Chapter 11

And what is Wanamakers? It is the name of two great stores, one in New York City and the other in Philadelphia. The owner, John Wanamaker, is the man who first thought of selling all manner of articles in one store, and so built what we call today a department store.

No one who knew John Wanamaker when he was a boy thought he had any better chances than any other boy among his playmates, and no one foretold that he would become a great merchant.

A plain two story house in Philadelphia was his early home. There he lived with his father and mother. His father was a brick maker, and while John was very small he would help his father by turning the bricks over so they would dry evenly. His father died in 1852. John was just fourteen, and he went to work in a book store. His wages were $1.50 a week, but he managed to save a little. His mother encouraged him and he says of her, "Her smile was a bit of heaven and it never faded out of her face till her dying day."

Although at first the boy earned but little to help this good mother, he soon was able to care for her in a way beyond his highest hopes.

What caused him to succeed? His capital! "But," you say, "he had no money; he was poor." True, his capital was not money. Let us see what it was. A few words will tell us. He had good health, good habits, a clean mind, thriftiness, and a tireless devotion to whatever he thought to be his duty.

He worked hard outside of business hours, improving himself for any opportunity that might come. And one came when he was twenty-one years of age.

The directors of the Philadelphia Y. M. C. A. were looking for a young man to become Secretary of the Association. They were anxious to secure an earnest energetic person who would make a great success, for it was the first time that such a position as Y. M. C. A. secretary had been established. They selected John Wanamaker and paid him $1,000 a year.

He went to work with a will, and everyone felt that he more than earned his salary. All the time he was saving, just as he had been doing when he worked in the book store. He had great hopes and plans. When he had saved $2000 he and a friend of his own age started a business of their own. Their store was named Oak Hall and they sold men's clothing. At that time business houses did not advertise in the newspapers as they do today. Neither were signboards used. Just imagine how puzzled the good folk of Philadelphia were when, one morning, they saw great billboards all over their peaceful city. On these were two letters, W. & B. No one knew what these letters meant. Everyone was guessing, and it was not until Oak Hall was opened that the public learned that W. & B. stood for Wanamaker & Brown, the name of the new firm.

Their first day's business brought in thirty-eight dollars. John Wanamaker himself delivered the goods in a wheel barrow. Then he hurried to a newspaper office and spent the entire thirty-eight dollars for advertising. After reading of the wonderful goods on sale there, customers poured into Oak Hall. They bought, too, for again John Wanamaker had spent his money wisely. He had hired the highest paid clerk in Philadelphia to manage the sales room, which meant that each customer was waited upon well and went away pleased, ready to tell his friends about the new store.

What do you suppose was told the oftenest? Probably you would not guess, because today all business houses have followed the plan that was used first in Oak Hall.

You will be surprised when you hear that it was the custom of having one price for a garment and sticking to it that caused the most talk. This price was marked plainly on a tag attached to the article to be sold, and any one could see it. Before this, clothing merchants had not marked their goods, but tried to get as much as possible from a customer. Often one suit of clothes had a dozen prices on the same day. So you can see what a change the energetic young man made. He did more than this. Because he wanted to please the public, he said if any customer was not satisfied he could return his purchase and receive his money back. This was a startling idea, but it worked, and made many friends for the young firm.

Their store waked up Philadelphia. Every week some new advertising appeared. Once great balloons were sent up from the roof. Stamped on each one was the statement that any one who found the balloon and returned it to Oak Hall would receive a suit of clothes. You can imagine how the people hunted for those balloons. One was found five months afterward in a cranberry swamp. The frightened farmer who saw it swaying to and fro thought at first that some strange animal was hiding there. You may be sure he was glad to hurry to Oak Hall with his prize and get the promised suit of clothes.

John Wanamaker kept on economizing and saving, for he wanted a bigger business. Then the idea came to him of selling many kinds of goods under one roof, and the modern department store was born. The store, though small at first, gradually grew until it finally became the largest in Philadelphia. Then it was that he decided to build an even larger one in New York City.

Today there are department stores throughout our country in every city and town. We like them and take them as a matter of course. But let us remember they had their beginning in the idea of this boy from Philadelphia.

His success looks very great to us, but it was built up step by step. He says it is due "to thinking, toiling, and trusting in God." This seems to sum up his life. Besides business, his interest in religious affairs has always been great. He has given of his wealth to many noble charities and helpful organizations. In Philadelphia he built a great building for a Sunday School alone. Thousands of persons attend this school each Sunday and there are classes there during the week for those who have had to leave school at an early age. He has remembered the Y. M. C. A. and, perhaps because of his early work with it, has been unusually generous in giving buildings to struggling associations. He even built one in the far away city of Madras, India, thus stretching out his influence for good nearly around the world.

But while he has had thought for those far away, he has also cared for the people who work for him. His stores were the first to have an entire holiday on Saturday during the hot days of summer. This was done so the men and women could leave the crowded city, if they wished, on Friday evening, and have a vacation of two full days in the country or at the seashore.

Then, too, he has encouraged the various departments of the stores to form clubs and musical societies. At times there have been two bands in the New York store, one composed of men and the other of women. They have rooms and hours in which to practice.

Besides playing and singing, some of the clubs study English, foreign languages, and many other subjects. It is possible for every person employed in one of the Wanamaker stores to add to his stock of knowledge through this club life.

Some years ago John Wanamaker began giving a pension to those who had served him for a certain length of time. This plan has since been followed by other firms because it promotes faithfulness and interest in the business.

This interest makes each one connected with the store realize he is a part of it. Perhaps this is shown best by the way pensioned men and women responded to Mr. Wanamaker's call in 1917, after so many men had left to join the army and navy. They went back to take the places of those who had gone, feeling that in so doing they were serving their country.

There was one fine old Scotchman past eighty years of age living in New York who had been forty-four years in the employ of Wanamaker. He had been on the pension roll for some time and was enjoying old age quietly. When he heard the call from his former employer, he went down to work as eagerly as a boy, glad he was strong and sturdy enough to do his part in keeping the great store open to serve the public.

Is it not a fine thing to be able to develop such spirit and energy among thousands of persons? Surely the mother of the boy who turned bricks for his father would rejoice if she could read her son's record. He has become one of the greatest business men of his day; he served our country well as Postmaster General but most of all he has given each year more and more time and money to help make the world better.

Can we not say of him that, while he has always recognized that the object of business is to make money in an honorable way, he has tried to remember that the object of life is to do good?

* * * * *

"_And the star-spangled banner In triumph shall wave O'er the land of the free And the home of the brave._"

--FRANCIS SCOTT KEY.

WOODROW WILSON

Thomas Woodrow Wilson was born at Staunton, Virginia, December 28, 1856. At that time Staunton was a town of five thousand inhabitants, situated in the beautiful and famous Valley of Virginia. Woodrow's father, a thoroughly trained and able preacher, was pastor of the Southern Presbyterian Church of the city.

When Woodrow was two years of age the family moved to Augusta, Georgia. In those days Augusta, a city of fifteen thousand people, was one of the leading manufacturing cities of the South. With its great railroad shops, furnaces, rolling mills, and cotton mills, it was indeed a hive of industry.

As a boy Woodrow was called "Tommy" by his playmates; but as he grew into manhood he dropped his given name and signed himself--Woodrow Wilson. His mother was a Woodrow, and by signing his name Woodrow Wilson he hoped to do equal honor to each parent.

During Woodrow's boyhood days, the Civil War storm-cloud was gathering; and when he was five years of age it broke in all its fury. Fortunately for him, Augusta was far removed from the scenes of conflict. Never can he remember having seen troops of southern soldiers marching through the streets of the city. Only once was he thoroughly frightened. When General Sherman was on his famous march to the sea, word came that he was about to capture Augusta. Immediately the few men who were left in the city, for most of them had gone to war, gathered all sorts of fire arms and marched forth to meet the enemy. All night they lay on their arms, but greatly to their relief the foe never came.

Naturally enough the most vivid memories young Woodrow had of the war were those in connection with the scarcity of food. Before the war the people of the South had never thought of eating cow peas, as they were thought to be fit only for cattle; but so scarce did food become that Woodrow had to eat so much cow pea soup that even yet, whenever he thinks of it, he feels the old time disgust.

Two things that happened immediately at the close of the war made a deep impression upon the lad who was then nine years of age. All through the war the president of the Southern Confederacy was, as you know, Jefferson Davis. Imagine young Woodrow's surprise when he saw the former president marched through the streets of Augusta, a prisoner of war, guarded by Federal soldiers. They were on their way to Fortress Monroe. During the war Woodrow, as we have already said, saw very little of the Confederate soldiers; but as soon as peace was declared, the Union soldiers took possession of the city, even occupying his father's church as a temporary barracks. The hardships suffered during the few years immediately at the close of the war were even greater than those during the war itself.

A thrilling event in the life of the lad was the day when Augusta had its first street cars. The bob-tail cars, with their red, purple, and green lights, and drawn by mules, afforded all sorts of fun for the boys. To make scissors by laying two pins crosswise on the rail for the cars to pass over was one of their most pleasant pastimes.

In those days there were no free public schools with their beautiful buildings for Woodrow to attend, so he was sent to a private school that was held in rooms over the post office. With Professor Derry, who was in charge of the school, spanking was the favorite form of punishment. While Woodrow and his chums differed very decidedly with the Professor's views regarding spanking, the boys were never able to convince him that their views were right. Finally, the lads discovered that pads made from the cotton that grew in the fields on every side of the city served them well whenever the evil day of punishment arrived. After they had made this discovery they were more reconciled to the Professor's views.

The best chum Woodrow had was his father. Busy as he was with the cares of his large church, he never was so occupied that he could not find time to chum with his boy. For hours at a time he would read to his son the worth-while things that Woodrow enjoyed hearing. Then, too, the busy pastor was in the habit of taking a day off each week to stroll with Woodrow in field, factory, or wood as the case might be. On these long strolls the father and son talked over many of the problems that were of interest to the lad. Little wonder, then, with such comradeship, that Woodrow rapidly developed along right lines.

Like all boys, he was fond of building air castles. Dwelling much in the realm of fancy, he imagined that he occupied all sorts of positions and did remarkable things.

Mr. William Hale in his excellent story of the life of Wilson describes one of these flights of the imagination as follows: "Thus for months he was an Admiral of the Navy, and in that character wrote out daily reports to the Navy Department.

"His main achievement in this capacity was the discovery and destruction of a nest of pirates in the Southern Pacific Ocean. It appears that the government, along with all the people of the country, had been terrified by the mysterious disappearance of ships setting sail from or expected at our western ports. Vessels would set out with their precious freight never to be heard from again, swallowed up in the bosom of an ocean on which no known war raged, no known storm swept.

"Admiral Wilson was ordered to investigate with his fleet; after an eventful cruise they overtook, one night, a piratical looking craft with black hull and rakish rig. Again and again the chase eluded the Admiral. Finally, the pursuit led the fleet to the neighborhood of an island uncharted and hitherto unknown. Circumnavigation seemed to prove it bare and uninhabited, with no visible harbor. There was, however, a narrow inlet that seemed to end at an abrupt wall of rock a few fathoms inland. Something, however, finally led the Admiral to send a boat into this inlet--and it was discovered that it was the cunningly contrived entrance to a spacious bay; the island really being a sort of atoll. Here lay the ships of the outlawed enemy and the dismantled hulls of many of the ships they had captured. And it may be believed that the brave American tars, under the leadership of the courageous Admiral, played a truly heroic part in the destruction of the pirates and the succor of such of their victims as survived."

Thus he dreamed dreams, studied, and chummed with his father until the eventful day arrived when he must go away to college. But where should he go? What college should he attend? A small Presbyterian college in the South was chosen. Before the end of the first year he was taken sick and had to leave college. Then it was that he decided to go to Princeton University, a decision that had much to do with his future career. Life in Princeton proved to be just the stimulus that he needed. Here, surrounded by the keenest, most alert young men of the country, he developed rapidly. Interested in every school activity, from baseball to debating, he won for himself a prominent place in the student body. So great was his thirst for knowledge, however, that his graduation from Princeton did not satisfy him. Accordingly, he next went to the University of Virginia where he was graduated from the law school in 1881. But even this did not satisfy, so he spent two years in Johns Hopkins University, receiving in 1885 the degree of Ph.D., the highest degree that any university can give.

Thus equipped, he became a professor first in Bryn Mawr College, then in Wesleyan University, and finally in Princeton. So pronounced was his success as professor in his beloved university that in 1902 he was made President of Princeton. So able was his leadership in Princeton that the state of New Jersey called him to be its governor. Could a University President make a good governor? The politicians were very much in doubt. It is needless to say that all watched him with deepest concern. Soon, however, it became apparent even to the most skeptical that he was destined to be New Jersey's ablest governor. Gradually, because of his strength, his popularity grew until the eyes of all the nation were fastened upon him. From the governor's chair he rose to the highest honor the Nation could bestow, he was elected to the Presidency of the United States.

Little did he realize when he accepted this honor that with it would come the heaviest burdens that any president save Abraham Lincoln had been called upon to bear. For eight long years he patiently bore those burdens and heroically faced every responsibility. Great as were the demands made upon him, he always proved himself equal to the emergency.

The last three years of his service as President found him dealing with problems of the Great World War, and at its conclusion he was one of the leading figures in the making of the final treaty of peace between the warring nations.

To take part in the treaty-making, Mr. Wilson twice went to Paris. It was the first time a president of the United States had ever traveled beyond the borders of our own country.

At the expiration of his term of office, Mr. Wilson took up the practice of law, at Washington.

* * * * *

"_To such a task we dedicate our lives and our fortunes, everything that we are and everything that we have, with the pride of those who know that the day has come when America is privileged to spend her blood and her might for the principles that gave her birth and happiness and the peace which she has treasured. God helping her, she can do no other._"

--PRESIDENT WILSON'S WAR MESSAGE.

MARK TWAIN

"Talk about trying to cure warts with spunk-water. You got to go all by yourself, to the middle of the woods, where you know there's a spunk-water stump, and just as it's midnight you back up against the stump and jam your hand in it and say:

"Barley-corn, Barley-corn, Injun meal shorts, "Spunk-water, spunk-water, swaller these warts,"

and then walk away quick eleven steps, with your eyes shut and then turn round three times and walk home without speaking to anybody. Because if you do speak, the charm's busted.

"I've took off thousands of warts that way, Huck. I play with frogs so much that I've always got considerable warts. Sometimes I take 'em off with a bean."

"Yes, a bean's good. I've done that."

"But say, Huck, how do you cure 'em with dead cats?"

By this time, doubtless you are saying, "Oh, I know from what book you are quoting. I have Tom Sawyer at home and Huckleberry Finn, too. I read them over and over."

But would you not like to know something about the man, who could write so understandingly of boys? Suppose we read the story of his life and see if we can decide what gave him his wide knowledge of games and adventures, of boyish larks and youthful troubles.

We must go for his earliest experiences to a town on the Mississippi, one hundred miles from St. Louis. In the year 1839, the Clemens family moved to Hannibal from a still smaller town in Missouri, named Florida. The youngest child in the Clemens family was four years old. He was named Samuel Langhorne Clemens. For eight years this boy roved over the hills and through the woods with his playmates. There was a cave near Hannibal. Many strange creatures were said to hide in its depths. Also, there was Bear Creek where the boys went swimming. Young Sam tried hard to learn to swim. Several times he was dragged ashore just in time to save his life, but at last he learned to swim better than any of his friends.

Then there was the river, the broad Mississippi.

"It was the river that meant more to him than all the rest. Its charm was permanent. It was the path of adventure, the gateway to the world. The river with its islands, its great slow moving rafts, its marvelous steamboats that were like fairyland, and its stately current going to the sea. How it held him! He would sit by it for hours and dream. He would venture out on it in a surreptitiously borrowed boat, when he was barely strong enough to lift an oar out of the water."

We are told that when Sam Clemens was only nine years of age he managed to board one of the river steamers. He hid under a boat on the upper deck. After the steamer started he sat watching the shore slip past. Then came a heavy rain and a wet, shivering, little boy was found by one of the crew. At the next stop he was put ashore and relatives, who lived there, took him home, and so ended his first journey upon the river.

Years later he became a pilot on a Mississippi river boat and made many trips from New Orleans up the river and back. Such a trip required thirty-five days.

While acting as a river pilot, Samuel Clemens heard the name, "Mark Twain." An old riverman had used it as an assumed name, taking the term from the cry of the boatmen as they tested the depth of the river. Samuel Clemens had an intense love of joking and fun, so when he first began to write, he suddenly thought it would be amusing to sign some name other than his own. Therefore, he signed his articles "Mark Twain." This name clung to him, and many persons forgot or never knew that his real name was Samuel Langhorne Clemens.

Accordingly, in the river of his boyhood love, he found the name by which the world knows today one of the foremost American authors. Yet, in those early days in Hannibal, he had no idea of writing. Indeed, his days were so busy it is not likely he thought much of the future at all. He was the leader of a band of boys that played Bandit, Pirate and Indian. Sam Clemens was always chief. He led the way to the caves whose chambers reached far back under the cliffs and even, perhaps, under the river itself.

When he was a man, Mr. Clemens wrote two books telling of these early days in Hannibal. "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" and "Huckleberry Finn." "Tom Sawyer" was himself, and the incidents in the book all had their foundation in the days of his boyhood. The cave, as you may know, plays an important part in the latter story. In "Tom Sawyer," Indian Joe dies in the cave. There was an Indian Joe in Hannibal and while he did not die in the cave, he was lost there for days and was living on bats when found. This incident made a strong impression on young Samuel Clemens and he never forgot it. It was in the Clemen's house that Tom gave the cat pain-killer; there, too, that he induced a crowd of boys to white-wash the fence all one Saturday morning. It was at the Clemens' home, too, that a small boy in his night clothes came tumbling down from an over-hung trellis upon the merry crowd cooling taffy in the snow.

Such happenings were part of young Sam's life. He lived the out-of-doors and, when grown to manhood, he could recall all the sports and pleasures of those days. He cherished the memory of his boyhood friends and so wrote of "Huck" Finn, making him like Tom Blakenship, one of the riotous, freedom-loving members of Sam Clemens' band.