THEY CALL ME CARPENTER BOOKS BY UPTON SINCLAIR (Now in Print and Obtainable) HELL: 1923 THE GOOSE-STEP: 1923 THEY CALL ME CARPENTER: 1922 THE BOOK OF LIFE: 1922 100%: 1920 THE BRASS CHECK: 1920 JIMMIE HIGGINS : 1919 THE PROFITS OF RELIGION: 1919 KING COAL: 1917 THE CRY FOR JUSTICE: 1915 DAMAGED GOODS: 1913 SYLVIA'S MARRIAGE: 1913 SYLVIA: 1912 THE FASTING CURE: 1911 SAMUEL THE SEEKER: 1909 THE METROPOLIS: 1907 THE JUNGLE: 1906 MANASSAS: 1904 THE JOURNAL OF ARTHUR STIRLING: 1903 PRINCE HAGEN : 1902 THEY CALL ME CARPENTER A Tale of the Second Coming UPTON^SINCLAIR , Author of "The Brass Check," "The Jungle," "The Book of Life," etc. UPTON SINCLAIR Pasadena, California WHOLESALE DISTRIBUTORS THE PAINE BOOK CO., CHICAGO ! COPYRIGHT, 1922 BY HEARST'S INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE COPYRIGHT, 1922 BY UPTON SINCLAIR All rights reserved Library To jf. True and devoted friend The beginning of this strange adventure was my going to see a motion picture which had been made in Ger- many. It was three years after the end of the war, and you'd have thought that the people of Western City would have got over their war-phobias. But apparently they hadn't; anyway, there was a mob to keep anyone from getting into the theatre, and all the other mobs started from that. Before I tell about it, I must intro- duce Dr. Karl Henner, the well-known literary critic from Berlin, who was travelling in this country, and stopped off in Western City at that time. Dr. Henner was the cause of my going to see the picture, and if you will have a moment's patience, you will see how the ideas which he put into my head served to start me on my extraordinary adventure. You may not know much about these cultured foreign- ers. Their manners are like softest velvet, so that when you talk to them, you feel as a Persian cat must feel while being stroked. They have read everything in the world; they speak with quiet certainty; and they are so old old with memories of racial griefs stored up in their souls. I, who know myself for a member of the best clubs in Western City, and of the best college fra- ternity in the country I found myself suddenly indis- posed to mention that I had helped to win the battle of the Argonne. This foreign visitor asked me how I felt about the war, and I told him that it was over, and I bore no hard feelings, but o'f course I was glad that Prussian militarism was finished. He answered: "A 1 2 THEY CALL ME CARPENTER painful operation, and we all hope that the patient may survive it; also we hope that the surgeon has not con- tracted the disease/ 1 Just as quietly as that. Of course I asked Dr. Henner what he thought about America. His answer was that we had succeeded in producing the material means of civilization by the ton, where other nations had produced them by the pound. "We intellectuals in Europe have always been poor, by your standards over here. We have to make a very little food support a great many ideas. But you have unlimited quantities of food, and well, we seek for the ideas, and we judge by analogy they must exist " "But you don't find them?" I laughed. "Well," said he, "I have come to seek them." This talk occurred while we were strolling down our Broadway, in Western City, one bright afternoon in the late fall of 1921. We talked about the picture which Dr. Henner had recommended to me, and which we were now going to see. It was called "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari," and was a "futurist" production, a strange, weird freak of the cinema art, supposed to be the night- mare of a madman. "Being an American," said Dr. Henner, "you will find yourself asking, 'What good does such a picture do?' You will have the idea that every work of art must serve some moral purpose." After a pause, he added: "This picture could not possibly have been produced in America. For one thing, nearly all the characters are thin." He said it with the flicker of a smile "One does not find American screen actors in that condition. Do your people care enough about the life of art to take a risk of starving for it?" Now, as a matter of fact, we had at that time several millions of people out of work in America, and many of THEY CALL ME CARPENTER 3 them starving. There must be some intellectuals among them, I suggested; and the critic replied: "They must have starved for so long that they have got used to it, and can enjoy it or at any rate can enjoy turning it into art. Is not that the final test of great art, that it has been smelted in the fires of suffering? All the great spiritual movements of humanity began in that way ; take primitive Christianity, for example. But you Americans have taken Christ, the carpenter " I laughed. It happened that at this moment we were passing St. Bartholomew's Church, a great brown-stone structure standing at the corner of the park. I waved my hand towards it. "In there," I said, "over the altar, you may see Christ, the carpenter, dressed up in exquisite robes of white and amethyst, set up as a stained glass window ornament. But if you'll stop and think, you'll realize it wasn't we Americans who began that!" "No," said the other, returning my laugh, "but I think it was you who finished him up as a symbol of elegance, a divinity of the respectable inane." Thus chatting, we turned the corner, and came in sight o!f our goal, the Excelsior Theatre. And there was the mob! II At first, when I saw the mass of people, I thought it was the usual picture crowd. I said, with a smile, "Can it be that the American people are not so dead to art after all?" But then I observed that the crowd seemed to be swaying this way and that; also there seemed to be a great many men in army uniforms. "Hello!" I exclaimed. "A row?" There was a clamor of shouting ; the army men seemed to be pulling and pushing the civilians. When we got nearer, I asked of a bystander, "What's up?" The answer was : "They don't want 'em to go in to see the picture." "Why not?" "It's German. Hun propaganda !" Now you must understand, I had helped to win a war, and no man gets over such an experience at once. I had a flash of suspicion, and glanced at my companion, the cultured literary critic from Berlin. Could it pos- sibly be that this smooth-spoken gentleman was playing a trick upon me trying, possibly, to get something into my crude American mind without my realizing what was happening? But I remembered his detailed account of the production, the very essence of "art for art's sake." I decided that the war was three years over, and I was competent to do my own thinking. Dr. Henner spoke first. "I think/' he said, "it might be wiser if I did not try to go in there." "Absurd!" I cried. "I'm not going to be dictated to by a bunch of imbeciles !" 4 THEY CALL ME CARPENTER 5 "No," said the other, "you are an American, and don't have to be. But I am a German, and I must learn/ 1 I noted the flash of bitterness, but did not resent it. "That's all nonsense, Dr. Henner!" I argued. "You are my guest, and I won't " "Listen, my friend," said the other. "You can doubt- less get by without trouble; but I would surely rouse their anger, and I have no mind to be beaten for nothing. I have seen the picture several times, and can talk about it with you just as well." "You make me ashamed of myself," I cried "and of my [country!" "No, no ! It is what you should expect. It is what I had in mind when I spoke of the surgeon contracting the disease. We German intellectuals know what war means; we are used to things like this." Suddenly he put out his hand. "Good-bye." "I will go with you!" I exclaimed. But he protested that would embarrass him greatly. I would please to stay, and see the picture ; he would be interested later on to hear my opinion of it. And abruptly he turned, and walked off, leaving me hesitating and angry. At last I started towards the entrance of the theatre. One of the men in uniform barred my way. "No admit- tance here!" "But why not?" "It's a German show, and we aint a-goin' to allow it." "Now see here, buddy," I countered, none too good- naturedly, "I haven't got my uniform on, but I've as good a right to it as you ; I was all through the Argonne." "Well, what do you want to see Hun propaganda for?" "Maybe I want to see what it's like." "Well, you can't go in; we're here to shut up this show!" 6 THEY CALL ME CAEPENTEB I had stepped to one side as I spoke, and he caught me by the arm. I thought there had been talk enough, and gave a sudden lurch, and tore my arm free. "Hold on here!" he shouted, and tried to stop me again; but I sprang through the crowd towards the box-office. There were more than a hundred civilians in or about the lobby, and not more than twenty or thirty ex-service men main- taining the blockade ; so a few got by, and I was one of the lucky ones. I bought my ticket, and entered the theatre. To the man at the door I said : "Who started this?" "I don't know, sir. It's just landed on us, and we haven't had time to find out." "Is the picture German propaganda?" "Nothing like that at all, sir. They say they won't let us show German pictures, because they're so much cheaper ; they'll put American-made pictures out of busi- ness, and it's unfair competition." "Oh!" I exclaimed, and light began to dawn. I re- called Dr. Henner's remark about producing a great many ideas out of a very little food; assuredly, the American picture industry had cause to fear competition of that sort! I thought of old "T-S," as the screen people call him for short the king of the movie world, with his roll of fat hanging over his collar, and his two or three extra chins ! I though of Mary Magna, million dollar queen of the pictures, contriving diets and exer- cises for herself, and weighing with fear and trembling every day! Ill It was time for the picture to begin, so I smoothed my coat, and went to a seat, and was one of perhaps two dozen spectators before whom "The Cabinet of Dr. Cali- gari" received its first public showing in Western City. The story had to do with a series of murders; we saw them traced by a young man, and fastened bit by bit upon an old magician and doctor. As the drama neared its climax, we discovered this doctor to be the head of an asylum for the insane, and the young man to be one of the inmates; so in the end the series of adventures was revealed to us as the imaginings ot a madman about his physician and keepers. The settings and scenery were in the style of "futurist" art weird and highly effective. I saw it all in the light of Dr. Henner's inter- pretation, the product of an old, perhaps an overripe culture. Certainly no such picture could have been pro- duced in America ! If I had to choose between this and the luxurious sex-stuff of Mary Magna well, I won- dered. At least, I had been interested in every moment of "Dr. Caligari," and I was only interested in Mary off the screen. Several times every year I had to choose between mortally hurting her feelings, and watching her elaborate "vamping" through eight or ten costly reels. I had read many stories and seen a great many plays, in which the hero wakes up in the end, and we realize that we have been watching a dream. I remembered "Midsummer Night's Dream," and also "Looking Back- ward." A$t old, old device of art; and yet always effec- tive, one of the most effective! But this was the first 7 8 THEY CALL ME CARPENTER time I had ever been taken into the dreams of a lunatic. Yes, it was interesting, there was no denying it; grisly stuff, but alive, and marvelously well acted. How Edgar Allen Poe would have revelled in it! So thinking, I walked towards the exit of the theatre, and a swinging door gave way and upon my ear broke a clamor that - might have come direct from the inside of Dr. Caligari's asylum. "Ya, ya. Boo, boo ! German propaganda ! Pay your money to the Huns! For shame on you! Leave your own people to starve, and send your cash to the enemy" I stopped still, and whispered to myself, "My God!" During all the time an hour or more that I had been away on the wings of imagination, these poor boobs had been howling and whooping outside the theatre, keeping the crowds away, and incidentally working themselves into a fury ! For a moment I thought I would go out and reason with them; they were mistaken in the idea that there was anything about the war, anything against America in the picture. But I realized that they were beyond reason. There was nothing to do but go my way and let them rave. But quickly I saw that this was not going to be so easy as I had fancied. Right in front of the entrance stood the big fellow who had caught my arm; and as I came toward him I saw that he had me marked. He pointed a finger into my face, shouting in a fog-horn voice: "There's a traitor! Says he was in the service, and now he's backing the Huns !" I tried to have nothing to do with him, but he got me by the arm, and others were around me. "Yein, yein, yein !" they shouted into my ear ; and as I tried to make my way through, they began to hustle me. "I'll shove THEY CALL ME CARPENTER 9 your face in, you damned Hun!" a continual string of such abuse; and I had been in the service, and seen fighting ! I never tried harder to avoid trouble ; I wanted to get away, but that big fellow stuck his feet between mine and tripped me, he lunged and shoved me into the gutter, and so, of course, I made to hit him. But they had me helpless ; I had no more than clenched my fist and drawn back my arm, when I received a violent blow on the side of my jaw. I never knew what hit me, a fist or a weapon. I only felt the crash, and a sensation of reeling, and a series of blows and kicks like a storm about me. I ask you to believe that I did not run away in the Argonne. I did mv job, and got my wound, and my honorable record. But there I had a fighting chance, and here I had none; and maybe I was dazed, and it was the instinctive reaction of my tormented body anyhow, I ran. I staggered along, with the blows and kicks to keep me moving. And then I saw half a dozen broad steps, and a big open doorway; I fled that way, and found myself in a dark, cool place, reeling like a drunken man, but no longer beaten, and apparently no longer pursued. I was falling, and there was something nearby, and I caught at it, and sank down upon a sort of wooden bench. IV I had run into St. Bartholomew's Church; and when I came to I fear I cut a pitiful figure, but I have to tell the truth I was crying. I don't think the pain of my head and face had anything to do with it, I think it was rage and humiliation; my sense of outrage, that I, who had helped to win a war, should have been made to run from a gang of cowardly rowdies. Anyhow, here I was, sunk down in a pew of the church, sobbing as if my heart was broken. At last I raised my head, and holding on to the pew in front, looked about me. The churcn was apparently deserted. There were dark vistas ; and directly in front of me a gleaming altar, and high over it a stained glass window, with the afternoon sun shining through. You know, of course, the sort of figures they have in those windows; a man in long robes, white, with purple and gold; with a brown beard, and a gentle, sad face, and a halo of light about the head. I was staring at the figure, and at the same time choking with rage and pain, but clenching my hands, and making up my mind to go out and follow those brutes, and get that big one alone and pound his face to a jelly. And here begins the strange part of my adventure; suddenly that shining figure stretched out its two arms to me, as if imploring me not to think those vengeful thoughts! I knew, of course, what it meant; I had just seen a play about delirium, and had got a whack on the head, and now I was delirious myself. I thought I must be badly hurt; I bowed my reeling head in my arms, and 10 THEY CALL ME CABPENTER 11 began to sob like a kid, out loud, and without shame. But somehow I forgot about the big brute, and his face that I wanted to pound ; instead, I was ashamed and be* wildered, a queer hysterical state with a half dozen emotions mixed up. The Caligari story was in it, and the lunatic asylum; I've got a cracked skull, I thought, and my mind will never get right again ! I sat, huddled and shuddering; until suddenly I felt a quiet hand on my shoulder, and heard a gentle voice saying: "Don't be afraid. It is I." Now, I shall waste no time telling you how amazed I was. It was a long time before I could believe what was happening to me; I thought I was clean off my head. I lifted my eyes, and there, in the aisle of the most decorous church of St. Bartholomew, standing with his hand on my head, was the figure out of the stained glass window ! I looked at him twice, and then I looked at the window. Where the figure had been was a great big hole with the sun shining through ! 2 Nov. 23 We know the power of suggestion, and especially when one taps the deeps of the unconscious, where our child- hood memories are buried. I had been brought up in a religious family, and so it seemed quite natural to me that while that hand lay on my head, the throbbing and whirling should cease, and likewise the fear. I became perfectly quiet, and content to sit under the friendly spell. "Why were you crying?" asked the voice, at last. I answered, hesitatingly, "I think it was humiliation." "Is it something you have done ?" "No. Something that was done to me." "But how can a man be humiliated by the afct of another?" I saw what he meant; and I was not humiliated any more. The stranger spoke again. "A mob," he said, "is a blind thing, worse than madness. It is the beast in man running away with his master." I thought to myself : how can he know what has hap- pened to me? But then I reflected, perhaps he saw them drive me into the church ! I found myself with a sudden, queer impulse to apologize for those soldier boys. "We had some terrible fighting," I cried. "And you know what wars do to the minds of the people, I mean." "Yes," said the stranger, "I know, only too well." I had meant to explain this mob ; but somehow, I de- cided that I could not. How could I make him under- stand moving picture shows, and German competition, and ex-service men out of jobs ? There was a pause, and he asked, "Can you stand up?" 12 THEY CALL ME CARPENTER 13 I tried and found that I could. I felt the side of my jaw, and it hurt, but somehow the pain seemed apart from myself. I could see clearly and steadily ; there were only two things wrong that I could find first, this stranger standing by my side, and second, that hole in the window, where I had seen him standing so many Sunday mornings! "Are you going out now?" he asked. As I hesitated, he added, tactfully, "Perhaps you would let me go with you?" Here was indeed a startling proposition! His cos- tume, his long hair there were many things about him not adapted to Broadway at five o'clock in the afternoon ! But what could I say? It would be rude to call atten- tion to his peculiarities. All I could manage was to stammer: "I thought you belonged in the church/ 1 "Do I?" he replied, with a puzzled look. "I'm not sure. I have been wondering am I really needed here? And am I not more needed in the world?" "Well," said I, "there's one thing certain." I pointed up to the window. "That hole is conspicuous." "Yes, that is true." "And if it should rain, the altar would be ruined. The Reverend Dr. Lettuce-Spray would be dreadfully dis- tressed. That altar cloth was left to the church in the will of Mrs. Elvina de Wiggs, and God knows how many thousands of dollars it cost." "I suppose that wouldn't do," said the stranger. "Let us see if we can't find something to put there." He started up the aisle, and through the chancel. I followed, and we came into the vestry-room, and there on the wall I noticed a full length, life-sized portrait of old Algernon de Wiggs, president of the Empire National 14 THEY CALL ME CABPENTER Bank, and of the Western City Chamber of Commerce. "Let us see if he would fill the place," said the stranger ; and to my amazement he drew up a chair, and took down the huge picture, and carried it, seemingly without effort, into the church. He stepped upon the altar, and lifted the portrait in front of the window. How he got it to stay there I am not sure I was too much taken aback by the procedure to notice such details. There the picture was ; it seemed to fit the window exactly, and the effect was simply colossal. You'd have to know old de Wiggs to appre- ciate it those round, puffy cheeks, with the afternoon sun behind them, making them shine like two enormous Jonathan apples ! Our leading banker was clad in decor- ous black, as always on Sunday mornings, but in one place the sun penetrated his form at one side of his chest. My curiosity got the better of me; I could not restrain the question, "What is that golden light?" Said the stranger: "I think that is his heart." "But that can't be!" I argued. "The light is on his right side; and it seems to have an oblong shape exactly as if it were his wallet." Said the other : "Where the treasure is, there will the heart be also." VI We passed out through the arched doorway, and Broadway was before us. I had another thrill of dis- tress a vision of myself walking- down this crowded street with this extraordinary looking personage. The crowds would stare at us, the street urchins would swarm about us, until we blocked the traffic and the police ran us in! So I thought, as we descended the steps and started; but my fear passed, for we walked and no one followed us hardly did anyone even turn his eyes after us. I realized in a little while how this could be. The pleasant climate of Western City brings strange visitors to dwell here ; we have Hindoo swamis in yellow silk, and a Theosophist college on a hill-top, and people who take up with "nature," and go about with sandals and bare legs, and a mane of hair over their shoulders. I pass them on the street now and then one of them carries a shepherd's crook! I remember how, a few years ago, my Aunt Caroline, rambling around looking for some- thing to satisfy her emotions, took up with these queer ideas, and there came to her front door, to the infinite bewilderment of the butler, a mild-eyed prophet in pas- toral robes, and with a little newspaper bundle in his hand. This, spread out before my aunt, proved to con- tain three carrots and two onions, carefully washed, and shining; they were the kindly fruits of the earth, and of the prophet's own labor, and my old auntie was deeply touched, because it appeared that this visitor was a seer, the sole composer of a mighty tome which is to be found 15 16 THEY CALL ME CARPENTER in the public library, and is known as the "Eternal Bible." So here I was, strolling along quite as a matter of course with my strange acquaintance. I saw that he was looking about, and I prepared for questions, and wondered what they would be. I thought that he must naturally be struck by such wonders as automobiles and crowded street-cars. I failed to realize that he would be thinking about the souls of the people. Said he, at last: "This is a large city?" "About half a million." "And what quarter are we in?" "The shopping district." "Is it a segregated district?" "Segregated? In what way?" "Apparently there are only courtesans." I could not help laughing. "You are misled by the peculiarities of our feminine fashions details with which you are naturally not familiar " "Oh, quite the contrary," said he, "I am only too familiar with them. In childhood I learned the words of the prophet: 'Because the daughters of Zion are haughty, and walk with stretched forth necks and wan- ton eyes, walking and mincing as they go, and making a tinkling with their feet; therefore the Lord will smite with a scab the crown of the head of the daughters of Zion, and the Lord will discover their secret parts. In that day the Lord will take away the bravery of their tinkling ornaments about their feet, and their cauls, and their round tires like the moon, the chains, and the brace- lets, and the mufflers, the bonnets, and the ornaments of the legs, and the headbands, and the tablets, and the earrings, and nose jewels, the changeable suits of apparel, THEY CALL ME CAEPENTER 17 and the mantles, and the wimples, and the crisping pins, the glasses, and the fine linen, and the hoods, and the veils. And it shall come to pass that instead of sweet smell there shall be stink; and instead of a girdle a rent; and instead of well set hair, baldness; and instead of a stomacher a girding of sackcloth ; and burning instead of beauty/ " From the point of view of literature this might be great stuff; but on the corner of Broadway and Fifth Street at the crowded hours it was unusual, to say the least. My companion was entering into the spirit of it in a most alarming way; he was half chanting, his voice rising, his face lighting up. " Thy men shall fall by the sword, and thy mighty in the war. And her gates shall lament and mourn; and she being desolate shall sit upon the ground.' " "Be careful!" I whispered. "People will hear you!" "But why should they not?" He turned on me a look of surprise. "The people hear me gladly." And he added: "The common people." Here was an aspect of my adventure which had not occurred to me before. "My God!" I thought. "If he takes to preaching on street corners!" I realized in a flash it was exactly what he would be up to ! A panic seized me; I couldn't stand that; I'd have to cut and run! I began to speak quickly. "We must get across this street while we have time; the traffic officer has turned the right way now." And I began explaining our re- markable system of traffic handling. But he stopped me in the middle. "Why do we wish to cross the street, when we have no place to go?" "I have a place I wish to take you to," I said ; "a friend 18 THEY CALL ME CARPENTER I want you to meet. Let us cross." And while I was guiding him between the automobiles, I was desperately trying to think how to back up my lie. Who was there that would receive this incredible stranger, and put him up for the night, and get him into proper clothes, and keep him off the soap-box? Truly, I was in an extraordinary position ! What had I done to get this stranger wished onto me? And how long was he going to stay with me? I found myself recalling the plight of Mary who had a little lamb! Fate had me in its hands, and did not mean to consult me. We had gone less than a block further when I heard a voice, "Hello! Billy!" I turned. Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! Of all the thankless encounters Edgerton Rosythe, moving picture critic of the Western City "Times." Precisely the most cynical, the most profane, the most boisterous person in a cynical and profane and boisterous business! And he had me here, in full day- light, with a figure just out of a stained glass window in St. Bartholomew's Church! VII "Hello, Billy! Who's your good-looking friend?" Rosythe was in full sail before a breeze of his own making. How could I answer. "Why er " The stranger spoke. "They call me Carpenter." "Ah!" said the critic. "Mr. Carpenter, delighted to meet you." He gave the stranger a hearty grip of the hand. "Are you on location?" "Location?" said the other; and Rosythe shot an arrow of laughter towards me. Perhaps he knew about the vagaries of my Aunt Caroline; anyhow, he would have a fantastic tale to tell about me, and was going to ex- ploit it to the limit! I made a pitiful attempt to protect my dignity. "Mr. Carpenter has just arrived," I began "Just arrived, hey?" said the critic. "Oviparous, viv- parous, or oviviparous ?" He raised his hand; actually, in the glory of his wit, he was going to clap the stranger on the shoulder ! But his hand stayed in the air. Such a look as came on Carpenter's face! "Hush!" he commanded. "Be silent !" And then : "Any man will join in laughter ; but who will join in disease?" "Hey ?" said Rosythe ; and it was my turn to grin. "Mr. Carpenter has just done me a great service," I explained. "I got badly mauled in the mob " "Oh!" cried the other. "At the Excelsior Theatre!" Here was something to talk about, to cover his bewilder- ment. "So you were in it! I was watching them just now." 19 20 THEY CALL ME CARPENTER "Are they still at it?" "Sure thing!" "A fine set of boobs," I began "Boobs, nothing!" broke in the other. "What do you suppose they're doing?" "Saving us from Hun propaganda, so they told me." "The hell of a lot they care about Hun propaganda! They are earning five dollars a head." "What?" "Sure as you're born!" "You really know that?" "Know it? Pete Dailey was at a meeting of the Mo- tion Picture Directors' Association last night, and it was arranged to put up the money and hire them. They're a lot of studio bums, doing a real mob scene on a real location !" "Well, I'll be damned!" I said. "And what about the police?" "Police?" laughed the critic. "Would you expect the police to work free when the soldiers are paid ? Why, Jesus Christ " "I beg pardon?" said Carpenter. "Why er " said Rosythe; and stopped, completely bluffed. "You ought not swear," I remarked, gravely; and then, "I must explain. I got pounded by that mob; I was knocked quite silly, and this gentleman found me, and healed me in a wonderful way." "Oh!" said the critic, with genuine interest. "Mind cure, hey? What line?" I was about to reply, but Carpenter, it appeared, was able to take care of himself. "The line of love," he answered, gently. THEY CALL ME CARPENTER 21 "See here, Rosythe," I broke in, "I can't stand on the street. I'm beginning to feel seedy again. I think I'll have a taxi." "No," said the critic. "Come with me. I'm on the way to pick up the missus. Right around the corner a fine place to rest." And without further ado he took me by the arm and led me along. He was a good-hearted chap inside ; his rowdyisms were just the weapons of his profession. We went into an office building, and entered an elevator. I did not know the building, or the offices we came to. Rosythe pushed open a door, and I saw before me a spacious parlor, with birds of paradise of the female sex lounging in upholstered "chairs. I was led to a vast plush sofa, and sank into it with a sigh of relief. The stranger stood beside me, and put his hand on my head once more. It was truly a miracle, how the whirling and roaring ceased, and peace came back to me ; it must have shown in my face, for the moving pic- ture critic of the Western City "Times" stood watching me with a quizzical smile playing over his face. I could read his thoughts, as well as if he had uttered them: "Regular Svengali stuff, by Godl" VIII I was so comfortable there, I did not care what hap- pened. I closed my eyes for a while ; then I opened them and gazed lazily about the place. I noted that all the birds of paradise were watching Carpenter. With one accord their heads had turned, and their eyes were riveted upon him. I found myself thinking. "This man will make a hit with the ladies 1" Like the swamis, with their soft brown skins, and their large, dark, cow-like eyes! There had been silence in the place. But suddenly we all heard a moan ; I felt Carpenter start, and his hand left my head. A dozen doors gave into this big parlor all of them closed. We perceived that the sound came through the door nearest to us. "What is it?" I asked, of Rosythe. "God knows," said he; "you never can tell, in this place of torment." I was about to ask, "What sort of place is it?" But the moan came again, louder, more long drawn out : "O- o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh !" It ended in a sort of explosion, as if the maker of it had burst. Carpenter turned, and took two steps towards the door; then he stopped, hesitating. My eyes followed him, and then turned to the critic, who was watching Carpenter, with a broad grin on his face. Evidently Rosythe was going to have some fun, and get his re- venge ! The sound came again louder, more harrowing. It came at regular intervals, and each time with the ex- plosion at the end. I watched Carpenter, and he was THEY CALL ME CARPENTER 23 like a high-spirited horse that hears the cracking of a whip over his head. The creature becomes more rest- less, he starts more quickly and jumps farther at each sound. But he is puzzled ; he does not know what these lashes mean, or which way he ought to run. Carpenter looked from one to another of us, searching our faces. He looked at the birds of paradise in the lounging chairs. Not one of them moved a muscle save only those muscles which caused their eyes to follow him. It was no concern of theirs, this agony, whatever it was. Yet, plainly, it was the sound of a woman in torment : "O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh !" Carpenter wanted to open that door. His hand would start towards it; then he would turn away. Between the two impulses he was presently pacing the room ; and since there was no one who appeared to have any inter- est in what he might say, he began muttering to him- self. I would catch a phrase: "The fate of woman!" And again: "The price of life!" I would hear the ter- rible, explosive wail: "O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh!" And it would wring a cry out of the depths of Carpenter's soul : "Oh, have mercy!" In the beginning, the moving picture critic of the Western City "Times" had made some effort to restrain his amusement. But as this performance went on, his face became one enormous, wide-spreading grin ; and you can understand, that made him seem quite devilish. I saw that Carpenter was more and more goaded by it. He would look at Rosythe, and then he would turn away in aversion. But at last he made an effort to conquer his feelings, and went up to the critic, and said, gently: "My friend: for every man who lives on earth, some woman has paid the price of life." 24 THEY CALL ME CARPENTER "The price of life?" repeated the critic, puzzled. Carpenter waved his hand towards the door. "We "confront this everlasting mystery, this everlasting terror ; and it is not becoming that you should mock." The grin faded from the other's face. His brows wrinkled, and he said: "I don't get you, friend. What can a man do?" "At least he can bow his heart ; he can pay his tribute to womanhood." "You're too much for me," responded Rosythe. "The imbeciles choose to go through with it; it's their own choice." Said Carpenter : "You have never thought of it as the choice of God?" "Holy smoke!" exclaimed the critic. "I sure never did!" At that moment one of the doors was opened. Rosythe turned his eyes. "Ah, Madame Planchet!" he cried. "Come tell us about it I" IX A stoutish woman out of a Paris fashion-plate came trotting across the room, smiling in welcome : "Meester Rosythe!" She had black earrings flapping from each ear, and her face was white, with a streak of scarlet for lips. She took the critic by his two hands, and the critic, laughing, said: "Respondez, Madame! Does God bring the ladies to this place?" "Ah, surely, Meester Rosythe! The god of beautee, he breengs them to us! And the leetle god with the golden arrow, the rosy cheeks and the leetle dimple the dimple that we make heem for two hundred dollars a piece eh, Meester Rosythe? He breengs the ladies to us!" The critic turned. "Madame Planchet, permit me to introduce Mr. Carpenter. He is a man of wonder, he heals pain, and does it by means of love." "Oh, how eenteresting ! But what eef love heemself ees pain who shall heal that, eh, Meester Carpentair?" "O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-h !" came the moan. Said Rosythe: "Mr. Carpenter thinks you make the ladies suffer too much. It worries him." "Ah, but the ladies do not mind! Pain? What ees eet? The lady who makes the groans, she cannot move, and so she ees unhappy. Also, she likes to have her own way, she ees a leetle what you say? spoilt. But her troubles weel pass; she weel be beautiful, and her husband weel love her more, and she weel be happy." "O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh !" from the other room; and Mad- ame Planchet prattled away: "I say to them, Make 25 26 THEY CALL ME CARPENTER plenty of noises! Eet helps! No one weel be afraid, for all here are worshippers of the god of beautee all weel bear the pains that he requires. Eh, Meester Car- pentair?" Carpenter was staring at her. I had not before seen such intensity of concentration on his face. He was trying to understand this situation, so beyond all be- lieving. "I weel tell you something," said Madame Planchet, lowering her voice confidentially. "The lady what you hearthat ees Meeses T-S. You know Meester T-S, the magnate of the peectures?" Carpenter did not say whether he knew or not. "They come to me always, the peecture people ; to me, the magician, the deputee of the god of beautee. Polly Pretty, she comes, and Dolly Dimple, she conies, and Lucy Love, she comes, and Betty Belle Bird. They come to me for the hair, and for the eyes, and for the complexion. You are a workair of miracles yourself but can you do what I do ? Can you make the skeen all new? Can you make the old young?" "O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh !" "Mary Magna, she comes to me, and she breengs me her old grandmother, and she says, 'Madame/ she says, 'make her new from the waist up, for you can nevair tell how the fashions weel change, and what she weel need to show/ Ha, ha, ha, she ees wittee, ees the lovely Mary! And I take the old lady, and her wrinkles weel be gone, and her skeen weel be soft like a leetle baby's, and in her cheeks weel be two lovely dimples, and she weel dance with the young boys, and they weel not know her from her grandchild ha, ha, ha! ees eet not the wondair?" THEY CALL ME CARPENTER 27 I knew by now where I was. I had heard many times of Madame Planchet's beauty-parlors. I sat, wonder- ing; should I take Carpenter by the arm, and lead him gently out? Or should I leave him to fight his own fight with modern civilization? "O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh !" Madame turned suddenly upon me. "I know you, Meester Billee," she said. "I have seen you with Mees Magna! Ah, naughtee boy! You have the soft, fine hair you should let it grow eight inches we have to have, and then you can come to me for the permanent wave. So many young men come to me for the per- manent wave! You know eet? Meester Carpentair, you see, he has let hees hair grow, and he has the per- manent wave eet could not be bettair eef I had done eet myself. I say always, 'My work ees bettair than nature, I tell nature by the eemperfections.' Eh, voila?" I am not sure whether it was for the benefit of me or of Carpenter. The deputee of the god of beautee was moved to volunteer a great revelation. "Would you like to see how we make eet the permanent wave? I weel show you Messes T-S. But you must not speak she would not like eet if I showed her to gentlemen. But her back ees turned and she cannot move. We do not let them see the apparatus, because eet ees rather fright- ful, eet would make them seek. You will be very steel, eh?" "Mum's the word, Madame," said Rosythe, speaking for the three of us. "O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh !" moaned the voice. "First, I weel tell you" said Madame. "For the com- plete wave we wind the hair in tight leetle coils on many rods. Eet ees very delicate operations every hair must 28 THEY CALL ME CARPENTER be just so, not one crooked, not one must we skeep. Eet takes a long time two hours for the long hair; and eet hurts, because we must pull eet so tight. We wrap each coil een damp cloths, and we put them een the con- tacts, and we turn on the eelectreeceetee and then eet ees many hours that the hair ees baked, ees cooked een the proper curves, eh? Now, very steel, eef you please!" And softly she opened the door. X Before us loomed what I can only describe as a moun- tain of red female flesh. This flesh-mountain had once apparently been slightly covered by embroidered silk lingerie, but this was now soaked in moisture and re- duced to the texture of wet tissue paper. The top of the flesh-mountain ended in an amazing spectacle. It ap- peared as if the head had no hair whatever ; but starting from the bare scalp was an extraordinary number of thin rods, six inches or so in length. These rods stood out in every direction, and being of gleaming metal, they gave to the head the aspect of some bright Phoebus Apollo, known as the "far-darter;" or shall I say some fierce Maenad with electric snakes having nickel-plated skins ; or shall I say some terrific modern war-god, pour- ing poison gases from a forest of chemical tubes ? Over the top of the flesh-mountain was a big metal object, a shining concave dome with which all the tubes con- nected; so that a stranger to the procedure could not have felt sure whether the mountain was holding up the dome, or was dangling from it. A piece of symbolism done by a maniac artist, whose meaning no one could fathom ! From the dome there was given heat; so from the pores of the flesh-mountain came perspiration. I could not say that I actually saw perspiration flowing from any particular pore; it is my understanding that pores are small, and do not squirt visible jets. What I could say is that I saw little trickles uniting to form brooks, and brooks to form rivers, which ran down the sides of the flesh-mountain, and mingled in an ocean on the floor. SO THEY CALL ME CARPENTER Also I observed that flesh-mountains when exposed to heat do not stand up of their own consistency, but have a tendency to melt and flatten; it was necessary that this bulk should be supported, so there were three attendants, one securely braced under each armpit, and the third with a more precarious grip under the mountain's chin. Every thirty seconds or so the heaving, sliding mass would emit one of those explosive groans : "O-o-o-o-o-o- o-o-oh!" Then it would collapse, an avalanche would threaten to slide, and the living caryatids would shove and struggle. Said Madame Planchet, in her stage-whisper: "The serveece of the young god of beautee!" And my fancy took flight. I saw proud vestals tending sacred flames on temple-clad islands in blue Grecian seas; I saw acolytes waving censers, and grave, bearded priests walking in processions crowned with myrtle-wreaths. I wondered if ever since the world began, the young god of beautee looking down from his crystal throne had beheld a stranger ritual of adoration! Silently we drew back from the door-way, and Madame closed the door, reducing the promethean groans and the strong ammoniacal odors. I did not see the face of Car- penter, because he had turned it from us. Rosythe favored me with a smile, and whispered, "Your friend doesn't care for beautee!" Then he added, "What do you suppose he meant by that stuff about 'the price of life 1 and 'the choice of God?'" "Didn't you really get it?" I asked. "I'm damned if I did." "My dear fellow," I said, "you didn't tell us what sort of place this was; and Carpenter thought it must be a maternity-ward." THEY CAUL ME CARPENTER 31 The moving picture critic of the Western City "Times" gave me one wild look; then from his throat there came a sound like the sudden bleat of a young sheep in pain. It caused Carpenter to start, and Madame Planchet to start, and for the first time since we entered the place, the birds of paradise gave signs of life elsewhere than in the eye-muscles. The sheep gave a second bleat, and then a third, and Rosythe, red in the face and apparently choking, turned and fled to the corridor. Madame Planchet drew me apart and said: "Meester Billee, tell me something. Ees eet true that thees gen- tleman ees a healer? He takes away the pains?" "He did it for me," I answered. "He ees vairy handsome, eh, Meester Billee?" "Yes, that is true." "I have an idea; eet ees a wondair." She turned to my friend. "Meester Carpentair, they tell me that you heal the pains. I think eet would be a vairy fine thing eef you would come to my parlor and attend the ladies while I give them the permanent wave, and while I skeen them, and make them the dimples and the sweet smiles. They suffer so, the poor dears, and eef you would sect and hold their hands, they would love eet, they would e of use against the strike. "Dey got our members' list," said Korwsky. "Dey send people to frighten 'em back to verk! Dey call loans, dey git girls fired from stores if dey got jobs dey hound 'em every way!" The speaker went on to declare that no such job could 96 THEY CALL ME CARPENTER have been pulled off without the police knowing; yet they made no move to arrest the criminals. His voice trembled with indignation; and Carpenter turned to me. You have mobs that come at night, with dark lanterns and burglars' tools!" I had noticed among the men talking to Carpenter one who bore a striking resemblance to him. He was tall and not too well nourished; but instead of the prophet's robes of white and amethyst, he wore the clothes of a working-man, a little too short in the sleeves ; and where Carpenter had a soft and silky brown beard, this man had a skinny Adam's apple that worked up and down. He was something of an agitator, I judged, and he ap- peared to have a religious streak. "I am a Christian," I heard him say; "but one of the kind that speak out against injustice. And I can show you Bible texts for it," he insisted. "I can prove it by the word of God." This man's name was James, and I learned that he was one of the striking carpenters. The prophet turned to him, and said : "Tell him your story." So the other took from his pocket a greasy note-book, and produced a newspaper clipping, quoting an injunction which Judge Wollcott had issued against his union. "Read that," said he ; but I answered that I knew about it. I remember hearing my uncle laughing over the matter at the dinner- table, saying that "Bobbie" Wollcott had forbidden the strikers to do everything but sit on air and walk on water. And now I got another view of "Bobbie," this time from a prophet fresh from God. Said the prophet: "Your judges are mobs !" XXVIII Soon after the noon-hour, there pushed his way into the crowd a young man, whom I recognized as one of the secretaries of T-S. He was looking for me, and told me in a whisper that his employer was downstairs in his car, and wanted to see Mr. Carpenter and myself about something important. He did not want to come up, because it was too conspicuous. Would we come down and take a little drive? I answered that I should be willing, but I knew Carpenter would not he had been in an automobile accident the night before, and had refused to ride again. Then, said the secretary, was there some room where we could meet? I went to one of the officials, and asked for a vacant room where I could talk about a private matter with a friend. I managed to separate Carpenter from his crowd and took him to the room, and presently Everett, the secretary, came with T-S. The great man shook hands cordially with both of us; then, looking round to make sure that no one heard us, he began: "Mr. Carpenter, I told you I vould give a tousand dollars to dese strikers." The other's face, which had looked so grey and hag- gard, was suddenly illumined as if by his magical halo. "I had forgotten it! There are so many hungry in there ; I have been watching them, wondering when they would be fed." "All right," said T-S. "Here you are." And reach- ing into his pocket, he produced a wad of new shiny hun- dred dollar notes, folded together. "Count 'em." 97 98 THEY CALL ME CARPENTER Carpenter took the money in his hand. "So this is it!" he said. He looked at it, as if he were inspecting some strange creature from the wilds of Patagonia. "It's de real stuff," said T-S, with a grin. "The stuff for which men sell their souls, and women their virtue ! For which you starve and beat and torture one another " "Ain't it pretty?" said the magnate, not a bit embar- rassed. The other began reading the writing on the notes as you may remember having done in some far-off time of childhood. "Whose picture is this?" he asked. "I dunno," said the magnate. "De Secretary of de Treasury, I reckon." "But," said the other, "why not your picture, Mr. T-S?" "Mine?" "Of course." "My picture on de money?" "Why not? You are the one who makes it, and en- ables everyone else to make it." It was one of those brand new ideas that come only to geniuses and children. I could see that T-S had never thought of it before ; also, that he found it interesting to think of. Carpenter went on: "If your picture was on it, then every one would know what it meant. People would say : 'Render unto T-S the things that are T-S's.' When you were paying off your mobs, you would pay them with your own money, and whenever they spent it, the people would bow to Caesar I mean to T-S." He said it without the trace of a smile; and T-S had no idea there was a smile anywhere in the neighborhood. In a business-like tone he said: "I'll tink about it." Then he went on: "You give it to de strikers " THEY CALL ME CARPENTER 99 But Carpenter interrupted: "It was you who were going to give it. I cannot give nor take money." "You mean you von't take it to dem?" "I couldn't possibly do it, Mr. T-S ." "But, man" "Your promise was that you would come and give it. Now do so." "But, Mr. Carpenter, if I vas to do such a ting, it vould cost me a million dollars. I vould git into a row vit de Merchants' and Manufacturers' Association, dey vould boycott my business, dey vould give me a black eye all over de country. You dunno vot you're askin', Mr. Carpenter." "I understand then you are in business alliance with men who are starving these people into submission, and you are afraid to help them? Afraid to feed the poor!" The far-off, wondering look came again to his face. "The world is organized!" he said, to himself. "There is a mob of masters ! What can I do to save the people?" T-S was unchanged in his cheerful good-nature. "You give dem a tousand dollars and you help a lot. Nobody can do it all." But Carpenter was not satisfied; he shook his head, sadly. "Please take this," he said, and pressed the roll of bills back into the hands of the astounded magnate ! XXIX However, T-S had come there to get something that day, and I thought I knew what it was. He swallowed his consternation, and all the rest of his emotions. "Now, now, Mr. Carpenter! Ve ain't a-goin' to quarrel about a ting like dat. Dem fellers is hungry, and de money vill give dem vun good feed. Ve git somebody to bring it to dem, and ve be friends shoost de same. Billy, maybe you could give it, hey?" I drew back with a laugh. "You don't get me into your quarrels !" "Veil," said T-S and suddenly he had an inspiration. "I know. I git Mary Magna to give it! She's a voman !" Carpenter turned with sudden wonder. "Then women are permitted to have hearts ?" "Shoost so, Mr. Carpenter ! Ha, ha, ha ! Ve business fellers my Gawd, if you knew vot business is, you'd vunder ve got hearts enough to keep our blood movin'." "Business," said Carpenter, still pondering. "Then it's business " "Yes, business" put in T-S. "Dat's it!" And he lowered his voice, and looked round once more. "It's time ve vas talkin' business now! Mr. Carpenter, I be frank vit you, I put all my cards on de table. I seen de papers shoost now, vot vunderful tings you do healin' de sick and quellin' de mobs and all dat and I tink I gotta raise my offer, Mr. Carpenter. If you sign a con- tract I got here in my pocket, I pay you a tousand dollars a veek, Vot you say, my friend?" 100 THEY CALL ME CARPENTER Carpenter did not say anything, and so the magnate began to expatiate upon the artistic triumphs he would achieve. "I make such a picture fer you as de vorld never seen before. You can do shoost vot you vant in dat story all de tings you like to do, and nuttin' you didn't like. I never said dat to no man before, but I know you now, Mr. Carpenter, and all I ask you is to heal de sick and quell de mobs, shoost like today. I pledge you my vord I put it in de contract if you say so I make nuttin' but Bible pictures." "That is very kind of you, Mr. T-S, and I thank you for the compliment; but I fear you will have to get some one else to play my part." Said T-S: "I vant you to tink, Mr. Carpenter, vot it vould mean if you had a tousand dollars every week. You could feed all de babies of de strikers. I vouldn't care vot you did you could feed my own strikers, ven I git some at Eternal City. A tousand dollars a veek is an awful pile o' money to have !" "I know that, my friend." "And vot's more, I pay you five tousand cash on de signin' of de contract. You can go right in now vit dese strikers maybe you could beat Prince's vit all dat money!" Then, as Carpenter still shook his head: "I give you vun more raise, my friend but dat's de last, you gotta believe me. I pay you fifteen hunded a veek. I aint ever paid so much money to a green actor in my life before, and I don't tink anybody else in de business ever did." But still Carpenter shook his head! "Vould you mind tellin' me vy, Mr. Carpenter?" "Not at all. You tell me that I may quell mobs for you. But there are mobs in your business that I could not quell." 102 THEY CALL ME CARPENTER "Vot mobs?" "Among others, yourself." "Me?" "Yes you are a mob ; a mob of money ! You storm the souls of men, and of women too. It will take a stronger force than I to quell you." "I don't git you," said T-S, helplessly ; but then, think- ing it over a bit, he went on : "I guess I'm a vulgar fel- ler, Mr. Carpenter, and maybe all my pictures ain't vot you call high-brow. But if I had a man like you to vork vit, I could make vot you call real educational pictures. You're vot dey call a prophet, you got a message fer de vorld; veil, vy don't you let me spread it fer you? If you use my machinery, you can talk to a billion people. Dat's no joke if dey is dat many alive, I bring 'em to you; I bring de Japs and de Chinks and de niggers de vooly-headed savages vot vould eat your missionaries if you sent 'em. I offer you de whole vorld, Mr. Carpenter ; and you vould be de boss !" Carpenter became suddenly grave. "My friend," said he, "a long time ago there was a prophet, and he was offered the world. The story is told us 'Again, the devil taketh him up into an exceeding high mountain, and sheweth him all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them ; and saith unto him, All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me/ You recall that story, Mr. T-S?" "No," said T-S, "I ain't vun o' dese litry fellers." But he realized that the story was not complimentary to him, and he showed his chagrin. "I tell you vun ting, Mr. Carpenter, if you vas to know me better, you vouldn't all me a devil." And suddenly the other put his hand on the great THEY CALL ME CARPENTER man's shoulder. "I believe that, my friend; I hate the sin but love the sinner. And so, suppose you come to lunch with me?" "Lunch?" said T-S, taken aback. "I went to dinner with you last night. Now you come to lunch with me." "Vere at, Mr. Carpenter?" Said Carpenter: "When I went with you, I did not ask where." Carpenter signed to me and to Everett, the secretary, and the four of us went out of the room. I was as much mystified as the picture magnate, but I held my peace, and Carpenter led us to the elevator, and down to the street. "No," said he, to T-S, "there is no need to get into your car. The place is just around the corner." And he put his arm in that of the magnate, and led him down the street somewhat to the embarrassment of his victim, for there was a crowd following us. People had read the afternoon papers by now, and it was no longer possible to walk along unheeded, with a prophet only twenty-four hours from God, who healed the sick and quelled mobs before breakfast. But T-S set his teeth and bore it hoping this might be the way to land his contract. XXX We turned the corner, and soon I saw what was before us, and almost cried out with glee. It was really too good to be true! Carpenter, in the course of his talks with strikers, had learned where their soup-kitchen was located, the relief-headquarters where their families were being fed ; and he now had the sublime audacity to take the picture magnate to lunch among them! The place was an empty warehouse, fitted with long tables, and benches made of planks that were old and full of splinters. Here in rows of twenty or thirty were seated men and women and children, mixed together; before each one a bowl of not very thick soup, and a hunk of bread, and a tin cup full of hot brown liquid, politely taken for coffee. It was a meal which would have been spurned by any of the "studio bums" of T-S's mob-scenes ; but now T-S was going to be a good sport, and sit on a splintery plank and eat it! Nor was that all. As we pushed our way into the place, Carpenter turned to the magnate, and without a trace of embarrassment, said: "You understand, Mr. T-S, I have no money. But we must pay " "Oh, sure!" said T-S, quickly. "I'll pay!" "Thank you," said the other; and he turned to an of- ficial of the union with whom he had got acquainted in the course of the morning. He introduced us all, not forgetting the secretary, and then said : "Mr. T-S is the moving picture producer, and wants to have lunch with you, if you will consent." "Oh, sure!" said the official, cordially, 104 THEY CALL ME CARPENTER 105 "He will pay for it," added Carpenter. "He has brought along a thousand dollars for that purpose." T-S started as if some one had struck him; and the official started too. "What?" "He will pay a thousand dollars," declared Carpenter. "It is a fact, and you may tell the people, if you wish." "My Gawd, no !" cried T-S wildly. But the official did not heed him. He faced the crowd and stretched out his arms. "Boys ! Boys ! This is Mr. T-S, the picture producer, and he's come to lunch with us, and he's going to pay a thousand dollars for it!" There was a moment of amazed silence, then a roar from the Company. Men leaped to their feet and yelled. And there stood poor T-S not enjoying the ovation! "Give it to them," whispered Carpenter ; and the mag-> nate, thus held up, took out the roll of bills, and turned it over to the trembling official, who leaped onto a chair and waved the miracle before the crowd. "A thousand dollars! A thousand dollars!" He counted it over be- fore their eyes and called, louder than ever, "A thousand dollars!" Carpenter, followed by T-S and the secretary and my- self, went down the line of tables, shaking hands with many on the way, and being patted on the back by others. Also T-S shook hands, and was patted. Seats were found for us, and food was brought double por- tions of it, as if to make the plight of the poor magnate even more absurd! I watched him out of the corner of my eye; he enjoyed that costly meal just about as much as Carpenter had enjoyed the one at Prince's last night! However, he was game, and spilled no tears into his soup; and Carpenter ate with honest appetite, having had no breakfast. The strikers about us ate as if they 106 THEY CALL ME CARPENTER had missed both breakfast and supper ; they laughed and chatted and made jokes with us you would have thought they were celebrating the winning of the strike and the end of all their troubles. In the midst of the the meal I noted two well-dressed young men by the door, asking questions; I chuckled to myself, seeing more head-lines double ones, and extra size: PROPHET OF GOD VAMPS MOVIE KING MAGNATE OF SCREEN PAYS THOUSAND FOR LUNCH But I knew that T-S had never yet paid a thousand dollars without getting something for it, and I was not surprised when, after he had gulped down his meal, he turned to his host and, disregarding the company and the excitement, demanded, "Now, Mr. Carpenter, tell me, do I git de contract?" Carpenter had had his jest, and was through with it. He answered, gravely: "You must understand me, Mr. T-S. You don't want a contract with me." "I don't?" "If I were to sign it, it would not be a week before you would be sorry, and would be asking me to release you." "Vy is dat, Mr. Carpenter?" "Because I am going to do things which will make me quite useless to you in a business way." "Dat can't be true, Mr. Carpenter!" "It is true, and you will realize it soon. I assure you, it won't be a day before you will be ashamed of having known me." T-S was gazing at the speaker, not certain whether this was something very terrible, or only a polite eva- THEY CALL ME CARPENTER 107 sion. "Mr. Carpenter," he answered, "if all de vorld vas to give you up, I vouldn't I" Said Carpenter: "I tell you, before the cock crows again, you will deny three times that you know me." And then, without awaiting response from the amazed T-S, he turned to speak to the man on the other side of him. The magnate of the pictures sat silent, evidently frightened. At last he turned to me and asked, "Vot you tink he meant by dat, Billy?" I answered: "I think he meant that you are to play the part of Peter." "Peter? Peter Pan?" "No; St. Peter, who denied his master." "Veil," said T-S, patiently, "you know, I ain't vun o' dese litry fellers." "I'll tell it to you some time," I continued. "It's kind of funny. If he's right, you are going to be the first pope, and sit at the golden gate, holding the keys of heaven." "My Gawd!" said T-S. "And you've made a record in the movies." I added. "You've played Satan and St. Peter, both on the same day! That is 'doubling' with a vengeanjce!" XXXI When I got back to the Labor Temple, I learned that there was to be a mass-meeting of the strikers this Satur- day evening. It had been planned some days ago, and now was to be turned into a protest against police vio- lence and "government by injunction." There was a cheap afternoon paper which professed sympathy with the workers, and this published a manifesto, signed by a number of labor leaders, summoning their followers to make clear that they would no longer submit to "Cos- sack rule." It appeared now that these leaders were considering inviting Carpenter to become one of the speakers at their meeting. Two of them came up to me. I had heard this stranger speak, and did I think he could hold an audience? I gave assurance; he was a man of dignity, and would do them credit. They were afraid the news- papers would represent him as a freak, but of course their meeting would hardly fare very well in the papers anyhow. One of them asked, cautiously, how much of an extremist was he ? Labor leaders were having a hard time these days to hold down the "reds," and the em- ployers were not giving them any help. Did I think Carpenter would support the "reds"? I answered that I didn't know the labor movement well enough to judge, but one thing they could be sure of, he was a man of peace, and would not preach any sort of violence. The matter was settled a little later, when Mary Magna drove up to the Labor Temple in her big limousine. Mary, for the first time in the memory of anyone who 108 THEY CALL ME CARPENTER 109 knew her, was without her war-paint; dressed like a Quakeress a most uncanny phenomenon! She had not a single jewel on; and before long I learned why she had taken all she owned to a jeweler that morning, and sold them for something over six thousand dollars. She brought the money to the fund for the babies of the strikers; nor did she ask anyone else to hand it in for her. It was Mary's fashion to look the world in the eye and say what she was doing. T-S was still hanging about, and at first he tried to check this insane extravagance, but then he thought it over and grinned, saying, "I git my tousand dollars back in advertising!" When I pointed out to him what would be the interpretation placed by newspaper gossip on Mary's intervention in the affairs of Carpenter, he grinned still more widely. "Ain't he got a right to be in love vit Mary? All de vorld's in love vit Mary!" And of course, there was a newspaper reporter standing by his side, so that this remark went out to the world as semi-official comment! You understand that by this time the second edition of the papers was on the streets, and it was known that the new prophet was at the Labor Temple. Curi- osity seekers came filtering in, among them half a dozen more reporters, and as many camera men. After that, poor Carpenter