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This； then is the introduction to my views and to my policies。 They are now to have a fair trial； like that other iron worker in the Elwood police court。 I know what the word 〃previous〃 means。 I can give an account of myself。 So； in the following pages I will tell 〃where I was before I came here。〃
If my style seems rather flippant； it is because I have been trained as an extemporaneous speaker and not as a writer。 For fifteen years I traveled over the country lecturing on the Mooseheart School。 My task was to interest men in the abstract problems of child education。 A speaker must entertain his hearers to the end or lose their attention。 And so I taxed my wit to make this subject simple and easy to listen to。 At last I evolved a style of address that brought my points home to the men I was addressing。
After all these years I can not change my style。 I talk more easily than I write； therefore； in composing this book I have imagined myself facing an audience； and I have told my story。 I do not mention the names of the loyal men who helped work out the plans of Mooseheart and gave the money that established it； for their number is so great that their names alone would fill three volumes as large as this。
J。J。D。
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I THE HOME…MADE SUIT OF CLOTHES
II A TRAIT OF THE WELSH PEOPLE
III NO GIFT FROM THE FAIRIES
IV SHE SINGS TO HER NEST
V THE LOST FEATHER BED
VI HUNTING FOR LOST CHILDREN
VII HARD SLEDDING IN AMERICA
VIII MY FIRST REGULAR JOB
IX THE SCATTERED FAMILY
X MELODRAMA BECOMES COMEDY
XI KEEPING OPEN HOUSE
XII MY HAND TOUCHES IRON
XIII SCENE IN A ROLLING MILL
XIV BOILING DOWN THE PIGS
XV THE IRON BISCUITS
XVI WRESTING A PRIZE FROM NATURE'S HAND
XVII MAN IS IRON TOO
XVIII ON BEING A GOOD GUESSER
XIX I START ON MY TRAVELS
XX THE RED FLAG AND THE WATERMELONS
XXI ENVY IS THE SULPHUR IN HUMAN PIG…IRON
XXII LOADED DOWN WITH LITERATURE
XXIII THE PUDDLER HAS A VISION
XXIV JOE THE POOR BRAKEMAN
XXV A DROP IN THE BUCKET OF BLOOD
XXVI A GRUB REFORMER PUTS US OUT OF GRUB
XXVII THE PIE EATER'S PARADISE
XXVIII CAUGHT IN A SOUTHERN PEONAGE CAMP
XXIX A SICK； EMACIATED SOCIAL SYSTEM
XXX BREAKING INTO THE TIN INDUSTRY
XXXI UNACCUSTOMED AS I AM TO PUBLIC SPEAKING
XXXII LOGIC WINS IN THE STRETCH
XXXIII I MEET THE INDUSTRIAL CAPTAINS
XXXIV SHIRTS FOR TIN ROLLERS
XXXV AN UPLIFTER RULED BY ENVY
XXXVI GROWLING FOR THE BOSSES BLOOD
XXXVII FREE AND UNLIMITED COINAGE
XXXVIII THE EDITOR GETS MY GOAT
XXXIX PUTTING JAZZ INTO THE CAMPAIGN
XL FATHER TOOK ME SERIOUSLY
XLI A PAVING CONTRACTOR PUTS ME ON THE PAVING
XLII THE EVERLASTING MORALIZER
XLIII FROM TIN WORKER TO SMALL CAPITALIST
XLIV A CHANCE TO REALIZE A DREAM
XLV THE DREAM COMES TRUE
XLVI THE MOOSEHEART IDEA
XLVII LIFE'S PROBLEMS
XLVIII BUILDING A BETTER WORLD BY EDUCATION
XLIX CONCLUSION
THE IRON PUDDLER
CHAPTER I
THE HOME…MADE SUIT OF CLOTHES
A fight in the first chapter made a book interesting to me when I was a boy。 I said to myself； 〃The man who writes several chapters before the fighting begins is like the man who sells peanuts in which a lot of the shells haven't any goodies。〃 I made up my mind then that if I ever wrote a book I would have a fight in the first chapter。
So I will tell right here how I whipped the town bully in Sharon； Pennsylvania。 I'll call him Babe Durgon。 I've forgotten his real name； and it might be better not to mention it anyhow。 For though I whipped him thirty years ago； he might come back now in a return match and reverse the verdict； so that my first chapter would serve better as my last one。 Babe was older than I； and had pestered me from the time I was ten。 Now I was eighteen and a man。 I was a master puddler in the mill and a musician in the town band （I always went with men older than myself）。 Two stove molders from a neighboring factory were visiting me that day； and； as it was dry and hot； I offered to treat them to a cool drink。 There were no soda fountains in those days and the only place to take a friend was to the tavern。 We went in and my companions ordered beer。 Babe； the bully； was standing by the bar。 He had just come of age； and wanted to bulldoze me with that fact。
〃Don't serve Jimmy Davis a beer；〃 Babe commanded。 〃He's a minor。 He can't buy beer。〃
〃I didn't want a beer；〃 I said。 〃I was going to order a soft drink。〃
〃Yes； you was。 Like hell you was；〃 Babe taunted。 〃You came in here to get a beer like them fellers。 You think you're a man； but I know you ain't。 And I'm here to see that nobody sells liquor to a child。〃
I was humiliated。 The bully knew that I wanted to be a man； and his shot stung me。 My friends looked at me as if to ask： 〃Are you going to take that？〃 And so the fight was arranged； although I had no skill at boxing； and was too short…legged； like most Welshmen； for a fast foot race。 Babe had me up against a real problem。
〃Come on over the line；〃 he said。
Sharon was near the Ohio border and it was customary to go across the state line to fight； so that on returning the local peace officers would have no jurisdiction。 We started for the battle ground。 Babe had never been whipped； he always chose younger opponents。 He was a good gouger； and had marked up most of the boys on the 〃flats〃 as we called the lowlands where the poorer working people lived。 A gouger is one who stabs with his thumb。 When he gets his sharp thumb…nail into the victim's eye； the fight is over。 Biting and kicking were his second lines of attack。
As we walked along I was depressed by the thought that I was badly outclassed。 There was only one thing in my favor。 I hated Babe Durgon with a bitter loathing that I had been suppressing for years。 It all went back to the summer of 1884 when I was eleven years old。 Times were hard； and the mill was 〃down。〃 Father had gone to Pittsburgh to look for work。 I was scouring the town of Sharon to pick up any odd job that would earn me a nickel。 There were no telephones and I used to carry notes between sweethearts； pass show bills for the 〃opry；〃 and ring a hand…bell for auctions。 An organized charity had opened headquarters on Main Street to collect clothing and money for the destitute families of the workers。 I went up there to see if they needed an errand boy。 A Miss Forakernow Mrs。 F。 H。 Buhlwas in charge。 She was a sweet and gracious young woman and she explained that they had no pay…roll。
〃Everybody works for nothing here；〃 she said。 〃I get no pay； and the landlord gives us the use of the rooms free。 This is a public charity and everybody contributes his services free。〃
I saw a blue serge boy's suit among the piles of garments。 It was about my size and had seen little wear。 I thought it was the prettiest suit I had ever seen。 I asked Miss Foraker how much money it would take to buy the suit。 She said nothing was for sale。 She wrapped up the suit and placed the pack。 age in my arms； saying； 〃That's for you； Jimmy。〃
I raced home and climbed into the attic of our little four… dollar…a…month cottage； and in the stifling heat under the low roof I changed my clothes。 Then I proudly climbed down to show my blue suit to my mother。 〃Where did you get those clothes； James？〃 she asked gravely。
I told her about Miss Foraker。
〃Did you work for them？〃
〃No； everything is free；〃 I said。
Mother told me to take the suit off。 I went to the attic； blinking a tear out of my eyes； and changed into my old rags again。 Then mother took the blue suit； wrapped it up carefully and putting it in my hands told me to take it back to Miss Foraker。
〃You don't understand； James；〃 she said。 〃But these clothes are not for people like us。 These are to be given to the poor。〃
I have often smiled as I looked back on it。 I'll bet there wasn't a dime in the house。 The patches on my best pants were three deep and if laid side by side would have covered more territory than the new blue suit。 To take those clothes back was the bitterest sacrifice my heart has ever known。
A few days later there was a fire sale by one of the merchants； and I got the job of ringing the auction bell。 Late in the afternoon the auctioneer held up a brown overcoat。 〃Here is a fine piece of goods； only slightly damaged；〃 he said。 He showed the back of the coat where a hole was burned in it。 〃How much am I offered？〃
I knew that I would get fifty cents for my day's work； so I bid ten centsall that I could spare。
〃Sold；〃 said the auctioneer； 〃for ten cents to the kid who rang the bell all day。〃
I took the garment home and told my mother how I had bought it for cash in open competition with all the world。 My mother and my aunt set to work with shears and needles and built me a suit of clothes out of the brown overcoat。 It took a lot of ingenuity to make the pieces come out right。 The trousers were neither long nor short。 They dwindled down and stopped at my calves； half…way above my ankles。 What I hated most was that the seams were not in the right places。 It was a patchwork； and there were seams down the front of the legs where the crease ought to