An American Idyll | Page 5

broad-jumping in his Freshman year at college, and

finally had to leave, going to Phoenix, Arizona, and then back to the
Parker ranch at Vacaville for the better part of a year. The family was
away during that time, and Carl ran the place alone. He returned to
college in August, 1898, this time taking up mining. After a year's
study in mining he wanted the practical side. In the summer of 1899 he
worked underground in the Hidden Treasure Mine, Placer county,
California. In 1900 he left college again, going to the gold and copper
mines of Rossland, British Columbia. From August, 1900, to May,
1901, he worked in four different mines. It was with considerable
feeling of pride that he always added, "I got to be machine man before I
quit."
It was at that time that he became a member of the Western Federation
of Miners--an historical fact which inimical capitalists later endeavored
to make use of from time to time to do him harm. How I loved to listen
by the hour to the stories of those grilling days--up at four in the
pitch-dark and snow, to crawl to his job, with the blessing of a dear old
Scotch landlady and a "pastie"! He would tell our sons of tamping in
the sticks of dynamite, till their eyes bulged. The hundreds of times
these last six months I've wished I had in writing the stories of those
days--of all his days, from early Vacaville times on! Sometimes it
would be an old Vacaville crony who would appear, and stories would
fly of those boy times--of the exploits up Putah Creek with Pee Wee
Allen; of the prayer-meeting when Carl bet he could out-pray the
minister's son, and won; of the tediously thought-out assaults upon an
ancient hired man on the place, that would fill a book and delight the
heart of Tom Sawyer himself; and how his mother used to sigh and add
to it all, "If only he had ever come home on time to his meals!" (And he
has one son just like him. Carl's brothers tell me: "Just give up trying to
get Jim home on time. Mamma tried every scheme a human could
devise to make Carl prompt for his meals, but nothing ever had the
slightest effect. Half an hour past dinner-time he'd still be five miles
from home.")
One article that recently appeared in a New York paper began:--
"They say of him that when he was a small boy he displayed the same

tendencies that later on made him great in his chosen field. His family
possessed a distinct tendency toward conformity and respectability, but
Carl was a companion of every 'alley-bum' in Vacaville. His
respectable friends never won him away from his insatiable interest in
the under-dog. They now know it makes valid his claim to
achievement."
After the British Columbia mining days, he took what money he had
saved, and left for Idaho, where he was to meet his chum, Hal Bradley,
for his first Idaho trip--a dream of theirs for years. The Idaho stories he
could tell--oh, why can I not remember them word for word? I have
seen him hold a roomful of students in Berlin absolutely spellbound
over those adventures--with a bit of Parker coloring, to be sure, which
no one ever objected to. I have seen him with a group of staid faculty
folk sitting breathless at his Clearwater yarns; and how he loved to tell
those tales! Three and a half months he and Hal were in--hunting,
fishing, jerking meat, trailing after lost horses, having his dreams of
Idaho come true. (If our sons fail to have those dreams!)
When Hal returned to college, the Wanderlust was still too strong in
Carl; so he stopped off in Spokane, Washington, penniless, to try
pot-luck. There were more tales to delight a gathering. In Spokane he
took a hand at reporting, claiming to be a person of large experience,
since only those of large experience were desired by the editor of the
"Spokesman Review." He was given sport, society, and the tenderloin
to cover, at nine dollars a week. As he never could go anywhere
without making folks love him, it was not long before he had his
cronies among the "sports," kind souls "in society" who took him in,
and at least one strong, loyal friend,--who called him "Bub," and gave
him much excellent advice that he often used to refer to,--who was the
owner of the biggest gambling-joint in town. (Spokane was wide open
in those days, and "some town.")
It was the society friends who seem to have saved his life, for nine
dollars did not go far, even then. I have heard his hostesses tell of the
meal he could consume. "But