doing something different and distinctive. And even in the selection of his fiction John preserved his old-time friend- liness to facts. His male lovers were entirely human and the girls as natural and fascinating as any who ever flirted upon the campus of his old Oberlin. But you found the real heart of John Siddall as I have known it in those delightful essays and life guides, ‘Sid Says,” in his magazine. The late Eugene Wood, father of Peggy Wood, a popular actress of the present, was for awhile a reporter for me on the old Cleveland Herald at the time I was its city editor. Eugene later became a successful writer of fiction, his notable achievement in that line being a book entitled ‘‘Back Home.” Alfred Henry was the oldest of the three Lewis brothers, who a good many years ago were connected with the Cleve- land newspapers. He worked for a time on the Leader. Alfred’s western stories, notably the “Wolfville” tales and the creation of a character of the plains known as “The Old Cattleman,”” gave his fiction a wide popularity. His newspaper work for Hearst in more recent years, and writings of Tam- many politics in New York appealed, and thrillingly, to a much larger class of readers. My closest association with “Al” Lewis was when, in his rather raw days in the legal profession he held the office of Cleveland police prosecutor. The long drawn out battles [204] MEN OF THE PEN he almost daily waged with a peppery police judge named Peter Young supplied some of us reporters with very lurid copy. Both men were of pugnacious quality, with a dislike one for the other that found expression only in cross fires of verbal abuse. I can vouch for it that Alfred in some of these contests with Peter developed a range of language even more original than came from the mouth of any of his west- ern characters in fiction. His brother, William E. Lewis, until his death last Octo- . ber, editor and principal owner of the Morning Telegraph, ~ New York's great daily theatrical newspaper, was longer i in newspaper work here as reporter and city editor of morning papers. His unique style of writing added to a fine spice of humor gave a special flavor to his dressing up of the most humdrum news subject in local news circles. As a reporter he was omnipresent and never beatable, as several of us young news seekers in competition discovered. This gift, coupled with exceptional executive ability, took him to the larger newspapers of New York and Philadelphia, where as man- aging editor his work commanded wide attention. The Lewises were a family of editors, as was further emphasized by the success of Irving Lewis, a younger brother, still, I think, connected with the Telegraph. James B. Morrow, long the Leader's editor, came to Cleve- land from a school teacher's desk in an Ohio town and in 1879 went to work as a reporter on the Herald. During the ensuing seventeen years we held in competing newspaper offices positions almost similar, first as reporter, then as city editor, and finally in the Nineties Morrow as chief Leader editor and myself as general manager of the Plain Dealer. A clean, clear and at times brilliant writer, Morrow after serving the Leader as the head of its Washington bureau em- barked in the field of general newspaper correspondence, his [205] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND writings, mostly of men in public life, appearing in many of the leading papers and attracting wide and favorable atten- tion. Immediately preceding Morrow in this work, both as Washington correspondent and in the writing of syndicated letters, which took him to more out of the way world places than ever visited by any other correspondent, was Frank G. Carpenter, another Ohio boy.. While I was still night clerk in the Leader office I chanced to overhear what probably was Frank's first effort at “interviewing” for a big city news- paper. If ever a boy was “the father of the man’ young Carp was all that on the evening he came down to the busi- ness office to talk with an irate citizen and his wife, who ob- jected to a local news item the paper had published that day. From the questions I heard Frank fire at his victims and the big fist-full of “notes” he took down, the case must have assumed astonishing importance in his quick working mind. But it was just such greed to know all about his subject that led to a world-wide reputation. He was a human interroga- tion point. Strangely both Morrow and Carpenter, each close to the Biblical termination line, passed away in the same week last June, the one at his home in Washington and the other in far China, where he was in quest of a new series of letters. As I pen these words James H. Kennedy, a few years older than the men just mentioned, yet still a youth in spirit, able daily to do his hours of writing along congenial lines, and in early years also a Leader reporter, city and general news editor, is cultivating flowers about his bungalow in South Pasadena, California. Readers of these reminiscences will understand and condone a personal expression of obligation to this fine old chap who has been to me not only an affection- [ 206] MEN OF THE PEN ate brother but in my early newspaper experience was my mentor and harshest critic. While holding the position of managing editor of the Herald when it was under the control of M. A. Hanna, “Harry” rather to the surprise of the rest of the staff suddenly resigned, and buying an interest in the Sunday Voice joined Orlando J. Hodge in its management. Having a natural bent for historical writing he afterwards became identified with a Cleveland publication, the Magazine of Western History, which later was removed to New York City, Kennedy ac- companying it as editor. His History of Cleveland and Bench and Bar of Cleveland and a book on the formative days of Mormonism, in which the town of Kirtland, Ohio, played a conspicuous part, were among his early writings. The most of his later years in New York were devoted to editing the Hardware Dealers’ Magazine. While living in that city he helped to form the Hardware club and for a long period was one of its governors. Likewise he for many years took a very active part in the Ohio Society of New York. In the early years of Nineteen hundred Kennedy also acted as New York correspondent of the Plain Dealer, and being so well acquainted with Cleveland and Ohio people in general his daily letters were one of the paper's most wholesome, popu- lar and helpful features. Karl K. Kitchen, now in the select list of newspaper writ- ers commanding generous space and pay from those respon- sible for magazine sections, and himself long one of New York's leading newspaper Sunday editors, began early in Nineteen hundred as a cub reporter on the Plain Dealer. As in the case of Carl Robertson, this other Karl was introduced to me by his father. Dr. Henry W. Kitchen was a well known Cleveland physician who later changed his vocation to the alluring one of bank president. [207] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND Karl had told his father that nothing but newspaper writ- ing would fit into the scheme of his young life. So when he left college I set him to work under Will Merrick, a city editor of the right sort, the kind who gives encouragement and yet holds a strong rein over the impetuosity of youth. Then rather reticent and inclined to under estimate his ca- pacity, Karl was at first disposed to give up his reporting job in despair, but detecting in his work the real ability that in time manifests itself through the clouds of timidity, Mer- rick kept him going, and gradually he worked his way to a high place in newspaperdom. Readers of the magazines are familiar with the name and writings of Fred C. Kelly, who, Booth Tarkington has said is ‘one of the most interesting men in the country.” Fred, too, just nineteen years ago joined my staff on the Plain Dealer in the capacity of reporter. It was soon noted that he took particular delight in writing about people, and for five years his anecdotal and humorous column, ‘Stories About Town,” was a striking feature of the paper. Then it oc- curred to Fred that he might do this personality ‘stunt’ in a much larger way. Going to Washington, where from a bureau of his own he sent to some forty daily newspapers the idiosyncracies of those nationally prominent, he became himself a national newspaper figure of the first dimension. But to one of Fred Kelly's versatility and ambition this was but half way measures. Later there came from his pen num- erous magazine articles displaying very keen insight to the true philosophy of life. Courting the sunny side of the street he gave to us and humorously, refreshing glimpses of many-sided mankind. Kelly's books, “Human Nature in Business,” “The Fun of Knowing Folks” and “The Wis-- dom of Laziness,” are widely read and appreciated. I have had a hint that his latest book, to be published early this year, will have the title “You and Your Dog.” [208] CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE CASSIE CHADWICK A Woman Forger Who Startled The World And Provided A Big Newspaper “Scoop” Speaking of newspapers, the biggest “‘scoop’’ or beat of rivals in the particular fifty years of Cleveland under dis- cussion was courageously pulled off by Harry N. Rickey in the Cleveland Press on November 26, 1904. In a way and under the circumstances it must stand as a record of news- paper daring. Here in a gorgeously furnished house on Euclid avenue, strongly entrenched almost, if not entirely, within the por- tals of the so-called four hundred of local society, was living with outward placidity a woman who has gone into history as the most ambitious and for a time adroit female criminal in the financial world of America. Cassie L. Chadwick—once ‘‘Madame Devere” who told fortunes—alias ‘Lydia E. Scott’—alias Mrs. Hoover; alias “Mrs. Bagley’ and finally the wife of Dr. Leroy S. Chad- wick, a reputable Cleveland physician whom she married after having lived here on the west side for several years un- der the name of Mrs. Hoover—this was the woman of remarkable nerve and instinct for crime who after her arrest held for many weeks first place on the front pages of all the newspapers of the country. Closely touching and harrassing a number of banking in- stitutions in and near Cleveland, greatly perturbing a few lawyers who had innocently assisted her in cash realizations from a wholesale forging of the name of Andrew Carnegie— forgeries running into the millions—Ileaving behind in her [209] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND ultimate trip to the Ohio penitentiary a train of heart breaks and financial distress, Cassie was indeed the sensation of a generation. Many will readily recall how after the publica- tion in the local newspapers of suits brought against her by four banks for sums aggregating a quarter of a million, and after the Press had told of her past life, she betook herself from the palatial mansion at 8214 Euclid avenue to New York, and from the Holland House sought through her attorneys to clear her title to the right, as a “daughter” of the Pittsburgh multimillionaire to borrow huge sums upon a note for $5,000,000 she claimed he had given her. In the meantime small banks in Cleveland, and one in Oberlin particularly hard hit by loans based on her forgeries of Carnegie’s name were seeking to solve the mystery of their fictitious securities and save themselves from ruin. All the way through this maze the lawyers and bankers were still hoping and openly assuming that Cassie, of the wonderful, hypnotic eyes and tremendous nerve would be able to prove her right to borrow these sums based upon the alleged gift of Carnegie and supposed to be resting in the strong box of a bank on Wade Park avenue. And such was the horror of the situation, and the desire to avoid calamity that this hope was persisted in directly in the face of denials coming from Pittsburgh that any such paper had been issued by the library philanthropist, or that Cassie L. Chadwick had ever been among his list of acquaintances, to say nothing of having family ties. Able lawyers called to her aid, the Chadwick woman half convinced some of her financial dupes that all the dirty linen would come out in the wash brilliant in its original whiteness. The statement was sent out from New York that after a final clearing up and with all debts paid it would be found that Cassie still could hold her place in polite society and battle the world with over $1,000,000. Yet already an [210] CASSIE CHADWICK honest old bank president in Oberlin who had been taken in for a loan of $340,000 had received his death blow. The whole sordid story of Cassie Chadwick was being told in pages of newspaper print. How, born at Eastwood, Canada, in 1857; how twenty- two years later she was arrested and tried as Elizabeth Bigley, her true name, at Woodstock on a charge of forgery and ac- quitted on grounds of insanity; how coming to Cleveland in 1882 she changed her first name to Lydia; how in that year she married a Clevelander who within a few days dis- covered she had been a crook and later divorced her; how after having been reported dead she two years later was living in Cleveland under the name of Lydia D. Scott; how as ‘Madame Devere”’ by means of forgery she in 1887 ob- tained $18,000 from a man in Toledo and was sent to the Ohio Penitentiary on a sentence of nine years and six months, where after three years at hard labor she was paroled; how she returned to Cleveland and calling herself Mrs. Hoover lived at 166 Franklin avenue with her mother, her sister and a small son in conspicuous extravagance. Then in 1897, about the time of her release from responsi- bility to the penitentiary, she married Dr. Chadwick at Windsor, Ontario. She continued to occupy the Euclid avenue home when, soon after their marriage her husband took his daughter and went to live in Europe. From this time on Cassie lived riotously upon borrowed money, the loans run- ning somewhere between $600,000 and $1,000,000. Enter- tainments, and gifts to friends of automobiles and other costly presents ran in single years into tens of thousands of dollars. Arrived finally a day early in December when there came into the possession of District Attorney John J. Sullivan, now upon the bench of the Appellate court, two notes respectively of $500,000 and $250,000 made payable to C. L. Chad- [211] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND wick and signed with the name of Andrew Carnegie, both of course forgeries. Securely in the clutches of the United States government and an aggressive district attorney the days of CassieChadwick as a whirlwind financier grew rapidly to a close. The fact was disclosed that the $5,000,000 Car- negie forgery had been in the vaults of a Cleveland banker wholly innocent of its worthlessness, and that upon this fancied security other bankers had guilelessly based loans to the supposed wealthy wife of a respected physician. From sumptuous rooms in a prominent New York hotel, where the near approach of her arrest had brought on a physical collapse, Cassie was removed to more crude sur- roundings in the Tombs prison. Efforts to secure bail were unavailing and after a few days, during which she was in- dicted by the grand jury in Cleveland for uttering and forg- ing the notes she was brought by United States Marshal Frank N. Chandler on December 14th to the Cuyahoga county jail. The package in the possession of a Cleveland banker sup- posed to contain $5,000,000 of Mrs. Chadwick's securities had, it transpired, been kept in a sefety deposit vault in Jersey City. It was brought to Cleveland, opened and its contents found to be worthless. The grand jury had indicted her, however, upon the charge of forging Carnegie’s name to the two notes, the one for $250,000 being security for the loan that wrecked the Oberlin bank. While in the county jail this arch imposter and destroyer of local financial serenity was an object of great interest— especially so to those of the newspaper fraternity, who had hastened to cover as far as possible the effects of Rickey's mighty ‘‘scoop.”” Women employes of the Ohio penitentiary came here and identified Cassie as the Madame Devere who had once been imprisoned in that institution. Still insisting upon her innocence, the newspaper men were making great efforts [2121] CASSIE CHADWICK to secure from her a confession, and one evening I thought the Plain Dealer was going to get it. But that proved to be a flash in the pan. Embittered against the Press as the newspaper medium precipitating her downfall, it was the hope of the three other local newspapers that when she found the toils tighten about her she might attempt to earn a degree of mercy by a full and free disclosure of her crimes. So when our court reporter brought word that the prisoner wanted to see the editor of the Plain Dealer I took with me E. B. Lilley, our managing editor, and paid her a visit at the jail. Rocking unconcernedly in a comfortable chair with a piece of embroidery slipping through nervous fingers, a woman deputy within sight but not necessarily in hearing distance, Mrs. Chadwick conversed with what we had read in the Press was her old-time ‘‘social charm.” But of thrilling inner life, or a confession that would mean big, black headlines in the morning paper there was not a word! Instead of courting sympathy along that line Cassie pleaded not guilty and after a long drawn out trial she was convicted and sentenced by Federal Judge Tayler to serve ten years in state prison. There a few years later she died, and with the burial in her native village in Canada was closed a career which, resembling some in history, surely had no parallel in the sensational aspects it assumed from beginning to the end. I spoke of the daring of the Press in springing the case upon the public when there had been only a suggestion of financial trouble in this socially high placed home out on Euclid avenue. It is true that Editor Rickey had his facts well in hand, but, as related to me at the time by men such as Jack Reeves, Cleveland's well-known old detective, from whom he obtained much of Cassie's history, “Harry” was a very anxious and worried editor at the time of publication. There was much purely of guess work in linking together the [213] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND first chain of evidence, and it required a fine degree of news- paper courage to go the length he did when barely a hint came to him of the great human story back of a civil suit merely involving money. Usually the newspapers discover and disclose things of this kind as they develop in the courts. It chanced that five years ago while visiting California I ran upon an incident of this remarkable case not known here at the time of the trial or since. In the foot hills of La Canyada I ran across a former New York lawyer named Garland, a nephew of the attorney general in President Cleve- land’s cabinet and himself the legal representative of China in this country. Finding I was from Cleveland he referred to certain acquaintances of his living here, among them Frank Chandler, former United States marshal. “I became acquainted with Frank when, while still prac- ticing law in New York, I had quite a little experience with your famous forger, Cassie Chadwick,” he said to me. Invit- ing me into his pretty bungalow perched on a plateau from which could be seen many miles away the cities of Pasadena and Los Angeles, he took, from a wall of his den a glass- enclosed frame. There neatly pasted in were a large sized photograph of the Chadwick woman and two notes respect- ively for $300,000 and $500,000 bearing the signature of Andrew Carnegie! “How does that strike you as a relic of your fellow towns- woman?’ he inquired. “Those forged notes and the smiling picture were presented to me by Mrs. Chadwick when she was in the Tombs prison. Thinking I had considerable knowledge of international law she asked me to call on her and explain whether there would be any use of her standing to the authorities as a British subject from the fact of her having been born in Canada. There was not. [214] ATL SRR CASSIE CHADWICK “And refusing to accept a fee for my professional call, which was inspired because of a natural curiosity in so cele- brated a case, she drew from a hand bag these unused for- geries and insisted upon my keeping them as a memento of my visit to her! The photograph was, I think, later sent to my office.” [ 215 | 5 CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO LOCAL MARTYRS How A Tragedy In Cleveland Led The Country To A Safe and Sane Fourth of July Among the many Cleveland contributions to better forms of living and real progress none have had stronger appeal or wider influence than the establishment here of safeguards against loss of life and property by proper regulation of the patriotic holiday. Newspapers issued on July 5th until a few years ago fairly reeked with news items of sudden death, maiming, and fire losses brought about by the reckless and indiscriminate use of cannon cracker, fireworks and the in- numerable dangerous devices for noisily celebrating Independ- ence day. For a number of years the Chicago Tribune made an annual feature of gathering by telegraph from all sections of the country a record of the day's disasters. These grue- some accounts ran well up into hundreds of deaths, blind- ings, the shattering of hands, feet, arms and legs of those who counted this recklessness an expression of patriotism. In his day as city editor of a local newspaper the writer found the Fourth of July to be an occasion calling for a doubling of the work of his reporters who covered the entire city and suburbs to gather in and publish the disasters wrought. And in a city then less than a third of the Cleve- land of today in population the minor casualty list usually filled from two to four solid newspaper columns. As in the case of most reforms of similar character it re- quired a tragedy to awaken the public to a sense of the absurd- ity of such indiscriminate lawlessness. And to the credit of Cleveland its people were the first to apply a remedy. On the morning of July 3, 1908, in a store on Ontario street [216] LOCAL MARTYRS six young women and a mere child were trapped, crushed and burned to death by a fire in the fireworks department. Twenty-five shoppers were severely injured. Unconscious martyrs, these young people in losing their lives paid for the safety of millions throughout the land who now are safe- guarded by stringent laws against Fourth of July reckless- ness. Some two hundred shoppers were crowding the two floors of the five and ten cent store on that fatal July morning. Four year old Jimmie Parker of 10802 Hampden avenue, accompanied by his mother, was examining a ‘‘harmless” fireworks novelty at one of the counters. A spark from this supposedly safe plaything the boy had induced his mother to buy caught in a small American flag fluttering nearby. Almost instantly flames ran from counter to counter and a scene of wild excitement and disorder followed. Added to the booming of exploding skyrockets, cannon crackers and a hundred smaller pieces were the cries of the clerks and customers crowding the aisles to reach a place of safety. Newspaper stories of the time tell how many, trying to get out from the second floor by stairway, elevator and fire escapes, were caught and crushed. From the upper floor many leaped uninjured into nets spread in the alley by the firemen, but others suffered broken arms and legs by leaping to the stones below. Deeds of heroism were not lacking in this hour of frantic despair. There was Luther Roberts, the colored janitor of the wrecked building, who at the risk of his own life rescued dozens of women and children. Breaking windows on the second floor, he coolly handed them out to helping hands on the fire escapes or dropped them into the nets. Ed. Bolton, a clerk in the store of The W. P. Southworth Company, next door to the burning building, dragged many persons from the first floor to safety, crawling [217] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND on hands and knees in the suffocating smoke again and again to save still others. All the bodies were about the rear stairway and beneath the balconies within the store. Two of the sales girls were still alive when the bodies, with clothing only partially consumed, were taken away, but they died before reaching a hospital. The names of these martyrs to a great cause of future reconstruction should be honored by those who look backward into the city’s history. They were: Marie Wagner, 17 years old, clerk . . . . 1588 East 84th Street Irma Schumacher, 18 years old, clerk . . . 3014 Chatham Avenue Elizabeth Reis, 18 years old, clerk . . . . 4010 Ardmore Avenue Anna Trefall, 24 years old, clerk . . . . . 2305 Carnegie Avenue Freda Trefall, 177 years old, clerk . . . . . 2305 Carnegie Avenue Mary Hughes, 27 years old, a shopper . 3604 Whitman Avenue James L. Parker, 4 yearsold ... . . . 10802 Hampden Avenue Newspaper accounts of this disaster caused a thrill of sympathy not unmixed with fear in Cleveland homes. Editorials insisting upon some definite action to prevent its recurrence resulted in prompt official action. On Monday evening member Dan. Pfahl introduced in city council an ordinance which was made a local law the salient feature of which reads as follows: “That no person, firm or corpora- tion, shall, within the city, sell, offer for sale or have in his or its possession or custody any toy pistol, squib, rocket crackers or roman candle or other combustible fireworks, or any article for the making of a pyrotechnic display.” Later it was made a misdemeanor for any person to make use of any of these dangerous articles in the city of Cleveland. A public meeting of citizens to support the ordinance was held in the city council chamber, Orlando J. Hodge presiding. Chief George A. Wallace of the fire department made an earnest appeal. A committee from the Chamber of Commerce, consisting of S. H. Halle, W. R. Warner, C. H. Patton and F. H. Haserot, was present. To supply a vent for pent [218] LOCAL MARTYRS up patriotism, especially among the school children, Fourth of July entertainments were held in the public parks where evening fireworks were allowed under ample safeguards. American flags in the hands of marching children largely made amends for the noisy firecracker. For once heat distressed Clevelanders could sleep between the third and sixth of July without disturbance at all hours of the night. The Cleveland idea of a safe and sane Fourth spread rapidly to other towns and cities. Within the past year or so the bars have been letting down, through the seeping into the city from unrestricted sections of firecrackers and other dangerous combustibles. That, however, is a matter the local police can regulate. And when the next batch of patriots in the Ohio legislature orate against a safe and sane July 4th for the entire state they might well be asked to read this chapter. With characteristic community spirit Cleveland citizens got together after this ban upon the conduct of impetuous youth and for several years afterwards the parks became rallying points for orderly yet inspiring Fourth of July celebrations. Active in the movement were Prof. J. E. Cutler of Western Reserve University, first chairman of the public committee, Delo E. Mook, for many years local leader of the Boy Scout organizations, acting as secretary. Others who gave liberally of their time besides assisting in raising funds, were Dr. John F. Stephan, Col. Jeremiah J. Sullivan, A. S. Mather, A. Y. Gowan, Horatio Ford, Bascom Little, Dr. Francis A. Moran, L. BE. Brittin, Mis. E. 1.. Harris, Mrs. M. A. Fanning, Mrs. Perry H. Hobbs and Mrs. A. E. Hyer. During the four years the committees had the enter- prise in hand some two hundred large flags were bought and distributed in schools, and fireworks, parades of children, [219] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND folk dancing and other attractions in eight public parks made of Independence Day a safe and educational community feature. 220 | CHAPTER THIRTY- THREE GETTING A CHANCE A Chapter That May Interest Candidates For Work In Newspaper Offices There is a fascination about newspaper work that has strong appeal to many people, especially very young men and women. Probably not one boy in a thousand who has set his heart upon becoming a newspaper reporter ever gets a chance at the work. Often during the years of my connection with the papers I have been asked to advise how applicants should go about it to get a start. My observation has been that for the most part vacancies in that line are filled from two classes: those suggested by friends already on the staff or youths of both sexes who have a knack for reporting school happenings. To these might be added the chaps who will simply not be turned away. To illustrate my meaning—one of the best reporters ever on a Cleveland newspaper, at first an utter stranger to the city editor, got “next” and finally landed a permanent situation by nosing around and bringing to the office really choice bits of local information. There are schools of journalism—1I believe something of the kind has been tried here—and doubtless they give a reasonable degree of theoretical knowledge of the profes- sion—but the newspaper candidate must be hammered into practical shape in the office itself. Rugged old Horace Greeley said that the real newspaper man ‘‘slept on white paper and ate ink.” That was of course metaphorical, and said at a time when newspapers were printed on flat, hand fed presses, and people rode in stage coaches. Yet, my experience has been that somewhere between the ideas of a crude news- [221] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND paper generation and the modern school of journalism there is a middle ground favorable to the discovery of actual newspaper talent. A natural love for writing will not alone make for newspaper success. [he youth ambitious in that direction must first learn how to spell, how to construct simply his sentences, how to avoid unnecessarily big words, how to meet people with proper courtesy, yet with confidence in his legitimate right to meet them. And, above all, if he secures a place in a newspaper office he should ever keep in mind that industry and accuracy are the first requisites to success. There is no doubt that a college education is a splendid equipment for staff work. Unfortunately it has been denied to many who even without its advantages have made notably good. Suffering from the handicap they profited by practice, by painstaking observation in reading, and by the assimilation of the best in their surroundings. For it is a fact that through association members of a newspaper staff come to write, broadly speaking, alike. I recall a remark of Editor Cowles of the old Cleveland Leader when I was a young member of the Leader staff. The paper had, what in those days was thought an amazing feat, devoted two full pages to a description of the entrance of a small new steam railroad into the city. After reading over the entire story Cowles arose with a smile from his desk and calling members of his staff together made the remark, “This article reads as though it was written by one man!’ None of us had thought of it in that way, though we knew nearly all the force had contributed to it. Those who know better the psychology of mental assimilation through proximity may be able to explain Mr. Cowles’ puzzlement. While I believe the fact to be there I cannot account for it. [222] GETTING A CHANCE If your experience is to be at all similar to my own you will early in your newspaper career encounter two distinct types of “‘overlords” whose influence upon your habits of work will be for best or worst. The first is the self centered individual who, as city editor, managing editor, or what not, thinks his best service to you and the newspaper is to find all the fault possible with your work. He is so narrow and self sufficient that, in his opinion, paying out a compliment to his help for a bit of work unusually well done would destroy office discipline. So, lacking the grace of encouraging compliment he covers such weakness with criticism that makes a sensitive soul drop into his boots. On the other hand, and quite the reverse in results, is the fellow who pats you on the back, and appears to enjoy mutually with you any good piece of work you have accomplished. There are newspaper editors and managers who are too obtuse to recognize that usually those ambitious to write are really artistically sensitive, in the better meaning of that term. Avoid them. The world is wide. In most newspaper offices you will also find two opposite types of fellow workers, the one eternally grumbling at conditions and very confident he knows mote than the fellow in charge, and the other going about his duties without thought of time limits. It requires no gift of second sight to discover which earns and gets promotion. When it is said that a man like the late Jacob Waldeck who in time became a star reporter on the Cleveland Press and its Washington correspondent began as an office boy in the office of the Leader, and “Bob” Larkin, the nestor of local police reporters and still one of the most active of them all, worked his way through school by owning a newspaper route, youth of newspaper ambition should not be discouraged because of lacking a college background. [223] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND It should be remembered by candidates for staff work that this is a day of classification. The old time all-around newspaper reporter has largely disappeared. And with him has disappeared the best of schooling for genuine newspaper ability. While in the Seventies and Eighties men on the local staff had as today distinct daily “routes” such as the police and fire stations, the courts, the city hall, and the like, they were expected to cover many more additional assignments in the day or night's work. Before the attachment of women to Cleveland newspaper staffs the men were obliged to bungle at the job of detailing the things done, and even the things worn, at fashionable weddings. Back in my Leader days I once trailed a wedding party from the Second Presbyterian church to the home of the bride on Euclid avenue. There, during the reception, I ran across a kind hearted dressmaker who gave me a description of the costumes worn by the principles, and the report when written out was fairly satisfactory. Returning to the office I was immediately sent to accompany a band of officers who reclaimed the body of a young woman from a medical college, the sequence to a theft from a graveyard in a neighboring village. Variety was the spice of life to the newsgatherer of those days! Most green newspaper reporters are inclined to use long or obscure words. A city editor who preceded me on the old Herald explained how he broke a fresh candidate from the habit. Many will remember the hack stand on Bank street where big Pat Carey was the recognized monarch among two score drivers of a varied collection of skeletons passing for horseflesh. One day after going over a piece of copy turned in by the youth in question, requiring many trips to the office dictionary, this city editor led the reporter to the front windows. [224] GETTING A CHANCE “Do you see that fat man out there?’’ he asked, pointing to Pat who had fallen asleep in the hot sunshine, a news- paper held lightly in one hand. “It's likely he has been trying to read one of your news articles. Hereafter I hope you will write your stuff so that every man in that hack line will understand what you are talking about. If they do it is a safe bet the college professors will.” The use of simple words is preached in all newspaper offices, but few even among those who do the preaching live up to the rule. It is not entirely a gift. It may be acquired. Henry Ward Beecher, the eminent Brooklyn, N. Y., preacher, was said to be the greatest stickler for word simplification, and because he made a study of the thing. In the last sentence I purposely used a word of five syllables in ex-pla-na-tion of the Beecher policy. He seldom used a word of more than two syllables, and not one that long if he could think up a shorter one. Occasionally you read how a statement made is a ‘“‘true fact.” That a fact could be nothing else than true is of course obvious at a glance. Nearly every newspaper reporter I ever knew started out with extravagant use of the word “declared” when detailing the remarks of some person he was sent to interview. No other word has been so badly overworked, and the newspaper newcomers still are doing it. [225] CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR REVIVIVING THE LEADER An Attempted “Resuscitation” That Finally Ended In A Valuable Hanna Newspaper Property Soon after the termination of the Plain Dealer contract and my third experience with the Holdens I was offered attractive newspaper opportunities in two nearby cities, one of which I long hesitated over and finally, with much reluctance, declined. Norman E. Mack, owner of the Buffalo Times, brilliant and aggressive as a newspaper publisher, and at that time deeply and happily involved in Democratic politics in New York, eventually bringing him into national prominence, offered me, at a tempting price, a large financial interest in and practically the management of his successful newspaper. The attraction was a double one. Good earnings and close association with a man whose personality was as charming and invigorating as the atmosphere of the Ireland of his forefathers was to me almost irresistable. But for one reason—and that the reason why in intervening years I made no outside newspaper connection—I gladly would have closed the deal with my friend Mack. Twice before, in moving to New York and later to St. Louis, I had uprooted my small family from their local ties, and twice I had made them happy by a return to Cleveland. Parents and children who go through such trying experiences will understand why in my own case the thought of migrating again into strange surroundings and the rebuilding of new associations was distasteful and I decided that it would not be done. Fortunately I had made investments outside of newspaperdom which made possible [226] REVIVING THE LEADER the determination to continue as a modest unit in conglom- erate Cleveland. And better still I had the priceless possession of a wife and daughter who placed the home and the thought of doing something for others above the impulse to ‘‘shine” extravagantly in society. No amount of money has ever quite offset that sort of possession. The only drawback to a decision to remain in Cleveland was that my other business ties required but little personal attention, and naturally I longed for occupation where the risk of a life’s savings would not be too great. This problem in the experience of many of us in middle age might, if written out and published, prove quite interesting reading. Medill McCormick, a grandson of Joseph Medill, who made a great newspaper out of the Chicago Tribune, was, as most Clevelanders know, then the young husband of Ruth Hanna, a daughter of the Ohio senator. Naturally his newspaper experience and the newer and closer ties here led him to the thought of owning and conducting a paper in Cleveland. The Leader was of his politics and it could be bought. He secured its control early in the Nineteen hundreds. In the end it was an expensive responsibility, but what's the odds? Today the News and Sunday Leader, worth a pile of money and likely to make many millions for present and future Hanna generations, is still in control of the Hanna family! My second connection with the Cleveland Leader, made in 1909, was as unexpected as brief. I was sitting one Sunday morning in my house trying to untangle the color sections from the real news parts of the two local Sunday newspapers when EF. W. Kellogg telephoned me from a downtown hotel that he was there with one Donelly, private secretary to Medill McCormick. Reaching my house they unfolded a plan under which I might be able to take over [2271] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND the Leader management on something like the Kennedy- Baker Plain Dealer contract. Medill was at the time ill and abroad in quest of health, and James H. Hoyt here in Cleveland had full power of attorney to do anything he pleased with the property. And surely the old paper had reached a stage where something must be done, and done with promptness to keep it on its legs. The evening News, its main support in later years, had been bought by Charles A. Otis and consolidated with the evening World. The morning Leader, nursed desperately by Harry S. Thalheimer (since the war Talmadge), business manager, and Nathaniel C. Wright, editor, had within a couple of years become so emaciated that it was appearing daily reduced to eight pages with an occasional ten pages against the prosperous Plain Dealer's twelve to fourteen pages, both selling for one cent a copy. The outcome of our Sunday talk was that Kellogg, an aggressive and successful newspaper man who I knew would be a power in getting business for the paper, agreed to join me in a contract to edit and publish the Leader over a term of years. That he really didn’t mean to do so I found out only after agreements had been drawn up by Attorney Hoyt, Dan R. Hanna, Kellogg and myself. Kellogg's interests were largely in California where, already in newspaper work as part of the Scripps combination, he was at the time building a very fine residence. At the last moment and following Kellogg's final decision not to give at least a portion of his time to the proposed Cleveland deal, and upon the urge of Attorney James H. Dempsey, a considerable stockholder in the Leader, who to the time of his death deplored as unnecessary and weak business the sale of the Leader to its morning competitor, I agreed to join with Wright and Thalheimer, both of whom [228] REVIVING THE LEADER would be retained, in an attempt to rejuvenate Cleveland's one time leading morning newspaper. As Thalheimer and Wright were giving half their time to managing the Toledo Blade the work of Leader revivification fell largely to myself. The Plain Dealer had published the statement that I was the Leader’s editor, which I was not, but wanting to place me in the rather contradictory light of an editor of a Democratic newspaper switching to the job of editing a Republican organ in the same town, the Plain Dealer ignored my request for a correction. The fact is that during my stay with the Leader Wright was its editor and was largely dominated by Dempsey, a member of the law firm of Squire, Saunders © Dempsey, and president of the Leader Company, while in all other matters affecting the business, Harry Thalheimer and myself usually were in agreement. Within one year, and with an expenditure of $50,000 furnished by D. R. Hanna, the morning Leader had taken on enough life that it was going out daily as a twelve page paper, the advertising, under the direction of Joseph A. Mack, many years with the Cleveland World, having been increased by ten or more columns daily. But the best strides had been made with the Sunday edition, which as all publishers know, is the sustaining power of the average daily paper issuing a Sunday edition. Not by any means the big, profitable and widely circulated Sunday Leader of today, it was rapidly gaining ground. Instead of a net loss of $51,000 in 1908 the Leader in the following year and for the first time in several years showed a few thousand dollars of profit. Along about this time William Randolph Hearst, the dread ‘‘threat” and menace to established newspapers in all American cities, began to make coy overtures to Dan R. [229] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND Hanna. Dan personally had relieved the majority of common stockholders of their fear of eventual total loss by buying their Leader holdings at a price which in view of the paper's condition I thought extremely generous. We sent all facts and figures about the Leader to Dan’s farm in Ravenna where a representative of Hearst came from Chicago to negotiate. As the stories drifted to us in the office Hanna was offered a tempting price for the morning and Sunday Leader. My guess is that his refusal of the offer took its rise to a very considerable extent in his disinclination to assist in making convenient house room in Cleveland for the Hearst type of newspaper. Dan Hanna was a man capable of doing some very generous things in a way so off hand and blunt the doing of them appeared to lose significance. I know this was so in his financial dealings with some close to him in family and business. To his enterprise Cleveland has two of its largest office buildings, the Leader-News and Hanna. Later he did two things in a newspaper way that counted big. One was the purchase of the evening News and its association with the Sunday Leader. The other was the securing of the services of George F. Moran as manager of his papers. George, now a brilliant and successful publisher and himself part owner of the Leader-News, was Cleveland born and bred, and worked his way up from soliciting West Side advertising for the Plain Dealer early in the Nineteen Hundreds, to the position of business manager of that newspaper. The Hearst episode and the possibility of a sale of the Leader over night did not have a very heartening effect in the office. The plan I had in mind of making slow haste, and as in the case of the Plain Dealer, improving the news- paper each year by the expenditure of its profits in betterment I am sure did not appeal to Dan Hanna's idea of getting big [2301] REVIVING THE LEADER business quickly. It had been my observation and experience, however, that newspaper good will to be lasting must be earned. not bought. During the two or three years of the previous McCormick management several hundred thousands of dollars had been expended in combating the Plain Dealer's growth, but the slogan ‘““Ohio’s Greatest Newspaper’ expensively acclaimed on the barns and billboards of Northern Ohio got the Leader nowhere at all. By a pleasant and entirely amicable arrangement with Dan R. the writer of these recollections withdrew from a triangular management that while brief had seen the old paper emerging from the backwoods, and during the year and a few months Wright and Talmadge remained in charge I looked on as an innocent by-stander while the Leader pursued a process of newspaper expenditure that would have whitened my hair had I still had a hand in it. If there has ever been a business more eccentric than that of newspaper making it has never come to my notice. The will to do is so frequently confounded with the right thing to do; yet the variety of opinions of what to do and what not to do probably intensifies the charm of it all. Anyway, I was told by Harry Talmadge, who continued as business manager, that in the twelve months subsequent to my retirement from the paper over $400,000 was sunk—or you might prefer to say invested—in Leader development. Without anything like a corresponding increase of adver- tising the daily Leader suddenly was expanded to 14 and 16 pages to meet the Plain Dealer in size, and expenses for editorial and business staffs were more than doubled. Where I could afford to have two men in outside towns to keep agencies going the newer management put out fifty traveling men at a time to promote newspaper sales. And so it went all along the line, without appreciable disastrous effect upon competing morning newspaper circulation. [231] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND This excessive outlay which continued in more or less degree until the morning edition of the Leader with its valuable Associated Press franchise was sold to the Plain Dealer might appear to the uninitiated to be total loss. But not so. The price paid by the Plain Dealer for an exclusive morning daily field was $750,000, according to the statement to me by the Leader manager then in charge. This may, or may not have recouped Dan Hanna’s extraordinary expendi- tures. In any event he still owned the Sunday Leader, then, as during all lean Leader years, a good profit maker. This purchase, reducing the morning field to but one newspaper, the Plain Dealer was enabled to increase its selling price from one to two cents, and the cost of acquiring its only morning competitor was quickly made good. In retain- ing the Sunday edition Hanna still had the most valuable part of the Leader, and by joining it with the afternoon News, with its exclusive Associated Press franchise for after- noon newspapers in Cleveland, the combined properties have proved very valuable. Of the men and women who lived and worked loyally with the old Leader in its darkest days I would enjoy writing a separate chapter. There was Benjamin Karr who away back in the Eighties became an editorial writer with Cowles and Covert. Like Bone of the Plain Dealer, Karr is a living encyclopedia of fact, and possessed of the most remarkable memory I ever encountered. Chancing to be associated with him when the census figures of 1910 were received from Washington we together ran over the list of all the American cities. Making of it a test when comparing the new figures with those of the year 1900, he repeated from memory in each case within 1,000, the exact totals of population of the earlier decade from a list three printed pages in length! Intensely partisan when the Leader was essentially a political organ Karr and his writings have broadened with [232] REVIVING THE LEADER the spirit of the age. But his chief value to the paper and attraction to present day readers of the News lies in the wide range of subjects he with understanding tells us all about. Few important phases of life with its constantly changing and confusing intricacy escape his notice and comment. Chester Hope, Sunday editor of the Leader at the time I refer to, was the master spirit in creating a Sunday product that rapidly forged ahead of the daily in sales. E. C. Botton, a Newburgh boy, joined the Leader staff as a reporter in 1881. Afterwards, as chief editorial writer, his sincere work was a large factor in the development of the prosperous News of today. And there, too, in a responsible position, is Dan Moeder, who when a boy started to work for me on the Plain Dealer thirty years ago. There also is Henry Weid- enthal, a younger brother of Maurice, who himself held important desks on the older Plain Dealer and the Press. While associated with the Leader I came to know Guy T. Rockwell, a younger reporter and promoted him to the desk of financial editor which position he now acceptably fills on the Plain Dealer. At the same time the Leader had among its reporters a youth named Ed. Goette who for several years since has been associated with Juvenile Court. The newspaper ‘boys’ may change their vocation but they seldom lose their love for the bustle and whirl of the old newspaper ‘‘shop!” il Edna K. Wooley is a Cleveland girl whose sensible, helpful daily articles in the News condones for much of the vapid writings of the professional “sob sisters.” It is fortunate that newspaper editors realize the value of writers like Miss Wooley of the News and Miss Glasier of the Plain Dealer who never descend to flashy and inane word juggling. Miss Helen De Kay Townsend, for several years past society editor [233] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND of Cleveland Topics, began to write of social events for the Evening World when “Jim” Maddy was its city editor. With the men directly responsible for most of the news gathering in Cleveland offices of today I have had little personal acquaintance. That a masterful hand has been at the helm in the editorial department of the News and Sunday Leader is, however, apparent to the most careless newspaper reader. Thomas A, Robertson—that’s his name though behind his back the boys call him ‘“Tom’’—has been managing editor of the News-Leader for the past twelve years, taking on editorial responsibility for the News when it again was merged with the Leader, and very thoroughly vitalizing all its departments. By nativity a “Yankee” Robertson when younger had some years of newspaper training on the St. Louis Republic and the Houston, Texas, Post. To this was added three years of experience with the Associated Press in its St. Louis office. His rapid fire handling of news suggests to me that he imbibed, as did Joseph Pulitzer, much of the climatic newspaper warmth of the southwest,toning it down some, however, for Cleveland, as did Pulitzer for New York city! [234] CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE IN GEORGIAN BAY Clevelanders Who Have Found Health And Happiness With Neighborly Canada This is going to be a chapter on a phase of summer outing indulged in by many Clevelanders, and it may suggest a few possibilities to others who need for a time to be taken out of themselves and, far away from the distractions of over- heated cities and the hourly dodging of automobiles, reborn into vigorous health. In another place I have spoken of the island in Georgian Bay where Mayor Farley found surcease from the strife and annoyances of business and public life. But John was not the only Clevelander who looked upon that country as a haven and a bulwark against harassed nerves. Lacking the descriptive power of a Defoe, or the good minister of the Gospel who wrote Swiss Family Robinson, still let me attempt to tell in plain newspaper language something about another land of enchantment my eyes first fell upon in the summer of 1894. It was the second year of my struggles with worn out machinery, and general nerve rack incident to the rehabili- tation of the run down Plain Dealer. The Burrows brothers, Charles W. and Harris H., who founded the book store, let me in for an experience that changed my whole outlook upon life, increased my faith in man and nature, added in the brief space of three weeks exactly fourteen pounds to my weight and made of me a confirmed Georgian Bay enthusiast. Besides the Burrows brothers and Arthur S. Brooks, who had made a similar trip the previous summer, [235] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND our party consisted of Luther S. Roby, Charles W. Fuller, Charles Ault, artist, George A. Rude and myself. The immediate scene of our adventures was in Indian Harbor near the settlement of a small family of Ojibways and situated thirty miles north of Penetangeuishene, our starting point, a picturesque village at the foot of the Bay and about one hundred miles by rail from Toronto. Along this sweep of almost countless islands where are now the summer cottages of many families from Ohio and other states there was then but a half dozen crude shacks peopled during the hot months by residents of Ontario. Living for three weeks in a hut built upon a scow and towed to Indian Harbor by tug, our Cleveland party saw few white faces and those mostly of tourists making trips upon the old steamer Toronto plying daily between Parry Sound and Penetang. Far removed from the bustle of a congested city; sur- rounded by islands wooded with the native fir, tamarack, oak and wild growing shrub in part covering clean sun and rain washed rock; bewildered by the maze of ripening blueberries, red raspberries and gooseberries usually garnered solely by the birds; and most alluring, to be daily victors in battles fought by aid of silken line and spinning spoon with a myriad of small mouth bass, pickerel and on occasion a tigerish mascallonge—here was paradise! In this rarified atmosphere the rising moon took on the proportions of a balloon, and after a thunder storm whose blinding flashes and almost continuous shock and rumble at first awed and cowed, we got one day a spread of rainbow such as might in its magnitude and beauty have inspired the bible conception of God's promise to the descendents from the ark. One end of my particular rainbow appeared to rest upon a nearby island some thirty acres in size, at least half the trees covering it showing in brilliant green behind great bands of color. Some different, this, from the little [236] IN GEORGIAN BAY rainbow affair of boyhood days at the end of which was supposed to rest the pot of gold! The first season in Georgian Bay was but enticement for many others to follows, each with its special novelty and bewilderment. A forty foot sailboat was bought by Cleve- land men and named the Genesee. Going in parties of four with a crew of three Frenchmen from Penetangeuishene where the boat wintered, we sailed, camped and fished the entire coast as far north-west as Manitoulin Island. This was before the more trustworthy gasoline engine had been placed in pleasure craft of the kind, and our camps were selected and invaded only when wind permitted. Few of the 36,000 charted islands of wonderful Georgian Bay escaped our notice. There was good fishing almost every- where, and whatever of discomfort we had from storm beaten tent or steady rainfall was fully amended by other days of restful tranquility in our search for health abundantly! There followed in my own experience several summers when alone with my wife and one or two guides in a smaller sailing craft we made trips somewhat similar and over the same territory. Our old captain usually was at the helm and he disguised his compelling profanity in Canadian French when, as often his boat stuck on hidden reefs so profusely scattered between the islands. While most Clevelanders now going up to the Bay own their own cottages, or are members of clubs or prefer some one of the small hotels, still to me nothing has quite displaced the charm of the more primitive sail boat moving aimlessly here and there, with tent pitched on clean smooth rock, far from other human habitation, and the deep luxurious sleep under net defense against stinging mosquito! It was after one of these rather thrilling trips that my good wife and pal wrote for a Sunday issue of the Plain Dealer an article for the guidance of others contemplating [237] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND like adventure. As incidents of this sort almost thirty years ago suggested summer life in Georgian Bay to many Cleve- land people, and had much to do with forming the large colony in and about Sans Souci and Copperhead Island, I quote some of the passages. Lovers of the great outdoors will find in her little story a true picture of a more primitive Georgian Bay: In the first place it was experimental. My husband was an enthusiastic angler and for several years had spent his annual outing in Georgian Bay. My enthusiasm extended no further than to wel come for him a recreation which proved so beneficial in point of health. A condition of semi-invalidism rendered a change nec essary for me; and when it was proposed by my husband that I accompany him on his next trip, in my condition the proposition seemed startling. Cruising in a sailboat offered no attraction as I had never enjoyed that delightful experience. While living in a tent, exposed to all kinds of weather, subsisting on a diet at times necessarily controlled by circumstances, appalled me, to say nothing of—snakes! I was finally induced to make the trial. As the result was most satisfactory in restoring my health and establishing a love for the true sportsman’s life, which will make me ever a comrade of my husband on these trips, I venture to give our experiences for the benefit of others. There was no fatiguing process getting ready for this trip. As few changes as possible, which included clothing suitable for all kinds of weather, a short skirt, tennis shoes, a broad rimmed straw hat, and I was ready. In our trunks we added a pair of warm blankets, cushions, reading matter for rainy days and completed our outfit at Toronto and Penetangueishene, where we rented a sail- boat and camping outfit procured a guide to accompany us and laid in supplies for the keeping of three persons for three weeks. ****¥* As our sails caught the breeze and we sped away, gradually leaving the little town and its suburbs in the distance, we approached the first of those countless beautiful islands which line the entire east and northern coast of Georgian Bay, islands of every size and shape, extending from a mile to many miles from the main coast into the bay. Some have little or no vegetation, consisting mainly of great rocks of every conceivable size and shape, while others are covered with a thick growth of the balsam pine and smaller under- brush. Sailing among these islands, through winding channels and [238] IN GEORGIAN BAY across small bays, with a stiff breeze at our back, which sent us spinning over the water, every breath brought renewed health and life. I became wildly enthusiastic. I wanted to stop and explore these islands and commence housekeeping. As evening approached we selected one, where a flat, broad rock near the water afforded a good floor for our tent. We soon had the tent up, our beds in order and then for the first meal on the rocks! This I proposed to cook myself. I was ready for the first “good meal” in months; and when it was cooked, served on our little plain table, in our tin dishes, did ever any food taste as good? Our arrangement for cooking was an ingenious device of our guide. Two iron bars about two inches in width and three feet in length were placed parallel the two ends resting on stones. Fire was built underneath, and this gave ample room for several cooking utensils at once, and plenty of hot embers for broiling purposes. We dedicated our first camp with a monstrous bonfire, and then turned in for a night of sweet, undisturbed sleep. After an early breakfast we started out in the rowboat for our first fishing. 1 was not en- thusiastic over the prospect, but went to watch my husband. It was not long before my line was in also; and when I landed a bass whose weight just marked the three-pound notch, after a struggle, which only my pride kept up, I was ready for the sport in earnest. Two hours of this exciting contest, then back to camp, tired.out, with appetites ready for the toothsome meal which soon was prepared. There was little time to be idle in camp, and with the buoyant feeling of renewed health, occupation was desired. The heavier work was all done by the guide, such as bringing the water, build- the fires, preparing the vegetables, etc. Cooking, washing the dishes and keeping the tent in order I did myself. We were always ready for an early breakfast, which was a substantial one, as fol- lows: Oatmeal, bacon and eggs, potatoes, fish, bread, butter and coffee, with warm griddle cakes occasionally, which were always a treat. : For warm bread I experimented as follows, with great success: I prepared baking powder biscuit dough, put it in a pan tightly covered and around the sides of the pan I put a layer of ashes about one inch thick, which were kept hot with glowing embers. In about half an hour we had warm bread of a delightful flavor. I may add that fish can be baked in the same manner. One favorite [239] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND way of cooking fish was boiling it with a small piece of salt pork and a slice of onion in the water. We had fish three times a day during our entire trip, varying the method of cooking, and always relishing it. Our dinners consisted of a light vegetable soup, occasionally a broiled bird, fish, crackers, marmalade, cheese and berries. After an afternoon on the water we wanted a substantial supper, generally a repetition of the dinner. When not busy in camp or fishing I roamed about in search of berries and wild flowers. The novelty of outdoor life, the freedom from all restraint, had a wonderful fascination for me. I dismissed all thought of houses, servants “butchers and bakers,” and thor- ougly lived in the glorious present. Even the dreaded thunderstorms and fear of snakes did not dampen my enthusiasm. It would be strange, camping out for three weeks, if we did not encounter the former; the latter may be seen occasionally on the islands of Georgian Bay, but not very often. Living in a tent for the first time accustoms one to a close observation of the clouds. You wonder whether they will smile or frown and your anxiety increases if at nightfall the aspect seems threatening. Every rope is tested, the flaps of the tent are held securely in place by huge boulders, and in case of an emergency all the rubber outfit, blankets, etc., are placed conveniently near. A light summer rain is enjoyable. You feel so secure in your cot bed or on one of boughs. It is soothing to hear the rain pattering on the canvas close to your head. But when the wind rises, the tent flaps suddenly break loose, a great gust of wind and rain pours in, deluging you, an illumination which suddenly transforms the tent into a seething mass of fire; a deafening crash, and at heart you bid goodbye to the world, when your husband's voice assures you the worst is over, and you wonder what is left out of the wreck. But as was our experience during one severe storm a wise guide was on hand the night before, everything had been securely covered and put in a safe place, and with the first gleam of morning sunshine I was ready to laugh at the night's experience. This naturally brings me to a sketch of Cleveland's participation in Moon River district as it is today. Among the numerous summer inhabitants there I wish especially to speak of M. J. Mandelbaum and members of the Quive club, Deer Horn Lodge and a few others from Cleveland who [240] IN GEORGIAN BAY have changed that section from a wilderness into places of comfort, combined with natural beauty. Some twenty-four years ago when but a half dozen cottages had been built on the islands in that vicinity Mr. Mandelbaum, worn from the work of strenuous and successful interurban railroad promotion, must have reasoned to himself that man, like electric batteries, to keep going, should have an occasional rest and overhauling. Anyway “M. J.” discovered, as had John Farley and some others of us, that Moon District points directly to the stars and health! And one result of Mandelbaum’s speculations upon health, and in railroads, is picturesque Somerset Island upon which, glistening in the sunlight and on nights of storm beckoning welcome from many windows made ruddy from open fires within, looms his large and very pretty lodge named Woryco. Facing in part some groups of smaller islands and the great open water to the south and west, far out in which ply big freighters from Cleveland and other shipping ports, the view is one of never changing splendor. Here for many happy summers and usually surrounded by friends the Mandelbaums have secluded themselves from the erosive attacks of old man Worry. Not long ago I read with absorbing interest a huge pen and pencil written ‘‘log book” in the living room at Woryco. There, spread in original verse, in humorous description and illustrated with fanciful sketches, I found the thoughts of a hundred or more Clevelanders who from time to time were guests. I noticed that a number of these appropriately pay tribute to M. J.’s “chum” sister, Mrs. Sarah M. Baker, during all these years charmingly associated with him in the midsummer trips to this haven of peace and rest. As an example of the light and airy expressions in the “log” influenced by surroundings such as Somerset I republish some verses by the late Frank N. Wilcox, lawyer, artist and [241] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND poet, beloved by a host of Cleveland friends. There had been very close and sympathetic comradery between M. J. Mandelbaum and Frank Wilcox and in the earlier years Frank was always a part of the family gatherings at Woryco. The big fish thus embalmed in verse was caught one summer by Wilcox and three companions, and still hangs in all its fierce splendor over a fireplace in the dining room of the lodge: THE LAY OF THE “LUNGE" Whence and what are you, monster grim and great? Sometimes we think you are a Syndicate,” For if our quaint cartoonists be but just You have some features of the modern “Trust.” A wide, ferocious and rapacious jaw, A vast, insatiate and expansive craw; And like the “Trust,” your chiefest aim and wish Was to combine in one all smaller fish. And all the lesser fry succumbed to fate, Whom you determined to consolidate. Again to both, a fact in common note; It is on water that you both do float. A question we propound and answer want; Did God create you, or did J. Pierpont? Again we judge from your sardonic smile, Your ample girth, your nerve and general style, The way you “bossed” your precinct—"Lungy,” say! Were you a politician in your day? One fact would seem to prove this to the full To this we'll swear: You had an awful pull. This thought occurs: Perhaps it was your fate To be the High Chief Walking Delegate, The Muck-a-muck, pig-headed and self-willed Of ye most ancient, ye scale-maker’s guild. One thing is certain, High and Mighty Pike, Hell's out for noon, when you conclude to strike! You seem a dragon, lacking claw and wing, Yet many longed to get you on the string. What e’er you are, so villainous your looks, It is no wonder that you got the hooks. [242] IN GEORGIAN BAY What e’er you are, you've finished, and your fate Suggests a moral for the greedy great; A moral that the cautious all should heed, There is dire danger in much over-greed; Temptation to o'er-reach the wise will check, You over-reached and got it in the neck! On another island near Sans Souci, owned by the Qui Vive club of Cleveland, is a commodious club house first occupied in 1898. The charter members, once banded together in a bowling club of the same name fraternizing in old Turn Hall, were: Ernest Mueller, Phil Lehr, W. C. Pollner, Fred Leick, Rudolph Mueller, August Zwierlein, Henry Brockhausen, Julius Mueller, J. H. Burns and J. P. McGill. The years have invaded the ranks, until today the Qui Vive club membership consists of Ernest Mueller, J. H. Burns, Herman Schmidt, Paul Schmidt, H. C. Briszants, John I. Nunn, Omar Mueller, Curt D. Mueller and Julius Mueller. On a little gem of an island called Copperhead, almost in the open and a mile west of Sans Souci, is a small hotel gradually developed from a fishing shanty many years ago by one Archie Campbell. Every summer it has a horde of Cleveland anglers as guests. And speaking of Georgian Bay as a health resort! Dr. E. C. Konrad, himself a black bass fan who rustles the poor fishes from dawn to dark and while up there each summer is sympathetically a medical god to many an overfed and ailing Indian, recently reminded me of some afflicted Clevelanders whose cases I before knew something about. “There was H. C. Lang of traction interests,” said the Doc to me. “One summer I visited him in a local hospital, and convinced his doctors that a trip to his former fishing grounds in the Moon River country would do him more good than all the man made cures known to civilization. When he arrived at Copperhead he was a very sick man but in ten [243] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND days was out all day long fishing and helping to eat Archie Campbell out of house and home, so to speak!” “Lang’s a pretty healthy specimen of vigorous manhood now,” I volunteered. “Yes, and there was the case of Harry J. Stiles of the Willard battery bunch,” resumed Doc. “‘Overworked, nerves shattered, he had spent a lot of time at seaside resorts and with us doctors. Finally I induced him to try the simple Georgian Bay treatment. His return to robust health while up there was something miraculous, and nothing could bribe him and Mrs. Stiles, herself a mighty expert with rod and reel, from spending at least three weeks at Copperhead. And there was George B. Merrell. Run down in health, I ordered him to the fish country where the first two weeks he gained thirteen pounds and is now an annual and devastating item at that old hotel table! One year I took along a Cleveland youth named Martin J. Hess whose father had spent practically a fortune in the hope of regaining the boy's health. In a few days Martin was acting as my guide, and eventually was restored to normal.” Indeed, I could myself narrate many incidents of the kind coming to my attention over the years I summered at the Bay, but this chapter is not intended to be an advertisement of Georgian Bay as a cure-all. Three or four years ago a group of men who are determined that the pursuit of mere wealth and fame must not interfere too much with healthful pleasures bought a pretty island also close to Sans Souci upon which was already a house of some eighteen rooms. This they remodeled and christened Deer Horn Lodge. The owners are Ed. H. Krueger, Fred F. Klingman, Harry F. Newell, J. C. Hipp and Harry G. Smith of Cleveland and Charles E. Heath and P. H. and H. F. [244] IN GEORGIAN BAY Root of Plymouth, Ohio. With families and guests the summer parties there run as high as thirty or forty, with fish and snake stories correspondingly large. Great is Georgian Bay, where so many happy Clevelanders indulge habits of indolence, refresh their youth and unbridle their imagination! [245] CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX QUAINT PERSONALITY Local Characters Thought Eccentric But Some Of Whom Had Much To Do With Building Cleveland Every community has its characters who because of some outstanding form of eccentricity impress themselves on the public mind. Cleveland has had within the period I am telling you about a number in this class who were vastly helpful to the city. When Conrad (‘‘Coony’’) Mizer, ~ clerking in the old Henry Beckman clothing store on lower Superior street, first began to visit the local newspaper offices and bore us with what was going on at his “Anthropological Society’’ we classified him with the other cranks seeking publicity. But when, a few years later, Coony developed his idea of using the public parks for band concerts, May pole festivities and other events delighting thousands of adults and children his eccentricity was lost sight of, and he became a very significant and useful factor in local news channels. And so it was in even greater degree with good old “Father” H. M. Addison, the moving spirit in forming the Early Settlers’ Association, and the man who conceived a local Fresh Air Camp for sick children out on the then sparsely settled Woodland Hills. Toiling daily sharpening cutlery, going from house to house the city over earning his living in the humblest way, he had dreams of helping those still poorer than himself. Little real money came to him during the first years of that modest tent covered summer home for suffering tots, but of newspaper publicity the old gentleman never lacked. I see him again as he would come into the newspaper office, tired from a day of toil, and, [246] QUAINT PERSONALITY always welcome, appropriating an empty desk to write an item for his beloved enterprise out on the hills. There was a night when the city editor beckoned me into his room where a half dozen reporters were hammering away on their typewriters and there, sitting on a chair with his old grayed head resting on one arm on the desk was Father Addison sound asleep. Leaning against the desk the shabby umbrella he seldom separated himself from was draining itself upon the floor, and upon his face was a peaceful smile that wotted not of a stormy night without. Perhaps he was dreaming of that fat sum of $100,000 that later on was contributed by J. H. Wade to set his Fresh Air Camp solidly upon its feet! Here in our own Cleveland lived and labored a man who, knowing by experience the hardships of the struggle many have to make for mere existence, could commiserate others and work overtime to alleviate distress. Never for him was there allurement to pile dollars into the making of a big personal fortune. Having, indeed, no ability in that direction he did the next best thing by enticing money from the pockets of others to carry out a splendid vision of brightening the lives of little children. Some called him “odd” which in a way he was. But it was in his case the oddity of a simple old heart and the eccentricity of a very noble mind. Is it any wonder Cleveland has a reputation for public benevolence and sympathy when it was founded by the Addison type of pioneers? Even Annie the Newspaper Girl contributed something to give Cleveland a more metropolitan air. In truth she was the local advance agent of bobbed hair and of feminine dress reform. Many of you will recall sad faced Annie who, coming here many years ago from Berlin Heights to sell rather mournful poems of her own origination, remained to [247] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND peddle newspapers on the corner of Public Square and Ontario street. She regularly dressed in a man’s suit of coarse heavy white flax, and about all that differentiated her in appearance from the outing girl of today was that Annie wore the same suit the year around. The afternoon cries of Annie of “Penny Press! Penny Press! First Edition!” were never as hard to listen to as the fog horn ballahooing of a later type of newspaper street salesmen. An incident in the eccentric career of little Annie coming under my personal notice reflected a good deal of credit upon that rather solemn visaged old gentleman who founded the Southworth grocery store on Ontario street. It occurred on a November afternoon when we were getting the first flakes of snow and Ontario street, wind swept from the lake, was no pleasant place of loiter. I happened to be inside the store of E. R. Hull 8 Dutton across the street from the Southworth grocery talking advertising to J. C. McWatters, the manager. On her corner with a black slouched hat pulled down over her ears and kicking together her feet to keep them warm was Annie lustily calling the “Fourth Edishun!”’ Presently we saw Southworth leave his store and walk to the corner where after a moment of conversation he came across the street to the Hull building with Annie in tow. “I want an overcoat for this girl,” he said to McWatters, in his dignified and solemn manner. “A woman's cloak wouldn't interest her, you know.” I recall that the old gentleman counted out forty dollars for the purchase and Annie passed from the store with a thick comfortable masculine outer garment reaching to the top of her ears and at the base covering entirely the white stockings, alone of female dress she had retained when adopting men’s clothing. So, by disregarding the jeers of boys, the humorous observations of men and the shrugs of women who looked upon her with disapproval, meek little [248] QUAINT PERSONALITY Annie in her manly costume pointed the way in Cleveland to greater freedom and comfort in feminine wearing apparel! Another local character perhaps more crude than eccentric and a whirlwind in action was “Al” R. Rumsey, once on the police force, who in later years made a fortune through wise investment founded upon large earnings as a sort of overlord to members of an association of Cleveland vesselmen. Once operating a gymnasium for the physical development of rich patrons, Al was withal very democratic in taste and, himself a champion wrestler, a patron of manly fistic sports. His valor in this direction was brought into play in many pitched battles during times of labor troubles on the docks, from which he usually emerged proudly triumphant. Indeed Al was so vain of these fist fights he frequently brought stories of them to the newspapers, and felt a little hurt when they were ignored. I recall that he once held a grievance against the paper I was with when it failed to join in holding him up in print as unfair to labor. “Why don’t you give me a trimming like the other papers?” he said to me, and at the time his disappointment was so keen he threatened to keep dock news from George Callahan, our marine editor. Al was a great personal adver- tiser. Coming early in life under the influence of Chaplain Jones of the Floating Bethel devoted to the welfare of sailors Al, thereafter a strict temperance man, took a pugnacious attitude toward all mariners who loved red liquor, and many of his fist battles as Master of the Docks were really intended to be of a reformatory nature. “If you can’t reason em out of the habit you've got to knock ’em out of it!” he would explain in excuse of his rather primitive methods of enforcing sobriety. Honest and industrious, Rumsey gained the good will and friendship of [249] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND all the vessel owners. At the end of a particularly busy marine season he brought to the office one evening a letter he had received from them with a check for $2500 and instruc- tions to go away somewhere for a good time. - “And I'm going around the world!” he shouted to the assembled staff, who were wondering what all the excitement was about. “Now all I want you to do, Kennedy, is to give me a letter making me a Plain Dealer correspondent!” Exacting a promise that he would send back some letters, which we assumed would, if ever received, and after necessary eliminations, provide some original and humorous ‘‘copy,” he was given the usual credentials. Weeks later I got from him a solitary letter written in Japan, but as the night life of that alluring land had been done to death by New York correspondents, and in comic opera, it did not appear in the Plain Dealer columns. Besides, the office censor probably would have obliterated everything it contained above the signature. “Peter Carroll's Bread Line” was a holiday institution. Its headquarters were in the Hollenden news stand of Quinn © Harris. Through his own and the generosity of numerous frequenters of the Hollenden Peter for several years held annual distributions of food to the needy from ‘the barns of the Cleveland Transfer Company where he had risen from a stable boy to the position of manager. Peter was an original character whose outward eccentricity took the form of constantly chewing an unlighted stogie and appearing never to recognize the proximity of a big white bulldog named “Bum” which kept continually at his heels. Not having married and therefore deprived of the perplexing care of children, Peter lavished the good things of life upon “Bum,” who ate of the best, including beefsteaks, [250] QUAINT PERSONALITY and even had several of his teeth filled with gold at consider- able expense to his master and risk to the dentist. Beginning in a holiday season of unusual distress among the very poor Peter's bread line in later years was stretched to include such delicacies as poultry, hundreds of the baskets coming out of the old Transfer barn being well loaded with various articles of food and each noisily proclaimed by the cackling of a chicken. Those who had a preference could take home a ham, but live poultry usually had the call. Local newspapers themselves have furnished several rather quaint personalities, one of whom was better known to an older generation. Maurice Perkins was among the first reporters employed on the “Penny Press” in the Eighties. Droll of speech and careless of dress, his writings were equally droll, but always in an original vein. No reporter known to Cleveland has ever possessed quite his facility in weaving a commonplace news item into a brilliant and finished contribution. [I recall a two column article in his paper done in the early Eighties. The subject was not news at all. The average reporter of today, drilled into the habit of disdain of anything even resembling the commonplace would never have thought of basing a story upon the habits, manifold hues and eccen- tricities of butterflies! This is a jazz reading age, and newspaper reporters evidently are expected to know it. Yet, after Maurice Perkins had spent a day or two inspecting some frames in the old Historical Society rooms, and reading up on the subject of the butterfly he gave Cleveland a story so fascinating that readers for the moment forgot all about current crime and criminals, divorce cases and politics.. Going unhurriedly about town, stooping of shoulder, clad in a well worn ulster nearly reaching his heels, and always [251] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND with a big bundle of newspapers or books tucked under his left arm, the gaunt figure of Maurice became in time very familiar to the public. And speaking of butterflies, his transformation in the matter of dress and how it came about is the real story of Maurice Perkins I started out to tell. If ever Cleveland developed a ‘‘go-getter’” anywhere his equal I have still to meet up with him. After several years with the Press, Maurice surprised us all by quitting his job and going into the whirl of New York newspaperdom. So careless of personal appearance while here that the other reporters by comparison felt almost foppish, this Cleveland moth caught in the spell of the greater metropolis suddenly branched out into sartorial splendor. Business taking me to New York, and hearing that Maurice was working for the Evening Sun but recently started by Dana, I visited the local rooms, and met coming out—not the Maurice of old, but a sprightly, erect, cleanly shaven and much younger Maurice clad in a prince albert coat, neatly figured vest, well creased trousers and with shining silk hat in hand. Prosperity, a new vision of life and the more cultural demands of Gotham were his. Already a star reporter for the Sun and on a space-pay basis, then meaning great riches to New York newspaper writers, Maurice Perkins had earned it all by accomplishment of the impossible It seems that city editors in the metropolis had a stony hearted way of getting rid of applicants for reporting jobs by giving them an assignment to view and write up their impressions of New York from a perch in the belfry of St. Paul's church. This looked easy, but up to the time Maurice asked for work in the Sun's local rooms it never had been done. Stringent rules on the part of Episcopal authority absolutely forbade any such visits to the peaked heights of that church tower. Those who in the past had attempted a news seeking mission of the kind, had, after [252] QUAINT PERSONALITY being shifted to one secretary and another, and from one church trustee to another all over greater New York, given the ‘‘assignment’” up in despair, never returning again to the newspaper offices guilty of this offense against ambitious youth. It was a surprised city editor who a few days later found Maurice Perkins, a Western Unknown, again confronting him at his desk in the Sun building. His surprise increased when, glancing through a batch of manuscript the visitor thrust in his hand, he found one of the most absorbing stories a New York newspaper ever printed. Sitting, as he described it, among the cobwebs of the historical belfry, Maurice, viewing the wide spread of visible Manhattan Island, drew also a picture of what probably was doing in mansion, hovel, and financial mart that in humor and pathos became a newspaper classic there. And it quickly made of Maurice Perkins a star reporter in a city of strangers. [253] CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN MEN OF THE “CLOTH” Cleveland Religious Leaders Assist In Solving Many Community Problems As my memory runs backward to early newspaper report- ing I find myself reviewing the elements going to make up the religious activities of an earlier Cleveland. There was Dr. George L. Spinney of the Woodland Presbyterian church, a real progressive, for was he not the first preacher here to ride a treacherous bicycle? This I know, for I was a member, not of his popular church but of probably the first local bicycle club, consisting of John Davis and E. P. Hunt, own- ers of an Ontario street hardware store and Cleveland's original dealers in “bikes,” J. H. and George Collister, two of their salesmen, J. H. Kennedy, Dr. Spinney and this auto- biographer. And, too, my first church newspaper reporting had to do with the old Woodland avenue pulpit when one Sunday evening Hon. Richard C. Parsons, the Chesterfield of local lawyers, “held forth” with an eloquent plea for Divine Mercy instead of the other kind lawyers seek for clients in human courts of justice. At the old Stone Church down on the Public Square, now known as ‘“The Church of the Open Door,” the paper boys frequently reported the sermons of Dr. Hiram C. Haydn, afterwards to become president of Western Reserve Univer- sity. This historic church was then largely peopled by mem- bers of the older Cleveland families, whose carriages drawn by high stepping horses creaked of prosperity as the rattle of harness came through the open church windows of a quiet Sunday morning. No blaring auto horns disturbed church [254] MEN OF THE “CLOTH” services in those more placid days. Today the morning ser- vices there are broadcast by radio. Out a few blocks further on Euclid avenue in the pulpit of a Baptist church where John D. Rockefeller for so many years conducted the Sunday school, Rev. George Thomas Dowling was then making a reputation as a preacher of sal- vation by the way of the beautiful rite of immersion in water. It was an unregenerate newspaper man in New York who once observed that Dowling’s church in Cleveland furnished living proof that Water and Oil did mix. However, much water has since gone over the wheels of time and now we are await- ing a million dollar combined Baptist church and sky-scrap- ing office building planned by Dr. Bustard and his host of community church workers and to be located not far from the site of the Oil King’s most active religious efforts. In the late Seventies Rev. Frances H. Hosmer had charge of the Church of the Unity, then a very small unit in the liberal religious movement. Meetings were for a long time held in the old Case Hall, on the site of the present post office, until a modest church building was erected on Bolivar Road near Prospect avenue and dedicated to Unitarianism. In a city having a wealth of churches of all the denominations this little edifice, in which gathered those who insisted upon dis- carding all creedal church forms, was almost looked upon as an “outlaw.” Yet Dr. Hosmer, its poet preacher, now an octogenerian in California, lived to see the day when his early charge became an accepted and active member of the Feder- ated Churches of Cleveland. Today, in a larger Unitarian church out Euclid avenue, Rev. Dilworth Lupton, a vigorous defender of social as well as religious liberty, is keeping closely in touch with local current affairs. The First Methodist church, for so many years at the * corner of Euclid avenue and Erie (now East 9th street), had in the Seventies and Eighties, as was the method of all [255] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND the local Methodist churches, its succession of well known ministers. But as that was an era of three years tenure of office for the Methodist preachers it has been difficult to keep in mind their names. Indeed, they were shipped about by the East Ohio Conference from village to city and back again so often it is remarkable they remembered their own names. A Methodist preacher’s son had no more than taken on most of the kids of his parish in fist fights than he was switched to another part of Ohio to begin it all over again. And, it was my village experience that the sons of Methodist ministers are born battlers! What ungodly impulse prompted the sons of laymen to provoke the quarrels I do not know, but to try to lick a preacher’s cub was, in that old district school yard a really moving passion every three years. Per- haps a feeling of resentment against forced church and Sunday school attendance had much to do with it. Returning to Cleveland and to a still later day when the responsibilities of newspaper management fell to my share I was to gain insight to the large place men of the cloth— meaning the heads of religious organizations—fill in com- munity life outside of formal religious activity. I can give space to but a few instances coming closely under my notice, yet these personalities suggest in a way the attitude of the many in helpful civic and social work for Cleveland. There was Father T. P. Thorpe, faithful priest, loyal citizen and kindly of nature, always to be depended upon to represent his church and bishop in any movement of a community nature forwarded here a half century ago. Msgr. George F. Houck, for so many years chancellor of the Cleveland diocese, was ever the good friend of newspaper men in quest of news along Catholic lines. I recall that it was this friendly priest and kindly diplomat who once in early Plain Dealer days disentangled for me a misunder- standing growing out of the papet’s publication of Haggard's [ 256 ] MEN OF THE “CLOTH” romance, “The Count of Montazuma.” The author had taken what was thought to be unwarranted and untruthtful liberties with early Catholic history in Mexico, and Father McMahon, then editor of the Catholic Universe, resented the newspaper's publication. Chancellor Houck acted as “peace maker,” and until his death I had no better friend in contemporary journalism than Father McMahon whose writings in the Universe did much to advance a civic spirit in Cleveland. Rabbi Moses J. Gries, so long in charge of the Temple, did not live to see one great project of his long years here fulfilled—the completion of that splendid edifice adjoining Wade Park recently dedicated to religious and social activity. When a very young man Rabbi Gries came here and took on an obligation such as usually is entrusted only to men of much longer experience there were some who wondered. But when older heads in all the denominations fell under the spell of his personality and when his influence in works of all kinds contributing to the city’s welfare began to be felt, wonderment gave way to a very keen appreciation of his gifts. Cleveland never had, in or out the pulpit, a citizen more loyal to its interests. As a newspaper editor who frequently had his wise counsel and always his sympathy in the some- times distracting processes of ‘‘getting things straight in print’ I have ever entertained for Moses J. Gries a profound feeling of obligation and respect. By a coincidence—which, after all is not entirely such when one finds that nearly all the great men in Jewish religious leadeship have risen from obscure surroundings—the successor to Rabbi Gries in the Temple also began his life work among the very poor. Rabbi Abba Hillel Silver, eloquent of speech, a deep thinker, tolerant of all religious views, alive and loyal to community [257] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND welfare, now is performing a wide service to a much greater Cleveland. Going back some twenty years, I pleasantly recall another of the clergy who then began to take a very lively interest in local affairs. Msgr. Francis T. Moran of St. Patricks church, naturally a loyal “West Sider,” has never drawn any imaginary city boundary lines when there was something doing to help the community as a whole. Also rarely gifted in lines oratorical and of commanding figure, his arguments and advice have been found rather irresistible. I recall that some twenty years ago we had a misunderstanding over some ethical newspaper commission, calling from Father Moran a very warm criticism. That sort of incident is of daily occurrence in newspaper offices, but in the case of Dr. Moran I made an exception to the general rule of placation by calling at his home to argue the case. Once there I succumbed to the lure of his personal magnetism to the extent of actually admitting the newspaper was in the wrong! Like all fair minded persons who, coming off your victor feel rather in your debt, Dr. Moran was thereafter one of the best of friends to my newspaper and myself. When it came to building the new west side Carnegie library I had, as president of the library board that year, his very helpful co-operation—that is, he and committees of the board of library officials did the work and the ‘‘autobiographer,’”’ busy in his newspaper office, did what was left of the co-operating! There is Rev. Dan F. Bradley, still young in spirit, whose institutional church on Cleveland's south side was, I think, about the first here to introduce a full line of mental and physical attractions outside of the fervors of unadulterated religion. It was the modern idea, and caught on amazingly with the young. In all public work ‘Dan’ Bradley is found right up in the front pew, ready to grab the hat and help swell the collection. [258] MEN OF THE ‘“‘CLOTH” Another Cleveland spiritual minister who enjoys laying aside pressing church duties to mingle with his fellows of the larger world is the new Catholic bishop. I call Bishop Schrembs new only in the sense that in a book dealing with fifty years of Cleveland stress and turmoil, it should be recorded that his advent here only three or four years back did bring a new and invigorating addition to the soldiers enlisted in community welfare. Profoundly the ecclesiastic of course, yet I wonder just how much a churchman of high estate such as Bishop Schrembs realizes the newer respect for religion he creates when he rubs elbows with the world and performs the part of the citizen? When Rev. Paul F. Sutphen came many years ago to Cleveland and into the pulpit of the old Woodland Avenue Presbyterian church he, too, promptly sought the enlarged fields of community service. One of the stirring recollections I have of the world war period were his speeches in the Hippodrome theater when the city went the length in its quest for moral and financial aids. Since coming here Dr. Sutphen has had his mind fully engrossed in the cares of two larger parishes, but never so full he couldn’t find time for activity in social service. Rev. Joel B. Hayden, among the younger ministers, who more recently occupied that venerable pulpit in the old Woodland avenue church, is, too, an aggressive and helpful factor in the solving of welfare problems. And the same may be said of another sterling spoke in the local ministerial wheel the city is soon to lose to Philadelphia, Rabbi Louis Wolsey of the Euclid Avenue Temple. They tell me that the late addition to the Temple building is a revelation in Sunday schooling and church institutional facility. Vigorous in the prosecution of his own work, Rabbi Wolsey is always counted upon to take a leading part in all the work benefiting the community. [259] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND The men of the cloth referred to in this chapter are, of course, typical of the influence the church directly exerts in public welfare. To fairly present in an individual way those who have done and are doing a big share in this branch of Cleveland activity would require more printer's ink than I can afford to spread in this volume. The task, a very pleasant one, may better be left to Rev. E. R. Wright, director of the Federated Churches of Cleveland, or some one more churchly than this writer. Rev. Wright, you may or may not know, was the first religious editor on a Cleveland newspaper—professionally, not spiritually speaking. I have associated with quite a number of editors who succeeded in ‘‘keeping the faith” in spite of their surroundings. Some sixteen years ago Nat Wright of the Leader enticed Rev. Wright away from a small Presbyterian charge and for many months the Leader's columns fairly bristled with interesting church news. Whether the office atmosphere was too worldly or the call of the cloth more clamorous I know not, but later Rev. Wright helped to organize a church federation which his newspaper publications had done much to mold, and there he is, and doing good work. Perhaps one of the best single jobs thus far done by Director Wright and his supporters was keeping ranting Billy Sunday out of Cleveland. The Chamber of Commerce has always had a fair sprinkling of the clergy among its most active members. Before Rev. Minot O. Simons of the First Unitarian church, twenty years in Cleveland, left town for Unitarian head- quarters in Boston, he had been a director of the chamber, as also were Rev. Dan F. Bradley and Dr. A. B. Meldrum. Scanning the records I find the following are at this time members of the commerce body: Rev. David Bovington, [260] MEN OF THE ‘‘CLOTH” Rev. Dan F. Bradley, Rev. Walter R. Breed, Rev. W. W. Bustard, Dr. Gilbert P. Jennings, Msgr. Thomas C. O'Reilly, Rt. Rev. Joseph Schrembs, Rev. Henry Harris Trotter, Dean Francis S. White, Rev. E. R. Wright. [261] CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT SOME CLEVELAND MAGIC A Recent Stroll Along Euclid Avenue Which Suggested Several Rather Astonishing Contrasts Not long ago I got out of a Euclid avenue street car at East 12th street, and, borne with the whirl of human traffic landed in front of Sterlings. In that modern ‘emporium’ of fascination to blushing bride I did not seek for the ‘‘magic carpet’ or any other of the thousand weaves there displayed to carry me back to an earlier generation when all along here on Euclid avenue towered, and sometimes frowned, man- sions of the rich, with printed warnings to the curious to keep out of the driveways. When I looked across to the big Halle building my memory picked up those two Halle boys, Sam and “S. P.”” as I first saw them in a little single front store on lower Superior street. As successors there to that sunny old Clevelander, Captain T. S. Paddock, dealer in furs, they had gained the right by financial capture to exhibit as their own a very large black stuffed bear that for years had stood ferociously guard- ing the entrance. What has become of the bear I know not, but I am sure that if it then felt disdainful of these young and unknown interlopers in the store of that old captain of the Cleveland Grays it would today be a little chesty to find them among the merchant princes of America! Over on another corner with rather somber exclusiveness and with a few graying heads in the front windows the Union Club building of today but recalled to me when the fathers and grandfathers of these youngish-old men passed in and out the first home of the club, down on the avenue ad- [262] ia SOME CLEVELAND MAGIC joining the Catholic convent and a little east of the present 6th street. I bethought me of numerous members, W. J. McKinnie, J. W. Broadman, Stoughton Bliss, Marcus A. Hanna. Judge Sherlock, J. Andrews, Dr. Dudley Allen, John Huntington, Virgil P. Kline, General James Barnett, William Bingham, Fayette Brown, Judge J. C. Hutchins and a host of others who contributed so much to the making of Cleve- land. Anchored at 12th street and no doubt feeling safe from much business intrusion for many years to come, these Union Club members I am told already are inquiring of each other, “Where do we go from here, boys?” Going out Euclid avenue a little distance and turning around Cleveland's first flatiron building I glanced across to Huron road. Where thirty years ago I lived for a time at Huron Terrace, a very pleasant boarding house of the older type, there now stands a highly ornate block occupied by the House of Dreher, a music store the longest in continuous busi- ness here. Henry is still in charge, but Oscar, the brother, ‘who assisted him in building a real commercial monument to a father who helped to pioneer the musical instrument business in Cleveland is no longer with the living. As this is for the most part a friendly talk all within the Cleveland family, I want to add from personal knowledge of the Dreher boys running back forty years or more that they ever were— as Chauncey Depew once said of the elder Steinway— ‘like their pianos, grand, square and upright!” Returning to Euclid avenue and dodging automobiles the stores of Kinney © Levan, Cowell 8 Hubbard, and The Higbee Company, all close to Playhouse Square, also brought to me recollections of a much earlier commercial Cleveland. George W. Kinney was selling crockery from a small store near the lower end of Superior street when as a youth this writer was clerking in the Leader business office. [263] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND Next thing I knew George, with his partner Levan, the latter like most bachelors a man of few words because un- practiced, had secured the old Morgan © Root wholesale dry goods building on Bank street and was shooting traveling salesmen all over Ohio. Of the business peppy kind, and at the same time the Adonis of the younger Cleveland merchants, Kinney captured wholcsale and retail buyers of both sexes to an extent that made of his the largest concern of its kind in this part of the country. The newer store on Euclid avenue of vast acreage is a dream of splendor and particality. Then I followed the crowd going into Higbee’s. Once inside I might as well have been in Field's in Chicago or Lord’s in New York so far as seeing any of the older and familiar faces behind the counters or for that matter among the shop- pers. Down on Superior street forty-five years ago in the original Hower @ Higbee store at the corner of Seneca street you old timers who called in to trade seldom missed seeing the two proprietors busy at their desks in a small partitioned space in the center of the first floor. J. M. Hower, of very spare figure and cleanly shaven face despite that it was an era of abundant whiskers. E. C. Higbee, full bearded, probably be- cause of a modesty that hesitated to go against the conven- tions. Both clean cut and progressive business men even in that far away day they were striving to give Cleveland a high type of dry goods store. We called the sales people ‘‘clerks.” And mostly they were men. The senior partner dying in middle age, the burden of management fell upon Mr. Higbee who later had the support of well trained assistants, includ- ing his son, William T., and H. Mierke, who still are execu- tives in the business. Opposite the Statler at 12th street, one of the many first class hotels now going to make Cleveland a city of national conventions, I set my watch by the clock of The Webb C. [264] SOME CLEVELAND MAGIC Ball Company. You former Clevelanders who mistakenly moved away from here a generation ago probably did your watch adjusting at the window of the Ball store on lower Superior. This Euclid avenue store is a much more imposing affair. Its founder recently passed away ripe in years. I have in my pocket one of the first of his successful timepieces. You will recall that Webb C. Ball built a watch so accurate that he was honored by nearly all the great railroads of the country by appointment as official time adjuster. It was an office with no attaching salary but I know how proud “Webb C.”” was of the distinction. It chanced that early in his career as a local jeweler he pub- lished in the daily newspapers a series of advertisements which I wrote for him advising the purchase of diamonds as an in- vestment. This is referred to here for the reason that as a part of the “magic” of increasing values he told me three years ago that he had just bought back at a 400 per cent advance several of the stones he then sold! There indeed was an in- stance of “‘truthful advertising!” Past the modern stores in that section of the avenue from East 20th westward to Public Square my rambles were inter- rupted at East 9th street while I again gaped around in the corridors of the new twenty story Union Trust building. If even New York bankers are envious of this structure an old Clevelander has an excuse to feel appalled at its size and beauty. It was not much of a corner for business when fifty years ago Dr. Sapp monopolized it for a small dental office. Then between thirty and forty years ago the site was built upon for a rather heroic and melodramatic indoor show known as a “cyclorama’” where one walked up three stories in a rotunda to look at canvas battle fields. That venture didn’t earn any real money, so its owners made it over into the Lennox office building but recently torn down. [265] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND Adjoining this colossal Union Trust building on the east are some very large and attractive retail stores in the com- pleted block started many years ago by John Harkness Brown, whose father, H. M. Brown, pioneered the dry goods business on Ontario street south of Public Square. Like the great figure of history whose name he bears, our John Brown, too, had a vision. It was to make of Euclid avenue around Erie street, now East 9th street, the great retail center it since actually has become. His ambition took him several years ahead of successful retail possibilities, but with fixed and courageous belief in his theory John invested largely and of his own money in real estate. That some of his holdings panned out profit I do not doubt. Living now in New York and I understand very successful in later financial undertakings he can afford to look back to his Cleveland operations with complacency. The last time I saw John—I call him that for I knew him when he used to come to his father's store in knee pants from school and “bone’’ the old gentleman for pocket money—he told me of once taking his grandfather Harkness’ old oil partner, J. D. Rockefeller, out for an automobile ride over the east side of Cleveland. It was before J. D. sold his stables and began to buy his own gasoline for horseless carriages. When Brown landed him at the Forest Hill home Rocke- feller walked carefully around the automobile examining its points and wound up by remarking, “You have a novel ma- chine there, John. It rides easy. Must have cost you a lot of money. I think I'll buy one myself when I can afford it.” The Stone shoe store, bigger than ever and now with branches, furnished still another touch of magic to this Eu- clid avenue of ours which is destined to be known the world over as one of the greatest of American business streets. There was a time when N. O. Stone, its founder, a livewired, ner- vously energetic young merchant himself fitted customers in [266 ] SOME CLEVELAND MAGIC a small shoe store also on lower Superior. Like most of out successful people he started out weak of purse. And, as in the case of Webb C. Ball, he had a wife willing to help him out in his ambition by keeping his books. The Stones boarded at the old Weddell House at the corner of Bank street, which in those days divided honors with the Kennard as Cleveland's best in the hotel line. Still another evidence of this business magic in Cleveland, transforming little stores into big ones and extending the pathways of swarming shoppers to the east, along Euclid, Superior and Prospect avenues, struck me with especial force when for a moment I paused in front of Taylors. This at- tractive building covers the site of the old convent on Euclid avenue and much more. The original Taylor wholesale and retail store was on Euclid close to the Square. Two fine Scotchmen of middle age then constituted the dry goods firm of Taylor © Kilpatrick. They looked Scotch and there was no mistaking the Scotch accent. And they had all of the in- dustry, thrift and square standards of dealing that is supposed to go with descendants of that sometimes maligned land of extreme frugality. When the founders of the Taylor store passed on it was left in the hands of Livingston Taylor, son of the senior partner, taking on the title of The Wm. Taylor © Son's Company. But very briefly, for “Livy,” an exceedingly fine youth—I remember him as a Sunday school scholar out Woodland avenue—soon passed along the same inevitable route. A circumstance invaluable to the perpetuation of the Taylor pioneering in this line of Cleveland activity was that Livingston, the last of the family, left a young wife, formerly Sophia Strong, who had the courage and the capacity, not only to carry on the Taylor business tradition but eventually and under very sweeping competition to build still greater. I have never met this successful Cleveland woman who for ten years was at the head of the Taylor business, but I know [267] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND that, after her husband’s death it began to come to us in the newspaper offices how, after personally taking charge of a business that had already become of great magnitude, she was putting to work ideas about department stores so valuable and successful as to startle all her male contemporaries. And I am sure that her example greatly encouraged the young women of Cleveland who have embarked in business life. Maj. Charles H. Strong, her brother, who began work in the store when a mere boy has I understand in recent years relieved Mrs. Taylor from the burden of direct personal management. But a striking chapter of the store's history, and rather bordering upon the romantic in business because so unusual, was woven in it by one of Cleveland's progressive women. A glance at the immense building housing the May Com- pany, reaching from Public Square through to Prospect ave- nue reminded me of a remark of the late Wilbur F. Dutton who, as a partner of E. R. Hull removed the Hull ¥ Dut- ton business across Ontario street to the present May location. Said Dutton, “If I could have held my personal lease to just one small store unit of the May Company’s Euclid avenue site my income from it would be $12,000 a year.” Successful in Western cities the May people many years ago took over the Hull 8 Dutton interests and under the genius of Nate L. Dauby it became the biggest and strongest link in the extensive May interests. And similar things happened at the site of a little store founded by L. A. Bailey near the corner of Ontario street and Prospect avenue. Gone is the old Prospect House once there and prominent among the family hotels of fifty years ago. The great Bailey department store, under the manage- ment of Victor W. Sincere, active in civic life, now covers that and adjacent property. [268] CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE COMES THE “TIMES” Cleveland’s Newer Morning Daily A Creditable Addition To Newspaper Row When in March 1922 a little morning daily called The Commercial timidly edged into the local newspaper row most of us who had had newspaper troubles of our own felt that Samuel Scovil, outwardly its projector, would find its radius of illumination very limited as compared with the lighting wired out from the Cleveland Electric Illuminating Com- pany where he had long been president and manager. In the first place it struck us that a morning newspaper without a Sunday issue, the most profitable part of most morning pub- lications, could hardly be expected ever to succeed financially. And as a double handicap announcement was made that it would be a “business man’s” paper. However, many enter- prises have made good after starting off on the wrong foot. The Cleveland Times, a much more appropriate newspaper name adopted for it last year will, in my opinion, prove no exception to that suggestion. It is now going strong! Scovil’s idea of an appeal to the better intelligence among newspaper readers is apparently so fine in theory that no doubt a large number of his Cleveland friends urged him to keep right on making a paper in which considerable real news was either too greatly minimized or entirely ignored. With a gradual dawning of a new light on the newspaper business the original processes of illumination in the Times office have been vastly broadened until now they are working out there a simple theory which, if persisted in, is very likely to succeed—the production of a wholesome and at the same time an aggressively live and all round daily and Sunday newspaper. [269] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND Starting with Scovil in this morning venture was a news- paper man well known in Ohio from his years of experience as Columbus and Washington correspondent for the Cincin- nati Inquirer and Toledo Blade. His name is O. K. Shiman- sky, and now in general charge of the Times this publisher, so pleasantly indorsed by his initials, is producing a daily paper in which Cleveland has reason to take pride. He is dis- proving the old theory that a morning newspaper cannot cover the news of the world without membership in the As- sociated Press so frequently broadcasted by interested local newspaper owners and publishers. After extinction of the daily issue of the morning Leader there was much speculation by newspaper men and the pub- lic as to just when and how Cleveland would be given another alternative in the morning newspaper field. Away back al- most in village days Cleveland had a choice of two compet- ing morning papers. Many read both of them. And both if properly managed could have made dividends for their own- ers. To buy, after Dan Hanna sold his morning daily Leader to the Plain Dealer, two copies of the latter, one for the home and another for the office, seemed like “rubbing it in.” Of course the soothing argument was advanced that the community would be better served with one morning news- paper output, capable of greater news extension and value. But strangely this appeal or excuse never quite sold itself to me as a newspaper reader, particularly when I could find no very noticeable improvement in the Plain Dealer beyond in- creased advertising following its elimination of the Leader. On the contrary, this destruction of competition for awhile visibly weakened the Plain Dealer's local news. Newspaper men know that keen competition in news getting is the very life and soul of the business, the one great incentive to ac- tivity. [270] Foray Po COMES THE “TIMES” For some reason the public has been under the impression that newspapers were to be considered as having ethics a trifle higher than those of purveyors of the more ordinary neces- sities of life; that for them the aim was not exclusively com- mercial; that to quite an extent and aside from money profit, of course necessary to existence, there was the thought of their educational and protective features. Otherwise there was no very convincing reason why for so many years newspapers had special advantages such as, for instance, the low cost of mailing privileges freely afforded them by the United States government. If the new Cleveland Times aims to be a more constructive element in the newspaper life of Cleveland it will deserve to succeed. I am sure such was the spirit and glory of newspaper men like Horace Greely, George W. Childs, Samuel Bowles, Joseph Medill, Henry Watterson and many another Ameri- can newspaper maker and editor who felt keenly his respon- sibility to the readers of newspapers. I never heard that any of these earlier leaders, though living and toiling in less of a commercial atmosphere, came to want. Their newspapers are still alive, and in most cases are very valuable properties. If the Times can get far enough away from all the class dis- tinctions and become a daily newspaper worthy of a great and intelligent community; if it can hew out a truer line in news- paper conduct between the flesh pots and the purely idealistic; if it can, while having pity for the morons, repudiate the present day newspaper habits of catering to morbidity it will in my humble opinion, be an accepted local newspaper fixture. It is my experience that generally speaking readers take a deep interest in newspaper performance. Why not? The daily paper is very intimately connected with daily life and habit. There have been instances where labor troubles caused the suspension of all daily newspapers in Chicago and New York for days on end, and a chaotic condition followed. I [271] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND recall a priod of this sort in Chicago some years ago, and the difficulties were settled and publication resumed only after the large department stores took a hand in the labor war, and as mediators brought about a satisfactory settlement between the newspapers and their employes. It was found that sales at these stores had fallen away over half because of inability to effectively advertise their daily offerings! The inconven- lence to the reading public was tremendous and could not be measured in dollars. Even with the radio service of today we would make a poor fist of trying to get on without the newspapers. Because of this intimate relation between the newspaper and the public I think the latter is fully justified in demanding the best of newspaper service. The Times is trying an ex- periment in the Sunday newspaper field. Personally I think it is again for the moment stepping out on the wrong foot. Shimansky, the publisher, says it is not. He has his own theories for making what is called a “‘tabloid.”” As a con- firmed reader of all local newspapers and having a fair knowl- edge of the history of “‘tabloids’’ and the experience of Amer- ican publishers who have tried them out, am only biding the time when the Sunday Times equally with its bright week day issues will have all the attractions and advantages of the regular size to which readers are accustomed. It would take too much space in my little book to point out all the advantages. To say the least, if it is to be tabloid at all, then it should be tabloid seven days in the week. Judging from the vigor with which it is going into the newspaper whirl of late I predict that there may eventually also be in the Times a broader view of political situations. This is the editorial enigma perhaps hardest to solve in news- paper policy and conduct. It will require more than a fair and faithful publication of all sides of the news in political ac- tivity to assure newspaper readers that a newspaper wishes [272] COMES THE ‘TIMES’ them the best. If a time comes in its struggles for newspaper place when the Cleveland Times will take the lead, and dras- tically, in repudiation of error, and in encouragement of re- forms in the Republican party, instead of devoting most of its energies to the mistakes in opposing parties, it will, in my opinion, come nearer to performing a valuable public service, and be entitled to the rewards of large circulation, advertis- ing and profit. A great newspaper leads its party—is never, against its own convictions led by it. | 2738 | CHAPTER FORTY IN SOCIETY From The Days Of New Year’s Calling To Modern Whist, Flappers and Prohibition Forty and fifty years ago Cleveland had a tacit social set of real “belongers” made up from a class of wealthy citizens as a rule too well bred to be unpleasantly ostentatious. This was before we knew anything about a ‘“‘smart set.” True, there were what are known as “fast sets” that got nowhere with the well bred set. Those in society tell me that today, largely due to the rapid accumulation of fortunes, the sets have become rather indiscriminately comingled. It is said, however, that some of the older families still frown upon the newer association. They refer to them as “climbers,” and ex- cepting upon occasions out of the ordinary decline to co- ordinate. A half century ago Euclid avenue, Prospect street, and Franklin and Jennings avenues over the river housed most of the recognized ‘society’ of that period. If a family had plenty of money, employed a coachman and two or three maids; if it had a background of good breeding outwardly expressed, and a reputation for decently gotten riches; and if it lived on one of these streets it was in society! New Years day was an event of great social significance. The two morn- ing newspapers each published a page or so of ‘at home’ in- vitations sent in by hundreds of hostesses. For that one day the bars of society were in a large measure taken down. It was a day and long evening given over to good fellowship. Tom and his friends Dick and Harry if they owned no cat- riage or sleigh could patronize a livery stable and, armed with a newspaper, visit briefly many people they never knew. [274] IN SOCIETY Callers from within and out of society managed together to get through their entire lists, if wise enough to omit much of the good cheer offered by numerous punch bowls. Conversation in the average society of those days, aside from the more intimate personal gossip, current fashions and the weather, included some learned references to Burns, Dickens, Thackeray and Scott. Also the Americans such as Cooper, Poe, Hawthorne, Whittier and Longfellow, who figured in the prevailing card game of “‘authors’’ got a literary hearing. A few knew something about authors of the Latin countries, and all hands could make talk on the subject of art as visioned in paintings or upon the stage. Most of them, lovers of horseflesh particularly, had been fascinated with Rosa Bonheur’s equine painting in the Metropolitan museum. Booth, McCullough, Clara Morris, the elder Sothern, Frank Mayo, Joseph Jefferson, and little Lotta were stage celebrities at that time and Clevelanders knew all about them. Round waltzing while thought rather daring was indulged in by the youngsters, but the Virginia reel, not quite out of fashion, and the cotillions were most favored. The latter usually were led by some ‘‘scion’’ of a family living upon the streets exclusively inhabited by society. Among the later cot- illion leaders were Harry Devereaux, Frank Billings, Charles C. Bolton, Charles A. Otis, Harry Judd and Belden Seymour the younger, now not so young, or old either. The Cleve- landers then in society used English with a good deal less care- lessness than when hunting the cat at home. A few rolled their “r’s” but for the most part our people compromised the eastern and western forms of accent, thus creating a sort of middle west and swinging language of their own. There were instances where the languid, dragging inter- ludes such as “‘and, ah” and ‘“‘don-ju-know’’ were overheard in the “drawing rooms,” but as a rule Cleveland society folks of the Seventies and Eighties conversed quite naturally and [275] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND without affectation. And so it is today. Nor has Cleveland ever been very much of a “snob” town. Cleveland has plenty of money, which is the basis of the coarser species of snob- bery, yet if the weakness has existed here obnoxiously the past fifty years the fact has largely escaped my notice. Of course there are exceptions. The aristocracy of money which some assert overwhelms the aristocracy of brains probably exists so conspicuously be- cause in America it has been easy to acquire money. The cynic who said that it does not require a very high order of brains to make money might have added that it takes brains and con- siderable self-restraint to prevent the man or woman of great wealth from becoming a snob. Often they are forced into the role. As the people of older countries bend the knee to their hereditary rulers thought to be of superior clay, so the aver- age American kowtows to his fellow of larger means. Of course this habit only helps to confirm the willing snob in his snobbery. I have known even of churches in which the per- son of great money wealth is cultivated as something of very delicate fabric, to be handled with care, glass side up and pro- tected from heat and cold. An acquaintance of mine said to me the other day that he even had found this condition in the office of his physician. Those waiting there were expected to sit back and take a longer rest if a rich patient suddenly burst in. The railroad almost always finds our rich fellow citizen a good berth in the Pullman already sold out and de- nied to the general herd. Bigger tips do not alone account for this. It is the supposed due of a man who can draw his check for large money sums. It is surprising that the pressure of flattery does not quite undermine the democratic intent of more of the good fellows who own millions. Only occasion- ally do incidents such as the following, in the experience of a Cleveland man of great wealth, serve to show how, perhaps [276] IN SOCIETY unconsciously, a hedge of exclusiveness may be grown up against persons of humble income. He was having his house redecorated and among those employed on the job was a young man more friendly than discreet who, when the owner chanced to come into the room where he was working greeted him by name with a cheery “good morning.” The man of money froze solid.” Turning to the boy and in tones under which dilatory attendants at his clubs were wont to quail he said, “You are here to work, not to pass compliments of the day!” Slamming his paste brush to the floor and throwing aside his apron this impetu- ous youth of democratic breeding launched back a torrent of personal abuse and wound up by discharging himself from the job. The foreman afterwards remarked that he pitied the owner more than he did the offending workman. ‘‘For, my heavens,” he said, “by the look on his face you'd have thought he just woke up from a nightmare!” This was of course an extreme case, illustrating how per- sonal self-sufficiency and exclusiveness may cause some per- sons of wealth to unconsciously draw closely their garments about them when in contact with people in the ordinary walks of life. Still, it can be maintained, the fault chiefly lies with the latter who humble themselves in the presence of the money rich. Accepted newspaper philosophers such as Arthur Brisbane and old Doctor Frank Crane, have from time to time assured us that the accumulation of great wealth by the individual is not a disaster. Quite the reverse if the money is honestly secured and in the hands of those who know how to put it to work in the interest of the general welfare. While there is much dishonesty represented in huge fortunes it can be as- sumed that a vast majority of great money possession is se- cured honestly and safely within the law. In some instances, however, it has occurred that eminent lawyers have been 12771 FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND employed to instruct clients how far they may safely Appice culpability and danger. It was only recently that a school child gravely explained to me what a cat's whiskers are for. According to her story it appears that the cat has its long bristling whiskers placed carefully by nature at each side of its jaws, so that in investi- gating the holes of the rats and mice it may know by the sense of touch just how far it can penetrate the lair of its prey and be able to wriggle its body back to safety again. Imagine the absurdity of kowtowing to a person of money wealth whose fortune is possible because of a nice knowledge of the function of a cat’s whiskers! If any alarming degree of snobbery still exists here it is not confined to so-called society. The deference to men of much financial wealth or to those suddenly elevated to conspicuous heights in the public eye is confined to no particular circle. Not so long ago Col. Myron T. Herrick returned to Cleveland from the scene of his first and most important mission to France. He was immediately set upon by a steering committee from our chamber of commerce and forced to take its presi- dency. This surely was not because of a lack of ability on the part of local men already in line for the office, who, through uninterrupted association with Cleveland affairs were better equipped for the honor. The same thing happened to Newton D. Baker after he came home from the difficult task of making the world safe for democracy. Newton was entitled to a breathing spell. It is presumed the placing of these widely known Cleveland- ers at the head of the chamber was thought a fine advertising stroke. Many, however, thought it closely bordered on snob- bery. Some believed this temporary disarrangement of plans added strength to the organization. Others, mostly too polite to mention it, thought it would in the long run be hurtful. Personally I have no guess. [278] IN: SOCIETY Many insist that social degeneration set in with the advent of bridge, whist played for stakes, cigarets, jeweled pocket flasks and the much criticized society ‘‘flapper.” Perhaps so. Yet with it all who will say that gambling and hard drinking is carried on today with the open hardihood of earlier gen- erations? It is true mothers did not smoke tobacco rolled up in perfumed paper in the presence of their daughters, or vice versa. Nor did young misses openly imbibe anything in the drink line much stronger than lemonade. If later the swift shooting automobile went to the heads of giddy youth and brought with it a train of slang and flashing hip pocket jewelry, already, I am told, its society votaries are being frowned upon by the well bred set! The habit of festooning the female person with diamonds at unseemly hours is also said to be dwindling. Fifty years ago diamonds and low neck in abundance came into social view only after the gas jets were lighted. And let us recog- nize that the outdoor sports of today have gone far to amend the errors of over social stimulation within the house. Golf is doing much to straighten out the flabbiness of strain in society and in business as well. If the increasing enthusiasm for school and college sports is to be taken as a hint of health conditions to come, ‘‘society’’ will probably be able to keep along fully abreast the tide in human evolution! [279] CHAPTER FORTY-ONE POLITICAL BUSINESS Some Incidents And Comments Upon How We Have Been Managed Locally If a concrete example is wanted of ‘‘government by news- papers’ it might be found in a department recently inaugu- rated by a local daily and edited by a unique and helpful indi- vidual calling himself “Mr. Fixit.” To date this modern Don Quixote has been the means of redressing hundreds of wrongs throughout the city. Receiving complaints of bad conditions in the streets and elsewhere this Fixit person swiftly takes them to the proper city and county officials for investigation and appropriate action. Probably nothing ever done in Cleveland by a newspaper or other ‘‘governing’ power has so pointedly and widely directed attention to the startling difference between political management of public affairs and the quality of management found in corporations conducted for profit. Let me illustrate this difference by some experiences of my own, which seem- ingly trivial are of a kind familiar to most of you. Fourteen years ago I built and moved into a house not far from the junction of Euclid avenue and East 115th street, formerly, and when this section was a part of East Cleveland, known as Rosedale avenue. Upon the sidewalk at the northeast corner of Euclid avenue and about two feet from the curb I found the projecting end of a capped gas pipe at least two inches above the surface. The second time I walked around it, thinking how easily on a corner then very poorly lighted at night somebody might trip and break his bones, I telephoned the street department at city hall. Three or four years rolled around and the pipe [280] POLITICAL BUSINESS remaining untouched I again told city hall that the city might be in for an expensive suit if any bones really were broken. A pleasant voice thanked me for the caution, but the pipe continued solidly fixed in its stony bed. After stepping care- fully around it for the next six years I one afternoon had a cheering piece of luck. Just as I crossed over the avenue from a street car I almost ran into the arms of a policeman. To- gether we examined the projecting pipe from all angles. “How did it get there?” I inquired after telling of my having over a considerable number of years complained to city hall about it. “It’s my guess that sometime there was a gas lamp post here,” said the officer, ‘and when it was removed they should have taken out the pipe instead of capping it over. It wouldn't be much of a job to get rid of it. You could just take a sledge and drive it down under the surface of the sidewalk!” That sounded reasonable, and for days and weeks after this conversation with the local government as represented in uniform I thought of scarcely anything else when home- ward bound by street car than the thrill of stepping squarely on the spot that pipe end had so long monopolized. Yet five additional years elapsed during which Euclid avenue out that way became a live business street and my gas pipe still flour- ished upon a much traveled corner. I had come to feel that it was an old and tried friend. Years ago I learned to dodge it on the darkest night. And I had decided to make use of it. If Mr. Fixit heard of its existence and coaxed city hall to put it out of commission I would know that somebody had read my book! But, alas! Since I began last month to write this chapter a policeman was stationed at that corner to save human life, and the other day he drove the pipe from sight. In the private corporation there is no political ‘leader’ with office-seeking dependents back in the shadows. Nor is [281] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND there an organization such as a city council to pull the man- ager ‘all ways for Sunday.” The board of directors have something to say, but in all well conducted corporations they let the man responsible for results go his own way, providing he takes a keen and intelligent interest in the business as a whole. All this sounds academic, but it is the exact spot upon which to place the finger of criticism, and explains the vast difference between political and private business where profit- able results are desired and expected. It is probable that if all the red tape could be cut and Wil- liam R. Hopkins, Cleveland's first manager, given the same chance he would be given by a board of directors in any pri- vate business, the manager plan could add another fine feather to the cap of the city that has set so many community exam- ples. Instead of permitting the politicians to set up a city council at the dictation of a couple of so-called ‘‘party lead- ers’ and the twain to order the council to elect a city manager, why not let the voters decide for themselves by direct ballof who shall fill the office? If Hopkins were a combination of Mellon, Hoover, Charlie Schwab and all the rest of the great managers he could never get very far in the work of shearing the local Samsonian politicians! If it is practical to elect a United States senator by popular vote, why not a city manager? Not ‘“‘safe’”’ to leave it to the people? Good night! Only last fall these people of Ohio in the election of a Governor did the most sensible and discrim- inating job of direct voting in the annals of the state! It might have been a better job had both parties offered stronger candidates. They once picked Tom Johnson four times to manage Cleveland and only because of broken health which in large degree interfered with his constant fights with the “easy money’ faction in his own party he undoubtedly would have managed Cleveland a fifth or sixth, or seventh time! [282] POLITICAL BUSINESS And it is just that sort of material the voters themselves might select and keep in office while the city enjoyed a real business management. For one I would be glad to cast a vote for W. R. Hopkins as manager of Cleveland providing all the political traditions and shackles were removed. He has vision, is able, honest, sincere and if entirely independent would act with independence. But don’t get the impression that he or anybody else can in present surroundings quite measure up to the higher standards of the manager of a pri- vate business. I notice that one of the local political leaders recently urged a return to the old convention plan of nominating candidates for office. The ‘Representative’ plan. Well, that word sounds familiar, and under its practice the people once in a while had their wishes carried out. But, speaking locally, it reminds some of us old Clevelanders too unpleasantly of conditions here before the primary plan of direct balloting was adopted. As a newspaper reporter | saw much going on behind the curtain. A party boss. Little ward bosses. ‘‘Pre- primaries’ held in barns and saloons. A city convention with a chairman of oratorical gift and of good standing in the community wielding the gavel. The little bosses (I think they now are called ward “‘captains’’) all hustling among the delegates to deliver the orders of the bigger boss. When Cleveland returns to the convention plan it will, I think, re- quire several Mr. Fixits to tell city hall and county build- ing where there are bad spots in the streets and unnecessary jobs going as rewards to ward politicians! Fortunately there is another side to the picture that at times crops out, only to confirm one by contrast, however, in the belief that political management as a whole is economically weak. Once in a while a man gets upon the city payroll who is so valuable that the politicians are obliged to see that he is not molested. Of such is Robert Hoffman, who, as city [283] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND engineer was chosen for the position by Mayor Johnson with- out regard to his political leanings, and who has since been kept on the job through all the administrations. Then there is George A. Wallace, chief of the fire department. If he had been a man of ordinary capacity there probably long since would have been found a way to maneuver him out of office to advance somebody who was more valuable as a vote get- ter. These two men are types of a kind always retained over the years by a private corporation. Judged by his activity in public improvements, W. S. Fitzgerald, now in charge of public works, will qualify in the class they represent. Cleve- land has had and still has many city employes as industrious and faithful as those in private business, but the average is far from being there! [284 | CHAPTER FORTY-TWO “LEST WE FORGET” A Rather Rambling Talk About Some Worthy Clevelanders Past And Present The trouble about writing a narrative such as this is the difficulty of linking the chain of incident at all completely and at the same time avoiding dreary historical detail. Your readable newspaper is the one plainly written and condensed. The essential facts must not have a cumbersome dress. This is a swift age, and people are inclined to take their reading on the jump. But it is useless to do any preaching about jazz methods of reading. That appears to be as unescapable in the scheme of mental evolution as are the measles and whoop- ing cough in the physical trials of youth. Some day labora- tories financed by another Rockefeller may uncover for human intelligence miracles similar to those now curing our bodily ills. It is likely the majority of Clevelanders now on the boards never heard that Harvey Rice, one of the city’s pioneers, a splendid old gentleman who, when I came to town lived in an early type house on Woodland avenue, was the father of the Ohio public school system. There is a modest little mon- ument to him and his work standing out in Wade park, but the history it tells seldom if ever interests the nearby crowds straining their necks to watch a skating match. Of course many of the quarter million children of school age in Cleveland have been told of this benefactor of theirs. Modern Cleveland is familiar with the name of the late Robert W. Tayler, who while United States judge in this district drafted the franchise under which the combined street railways of the city are now operating. Regardless of the [285] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND feeling on the part of many that this semi-municipal plan of control and operation is in reality a handicap to street railway and bus accommodation for the people of a great and growing city, Cleveland is indebted to Judge Tayler for the part he played in extricating the street car system from a vary bad muddle. There are two United States judges for the North- ern District of Ohio who will, in my opinion, long be held highly in public esteem. Tayler is one, and, lest we forget to credit the living as well as the dead in appreciation of ability and character, let it be said that Judge D. C. Westenhaver, since 1917 upon the federal bench, is easily the other. My acquaintance as a newspaper man with Judge Tayler dates considerably back of his removal to Cleveland. As one of the Ohio representatives in congress he had made a national reputation, notably because of his knowledge of the law. It was Tayler who was chosen by his fellows to publicly prosecute in the halls of congress the member, Roberts of Utah, for having three or four more wives than the laws of the country permit. It so happened I was visiting Wash- ington at the time and had a seat in the gallery on the day this most dramatic trial came to a conclusion. On the Republican side of the House with law books piled high on his desk, and speaking with quiet effectiveness, Tayler had so well pounded home the facts that expulsion of the defendant by practically a unanimous vote was foreseen. Indeed, Roberts, after a pathetic speech of defense, in which he spoke of Mormonism as the religion of his mother and denied that he had transgressed the federal law against polygamy, fully sensed his coming fate and left the hall with deliberate step and head held high in the air before the vote of expulsion was taken. It would require a book much larger than this to record the names and significant acts of Cleveland men and women in the realm of philanthropy, a word sometimes misunder- [286] ‘LEST WE FORGET” stood but whose meaning is ‘love of mankind.” When I think of that word and all it implies my mind goes back to a widely respected resident who for years was honored by the title of Cleveland's First Citizen. General James Barnett was known personally by almost every one here in business and social life. Especially was he well known in organiza- tions such as the Associated Charities. Big physically and of soldierly bearing his figure attracted attention in any circle. But it was the inner man that shone sympathetically into the hearts of others in all ways that could give loyal expression to his love for Cleveland and its people. When reviewing my earlier newspaper experiences the name of Joseph Perkins, another of the real philanthropists here, comes easily to mind. Quiet, unostentatious, this man among the so-called rich of his day found his best happiness in working for those flung down into the distress of poverty. An afternoon tour with him of the various local institutions in his care as a member of the board of charities, I got as a reporter for the old Cleveland Leader, very close insight into the heart of Joseph Perkins. Perhaps the charity nearest to his sympathy was the Protestant orphan asylum. You older Clevelanders know what that home meant to him and the city. John Huntington was another who took delight in following up his good work in person to reap the pleasure of making others happy. Here was a man who, while dividing largely of his riches in the promotion of local institutional aids such as the art museum, and ‘‘shelling out” from a fat pocketbook for every philanthropy coming along, maintained until his death this old fashioned habit of personal contact with those in need. One of John Huntingtons big days for many years was the day before Christmas when with a sleigh loaded with baskets containing fat turkeys and all the fixings for a holiday feast he drove to the homes of many [287] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND he knew were, from sickness or bad luck, temporarily down and out. Incidents of this kind naturally bring the thought that after all the modern way of scattering charity while it is more scientific has lost much of its real savor. Older Cleveland was unlearned in the ways of rapid transit from the office desk to the quick lunch counter. Business men of good will to all found time to visit with solicitors, themselves giving freely of their time, to confab over the especial charity for which funds were needed. Those visits were enlightening and served to pass away many a pleasant hour. The smiling command to ‘sign on this line’’ and to sign quickly in support of a hundred grouped altruistic purposes would have rather astonished ‘‘ye olde tyme’ Cleveland resident. This is mentioned, not in criticism of the community chest which is making the habit and happiness of giving a universal rite, but rather as recording regret that the more scientific plan is causing a good many people to overlook the fact that they still can do much of elbow touching with the needy. Where once a few took active charge of these charities hundreds now devote each year many hours of a full week in the canvass. Divine authority cites the mite of the widow as the highest form of true charity, and her act has many imitations among the very poor of Cleveland. But that should not prevent proper acknowledgment of the gifts of individuals upon whom the gods or unusual thrift have showered plenty of money. One of the illuminating features of Cleveland's community chest is the light it throws upon the naturally charitable of heart and those who as naturally are niggardly. That the latter exist here to some extent has been more forecfully expressed by “Charlie” Adams at gatherings of the community chest workers than I dare put in cold print! [288] “LEST WE FORGET” Perhaps the best present illustration of the former type is had in the person of Samuel Mather. I am told that among his intimates he is called “Old Sam,” why I don’t know, for there was in Cleveland an old Samuel Mather. Anyway, what this younger oldish man has done and is doing for Cleveland is heartening. To give millions for better hospitals and medical education appears to be but one phase of his financial activities all along the route and wherever needed. J. H. Wade, another Clevelander of large means, is equally generous in parting with his millions. A willingness to give and ability to give are two very different terms, and when the spirit of willingness is con- spicuously combined in any one human being of great wealth the muckrakers should in his case desist, or at least put on the soft pedal. The example set by men who owning largely, dispose intelligently of much of their fortune while still in the flesh, is one of the best known stimulations to better community living and understanding of man by fellow man. Among the Cleveland men whose memory will long be cherished for works of philanthropy was the the late Charles Eisenman, for twenty years president of Jewish Charities. Realizing a fortune he turned to the more exalting task of helping those less successful. And his sympathies were encompassed by no lines of sect or previous condition. Still another Clevelander who after a busy and successful manufacturing career is giving the later years of his life to good works is Fred W. Ramsey, campaign chairman of the community chest and president of the Welfare Federation. Just to make it good measure, Fred W. has recently accepted chairmanship of the National Council of the Y. M. C. A. As a connecting link between the Cleveland of old and the greater city of the present and to come the Early Settlers Association should be given better support. It is easier to create an organization of that kind than to keep it going, [289] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND and much credit is due to those who still give it loyal atten- tion. Among those who recognize its value and do more than remit annual dues are Judge Alexander Hadden, T. Spencer Knight, Wm. Prescott, Charles L. Murfey, L. C. Carren, William R. Coates, Peter F. Black, Eli Cannell, Joseph J. Ptak, Fred Saal, James W. Stewart, Rt. Rev. Thomas C. O'Reilly, Rev. James D. Williams, James Wood, W. P. Keiper, Rev. John D. Jones, Charles B. Palmer, Charles H. Tucker, Mrs. Mary Hawkins Chard, Mrs. A. L. Moses, Mrs. Grace K. Kitchen and Mrs. Estella G. Cunnea. Among the enthusiasts of the organization is Thomas J. McManus who for many years has acted as treasurer and who, having an intense regard for Cleveland tradition, never tires in working for new membership. Any person of good character who has lived in Cleveland or on the Western Reserve forty years may become an Early Settler. [290] CHAPTER FORTY-THREE CITY GOLD MINING Fortunes Taken From The Ground By Many Who Gauge The Trend Of Realty Values It would be a very prolific gold field yielding untold riches such as have been acquired by individuals investing in Euclid avenue property during the past few years, and the gold digging here and elsewhere in this Cleveland of ours appears to be going on with increasing momentum. New veins, rich with golden dollars, are yearly being uncovered, with side tunneling in all directions from the main arteries! Stanley L. McMichael, for eight years on the Plain Dealer staff, whose knowledge of Cleveland real estate and judgment of values has made him an authority in the realty world, said to me this winter: “Within the next ten years Euclid avenue will be built up solidly with business. Every block of land from East 40th street to Windemere will be absorbed for commercial purposes. The few residences that may then remain will be but forlorn reminders of beautiful residential Euclid avenue, once the home of the rich but now rapidly becoming the land of the brave!” “By that you mean brave enough to make ninety-nine year leases?”’ I suggested, always willing to help my old newspaper reporters out with an explanation of their jokes. “You said it,” replied Stanley. ‘“And within a com- paratively short time, when Prospect avenue and Chester avenue are extended, the one to University Circle and the other to Wade Park, the leasing and sub-leasing will go on at redoubled speed. The growth of business and particularly the automobile industry will fuse commercial activities along [291] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND those main thoroughfares. On the west side of the city Lorain and Detroit avenues will likewise be given entirely over to commerce.” “And where are the poor mortals to sleep and eat when about all the big main streets and little side streets are claimed by business?”’ he was asked. At this point McMichael sent me to look up an array of housing figures very startling! In Cleveland proper, taking no account whatever of Lakewood, East Cleveland, the Heights, or any other of the congested districts rightly a part of the city, licenses issued for tenement houses alone had reached in December, 1924, a total of 11,700. As these include apartments accommodating from three to fifty families in one building, some idea may be formed of how and where we are living in metropolitan Cleveland. Business is driving humanity into closer quarters or out into the suburbs farther away from business rush. It seems to me but a short time ago that a Dr. C. E. Louth built the first modern apartment house along somewhere on Chester at or near East 12th street. Before that we had a few terraces of one or two stories, and some residences over retail stores, but Louth, I recall, bragged of building Cleveland's first real “walk up’ apartment house patterned after some he had seen in Chicago. Real estate brokers, city planners and investors now vision a remarkable realty development, already taking shape, that will result in much separate housing for this and the coming generation. The territory thus eventually to be covered extends from the district lying at the top of Cedar Hill to the Gates Mill valley, practically all of which will be used for residential purposes. I am told that what those young Cleveland railroad giants, O. P. and M. J. Van Sweringen, have done on the Heights in the way of home development [292] CITY GOLD MINING and the safeguarding of strictly residential property is a task that has no parellel in the entire country. Under their wise planning to meet the demand for higher cost dwellings a land famine is never anticipated southeast of Cleveland. Similar development seems assured to the west and south of the city. If we are building industrially and commercially at an astonishing speed the still more important feature of respect- able housing is not to be neglected. It would be interesting to name here some of the ““canny”’ Clevelanders who have dug fortunes from city ground the past few years. I am sure many of the stories would put the doings of Alladin and his wonderful lamp into the discard so far as unexpected riches is concerned. Much of this increment has come to thrifty retail merchants who, following the three big business jumps from old lower Superior street to Euclid avenue, landing temporarily at Play House Square, have leased and sub-leased until, in many instances, their realty profits could be cashed in for more than the business they actually conduct. Do you ex-Clevelanders in sunny California, or elsewhere far away upon the map, realize that today frontage on Euclid avenue east of the intersection of Huron road is valued at $15,000 per foot front? That much a foot, not a whole house and lot as many who lived here forty or fifty years ago might imagine! It was along about there on Euclid that John H. Farley not twenty years ago owned a house, which he told me he sold for $30,000. “But I sold it cheap to a friend,” said John, “‘and since then he has realized $65,000 for it.” Figure out for yourself how much even a thirty or forty foot lot would be worth there today. Euclid and East 9th street corners are valued at $25,000 per foot front. One of the first to guess this rapid outcome of big values was an old newspaper associate of mine on the staff of the Herald. His first venture was on Prospect avenue at the [293] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND present East 14th street. A little later he built a modern apartment house on Euclid avenue just east of East 55th street. Business overtook it and stores sprouted from the front. Going still further east to the vicinity of East 83rd street he acquired an old homestead which in turn is soon to go over to business; but no one has heard the owner com- plaining about the accumulated profits! Francis E. Drury bought some time ago a large Euclid avenue frontage out in that vicinity, connecting by a ravine with Carnegie avenue and many people enjoyed the flower garden he planted. But the need came for more housing accommodations there, and shortly the whole space will be built up with sightly apartment structures. By the way, I first knew Drury when, nearly fifty years ago, we daily sat at the same table in the old Prospect House dining room, together with Charlie Cleveland of Sterling 8 Welch, Ed. Kammerer of Morgan © Root’s, Robert H. Jenks, afterwards a well known lumber man, and Will H. Brown, later of the Winton company. In ensuing years Drury built up a big fortune which has been a good thing for Cleveland for no one has exhibited a finer spirit of community service. A case of “pay dirt” analyzing a tremendous assay that will long be spoken of in connection with Cleveland real estate values, was the leasing in 1921 of the old Hickox building at the northwest corner of Euclid avenue and East 9th, formerly Erie street. The lucky promoters in this deal were E. H. Krueger, Howard A. Stahl, Walter L. Douglas, Charles E. Heath, John C. Sanders and S. S. Olds. With a capital of less than $50,000 these men remodeled the building with attractive store fronts and modern offices, thus increasing the annual rental income from $96,000 to $268,000. Then to cap the climax, and forever get away from the task of sending out rent bills they sub-leased the corner in 1924 on a valuation of $1,125,000, of which the [294] CITY GOLD MINING odd $125,000 was paid in cash and the $1,000,000 will for ninety-nine years bring to themselves, their heirs, or assigns—or anybody they feel like ‘“‘tipping’’—an annual rental of from $50,000 to $60,000. It is idle to go beyond these typical instances of far sighted adventures into the romantic realm of Cleveland real estate. The grouped happiness of the situation is that so many people of modest means own their own homes. If, perchance, the golden chariot of increased values turns down their streets at a later day their children or grandchildren may be able to make ninety-nine year leases as advantageous as those whose ancestors were located in town fifty or seventy-five years ago. With many it has all been a matter of simply holding on. Yet the subject is of strong appeal. Until you owned your first house you took little interest in the news- paper real estate columns. Today every transaction in city land interests you for it affects your personal realty belong- ings. Cleveland is mighty in its land values and increasingly so for the reason that ours is a great industrial center of such diversified scope there is little fear of a distressing set back in land values, for, you know, Cleveland boasts that it has never been a ‘“boom’’ city. When thinking about this subject, of which by the way Marshall Field, the great Chicago merchant, once said, “Buying real estate is not only the best way, the quickest way, and the safest way, but the only way to become wealthy!” my memory harks back to a time when the news- papers could scarcely drum up two columns of advertisements from the few realty agents dealing in Cleveland houses and lots and handling rentals therefrom. In the old morning Leader office frequently would come in person men such as *Uncle’’ Daniel R. Taylor, L.. H. Wain, the elder, J. G. W. Cowles, Will Van Tine, A. D. Morton, J. H. Hardy, O. P. [295] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND Mcllrath, J. M. Odell and V. C. Taylor, who, with a few others, comprised the little real estate group of that day. I recall that Milton Morton, probably the first to fully sense the extraordinary rise in values soon to manifest itself, made a specialty of leasing or buying outright all the little corner store buildings on the outlying streets he could afford to finance. When he died he left close to a million dollars worth of properties of that kind. Alva Bradley, founder of the Bradley fortunes, was not a seller, and therefore did no advertising other than in the “For Rent” column. How he began to build down town office and manufacturing buildings from surplus money gained through his lake vessel interests, and how his son “M. A.” and the grandchildren are multiplying that sort of investment is local history. Glancing at the personnel of the Cleveland Real Estate Board of today one gets some idea of the city’s remarkable progress. It has 270 active and 865 associate members, together with 110 salesmen members and twenty-five non- resident members. A live-wire secretary in the person of Frank B. Bicknell is performing a large part in popularizing the board and broadcasting to the world the things initiated ‘in Cleveland to make more valuable the services rendered by realtors. Social and educational features are doing much to tie a purely business organization closely to the sympathies of its membership and the community. Cleveland business men never lag when they get together in any sort of under- taking. Present officers of the board are: J. S. Van De Boe, honorary president; M. J. Rudolph, president; Dean C. Mathews, first vice president; J. H. Drummond, second vice president; W. J. Van Aken, chairman of the board of trustees; Vance Stewart, treasurer; Frank B. Bicknell, secretary. The trustees are: W. J. Van Aken, J. A. Schmidt, Vance Stewart, J. G. Bingham, E. G. Gilbert, A. B. Smythe, R. T. Cragin, [296] CITY GOLD MINING Heaton Pennington, Jr., Dean C. Mathews, L. H. Wain, M. J. Rudolph and Carlton Schultz. Stanley L. McMichael, first salaried secretary of the Cleveland Real Estate Board, who when associated with the Plain Dealer was the first man to conduct a regular real estate department in a Cleveland Sunday newspaper, was sum- moned from that task to be secretary of the Cleveland Real Estate Board in 1911, serving in that capacity until 1919, during which time he built up the board from about 150 members to over 1200 members, making it the second largest board in America at the time he resigned to enter the real estate business as an active realtor. Another old newspaperman who has had much to do with the building activities of the city is Edward A. (Teddy) Roberts, who used to be with the old Leader. He, too, took over a small struggling organization known as the Cleve- land Builders’ Exchange and built it up until it now ranks as one of the leading organizations of its kind in America. [297] CHAPTER FORrTY-FOUR MAKING ART PRACTICAL Cleveland Setting More Examples Of Forward Living To A World That Needs At East boulevard and Euclid avenue the other morning the street car I was riding in suddenly was invaded by a troop of chattering young boys and girls. When I asked a bright eyed little tot what all the commotion was about she almost breathlessly began to explain how her school had been enter- tained at “‘that big white building over there,”’ pointing to the Cleveland Museum of Art. And soon a half dozen of her companions, eyes glistening and with gestures that proclaimed heredity in the group from more than one foreign race, were telling me of the wonders they had just seen, and of a coming concert they were invited to hear in the same building later on. Critics probably would approach this huge art palace out in Wade park from a very different angle, intelligently in- forming you of the treasures of the centuries there displayed, and the thrill they give to those of cultivated mind. Some- how to me the big story of Cleveland's superb art museum is found in what it means in practical, refining influence and education to the youth of this city. That this is to a very considerable extent the view of its director, Frederic Allen Whiting, was indicated in a remark he made to the writer a short time ago to this effect: “It is my belief that there is no agency in the city which would, if properly organized and supported, do more to develop children into men and women likely to be good citizens than an art museum; and I attach, therefore, the very greatest importance to the educational work with children we are carrying on. As you notice in re- [298] MAKING ART PRACTICAL cent bulletins we are reaching a point where we must have a children’s museum, set aside for this work and equipped to handle the work with children in the most effective way, and with the minimum of disturbance to visitors in the main museum.’ Perhaps the true keynote of Director Whiting’s ambition for the museum is struck in this reference. Nothing is to be overlooked or neglected to create and maintain for Cleveland an institution for expression of the higher arts, but on the other hand the senses of youth must be caught and enthralled, and molded into shape for intelligent appreciation of art. This is shown by the work already done. Co-operating with the public schools, a couple of teachers from the latter now devote their entire time to museum work. It thus has been made possible for some fifty or more classes to visit the mu- seum each month. Once within the walls competent assist- ants see to it that their small yet always imaginative and curious minds are lead to proper assimilation of the wonders spread about them. Two rooms are set apart for their use, a class room and a children’s museum. Here they find and may draw with pencil or crayon representations of creatures of the wild from all parts of the globe, and back again to the actual butterfly with which they are familiar. Fabrics from the Orient and a world of other suggestions are theirs to copy, and to fix permanently in mind. Music has an alluring and effective part in museum activ- ities. This department is under the direction of Douglas Moore, with Arthur W. Quimby as assistant organist and Thomas Whitney Surette as advisor. Of the four lecture courses given each year from October to May and thor- oughly covering the field of art the one devoted to music is not the least notable. Groups of adults and children are led in singing, at sessions provided for lecturing upon the musical arts. Each of the public school classes visiting the museum [299] \ FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND for scheduled work is given a quarter hour of this musical drill. You have been told in the official reports and newspapers how the museum already is annually visited by hundreds of thousands of Cleveland people of all ages and conditions of life. You know that the building itself, an artistic creation with a noble and natural setting, is second to no similar struc- ture here or abroad. You know that the museum was made possible through the wills of John Huntington and Horace Kelley, and the liberality of men such as J. H. Wade, John L. Severance and a host of minor donors. If the Cleveland Museum of Art has captured the imagina- tion of the public it is primarily because the trustees captured just the kind of man to direct it. What Brett was to the pub- lic library Whiting is to this newer popular local institution. A determined worker and never off the job, you one day are going to see him join up his museum to the coming great Cleveland University just as he tied it intimately to the public schools. There is a persuasiveness about the man backed with convincing fact that no one is likely to resist whether able to donate a million in lump or ten dollars a year as mem- bership fee. A New Englander, Frederic Allen Whiting, passed his youth in Farmingham, Massachusetts, and later had a real seasoning in the intricacies of art as executive sec- retary of the Boston Society of Arts and Crafts. About a decade ago he was lured away from the directorship of the John Herron Art Institute in Indianapolis, having been chosen for Cleveland after a country-wide survey of art museum talent. Just as he plans and works unceasingly for a separate children’s museum, for which land adjoining the bigger structure has already been allotted, Director Whiting longs for a wider membership in the organization itself. Especially he makes a plea for the co-operation of those who, unable to [300] MAKING ART PRACTICAL take on the obligation of the larger sums, still can be counted as full members upon the payment of small yearly dues. It is the democratic spirit of association that appears to appeal strongly to his sense of museum values. My first knowledge of the Cleveland School of Art was gained in the early Eighties, when under the leadership of Mrs. Sarah C. Kimball it was striving for existence on the top floor of the old city hall. As a newspaper man visiting the hall every week day, I recall that in the roof over the school there was a pretty mean leak which in rainy spells sorely tried the tempers of those in charge and of the few students taking first steps toward artistic fame. After some formative years, not altogether placid and congenial on the part of its tem- permental founders, there came a day in 1891 when the school took on new life and started upon its way to national reputation as well as to great community value. This was the advent of Georgie Leighton Norton, a young graduate of the Massachusetts Normal School of Art. Then, as ever afterwards, loyally and intensely interested in the Cleveland school, Judge and Mrs. Stevenson Burke while in the east on the lookout for a worthy director had their atten- tion called to Miss Norton, who, taking the Cleveland posi- tion soon proved her extraordinary capacity for the work. This woman who but recently passed away while still in middle life made possible the successful art school of today. The sorrow expressed and the tributes paid Miss Norton for her work here were widespread and genuine. The many knew of her struggles; the few knew how this lifetime de- votion to a helpful cause finally undermined a vigorous con- stitution and defeated a will that had never faltered. For the responsibililty of school management was but a part of the task she had courageously assumed. Through her industry, patience and fine diplomacy the financial demands for enlarge- [301] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND ment of the school facility arising over the years were always met, finally to gain a safer footing through vastly increased enrollments. For awhile located in an old dwelling house on Willson avenue, where even the barn was used for school purposes, generous donors later made possible the present buildings at Magnolia and Juniper drives, already too cramped to take care of the increasing members. What the Cleveland School of Art is doing, and practically, for the city and its youth it is doing for scholars from nearly every state. And it was a wise decision, made a few years ago in the face of art teaching tradition, that resulted in the introduction of regular courses of instruction in commercial drawing. For this has come to be a department of great value to the business life of Cleve- land. It now is under the direction of Glenn M. Shaw. An- other feature of the school’s development to be fully realized later on will be a building devoted to architecture. A fund of $100,000 donated some time ago by Worcestor R. Warner, to which an additional sum of $25,000 has been provided by Mrs. F. F. Prentiss, will be drawn upon for that purpose. Classes in architecture are already held, but this branch will later become greatly enlarged. Under the leadership of Henry Turner Bailey, of world- wide prominence in art circles, the school goes forward to still greater achievement. The notable work of Henry G. Keller, F. C. Gottwald and Frank N. Wilcox, chief among the instructors, is so well known and appreciated among art collectors that no extended mention is necessary here. A thought of them does, however, call to memory other Cleve- land artists such as John Semon, Herman and John Herko- mer, O. V. Schubert, Otto Bacher, Max Bohn, Louis Loeb, Arthur Schneider, Adam Lehr and Emil and Daniel Wehr- schmidt, who over forty years ago set this school in motion. [302] MAKING ART PRACTICAL The school has sent out several excellent painters and water colorists, some good cartoonists, and hundreds of young men and women whose livelihood is earned by the application of some one of the many specialties in art creation along esthetic and practical lines. Many other hundreds who are making no particular stir in the art world have achieved there a sense of art values likely to be of helpful and lasting influence. Who knows how many geniuses of the brush and palet in the future may record in their autobiographies that an ancestor took a course at the Cleveland School of Art? Heredity ought to operate in art as it seems to do in the piling up of dollars! If I had a child who was crudely trying to draw pictures I would want to get it for a time in that school if only on the off chance of its learning to match colors in a bouquet or paint a china plate. Some months before the death of Miss Norton it was my good fortune to hear her in private conversation explain a vision then in her mind of a Cleveland “‘art center’’ she hoped would sometime be brought to realization. It was to have its nucleus in the imposing Museum of Art. Upon another corner of this same East boulevard there was to arise a large and attractive building for her own school of art. Then diag- onally upon another corner there should be the new Cleveland Museum of Natural History, still in leading strings in the local museum line, and illy housed, as was once her art school, in a private dwelling. In this fanciful sketch—which after all did not sound en- tirely fanciful to me—Miss Norton could vision well lighted subways under the street connecting the newer buildings with the art museum, for the convenience of students and visitors. If I am not mistaken, Miss Norton in her day dream as she interpreted it to me was generous enough to permit our old and sacred Historical Society which has been so long under the direction of W. H. Cathcart, book man and authority [303] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND in historical research, to dispose of its present building in University Circle and become an important part of her imaginary art center. In any event it was with her a carefully thought out and approved plan for the grouping of | these interests to form a practical and attractive addition to the city’s many points of utility and beauty! Should her idea ever take shape it would, in the minds of many thousands of her former scholars and innumerable friends, serve as a visible monument to her life work here. [ 304 | CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE CLEVELAND WOMEN A Rather Remarkable Growth Of The Club Idea As An Expression Of Community Service To write anything fairly just and complete of a rather sensitive yet tremendous influence going to the making of this greater Cleveland—the influence of womankind—would be a task as difficult as it would be pleasant. There is so much that must from lack of space be left unsaid; there are so many channels through which this influence is expressed that the subject becomes bewildering. What the mother, the wife, the sister and the daughter mean to the home, to the school and to the church has always been accepted as a matter of course. Their part in helping to reach genuine community standards is a thing of more recent acquisition. Here is where the organizations known as women's clubs have in Cleveland furnished some inspiring examples. There was little of this activity when, forty-five years ago, I was a newspaper reporter. We had, of course, the smaller and more narrowly localized philanthropic and literary societies scat- tered throughout the city. The Sorosis was, I think, the first Cleveland club of national affiliation to command general public attention and space in the daily newspapers. How rapidly has been this club evolution and how well have the gaps been filled up and harmonized is shown by the existing Cleveland Federation of Women’s Clubs, an organization having a membership approaching 50,000. Its principal offi- cers are: Mrs. A. E. Powell, president; Mrs. C. R. Edson, vice president; Mrs. Wallace Henkel, secretary; Mrs. W. M. Sexton, credentials chairman; Mrs. T. J. Jones, chairman [305] RIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND education; Dr. Bernice Newberger, chairman civics and leg- islation. Let me start my necessarily condensed story of three of these clubs of outstanding public interest with an outline of the work done and doing by the Women’s City Club of Cleveland. I only wish this chapter of my fifty years might be stretched to reproduce in full a charmingly written paper sent to me by Miss Helen C. Manchow, editor and business manager of the club, who, among the many of her activities, prepares its weekly bulletin. The idea of a woman's city club seems to have occurred to several Cleveland women at about the same moment. It was evolved in fireside conversations indulged in by Mrs. E. S. Bassett, Mrs. Morris A. Black, Miss Mildred Chadsey and Mrs. Roger G. Perkins in 1916. There was to be a club that would serve as a down town meeting place for women where with a practical forum in operation they might listen to the discussion of public questions. There was at the time an organization known as the Cleve- land Downtown Club with a membership of about 1,000 business and professional women, which in the year above mentioned was incorporated into the Women’s City Club with Mrs. Chas. F. Thwing as its first president. The forum idea caught and enthralled not only its projectors but the many, including a generous sprinkling of masculinity, priv- ileged to listen this first year to seventy-two speakers in a total of eighty-seven lectures covering a wide variety of sub- jects such as recreation, foreign affairs, delinquency, adult education, and labor legislation. An outstanding event of the world war was the estab- lishment by the club of a bureau of food facts, where author- itative intelligence about food substitutes could be distributed. The club followed out the suggestion and contributed $6,500 [306] CLEVELAND WOMEN to equip and finance the project. The shop was run by vol- untary workers from the club membership, and was operated until September, 1918. It was closed at that time, owing to the fact that sources of information about food stuffs had greatly increased and that the Red Cross had requisitioned the supply of yarn, the distribution of which had been another activity of the patriotic shop. When the shop closed there was a balance on hand of $3,330 and it was voted that this money should be used for educational work in food values, food economy, etc. In pursuance of this idea, a cooked food shop was opened in a district where the majority of the mothers were working women. These shops offered cooked lunches to school children at moderate prices and also cooked dishes that could be taken home in the afternoon. The shop was expected to pay its own expenses and was not a charity. It gained the support of the Mothers’ Club of the district so that at the end of the year the club was able to withdraw from the shop and leave it in the hands of the Mothers’ Club. The year 1919-20 saw an especially rich program pre- sented at the Women’s City Club. A new departure was the offering of several different series of talks on such subjects as domestic problems, current history, what Congress was doing, etc. An experiment with a community kitchen was another departure of this year. Later on a public affairs committee was formed, going into the fields of Americanization, music, and arts, community betterment, courts, public education, public health and recreation. The club began to take an active part in city affairs, thus making a new epoch in its history. By 1922 the membership had reached 3,500 and the quar- ters in the Stillman building had become far too small. The club sold $225,000 worth of 6% first mortgage leasehold gold bonds, with the proceeds leasing the property on East [307] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVE] AND 13th street which it now occupies and remodeling and equip- ping it for use as the headquarters. At this time the member- ship was increased to 6,000 and on November 11, 1922, the club moved into its new quarters, where is located an auditorium of 750 capacity in which to hold lectures, and which is rented out to other organizations seeking a meeting place. The club also maintains a dining room and a cafeteria for its members. In addition to these facilities it operates a food shop where candies and baked goods that are made in the club kitchen are sold. A hair shop is also maintained. A counter lunch is one of the newer activities of the restaurant department. These last three enterprises are open to the pub- lic. The new building also has four stores which it rents to outside business enterprises. The development of the civic activity of the club has kept pace with the physical growth. The program has continued to be one of the chief things, over 100 speakers now appear- ing each year on the platform, representing all sorts of sub- jects and all shades of opinion. The city planning committee has been interested in a zoning law for Cleveland and has gone on record in favor of an ordinance that is now before the city council. The courts committee began its activity by putting on a series of lectures in conjunction with the League of Voters on the survey of criminal justice which has been made under the auspices of the Cleveland Foundation. From that as a starting point the committee on public affairs has developed several interests. They are working for a public defender in the common pleas court. They have also been active in securing a women's bureau in the police department, and have lent their support to the efforts being made to se- cure a new criminal courts building for Cleveland. Still another subdivision of that committee has been in- terested in formulating some elementary legal principles that could be taught to children in the schools to make them more [308] CLEVELAND WOMEN familiar with legal procedure. Recently it staged an exhibit and auction of the work of students of the Cleveland School of Art at the club. The proceeds went to the scholarship fund at the school. They also collected from the members by voluntary subscriptions a sum sufficient to purchase a painting for the club walls from the annual exhibit and sale of the works of Cleveland artists and craftsmen held at the Cleveland Museum of Art. Still another new activity of the committee was the series of music memory meetings held at the club. Three teams of four members each represented the Women’s City Club in the adult music memory contest. The nutrition committee put on a demonstration at Kins- man school which led to the authorities adopting courses of health education in the schools. The impetus for this work by the Women’s City Club was received from the balance left in the patriotic shop which had been designated for food edu- cation work. The playground committee makes an annual observation of all playgrounds in Cleveland. In 1922, when there was danger that the city-run playgrounds would be dis- continued because of lack of funds, the playground commit- tee petitioned the board of education to take over all the play- grounds. This was done for one year. It is the opinion of the playground committee that this should be a permanent ar- rangement, for they believe that all juvenile recreation should be directed by the board of education. The public education committee began its activity by as- sisting the attendance department of the public schools in following up pupils. This led them to a study of the ques- tion of vocational guidance in the schools and a consistent effort to secure the establishment of a vocational bureau of a modern type within the school system. They maintain a close and friendly contact with the administrative department of the schools and promote their welfare in whatever manner seems advisable. The committee on superior children is a [309] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND subdivision of the original child welfare committee, which has been instrumental in the establishment of several classes for children whose mental calibre has been found to be above the average. The classes do not push the children through the grades faster than they would go normally but instead they are operated on the theory that these children should be given more work than those who are not so well equipped mentally. Dr. H. H. Goddard of Ohio State University is the expert adviser in this work. The smoke abatement committee is concerned with the smoke nuisance in Cleveland. They formed a corps of vol- untary workers who took observations on smoking chimneys in Cleveland and were instrumental in having an improved smoke ordinance passed. The Women’s City Club is also represented on the legislative clearing committee of the League of Women Voters and is kept informed of all legislation that is being considered at the city hall. To support all these civic activities the club raises annually a civic fund. This is done by voluntary subscriptions from members and the money is used exclusively to finance projects that are being carried on outside the club. After running over the many things the Women’s City Club is doing for the community I was surprised, then I felt a citizen's admiration and pride over it all. And as evidence of its popularity the news has recently been given out that 1,000 more of the gentle but startlingly effective sex are to be admitted, thus increasing the membership to 7,000. The present officers of the club are: Mrs. Arthur Judson, presi- dent; Miss Amy F. Rowland, vice president; Mrs. Benedict Crowell, second vice president; Mrs. Morris A. Black, third vice president; Miss Wilma I. Ball, recording secretary; Miss Ida P. McKean, treasurer; Miss Sabina Marshall, assistant treasurer, and Miss Grace D. Treat, executive secretary. [310] CLEVELAND WOMEN Back in 1906 there was formed here a body known as the Cleveland Council of Women, which had a constitution broad enough to cover any movement furthering the influence of women or widen their opportunities. It occurred to a group of its members in 1907 that the women of Cleveland might, equally with the men, have a real downtown club home where friend could meet friend, the out-of-town guest might be entertained, rest from compelling shopping trips could be had, and, not least, some community problems might be solved. Pledges of money to forward the project had gen- erous response and Mrs. T. K. Dissette, president of the council, appointed a committee to secure still more, and to gather information about similar clubs in other cities. Under the succeeding president of the Council, Mrs. Elroy M. Avery, affectionately remembered among women’s clubs here as “The First Woman of Cleveland,” plans were com- pleted, and The Women’s Club House Association took the place of the Council with a capital stock of $10,000. Mrs. Alexander Hadden was the first president of the enlarged or- ganization, and Mrs. A. E. Hyre its secretary. A home was chosen in the Cleveland Athletic building, but the club soon outgrew the capacity of the first rooms taken and others were added. During the five following years, under the presidency of Mrs. Edward L. Harris and the active support of a board of directors made up of leading club women, progress was rapid. Among large affairs which added interest and mem- bership might be mentioned the bringing to Cleveland of “Ricketty-Packetty,”” a children’s play, and the Ben Greet Players; also the giving of an entertainment called the ‘‘Car- nival of Nations.” These, with the added enjoyment of con- stant social functions and particularly a regular Saturday program at 11 a. m., consisting of an educational and musical entertainment, popularized the club, which completely out- grew its quarters in three years. The question of a perma- nent home kept coming strongly to the front and Mrs. Harris [311] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND finally upon her own initiative began to look about for a satis- factory purchase or lease, which, with the aid of the directors, was finally secured at 3536 Euclid avenue, a handsome man- sion with ballroom and spacious rooms for entertaining. A ten-year lease was obtained with an option for eighty-nine additional years or a purchase at $200,000. Here a large and active club has increased until at the close of the ten-year lease it was possible for the thousand stock- holders to take over the property on a purchase basis. Origin- ally the ground lease was 111x550 feet, but in 1915 the board decided its burdens should be lightened by selling about one- third of the rear of the lot on Chester avenue. Other presi- dents who have held the chair include Mrs. E.. H. Baker, Mrs. Geo. W. Scribner, Mrs. Sydney S. Wilson, Mrs. Josiah Kirby, Mrs. Chas. Burt Tozier. Though the club is primarily a social organization it gives active support in many ways to worth-while movements. Particularly among events of the last year under Mrs. Tozier might be mentioned the big reception given by the club group of the women’s committee of the national convention to Republican women, in which members took more than a mere social interest. The club, however, dis- tinctly disavows active service in so-called ‘‘reform move- ments,” being rather conservative in its viewpoints. Its plat- form has been pithily formulated by a former president, Mrs. Edward L. Harris, in the appeal which she made to the women of Cleveland to this effect: ‘‘It deserves your support because its work is progressive rather than aggressive; because its work is educational rather than reformative; because its work is social as well as philanthropic; because its mission is the advancement of woman, and the conservation of her best energies for the home, as well as the broadening of her sphere of usefulness in the world of human endeavor and uplift.” [312] CLEVELAND WOMEN If there is a club in America engineered by woman or mere man more saturated with actual “pep than The Business Women’s Club of Cleveland, located in the Stillman Theater building, this long distance autobiographer never heard about it! One evening some six years ago in the ballroom at the Statler hotel, with Judge Florence Allen, the current First Woman of Cleveland, in the chair, this organization was launched with great enthusiasm. The main idea was to es- tablish a common meeting ground for business and profes- sional women whereby not only their civic and profess.onal welfare might be promoted, but where a sense of obligition to their own occupations and to the community might be quickened. Now with a membership of 1,400, with alert officers and a chain of active committees these very alive young women are a beehive of club industry. Concerts in big auditoriums, carnivals at the Statler, dances, swimming and basket ball games, riding at Troop A armory, bowling at Smith recre- ational alleys, visiting sick children at the hospitals. I find a hint of these and many more activities in but a single issue of The Bulletin, a monthly magazine issued by the club and edited by some girl who, if given a wider editorial scope, would soon have all the editors of local daily newspapers alarmed about their jobs. It is as peppy as the members it jollies. Present officers of the club are: Miss Frances Sanderson, president; Dr. Edna Ward, first vice president; Miss Anne G. McCarthy, second vice president; Miss Frances M. White, recording secretary; Miss Eva McCardle, corresponding sec- retary; Miss Mabel C. Hiller, treasurer; Miss Jean Wolf, assistant treasurer. The board of directors are: Miss Lydia C. Baeder, Dr. Alice Butler, Miss Ora M. Day, Miss Clara [313] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND Dombey, Mrs. Irma M. Howard, Miss Norma Mantey, Miss Lillian Oakley, Miss Ida Preston, Miss Esther Riley, Miss Blanche Schwartz, Miss Florence Woodward, Mrs. Olive Joy Wright. [314] CHAPTER FORTY-SIX IN LITERARY FIELDS A Little Talk About Cleveland Authors Who Have Amused And Instructed Us In Verse And Prose We shall have to go a long way outside of newspaper talent to get a fair list of men and women claimed by Cleveland who have been successful in a literary way. Some of these have made a top-notch name and fame. Others were content to write for the few and for the moment. All have been sin- cere, and performed a service. In my former newspaper work I came into personal touch with several of them, and I want to run over the list with those of you who have pride in Cleveland genius. Going back to an earlier generation many will recall the names of Constance Fenimore Woolson and Edith Thomas. The latter, one of the most spiritual of our writers of verse, was a familiar figure to members of the old Cleveland Herald staff. She was a frequent visitor at the home of John C. Keffer, the Herald's editor, where some of us gained quite intimate understanding of her extraordinary gifts of mind. Exalted of spirit, the poetical writings of this bodily frail little Ohio woman made for many years a deep impression in channels where intensity of moral thought was appreciated. That a writer may combine serious thought with rhyming and at the same time enliven his “muse” richly with humor we have in Cleveland a well nigh perfect illustration. And after all, some of us think that sort of poet the only real kind. He takes life as he finds it, with all its episodes of joy and calamity, and forces us to smiles or tears as the spirit moves him. Of course, I am thinking of Edmund Vance Cooke. Of all Cleveland writers developed within these fifty years [315] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND whose work will have permanency he, to my mind, has no equal. My association with Cooke has been slight, having had an opportunity to meet him at times only in newspaper offices along in the days of his early struggles. Thousands of you know him better, for he is a loyal Clevelander and a good “mixer.” And by his smile you intuitively recognize the kind of poet he really is. One of the best things done here by a newspaper in recent years was the Plain Dealer's engagement of Cooke to visit Cleveland high, parochial and grade schools and entertain the scholars with readings from his different books of poems. For as a children’s poet Edmund Vance Cooke is co-equal with Eugene Field and James Whitcomb Riley; not a succes- sor, which is a bandied, unsatisfactory and misleading term. This, however, is but a phase of his versatility. Of his humorous verse Cleveland has had many examples in the daily newspapers. So much has been written about the almost indefinite range of his work since, as a youth of fourteen, he saw his first contribution in Golden Days, I hesitate to particularize. Back twenty-five years ago in the Cleveland World, Charles Grant Miller, himself a writer of unusual ability, had this to say of Edmund Vance Cooke: ‘He can write something for the Independent in the morning, after lunch send off something for Puck, after dinner to the Chau- tauquan and in the evening give a reading from his works, in which he readily summons to his aid the most skillful dissemblance of the actor. He writes anything.” As well known on the lecture platform as through the numerous books of his collected verse, all America has for years been his audience. Notable among the volumes are “Rimes To Be Read,” ‘““Companionable Poems,” “‘Imperti- nent Poems,” ‘Chronicles of the Little Tot” and “The Un- common Commoner.”” Of the more than 500 poems included in the published volumes Cooke's “How Did You Die” has [316] IN LITERARY FIELDS had the widest popular appreciation. It was written in 1902 and first appeared in the Saturday Evening Post. It has been used by editors, novelists, preachers, lecturers, reciters, college instructors and even set to music by a prominent English composer. Several times stolen and revamped under titles such as “How Do You Fight,” the credit has always come back to its rightful owner. In one of Cooke's best lectures he deals incidentally with the travels of this masterpiece of philoso- phical verse, which has for years and will for years to come point out how pure grit and a cheerful heart may get a strangle hold upon almost any form of hard luck! “You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that? Come up with a smiling face! It’s nothing against you to fall down flat, But to lie there—that’s disgrace! The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce, Be proud of your blackened eye! It isn’t the fact that you're licked that counts; It’s how did you fight and why?” Some twenty odd years ago when “Jim” Morrow still was editor of the Leader, readers of that newspaper began to detect a new note of humorous optimism in its columns. That was when David Gibson, another of those irrepressible Indiana ink ‘‘slingers’’ joined the Leader staff. This modern David had, however, a quality of ammunition in his sling that has done much during subsequent years‘to slay the giants of Care in many million households the country over. On dif- ferent occasions a newspaper writer locally, both for the Leader and the Cleveland Press, much of his best work has been done in other publications. It is literature, and that is why I am talking of David Gibson in this particular chapter. Along early in Nineteen hundred when this “‘autobiogra- pher’” was with the Plain Dealer a little magazine called “The Silent Partner” commenced coming regularly to the office. [317] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND It appeared to be advertising a tumbling machine, the output of one of Cleveland's diversified factories. I had never known just what a tumbling machine was, but when the name of David Gibson loomed up as its editor I put a copy of the magazine in my pocket to read on the street car. For three or four years it traveled home with me as regularly as the day of publication came round. That is how it affected many of us, for in it were always to be found several pages of the best business philosophy, quaintly humorous and appealing, ever up to that period sent out by a purely industrial concern. This was followed by some thirty other similar publications issued from Gibson's own plant in the Caxton building. Later David printed a little book entitled ‘After Many Years,” evidently compiled from the numerous sketches he had published in these house organs for bankers, merchants and manufacturers, each of which had gone every month to all sections of the country. If you cannot buy a copy of that Gibson book, or beg one, let me lend you mine. No publica- tion of two hundred pages has ever crowded more of human nature into so small a space. David Gibson, the man of kindly, helpful spirit, broad toleration, of sincere friendships, is in a sense a local literary institution, and a subject too big for just presentation in a book designed to deal with so much of Cleveland personality. Ezra Brudno is strictly Cleveland's own, a graduate from a local high school who completed his education at Adelbert and Yale, his first book, “The Fugitive,” treating of life in Russia and New York, having been written during his col- lege years. This was followed by “The Little Conscript,” “The Tether,” “One of Us” and “The Juggler,” the later published in 1920, dealing in a fictitional, very humorous and at the same time drastic way with his fellows of the legal profession. Here is a practicing lawyer who over the years has found time to indulge in his chief delight, the weaving of [318] IN LITERARY FIELDS tales which have given us vivid pictures of life in Paris, in Russia and our home cities. In addition he has contributed many articles to magazines such as Lippincott’s, The World's Work, the Bookman and some others. His books have a large acceptance, for they are gripping and constructed with a rare faithfulness to underly- ing truths. Brudno’s latest book, ‘““The Sublime Jester,” a biographical novel dealing with the life of Heinrich Heine, famous German poet and humorist, indicates that its author is still and freshly in the literary ‘ring’ and that more mov- ing sidelights from the swirling world may be cast from his pen. Confession is good for the soul, when you don’t feel at all like apologizing for the things you admit. In this matter of book reading there is a lot of make believe on the part of the readers as well as the writers. Many of us try to talk knowingly about authors who write for the learned, and then adjourn to a quiet corner and devour a book like Charles Alden Seltzer’s first novel, “The Two Gun Man” or his latest, recently issued by the Century Company, entitled “The Way of the Buffalo.” Cleveland has been the home of Charles Seltzer since 1893. Beginning with the publication of his first book in 1911, which was soon followed by “The Range Riders,” his total output has grown to nineteen volumes. When a mere boy Seltzer spent a large part of his time in Union county, New Mexico, where the habits of a rougher generation and the tonic of a still rougher country, with its scenic wonders, made indelible pictures upon a mind of un- usual imagination. Only once returning there, some three years ago, the fund of western atmosphere laid in during early youth appears to be inexhaustable. The motion pic- tures, too, are thriving upon his heroes of the clenched fist [319] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND and ready gun, and the gals who easily ride horseback over yawning chasms to render first aid to wounded lovers! Charles S. Brooks, another product of the Cleveland pub- lic schools and a Yale college graduate in 1900, has already to his credit several books, a couple of plays, numerous essays published in various magazines, and besides lecturing upon English literature at the women’s college of Western Reserve University he finds time to move as the leading spirit in that live little theater the Cleveland Play House. Before taking up writing as a profession he was associated for several years with the Brooks Company, printers down on lower Superior street, one of the older of the city’s industries. His earlier books, such as “Journeys to Bagdad,” “Chimney Pot Papers” and “Pippins and Cheese to Come,” were charming examples of a literary style as attractive as pure. ‘A Thread of Eng- lish Road,” which came from the press last year, is replete with the seeming oddities of English life and very convincing of the author's sense of observation. Other volumes, includ- ing ‘Hints to Pilgrims,” “‘Frightful Plays,” “Luca Sarto’’ and a play, “Wappin Wharf,” show the diversity of his product. Those familiar with Brooks’ treatment of things in essay form will welcome a collection to come in a book entitled “Like Summer's Cloud,” to be issued this spring by Har- court, Brace ¥ Company. Not now living here, yet a native, once hanging her hat on a peg in a Cleveland graded school room and pleasantly arguing forms of English with her teacher, is a niece of mine, Louise Kennedy Mabie, daughter of James H., old news- paper man. In quite early womanhood she began, and fre- quently, to see her stories in magazines, one story, ‘The Loves of Aaron Burr,” going into a serial. Then followed a couple of novels, “Wings of Pride’’ and “The Lights Are Bright,” the latter, if I do say it myself, as perhaps I [320] bow pended IN LITERARY FIELDS shouldn’t, being in the family, one of the most graphic of great lake stories. The Ladies’ Home Journal has for some time been Mrs. Mabie’s particular attachment, in which she seems to be going very strong along the short story line. The last letter I had from her daughter, Mary Louise, who, the imitative imp, too is getting a hearing in the magazines with short stories and verses, informed me that her mother, now thoroughly under the drive of an ambitious offspring, intends to stick more faithfully to her writing desk in their California home. This, I hope for the redemption of the Kennedy family in the writing line, may be strictly true! Charles Waddell Chesnutt, one of Cleveland's best known authors, was born and has spent practically all of his life in Cleveland, except some fifteen years of his adolescence and young manhood, when he lived in North Carolina and col- lected the material for much of his literary product. Mr. Chesnutt sold his first story to the S. S. McClure Syndicate, which published it in the Cleveland Leader among other newspapers. He wrote humorous sketches for Puck and Tid- bits, and later contributed stories to the Boston Transcript, The Independent, and similar newspapers and periodicals. In 1899 his collected Atlantic Mothly stories were published by Houghton, Mifflin @ Company under the title “The Con- jude Woman.” Other books published by the same firm in later years were ‘“The Wife of His Youth,” “The House Behind the Cedars” and ‘“The Marrow of Tradition.” In 1899 he wrote a ‘‘Life of Frederick Douglass,” the abolition orator, for the ‘Beacon Series of American Biographies.” His novel, “The Colonel's Dream,” appeared in 1905. Mr. Chesnutt’s writings were received with marked critical approval. William Dean Howells wrote two separate articles of appreciation of Mr. Chesnutt’s books, one for The Atlan- tic Monthly and another for the North American Review. [321] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND The novels deal almost entirely with the race question and the color line in the United States, from a standpoint friendly to the Negro, while not oblivious of the difficulties attending the happy solution of these age-long problems. Among Cleveland authors who specialized in historical writing were Dr. Albert Bushnell Hart, for the past thirty years a member of the Harvard faculty and a noted historian, and Dr. James F. Rhodes, whose work has had world-wide recognition. Both Hart and Rhodes were once president of the American Historical Association. Dr. Elroy M. Avery, B. A. Hinsdale, Harvey Rice, Samuel P. Orth, Col. Charles Whitelesey and Judge Charles C. Baldwin also were valuable contributors along historical lines. Harriet L. Keeler, who for thirty years was a teacher in Central High School, and who in 1912 was honored with the position of Cleveland school superintendent, wrote sev- eral books, mostly botanical studies. Then there was Ger- trude Van R. Wickham, who wrote an early history of Cleve- land, and for years was a member of the old Cleveland Herald staff; Clara A. Urann, also a writer for the local daily news- papers; Andrew J. Rickoff, a writer of school books; Mr. and Mrs. H. T. Loomis, successful in the compilation of text books; Mary A. Donahey, once on the staff of the Plain Dealer and now a noted author of children’s books; W. J. Akers, who, busy in hotel management found time to write a history of the Cleveland public schools; Jane Elliott Snow, Sarah K. Bolton and Lydia Hoyt Farmer, the last three among the women writers of Cleveland whose books were of a merit adding much to the city’s literary reputation. In this connection it seems apt to say that a habit of book lovers formed forty and fifty years ago in the early Cleveland stores of Cobb © Andrews and The Burrows Bros. Company of “browsing around” in these stores to take a peek into the current volumes on well stocked table and shelf is not, I am [322] IN LITERARY FIELDS glad to note, by any means a disappearing custom and tradi- tion. This visit and personal touch with a world of publica- tions is encouraged by all up-to-date sellers of books, and the conveniences offered by stores such as Kornor 8 Wood and The Burrows Bros. Company and the welcome and attention you receive whether you are buyers or merely ‘‘browsers’ is cheering. Your successful book seller is himself a book lover and always ready with information about writers old and new and the character of their productions. [ 823 ] CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN A “TUNEFUL TOWN?” Things Now Doing And Events Long Of The Past Going To Make Of Cleveland A Musical Center No single incident has so impressed the writer with Clev=- land’s present high place in the world of music as an acci- dental conversation had one day last year with a stranger who chanced to be at the same lunch table in a downtown hotel. This visitor remarked that he was here to place his daughter in the Cleveland Institute of Music. When asked where he hailed from he told me his home was in New York city, and that his children were born there. “But New York is supposed to hold all the choice taber- nacles of art,” I observed. “Not when it comes to the item of music,” he promptly replied. “You have here what many of us think is not only the best school of music but in my opinion you have the best symphony orchestra.” Talk about prophets having honor everywhere but in their own baliwick! This appreciation from a New Yorker set me to wondering, and to looking more closely into what really has happened to bring about Cleveland's reputation as a musical center. Away back when Alfred Arthur's small con- servatory of music—they called them all, little and big, con- servatories then—and when Professor John Underner, and Johann H. Beck and some limited others taught vocal and instrumental music I thought as a newspaper man I knew all about who-was-who in that line. Indeed, Arthur was in the early Eighties the chief dependance of the newspapers, for each of which he would write on request anything wanted for [324] A “TUNEFUL TOWN” publication in the local musical line. I can see him now as he would come into the old Herald office after an evening concert and in musical terms quite understandable to the veriest amateur in music write out a report of the success just achieved by some local aspirant for vocal or instrumental fame. Another who helped us a lot in those days to forward musical information to Cleveland homes was IN. Coe Stewart, for eighteen years instructor of music in the public schools. Thousands of you middle aged radioacs who once thought you could sing a little yourselves were inspired by N. Coe in the school rooms of Cleveland. You can vision his stalwart figure, the long frock coat, the stiff standing collar and, usually the white tie with which he always, with benevolent smile, confronted you in the class room as he gave out the “‘do-ra- me-fa’’ that formed the basis of music intelligence. Later on the newspapers frequently appealed to C. B. Ellinwood when it was necessary to have real musical accuracy. This was be- fore they thought they could afford to have critics of their own such as James H. Rogers, Mrs. Arthur Bradley, Wilson G. Smith and Archie Bell, whose technicality of course meas- ures up to the best to be found the country over. Back there we heard and read little about “nuances” and the like, but we had rare musicians and Cleveland ever was a rapt listener. For in the earlier times came Jenny Lind, who sang in the old Kelly hall, and Adelina Patti, who was heard here in het girlhood days and again when well beyond middle age. In the late Seventies a girl soprano who was claimed as a local product and later was given the rather fanciful stage name of “Litta” crowded the new Euclid Avenue Opera House for one evening, the best seats selling for three dollars, then an extra- ordinarily high price. From a twenty-five cent perch in the gallery I looked downward into what appeared to be the most extended mouth ever set in the face of one single medium [325] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND sized human being. But the notes coming from it were divine. Her reign as a musical phenomenon was brief, for she died soon after starting upon a great career. Recently James H. Rogers refreshed my memory regarding many local events in the musical line in Cleveland, especially as to various societies that have contributed so much to the making of a real musical center. The Vocal Society formed in 1889 in the old Music Hall on Vincent street furnished a big start in chorus expression. This was followed by The Singers Club, a male chorus organized by Carrol B. Ellin- wood, an accomplished musician still alive to Cleveland's progress in the art. Musicians tell me America has had no better chorus of male voices. Other conductors of this organ- ization were Harvey B. Gaul, Charles E. Clemens and Albert Reese Davis. A thought of the latter brings vividly to mind the earlier doings of the Hermit Club when under the direc- tion of Davis and Frank B. Mead. Their annual output of bright music and screaming stage play made a big hit with the public and caused all the professionals to look well to their laurels. For over thirty years the Fortnightly Musical club, of which Mrs. A. B. Schindler is now president, with its mem- bership of 1,200 composed entirely of women, has kept the musical torch well lighted and performed a splendid service to the city. In the late Seventies was born the Arion Quartet, consisting of Frank Isham, Charles J. Jaster, tenors, and John B. Lang and George Duckett, basses. Later came another Arion with H. Warren Whitney and Vincent B. Woboril as tenors and James A. McMahon and B. W. Willard as basses. Not so long ago I had a pleasant little talk about old times with John Lang. He isn’t old. And it required nothing like a tuning fork for me to discover that his voice is as resonant, liquid and pleasing as ever. And the ‘‘nuances”’ were all there, too! [326] A “TUNEFUL TOWN’ Adolph Liesegang and Max Faetkenhauer were, I think, the outstanding promoters of light opera of an earlier day. When it comes to strings the Schubert quartet organized by Johann H. Beck in 1880 was the first significant venture. The first violin was Beck himself, the second Julius Deiss, the viola John Lichert and the cello Charles Heydler. Later came the Philharmonic quartet with several changes in leadership and finally to be under the direction of our widely known violinist, Sol Marcosson. The Rubinstein club of women singers was organized in 1895. The Harmonic club with over 1,900 voices was the creation of J. Powell Jones. It fostered home talent, introducing to the world of music such widely known artists as Edward Johnson, Allen McQuhae and Caro- line Alexander. There came too the Cleveland Music School Settlement projected by Almeda C. Adams, a local teacher of music, and helping immeasurably to advance music among the younger element. It would be a very agreeable task to be able to write into these recollections a record of all who have contributed to local musical development; but I have neither the knowledge of details or capacity for doing that. There are, however, some outstanding personalities even a novice in musical art or history knows something about. For instance, I am aware that in Cleveland the history of organized music centers about Adella Prentiss Hughes, manager of the Cleveland Or- chestra, whose rivals in managerial ability and success, accord- ing to a recent New York criticism, “may be counted on the fingers of one hand.” That sounds like high praise for this indefatigable and loyal Cleveland woman who had a vision and perfected it. But newspaper men of the past quarter of a century if themselves not at all musical know it is true. They recall her struggles when a mere girl to give Cleveland the best in music, and have rejoiced with her in the dawning of a day when this [327] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND city finally possessed not only a real symphony orchestra but one that is rated as holding place well at the top among the great orchestral organizations of America. Mrs. Hughes is a born executive, who, beginning her career as an accompanist, gravitated naturally in the direction of concert management. Her first serious attempt was the pre- sentation in old Association hall in 1898 of a quartet in the song cycle “In a Persian Garden.” Then several years were spent by her booking various artists, until finally in 1901 she organized a series of evening symphony programs, the first by the Pittsburg orchestra under the direction of Victor Her- bert. During the succeeding years in which Mrs. Hughes gave us practically all the talent of the few cities proudly support- ing symphony orchestras of note she had a dream of placing Cleveland among the musical elect. And now we have this mighty wizard of the baton, Nikolai Sokoloff, as welcome in London, New York and the lesser musical centers as at home, and, too, we have an orchestra the equal of any of them! These earlier orchestral concerts in Grays armory were given in co-operation with the Fortnightly Musical Club which Mrs. Hughes helped to organize. It was a little later that, not satisfied merely with the presentation of visiting organi- zations, she began the task of interesting business men in an orchestra for Cleveland. The response was encouraging and gradually there was evolved the Musical Arts Association which now maintains and operates the Cleveland Orchestra. Nor was Mrs. Hughes’ work confined to this particular or- chestra dream. She brought to Cleveland the famous Diag- hileff Russian ballet, promoted several seasons of grand opera, besides bringing here a constant succession of the world’s greatest artists. But what she counts as very permanently worth while has been her work in assisting hundreds of tal- ented boys and girls to realize dreams of a musical education. Some of the products of the Music School Settlement she [328] A “TUNEFUL TOWN” helped to found are today members of the Cleveland Orches- tra. The concerts for children in schools given by the orches- tra is an expression of her vision of music as a beautiful social- izing process, through which life is made more liveable, whether in tenements of the poor or in the mansions of those more fortunate in worldly possession. Substantial supporters of the Musical Arts Association in- clude many men who have given to it much more than finan- cial aid. Its first president was David Z. Norton, who, with Andrew Squire, Howard P. Eells, Otto Miller and Paul Feiss were its incorporators. Others who have as keenly interested themselves in this work, so widely educational to our people in all walks of life, are John L. Severance, William G. Mather, Dudley Blossom, Frank H. Ginn and a couple hun- dred of others able to produce music by the jingling of coin in the hat Mrs. Hughes annually passes to collect funds for maintaining a great orchestra. How this splendid organiza- tion under Sokoloff and Arthur Sheperd, his efficient assist- ant, is carrying Cleveland's musical fame to cities little and big is current history likely to be still more strikingly illus- trated as the years roll around. No musical review of Cleveland would be half complete without a tribute to those Spitalny boys! In fact they come with many people close to being a half of Cleveland's current musical expression, for with the two still living here their orcnestras are busy noon and night, week days and Sundays the year through. Besides, what the Spitalnys have done for themselves while still youngsters is mighty encouraging to youth with musical ambition. The late Jacob Spitalny, him- self an accomplished musician, started the three sons on their ultimate careers as soon as they could grasp a violin bow or spread their tiny fingers over the keys of a piano. The first of the boys to attract attention here was Hyman Leopold Spitalny, eldest of the family, now living in Chicago, [329] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND who in 1907 led a small orchestra in the old Rathskeller on East 4th street. From the start he urged the adoption of good music, and thus became a local pioneer in the introduction of the classical form for restaurant diners. This was thought by some to be absurdly risky, but Hyman stood by his guns with the result that the attendance of patrons was trebled. Indeed this eating place was afterwards to be known as the home of “‘the little symphony.” Phillip, the second brother, also went in for the classical in music at the Metropolitan theater with the same large drawing of listeners, Hyman meantime getting like results with an enlarged orchestra at the Stillman. For it must be noted that all three of the Spitalny boys are at heart lovers of the more classical, refining and educational in music. Very unusual versatility was afterwards shown by Phillip when, surrendering to popular demand, he became at the Allen the- ater the “King of Jazz.”” He has even gone so far as to good naturedly compose some jazz scores now played throughout the country and reproduced in record form. But when the jazzing spasm is modified or finally goes its way you will hear much more from him along substantial musical lines, for even now he is never quite so happy as while daily directing his orchestra, and on Sundays wielding the stick over com- bined orchestras in the Allen, when he can present the better forms of music. Coming to Maurice J. Spitalny, the “‘baby’’ of the family who began to direct a little orchestra in the Knickerbocker movie theater out Euclid avenue when only sixteen years of age, we find that he too is inclined to shudder when forced into the jazz roles. From the start he introduced the classical kind for visitors to the Knickerbocker, finally increasing his orchestra to thirteen members and drawing people from all over the city and suburbs to Sunday performances. While all of the Spitalnys are expert soloists Maurice especially has [330] A ‘““TUNEFUL TOWN’ made of the solo a distinct and alluring feature. You hear his appealing renditions at the Stillman where he now con- ducts a large group of musicians, at the Statler hotel and by radio. He also was one of the first violins when the new Cleveland Orchestra began its triumphant career. There were hot summer days back there forty years ago when employes in the old city hall and visiting newspaper reporters were obliged to close the windows abutting on Rockwell street. This was when a young girl named Ella Russell in a little frame house there was practicing vocal lessons. Little did we suspect that this miss whose voice could be heard three squares away would in time become a great singer. as popular all over England and on the continent as in her own land. For that is what happened. A man high in musical circles here tells me also that the late Mrs. Harvey D. Goulder, formerly Mrs. Seabury C. Ford, was perhaps the most gifted vocalist Cleveland has produced. We at home knew of course of her rare gift, but I was deeply impressed when this authority spoke of the unusual degree of intelli- gence Mrs. Goulder expressed in her vocal work here and when touring the country. For it seems that brains count more largely in music than some of us imagine. Of musical instructors Cleveland has had and has its fair share. In the case of one man, James H. Rogers, perhaps the share has been entirely unfair for as organist and composer he has few equals anywhere. Since his advent here forty years ago his work has been constant and progressive. First as organist at the Second Baptist Church, then for most of the years of his life with the Euclid Avenue Temple and for the past nineteen years with the First Unitarian Church, both of which he still serves as organist, Rogers still found time to produce several hundred creations for the voice, for church service, for the piano and probably all the instruments designed for musical expression. [331] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND John Underner, so long at St. Paul’s Church; W. B. Colson and Franklyn Bassett, once at St. Paul's and old Plymouth Church, were among the earlier of the noted local organists. I well remember too the courtly, dignified figure of J. T. Wamelink, many years organist and musical director at St. John’s Cathedral. Of younger men now active in the pro- fession much will no doubt be recorded by Clevelanders of the future some of whom, perhaps like myself, loving music much better than they know how to write about it. Among the teachers of the piano, a composer of note and a newspaper critic of charm, we have Wilson G. Smith, who like Rogers carries Cleveland's musical fame into the local dailies and to the uttermost parts of the world in criticism as well as in composition. For these two are really the “advance agents” of Cleveland's uprising to greater musical heights! Early in 1919 a committee was appointed from the execu- tive board of the Fortnightly Musical Club to investigate the need for a non-commercial school of higher musical education for Cleveland. Its chairman was Mrs. Joseph T. Smith, a graduate from the Peabody Institute, who spent her life in a city where musical education counted for much. This group of women having commissioned Mrs. Franklyn B. Sanders to do a great part of the investigating of the situation in other cities regarding musical education and the visiting of various conservatories in the country decided to form a company, and in May, 1920, the Cleveland Institute of Music Company was incorporated under the laws of Ohio. In the meantime there had been correspondence with various musicians of standing in the country and the recommenda- tion to engage Ernest Bioch as the first director of the school was made to the board of directors of the new corporation. The first officers of the company were: Willard M. Clapp, president; Mrs. David Z. Norton, vice president; Mrs. Worcester R. Warner, vice president; Victor W. Sincere, [332] A “TUNEFUL TOWN’ treasurer; Mrs. Frank Muhlhauser, secretary. Others on the executive committee were Charles Edwin Briggs, William T. Cashman, Mrs. Albert S. Ingalls, Mrs. Otis S. Southworth, Mrs. J. E. Ferris. Bloch was engaged as the musical director of the school and Mrs. Sanders as the executive director. Bloch came to Cleveland in October and in December the Institute opened its doors with a few students enrolled. Since that time its growth has been rapid and steady. Although there has been no definite endeavor toward numbers, quality being the paramount thought underlying all the teaching in the school, today, at the end of the fourth year, more than 500 students are enrolled. Bloch continues as director and has established in Cleve- land a school which is recognized throughout the country as being one of the most significant efforts toward musical education in America. Students come from all parts of the country. The Institute has two orchestras in constant rehearsal, an excellent faculty, a string quartet and numerous student quartets and trios. On its faculty are some of the foremost music educators and artists. Ernest Bloch is recog- nized as one of the world’s greatest composers. His music 1s played everywhere and since coming to Cleveland he has added many remarkable compositions to the already large number from his pen. The Cleveland Orchestra has played his First Symphony under his own leadership, Hivers- Printemps, The Twenty-Second Psalm and The Three Jewish Poems. As a composer, conductor and educator, Bloch has come to be regarded as one of the foremost living geniuses. He has richly endowed the Cleveland Institute of Music with his remarkable ideas on music education and Cleveland is a mecca for musicians of note from all parts of the world, who come to see the results of the teaching here and to investigate the principals used. While not endowed the Institute is supported by a group of public spirited [333] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND citizens who are glad to meet the annual deficit in the early years of its existence in order that Cleveland may have one of the schools of outstanding prominence and excellence in the United States. Much of its success is of course due to the untiring efforts of Mrs. Sanders, now assistant director, and for many years active in the promotion of musical works here. | 334] CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT HELPS TO GREATNESS Speculations Upon The Chances Of Life And How Great Oaks Are Grown From Little Acorns To say that had Tom Johnson never come back to Cleve- land to get himself elected to the mayorality some quite eminent gentlemen here would not have achieved great con- spicuousness in the public eye would hardly be true or polite. The most of them are of a kidney—as my competitors in the historical novel writing line put it—to climb to greatness on ladders of their own construction. And yet, as a study of life chances, and newspapers, and other erratic influences I shall point out some things that did result from Tom’s un- expected arrival here late in the winter of 1901 and the shy- ing of his hat into the political ring a few months later. “As this narrative of mine, in which much liberty is taken with Cleveland people, draws to a close I feel that it has lacked the real author’s ‘touch’ of analysis. And what is the sense of writing a book at all unless it points out some of the subtilties supposed to be hidden from the unobserving? Why work over a cross-word puzzle without comprehension and after remembrance of the meaning of words used? So, to make amends this little chapter must be devoted entirely to Cause and Effect. It is, of course, quite likely that had Tom Johnson stayed in the east pursuing still further his Brooklyn traction operations instead of working for an impossible three cent fare in Cleveland the people to be mentioned would have “arrived” just the same. I am by nature an optimist and not a knocker. Remember that, please! When Tom surprised the public and shocked the seasoned, old line Democratic attorneys by taking young Newton Baker [335] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND away from Foran’s law office to place him at the head of the city’s legal department there was consternation all over the local political camp. But evidently Tom knew what he was about. Here was a youth owning the forehead of a Dante and the square jaw of the prize fighter, a rather contradictory but winning combination, who already had shown minor brilliancies in his profession. As the months rolled round one by one the mayor's critics, chiefly political fault finders, began to see in the case of Baker another exhibition of the Johnsonian gift of selection. The upshot is quite well known. The mayoralty mantle, draped for so many years about Tom's ample shoulders, fell upon the more slender and artistic frame of Newton, and later came Washington and the Army. And by the same token things afterwards happened in the way of advancement to others in the Johnson law depart- ments at city hall. There is D. C. Westenhaver, now our federal judge, who early was a strength to Johnson in legal matters. And M. W. Beacon, afterwards to sit on a bench in the common pleas courts. And Harry F. Payer, who since has earned one of the really colossal law practices of Cleve- land. And Charles W. Stage, now among the legal luminaries of the great Van Sweringen railroad interests. And, too Frederick C. Howe, who afterwards fell so far from grace as to become an author! Thomas L. Sidlo was commissioner of franchises, and later director of public works in the cabinet of Mayor Baker. These men were young in years but creditable performers in the law departments Tom really thought he was running himself! From the scores of comparatively Unknowns who were made prominent locally with the coming of Johnson is Fred Kohler. If you live in Cleveland and not with the birds of passage who have found homes elsewhere in the world you know all about Kohler, who some insist made a great mayor in spite of his municipal colors. I knew about him when [336] HELPS TO GREATNESS he was a whiteheaded urchin living out Woodland avenue and was called “Fritz.” Rising from patrolman to the posi- tion of police captain he was chosen by Mayor Johnson to go to the head of the department. There is a story of personal loyalty in connection with that promotion. When the office of chief was first offered him Fred declined, saying to the mayor that the honor should go to W. S. Rowe, then his superior in rank, who afterwards succeeded Kohler as chief. But Johnson insisted upon giving the latter first place. What he did in modernizing the police force is history and had much to do in his election to the mayoralty. Now county sheriff, Fred no doubt has a lively sense of obligation to the man who elevated him to local prominence. Quite recently W. B. Gongwer took over from Newton Baker the reins of leadership in the local Democratic party. How ‘Burr’ Gongwer went from a newspaper office into the Johnson fold is told in another chapter. His loyalty to Tom L. was never questioned. He has now a chance to renew the former Johnson practices in expert selection of candidates for public office. It is a chance in a life time, and it comes to but few men. It is a job requiring a masterly hand. Johnson was called a ‘boss’ and in a sense he was that, but he also was a leader of men, who instead of ‘playing around” with the bosses of the other parties took the more direct courses of elevating men, even outside of the Democratic ranks, the people were proud to vote for. Is ‘Burr’ big enough to recreate that spirit in this community? I hope so. Politicians are prone after gaining their ambitions to make light of friendly newspaper aid. This was my experience as an editor and publisher, and it is the experience of all in the profession. I do not make the observation in any spirit of rancor, for this attitude on the part of public men probably is as human as it is prevalant. It has something of a counter- part in the eccentricity of certain society women who protest [337] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND against letting the newspaper girls say anything about their social functions in print, and then sulk if taken at their word and nothing is published. Nor does my criticism, if such it can be called, include all who are assisted to greatness by newspapers, for there are notable exceptions. I do, however, object to the political place hunter who, a beneficiary of the newspaper belittles the bridge that helps to carry him safely over. And purely as a study of cause and effect it is interesting to note by what narrow thread of chance many people leap into what Theodore Roosevelt said of his incumbency of the White House, on the only occasion I called upon him there. He was telling some funny stories about visitors and of Cleveland experiences when a campaigner, one of which included a brickbat riot provoked in our Iron Ward which he witnessed. ‘“You see,” said Teddy, ‘many amusing things are connected with this office of brief notoriety!” Take this matter of Tom Johnson and his first attempt to gain the mayoralty. A change of a trifle over three thousand votes would have elected his opponent, William J. Akers. Had the owner of the Cleveland Plain Dealer at that time a legal right to direct the paper, and had he been so inclined, he might have as successfully fought this same Johnson as he did a few years earlier when he “bolted” Tom's candidacy for congress. The paper’s support in 1901 proved to be a turning point in Tom's career, and he had the grace to acknowledge it. And speaking of the accidents of greatness. Some are born great, upon others greatnesss is thrust. Some achieve great- ness in the open and others in ways most mysterious. Which reminds me that as the years roll around they leave in their complicated track numerous and peculiar unsolved puzzles. When I was a small boy millions were distressed over the abduction of Charlie Ross. Later other millions rejoiced over [338] HELPS TO GREATNESS the finding in Cleveland of little Willie Whitla kidnapped from his home in a neighboring state. But as we go to press with this book the identity of the man, or men, who made the Cleveland Plain Dealer appears to many still shrouded in deep, inpenetrable mist! An attempt to untangle the mystery was made on November 14, 1923, on the occasion of a gathering of employes in the Plain Dealer business office. Among those present was Ted Robinson, Plain Dealer humorist. In his speech that day as reported in the following morning issue there was on Ted's part no suggestion of mystery over the identity of the Plain Dealer’s creator. ‘I just want to make it plain,” said Ted, ‘“‘that the Plain Dealer of today is the work of Elbert H. Baker.” Another member of the group was Attorney Ben P. Bole, a son-in-law of L. E. Holden and now vice president of the newspaper company, who in a speech referred to the ‘“‘resurrection”’ of the Plain Dealer “from the dead to the living.” Said Attorney Bole, “It is all due to the vision, foresight and courage of one man—our friend, Elbert H. Baker.” Those who may have a different opinion as to the person- nel of those who contributed to the making of the new Plain Dealer should remember that Attorney Bole at the time was quite a child—or surely not yet comfortably used to long trousers. Besides, after he grew up he may have been misled. So, as the mystery thickens probably no one with an opinion will surrender it too hastily under the stress of Ted's and Bole’s emotional speech making. What was going on at the back of the heads of older employes of the paper who listened in to the remarks of the humorist and the attorney can only be a matter of conjecture. Yet, in view of the somewhat sweeping testimony of Bole, which excluded the Holdens and everybody else but his friend Baker from credit for the resurrection of the [3391] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND Plain Dealer, I feel justified in speaking of another gathering in the business office of that newspaper. It was when Mr. Holden was approaching extreme old age. A bronze bust of the owner was ceremoniously placed in a wall with an inscription bidding the visitor to note that L. E. Holden founded the Plain Dealer in 1885. After the call of ““30”—in daily newspaper offices, indicat- ing that all associated telegraphic news is in for the day or night—after this call from the Grim Reaper that comes to all, many newspaper men gone to their final reward have had their lives and example perpetuated in marble and bronze. I never pass the New York Tribune building without a sense of veneration, and gratitude, to its founder Horace Greely, whose benign and old fashioned encircling neck whiskers are there cut largely and deeply in granite. And similar monuments might appropriately be erected to Joseph Medill of the Chicago Tribune, Henry Watterson of the ‘Louisville Journal, Samuel Bowles of the Springfield Repulican, Edwin Cowles of the Cleveland Leader, Joseph Pulitzer of the New York World, James E. Scripps of the Detroit News, James Bennett of the New York Herald and a host of others. For something besides money went from these men into the making of newspapers. In truth the money part was much the smaller part! [340] CHAPTER FORTY-NINE CLEVELAND IN 1925 A Chapter Dedicated To The Absentee Who Thinks With Affection Of The Old Home Town The call of the wide world, the irresistible summons of intense business and professional life in New York, the chances for a more romantic and rapid success in the undeveloped spaces of the great West, the lure of sunny California; these and kindred attractions have in the passing years left many gaps in the home circles of Cleveland. At times some of these absentees, who will ever be associated in the minds and hearts of friends here still as Clevelanders, have returned for a while and noted what was going on in the old home town. But those long separated from this old ‘Forest City’ of ours and theirs, the big town where indeed not so many years ago all the business thoroughfares and residential streets were shaded with the maple, the elm, the poplar and even the pine tree of a colder clime; those who recall Cleve- land as a somewhat exaggerated village, straining to become metropolitan in appearance and activity, would today find little to remind them of a Cleveland from which the last twinkling of candle, oil and gas light has, in the manner of all big cities, forever been submerged in the overpowering glare of electricity. From a thousand angles you of a Cleveland past and forever gone would see in the city of today a vastly different structure, a mighty improvement and a mighty promise of a really Greater Cleveland to come! Everywhere old land- marks are effaced. Everywhere upon grazing or densely wooded tracts of nearby farms once remote from city bustle, [341] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND now exist home communities or busy factories. On all sides, in all directions a solidification of interests has taken place. The sky line is different. If now a New Yorker you boast of the most wonderful sky line of buildings on the globe; but this is to inform you that the old home town, too, has achieved a sky line that some day may cover as much territory as the reach from Battery Park to Harlem. Let us take a glance at it from an imaginary and safe place on an incoming Buffalo boat. Not so much to speak about as yet when we are passing along opposite Gordon Park. The natural sky line with a background of the Heights above Euclid avenue might, however, appeal to you as beautiful quite beyond man made lines of stone and steel, for in childhood it was familiar to you. But wait a bit. That skyscraper over at the corner of Euclid avenue and Ford drive is the new Commodore hotel for small families. It is within and a part of Wade “allotment.” You may recall that over thirty years ago Homer Wade did a doubly good job for Cleveland. In a time of labor surplus before a wise banking law lessened the frequency of business panics, Wade kept hundreds of men at work planting shade trees and laying sidewalks out there which for several years thereafter brought him little return. Today that is almost a solid community of beautiful homes, close to the driving business of Euclid avenue, Superior avenue and busy East 105th street. A little further westward, opposite Garfield monument, we glimpse other tall buildings, twice or three times the height you knew of in the old time down town district. These are Wade Park Manor, Fenway Hall, Park Lane Villa and the marble Museum of Art, the latter in summer glistening dia- mond like in the foliage not to be disturbed by money diggers. Even as far away as East 79th street on Euclid we can see a tall modern building, one of the fifty-four banking branches of [342] CLEVELAND IN 1925 the Cleveland Trust Company. And a little later comes into vision the first of our congested sky line, a twenty-one story white tiled Keith building at East 17th and Euclid, housing Keith's Palace theater, the last word in interior beauty, an art palace and playhouse combined. And all the way west- ward on the avenue to Public Square Cleveland's sky line remains unbroken, the structures varying from the twenty- one story Union Trust building to those of lesser height but mostly ornate of front, and many later to reach nearer to the skies. And along here, as you will see from the deck of this Buffalo boat, old Lake View Park with new filled in ground of thirty acres has been transformed into a widely spread space separating the beginning of Cleveland's famous grouping plan from the boat docks, now located several hundred feet north of the older shore line. Those two large buildings on the hilltop are Cleveland's new city hall and the Cuyahoga county building, both impressive and practical additions to our sky line. The huge, not very tall but outwardly and inwardly artistic building close to city hall is a skyliner as well as a headliner for modern Cleveland! “No two ways ‘bout that,” as an old Yankee farmer down in my home town used to say. The whole world is talking about Cleveland's Public Hall, or Auditorium, which, now seating 12,000 persons and later to have seating capacity for 8,000 more, is envied by all other metropolitan centers. You may have heard of Harry L. Davis, once mayor, once governor of Ohio, a remarkable local if not state political organizer. The thing that will link Harry historically with Cleveland for a century or so to come is the fact that this public hall was initiated when he was mayor. It costs something like $10,000,000 and just when the newspapers had warned us it was always to be a financial liability behold! it began to take on rentals of a size to [343] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND assure in the future a safe paying investment. As an adver- tisement of Cleveland public spirit it will be worth many times its original cost. On Superior avenue where the new public library and the United States government structures mark the south line of public building grouping you may obtain from the Lake Erie approach a view of more recent and striking additions to Cleveland's rapidly filling line of skyscrapers. Notable among them is the Cleveland Discount block also of twenty- one stories, built upon a vision that collapsed financially but there to stay and add to the city’s facilities in the modern office line. Possibly you know somebody who will recall the long line of low brick buildings reaching from old Erie street to the city hall, for years devoted to saloons and ‘barrel houses.” Well, they are no longer there. Skyscrapers, including the new Federal Reserve bank building, the tall Leader-News building, the Plain Dealer block, the public library and other modern structures have completely changed both sides of the street. Two notable examples of what a high grade labor organization can, if enterprising, contribute to a community appear on the horizon as your boat nears the dock. One is the sixteen story office building and the other a newer twenty- one story bank building owned by the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers. Warren S. Stone, master mind of the brotherhood, who has capitalized its enormous member- ship and support into a big insurance company, a coal mining company and a chain of banking houses is a remarkable Clevelander few of you Cleveland brethren of the outer world have personally met. Probably many more once knew P. M. Arthur, first chief of the brotherhood, for this was his home. The Rockefeller building on Superior on the site of the old Weddell House at the corner of old Bank street is not of [344] CLEVELAND IN 1925 very recent construction, but as a skyliner it marks the present western terminal of the down town section. South of the Superior avenue line there will soon appear other imposing structures adding significantly to the sky line picture. One, a building to be erected to house the Ohio Telephone interests, will, I understand, go several stories higher than the present limit of twenty-one floors. Yes, fellow tourists, there is the old Union Depot! The Cuyahoga river is a little cleaner than in days gone by but if possible the depot grows more grim as the years roll ‘round. We ask you to pause and listen to a story, briefly told, of the new depot on the Square. Early in the gigantic planning schemes of the brothers Van Sweringen who are about to control so many railroads with Cleveland as head- quarters, and after they got the Nickel Plate securely under thumb there was conceived the idea of a great terminal station at the south of Cleveland Public Square. Instead of a Union Depot at the lake front to be a part of the original grouping plan we are to have a mammoth structure all the railroads are invited to use, costing its projectors something like $60,000,000 to $80,000,000. It is not a dream. It is so. Already the Cleveland hotel, built on the site of the old Forest City House and part of the general railroad improvement, is an object of local pride. And the new depot is to have a tower fifty stories in height in emulation of New York's boast, the monster Woolworth building. Gone are all those old buildings at the south side of Public Square and along Champlain and Michigan streets from Ontario street west to Canal. Excavations finished, the steel and masonry construction is soon to begin, and if we all live four or five years we shall be invited to the opening of one of the few really sublime railway depots of a civilized [345] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND world! This we are promised and, knowing considerably about those Van Sweringens we may reasonably expect. So much for physical Cleveland in 1925, with its tremendous increase of industrial and business territory and its better living and working conditions. These things can be visualized. It will require a personal visit from the absent Clevelander and a closer touch with the Cleveland people of today to gain any adequate understanding of what the old home has come to be. Many of you will recall the early struggles of old Western Reserve College at the time of its removal here from Hudson, Ohio. Amasa Stone, one of the city’s rich men of that day, steered it into safer waters by providing a fund from which the present buildings, com- posing what then was known as Adelbert College, were erected and greatly increased teaching facility made possible. A near neighbor of Case School of Applied Science which was founded by Leonard Case and during the past quarter of a century under the able direction of Dr. Charles S. Howe, the two institutions have during all these years had the closest sympathy and collaboration. The success of Dr. Charles F. Thwing in bringing Western Reserve to its present high standard is so well known here, as elsewhere, any detailed comment is unnecessary. Robert E. Vinson, a dynamic educator of a later generation, is now its president, and about the first thing he did when he came to town last year was to ‘take off his coat and start rolling the ball for a Greater Cleve- land University! Much had been said and dreamed about an educational seat to bear the name of Cleveland and the most indifferent of us have had some idea of what a realization of the dream would mean to a city of progression. ‘Prep’ Vinson with a daring and sweep of vision prevalent in Texas, his former place of residence, has taken the bit in his teeth and is leading in a race for millions upon millions of dollars to finance the [346] "CLEVELAND IN 1925 dream! Excuse the metaphor. That word “Texas” provoked it. Everybody will be asked to work and contribute to the undertaking—even you Cleveland outlanders! Projected and well under way is another educational institution that will add immeasurably to the city’s prestige. It will be known as the John Carroll University, a develop- ment from that older and successful Catholic school, St. Ignatius College, now located at West 30th street and Carroll avenue on the west side. The sum to be raised is $3,000,000 and a site has already been located for the university on Shaker Heights. Dr. Thomas J. Smith, for several years president of St. Ignatius, and a host of loyal friends within and without the church are working faithfully to raise the sums needed to bring to fulfillment a long cherished idea. The other day I had a little talk with Harry A. Peters, principal of University School for boys. It is safe to assume that among you former Clevelanders are some who once attended that very lively institution where they put “‘pep’’ as well as learning into the youth of your old town. Harry Peters, beloved by an army of boys large and small, permits me to say that plans have been approved for the new school buildings, also to be located on Shaker Heights, and that the work will be started this spring. A fund of approximately $1,000,000 has already been subscribed, which, with the money to be realized from a sale of the property of the older school on Hough avenue estimated at $500,000 will ultimately be available. [347] CHAPTER FIFTY ONLY A HALF TRUTH Some Exceptions Noted To The Statement That “The Community Makes The Newspaper” As my story has been dealing so largely with daily news- papers, perhaps it may be consistent to close these reminis- cences with some comment on the theories and practices of newspaper production and what you as readers have a right to expect from a self-elected ‘Newspaper Government.” William Allen White, noted Kansas newspaper editor and novelist, not long ago said, and his statement has been widely published, “Newspapers are the fairly accurate reflex of the public mind, since the community makes the newspaper, and the newspaper merely reflects the character of the public for which it is written.” If that opinion were entirely true, then we might with profound sincerity pray to God to save the public from further “newspaper government!” The fact is, White's observation is misleading and mis- chievous, although it does direct attention to a serious joural- istic condition, to a critical stage in newspaper production as apparent in Cleveland as in any other large center of popula- tion. Were his remark that ‘the community makes the news- papers’ carried to its logical conclusion by the religious mis- sionaries, and the advance agents of commerce hourly invad- ing darkest Africa, we would have a pretty “how come?” even from the savages themselves! It would be useless for the American drummer to unpack before the natives his enticing samples of modern dress. Probably, on the theory that the community creates its own method of clothing, the colored brother would continue to go around in the cooling habit provided by nature for people [348] ONLY A HALE TRUTH in his over-heated clime. The fact that the bushman prefers “‘sensationalism’’ in clothing is no concern of that drummer. And why should the missionary interfere with things ‘“‘as are’’ by suggesting a better moral code? Happily the newspaper can to a very large extent mold the community. And as surely it can amend the community when so-called popular opinion cuts loose and goes all awry upon a mistaken public policy. This has occurred so many times in America that even school children know about it. What happened to Negro slavery when a stalwart line of early editors in little and big newspaper offices in the North spoke their minds is history. If the community had “made the newspapers’ in the border states at that time the tasks of preserving the Union surely would have been multiplied. Editors who had convictions and were not afraid to print them even at the expense of circulation loss lived to see their newspapers vindicated, prospered and honored. The newspapers have had a lot to do with reshaping the public attitude toward politics, as in many another respect. Thirty years ago party lines were as a rule as strictly drawn in local government as in state or national. The Plain Dealer long a Democratic organ experienced a new vision and per- sisted in the fair pla n of giving its support to the best men on both the local tickets. For years the Cleveland Press had preached the doctrine of independence in voting. If that course had no material effect upon the voters it is hardly likely Cleveland would have gained the reputation of being the most politically independent city in America. And there is the recent big La Follette vote here. Like it or resent it as you will, the fact remains that the Cleveland Press had much to do with creating it. And to a large extent your daily newspaper is responsible for a public weakness of attitude toward crime. That is a strong statement, but if the facts do not bear it out then let [349] i FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND it go with the other things said in this book you have a right to dissent from. Two men steal an automobile and with “guns” in hand rob a gas filling station. They abduct a policeman and the officer is shot to death. A few days later I find in my morning newspaper an eight-column black type headline telling of the capture of “Red” and “Joe,” charged with the murder. These prisoners, spoken of so familiarly all through the article, were not, it transpires, small school boys but full-grown men well steeped in crime. A little later I read in an evening newspaper that “Joe” and “Red” were arraigned in court, and a touching word picture was painted of how female members of their families hovered near in sympathy and support. When one of the thugs, admitting his guilt, attempted unsuccessfully to com- mit suicide we were treated to a four-column ‘“‘half-tone” in another evening paper showing ‘“Joe’’ lying on a cot in the city hospital eating soup with a policeman in uniform smiling down at him! Not long ago a young woman too lazy to work and with an evil record behind her stepped into a Cleveland drug store and, pointing a revolver at the clerk, obliged him to fork over the contents of the cash drawer. One newspaper enter- tained us for several days thereafter with heart throb stories of how this poor girl was misled into bad company. Later the same paper gave us, in language no youth ever locked up in Cleveland for holding up a bank ever had the intelligence to write, a thrilling story of his young life, in which most of his hard luck was recorded as the fault of others. This sort of newspaper entertainment, specimens only of many similar publications, is indulged in largely to make “in- teresting reading.”’ That it serves to create a public atmos- phere of leniency toward crime probably seldom is seriously considered in the newspaper office. The newspapers do not hesitate on occasion to charge unde leniency on the part of [350] ONLY A HALF TRUTH the courts and the police department, but their own coddling of criminals with type and illustration is conveniently over- looked. What effect that kind of sympathetic publication has upon juries sitting in judgment upon criminals can readily be imagined—if anybody takes the trouble to think about it. These observations are made with the most loyal feeling toward newspapers and newspaper writers, knowing, as I surely do, the crosses they daily bear. So much for an unruly and disappointing side of newspaperdom. Let us turn the slate over. ‘““There is so much that is good in the worst of us’’ that ordinarily the good entirely offsets the bad. That is as true of newspapers as of individuals. This thought came freshly to me when last Christmas week I read of the thousands of Cleveland homes brightened by Christmas cheer of gift and kindly word coming from local newspaper offices where there had been no scrimping of space to arouse popular sentiment in behalf of the unfortunate! I think of how all the newspapers come promptly to the front with ringing appeal when calamity spreads a dark wing of despair over some unfortunate section! I think of the countless newspaper editorials written with sincerity that do shape our thoughts and tendencies because they remind us of truths we have neglected to reason out for ourselves. I think of the tremendous tasks going on day and night to bring from all quarters of the world the important hap- penings touching life from limitless angles, to be focused into a few pages of newspaper print at trivial cost to the reader. I think of newspapers, taken as a whole, as a Big Brother, sometimes unruly, sometimes foolishly displaying a chip on [351] FIFTY YEARS OF CLEVELAND his shoulder, yet ever ready to defend the weak against thi strong, to lighten the places of gloom and, best of all, to helj! cultivate sympathetic living amongst the toiling travelers 03 earth who, poor or rich of purse, gifted or deficient in mind) robust or frail of body, are Pilgrims together only waiting for the inevitable turn in the road that must separate on: from another! The End [ 852 | U. C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES nn CDa71Da82448