Chapter 4

As a result of his industry, in a few years, Mr. Burbank was able to buy four acres of land where he started a nursery. From the first this enterprise was successful. Upon this plot he built a modest home where he still resides. Here, and on a larger plot a few miles distant, all his remarkable experiments have been made.

Before we learn more about his achievements I am sure we should like to become better acquainted with the man. Suppose, then, we invite Professor Edward Wickson of the University of California, who knows him well, to tell us about him.

"Mr. Burbank is of medium stature and rather slender form; light eyes and dark hair, now rapidly running to silver. His countenance is very mobile, lighting up quickly and as quickly receding to the seriousness of earnest attention, only to rekindle with a smile or relax into a laugh, if the subject be in the lighter vein. He is exceedingly quick in apprehension, seeming to anticipate the speaker, but never intruding upon his speech. There is always a suggestion of shyness in his manner, and there is ever present a deep respectfulness. He is frank, open-hearted, and out-spoken. All his actions are artless and quiet; even the modulations of his voice follow the lower keys."

But, you ask, what marvelous things has this modest man done that should make his name a household word the world over?

All truly great people have high ideals that guide them in their work. The one ideal that guides Mr. Burbank is his love for humanity. Naturally sympathetic, he cannot endure the thought of human suffering.

Since so much human misery is due to lack of food, to hunger, he has resolved if possible to make the world produce more bread. But how can he do this? If only he can get each head of wheat to produce just one additional grain then the problem will be solved--for then the wheat crop of this country will be increased five million two hundred thousand bushels. Year after year he worked at this task until finally each head of wheat actually did produce more grains. Now that he has succeeded in increasing the yield of wheat, he has resolved not to stop until the yield of all the cereals is increased in a like manner.

By what principle, then, does he accomplish these marvelous feats? What are his methods? Eager as we are to understand them, doubtless most of us must wait until we have learned a great deal about science, for his methods are extremely scientific.

Though unable to comprehend his methods, we are able to appreciate the results of his work. So marvelous are these results that they seem like fairy tales. For example, he has developed a white blackberry; but this is not all, he has developed blackberry plants so large that a single plant produces more than a bushel of berries.

I am sure that we all like strawberries so well that sometimes we have wished that the strawberry season were not so short; and in the future it will not be, for he has produced plants that bear strawberries all summer.

Mr. Burbank, knowing that boys and girls are likely to hit their fingers cracking walnuts, has developed a walnut with a very thin shell, so thin in fact that the birds can break through it and help themselves to the meat. Now he has to thicken the shell again.

How should you like to eat a peach that had, instead of the ordinary stone, a fine almond in the center? In the future you may eat just such peaches, for Mr. Burbank has developed them.

Most of us have seen the ordinary cactus. We have been very careful, however, not to touch it as the spines are sure to prick us. It is interesting to know that the cactus is a desert plant--that, though millions of acres of arid land in the West can produce little else, they can produce enormous quantities of cactus. Unfortunately, these plants have always been useless as neither man nor beast would eat them. True, cattle liked them, but the cruel spines made the eating of them impossible.

As good pasture lands are so scarce in the West, Mr. Burbank wondered why a cactus could not be developed that had no spines. Accordingly, he began his work, and already has accomplished results far greater than he had expected. Not only has he developed spineless cactus, thus redeeming millions of acres of desert land for the use of animals, but he has also developed scores of varieties that are pleasing to the taste of man. Some taste like the cantaloupe, others like the peach, and still others like the plum or pomegranate. Fortunately, they ripen at all times during the year and can be carried to every part of the country without decaying en route. Through the efforts of Mr. Burbank the hitherto worthless cactus has become the most promising fruit of the desert.

Just as Mr. Burbank has improved the wheat, the blackberry, the strawberry, the peach, and the cactus, so he has increased the yield and improved the quality of practically every cereal, fruit, and vegetable.

True, he has not made a great fortune for himself, but a knowledge that tens of thousands who otherwise might go hungry are, because of his efforts, fed, must give him a satisfaction that is far greater than money could give. And, after all, doesn't true greatness lie in giving to others rather than in gathering to one's self?

* * * * *

_"And he gave it as his opinion, that whoever could make two ears of corn, or two blades of grass, to grow upon a spot of ground where only one grew before, would deserve better of mankind and do more essential service to his country, than the whole race of politicians put together."_

--DEAN SWIFT.

CLARA BARTON

In the little Maryland village of Glen Echo, a frail, gentle old lady was taking leave of this world one April day, in the year 1912. She was greatly beloved and many friends from every state in the Union sent her words of comfort and cheer. They praised her noble work and called her "The Guardian Angel" of the suffering, but the little old lady looked into the faces of those about her and said, "I know of nothing remarkable that I have done."

She was Clara Barton, the woman who brought the Red Cross to our country; but, being accustomed to working always for others, her labors did not seem great or unusual to her. Today we know she is one of the heroines of the world, for she believed in the brotherhood of man, and her aim was to relieve suffering humanity, irrespective of nationality or creed.

Her childhood was a happy, joyous one spent in the little village of North Oxford, Massachusetts. She was the youngest child of a large family, and her brothers and sisters were very proud of her because she learned so rapidly and because she was never afraid of anything. She would follow her oldest brother about the house with a slate, begging him to give her hard sums to do. Out of doors she was eager for adventure; her brother David often said, "Clara is never afraid, she can ride any colt on the farm," and often he would throw her on the bare back of a young horse and cry, "Hold fast to the mane," and away she would gallop over the fields.

Winter evenings the family would gather about the great fireplace in the living room and listen to the father tell of his experiences on the battle fields of the Revolutionary War. He had been a soldier under the dashing General Anthony Wayne, called "Mad Anthony" Wayne, because of his reckless daring. Clara was thrilled by these stories of army life, and never tired of hearing her father recount them.

When Clara was eleven years of age, her brother David had a terrible fall, and for more than two years he was a helpless invalid. At once she became his nurse and he relied upon her for all manner of service, preferring her to his older sister or even his mother. "Clara is a born nurse," said the family, as they saw the care she was giving the boy, and indeed she was. It was a joy to her to wait upon the sick, and she considered it no hardship to sacrifice herself.

When David was well, Clara went to school and prepared herself to teach. Her scholars found her an able teacher and liked her ways of instructing them. We know this to be true, because when she opened her first school she had only six pupils, but her fame spread so rapidly that when June came six hundred children had entered her classes and were much disappointed when they found she could not teach them all but had to have assistant teachers.

The strain of planning for so many pupils was too heavy for her, so she gave up teaching and took a position in the pension office at Washington. She was there at the beginning of the great war between the North and South, and at once felt it to be her duty to leave her work and minister to the wounded soldiers.

At first she busied herself in the hospitals at Washington, but she longed to go to the front and help on the battle fields. She told her father of her strong desire, and he said to her, "Go, if you feel it your duty to go! I know what soldiers are, and I know that every true soldier will respect you and your errand."

At last our government gave her permission, and she went to the front as fearless as any officer in the army. Amid the rain of shot and shell she went about on errands of mercy. Then there was no organized relief for the soldiers, no Red Cross, no Y. M. C. A., no help of any kind except what kind persons here and there over the country tried to give. This was very little, when compared to the vast amount of suffering, but Clara Barton managed to gather supplies and money so that she was able to give assistance to both the boys in blue and the boys in gray. She saved many lives, she wrote countless letters home for wounded soldiers, and she stood alone by the death-bed of many a brave fellow, speaking words of comfort and cheer. Whenever anyone suggested that she was working beyond her strength, she would say, "It is my duty," and go on regardless of her personal welfare. One of her best friends, Miss Lucy Larcom, wrote of her as follows:

"We may catch a glimpse of her at Chantilly in the darkness of the rainy midnight, bending over a dying boy who took her supporting arm and soothing voice for his sister's--or falling into a brief sleep on the wet ground in her tent, almost under the feet of flying cavalry; or riding in one of her trains of army-wagons towards another field, subduing by the way a band of mutinous teamsters into her firm friends and allies; or at the terrible battle at Antietam, where the regular army supplies did not arrive till three days afterward, furnishing from her wagons cordials and bandages for the wounded, making gruel for the fainting men from the meal in which her medicines had been packed, extracting with her own hand a bullet from the cheek of a wounded soldier, tending the fallen all day, with her throat parched and her face blackened by sulphurous smoke, and at night, when the surgeons were dismayed at finding themselves left with only one half-burnt candle, amid thousands of bleeding, dying men, illuming the field with candles and lanterns her forethought had supplied. No wonder they called her 'The Angel of the Battle Field'."

After the war, President Lincoln asked her to search for the thousands of men who were missing. She at once visited the prisons, helped the prisoners to regain their health, and get in touch with their families. Besides this, she searched the National Cemeteries and had grave stones put over many of the graves telling who were buried there. This work took four years, and at the end of it she was so broken in health that she went abroad for a long rest.

While she was in Switzerland she heard first of the Red Cross Society and attended a meeting called to establish an International Society. Twenty-four nations were represented at the meeting, but the United States was not among that number. For some years it refused to join. Miss Barton devoted herself to showing our government that in joining the International Red Cross we would not be entangling ourselves in European affairs but would be working for the good of all men. At last, in 1887, she won her victory, and the United States signed the agreement of the Red Cross Society. This is called the Treaty of Geneva.

When the first meeting was held in Geneva, Switzerland, there were persons present who found fault with the plan. They said the world should do away with warfare instead of caring for those it injured. But the Swiss President said it would take a long time for the world to learn to do without warfare. He believed the Red Cross would help to bring about the era of peace by caring for the afflicted and relieving the horror of war. The terrible struggle in Europe is showing us the truth of his words, for, when we hear about the frightful happenings, all the glory and grandeur of warfare fade away.

A man who sees far into the future, has written, "Some day the Red Cross will triumph over the cannon. The future belongs to all helpful powers, however humble, for two allies are theirs, suffering humanity and merciful God."

Clara Barton, who also could look beyond her day, saw another use for the Red Cross besides war service. She said: "It need not apply to the battle field alone, but we should help all those who need our help." So the American Red Cross passed an amendment to the effect that its work should apply to all suffering from fires, floods, famine, earthquake, and other forms of disaster. This amendment was finally adopted by all nations.

At the time of the Spanish War, Miss Barton was seventy years old, but she went to Cuba and did heroic work. When the Galveston flood occurred she was eighty, but she went to the stricken community and helped in every way. After giving up her active work, she retired to Glen Echo and spent the remainder of her days quietly, always interested in the great cause to which she had given her life.

We know what the American Red Cross does for our soldiers, and whenever we see its emblem we should think of Clara Barton, as a "Noble type of good, heroic womanhood; one who was kind, humane, and helpful to all peoples, one who longed for the time when suffering and horror should pass away."

GEORGE W. GOETHALS

The men who worked on the Panama Canal used to sing this little song of their own composing:

"See Colonel Goethals, Tell Colonel Goethals, It's the only right and proper thing to do. Just write a letter, or even better, Arrange a little Sunday interview."

Colonel George W. Goethals was the chief engineer of the canal, and when he arrived in Panama he found that many of the men were discontented. They felt they were not treated fairly. Now there were sixty-five thousand persons employed there, and Colonel Goethals knew that if they were not kept well and in good spirits the great work would never be completed. So he said he would be in his office every Sunday morning at seven o'clock. Then, any man or woman who had a complaint could come and tell him about it. He was so wise, and decided the cases with such fairness that the men came to believe in their new chief and were anxious to serve him.

It was when Theodore Roosevelt was President of the United States that Colonel Goethals was sent to Panama. President Roosevelt was anxious to have our dream of a canal across the Isthmus of Panama come true, but many persons in our country as well as in other parts of the world told him it was foolish to spend money on such an uncertain undertaking. They said the great slides of gravel and sand along the sides of the canal could never be stopped. They said the locks would never work. President Roosevelt paid no attention to these comments, but selected Colonel Goethals because he was sure he could build the canal.

Colonel Goethals cared as little as President Roosevelt for the opinion that the task was impossible. In fact, he told the President: "Say nothing to such doubting persons. By and by we will answer them with the canal."

We know that he did give such an answer. He built the canal right through the red shifting hills of sand that threatened to slide down and choke his work. He cut away a jungle so the banks of the canal could be kept free and open. But best of all, he taught order to the men who worked under him, and they found out that he believed in them, he believed in the work that he was doing, and he believed in the Government of the United States. No wonder they made a song about him and praised his splendid leadership.

As his title tells us, Colonel Goethals belongs to the regular army. Until he was appointed as the chief engineer of the Panama Canal, no military man had been in charge there. The men working on the canal were performing civil duties, and in no way resembled soldiers. When they heard a regular army officer was coming down, they did not like the idea of having to obey just as if they were soldiers. Many of the foremen and officials told their men they would have to spend their time saluting Colonel Goethals and standing at attention with their little fingers against the seams of their trousers.

During the first days of his stay in Panama, a banquet was given in honor of Colonel Goethals, for the men felt they must entertain their new chief, though they were not friendly to him.

At this banquet, they cheered the former engineer, John G. Stevens, and did not applaud Colonel Goethals when he appeared. However he was exceedingly polite and did not notice their bad manners. The men had expected to see him wear a full dress uniform, and you can imagine how surprised they were when they saw him dressed in citizens' clothes. Never once while he was in Panama did Colonel Goethals appear in uniform.

After the banquet there was a program of speeches. Each speaker made cutting remarks about the new military control, but the Colonel did not seem to notice their insults. At last it was his time to speak. He said only a few words, but they changed the minds of his hearers. He told them they were all there to build the canal. They were working for their government, the United States of America. He wanted no salutes, but he wanted work. This pleased the men and they were ashamed of their impoliteness.

The Colonel's first act was to organize the workmen into three divisions, the Atlantic, the Central, and the Pacific.

He put each under a superintendent. Then he stirred up contests between these divisions. He would tell the men on the Pacific division how rapidly the men on the Atlantic division were digging or putting in concrete. Of course, each division wanted to make the best showing, and the men were always eager to get the Canal Record, a small weekly newspaper, so they could read the scores of the different divisions. These scores grew to be more exciting than those of ball games, and the men worked hard and well.

They liked Colonel Goethals and whenever he went by they saluted him; not with the army salute which they had scorned, but by waving their hands, lifting their caps, and greeting him with a smile on their lips and in their eyes.

They felt free to talk to him because they knew he was their friend. Shortly after he started his Sunday morning office hours, some of the lowest paid men told him that their bosses swore at them all day and used the worst kind of language. At once he sent the following order out all over the Canal Zone.

PROFANE LANGUAGE

Culebra, C. Z. Aug. 4, 1911

Circular No. 400:

The use of profane or abusive language by foremen or others in authority, when addressing subordinates, will not be tolerated.

Geo. W. Goethals, Chairman and Chief Engineer.

Some of the foreman did not talk much for a while, they had been so used to swearing, but the Colonel's orders were obeyed.

The work then moved along smoothly and Colonel Goethals was looking forward to the end of his labors, when one day an engineer on the Panama Railroad paid no attention to the signals and let his train run into the rear coaches of another train, killing the conductor.

This engineer was drunk, and it is against the rules of any railroad for an intoxicated person to be in its employ. Colonel Goethals had the engineer arrested and put in jail. However, the man belonged to a labor union, and this union sent a committee demanding that he release the engineer by seven o'clock that evening. If he did not, they would order all the men working along the canal to strike. This meant that the work on the canal would stop, and it might be weeks before it would be resumed. They would wait, they said, for his answer until seven o'clock that evening. Colonel Goethals listened to the committee, then shook hands with them and went to his home.

Seven o'clock came, then eight. The committee was worried. They telephoned Colonel Goethals and asked for his answer. He replied in surprise that they had it. They said it had not reached them. He reminded them that they intended to strike at seven o'clock if the man was not released, and then said, "It is now eight o'clock; if you call the penitentiary, you will find the man is still there."

The leaders did not want to strike. They had expected to make Colonel Goethals do what they wanted. Then they said, "Do you want to tie up the work down here, Colonel"?

"I am not tying it up," he told them. "You are. You forget that this is not a private enterprise, but a government job."

When asked what he was going to do, his answer was: "Any man not at work tomorrow morning will be given his transportation to the United States. He will go out on the first steamer and he will never come back."

There was only one man who had failed to report, and he sent a doctor's certificate saying he was too sick to work. There were no more strikes.

In May, 1913, a Congressman introduced a bill into the House of Representatives providing for the promotion of Colonel Goethals from Colonel to Major-General as a reward for his services in building the canal. At once Colonel Goethals wrote the gentleman saying he appreciated his kindness but he did not believe he should be singled out for such an honor. There were many men, he said, who had done great work in Panama, and they, as well as himself, felt repaid for their services not only by their salary but by the honor of being connected with such a wonderful task. He said also that the United States Government had educated and trained him so it was but right that it should have his services. The bill was withdrawn and Colonel Goethals was satisfied.

When we look at the life of this successful man it seems as if all the years before his going to the Canal Zone were but a preparation for the great feat that awaited him there. He was always eager to work, and when he was a little boy in New York City he earned his first money by doing errands. At that time he was eleven years of age, but by the time he was fifteen he was the cashier and bookkeeper in a market. Other boys spent their time playing ball, but he worked after school and every Saturday. He was paid five dollars a week. His first hope was to be a physician, but the steady indoor work had weakened his health and he decided to become a soldier. He thought the excellent military training would make him well and strong, so he passed the examinations for West Point Military Academy.

As he knew no one there, George Goethals' entry into the famous school was but little noticed. However, as the months and years passed, every one there was proud to claim him as a pupil or classmate.