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say that life has no meaning； that men are the playthings of blind forces that crush them； and there is no answer to the riddle。 This is nonsense。 I admit that we are in the grip of blind forces。 But we are not blind。 We can not change those forces。 If we fight against them they will crush us。 But by going with them； guiding our careers along their courses； they will bear us to the port we're steering for。
The mob spirit in man is one of those blind forces that so often lead to shipwreck。 The mob…mind differs from the mind of reason。 To tell them apart is like distinguishing mushrooms from toadstools。 They look alike； but one means health and the other is poison。 Life has taught me the difference between a movement and a mob。 A movement is guided by logic； law and personal responsibility。 A mob is guided by passion and denies responsibility。
I have seen meetings turned into mobs and mobs dissolved again into meetings。 Swept by passion we willed a strike。 That strike would have been just； and； yet； it would have ruined us。 We were like a mob in which every man forgets his own responsibility； The mob mind would have rushed us to our own ruin。 My speech called for individuals to stand up。 That set each individual thinking： 〃If I stand up； that crazy guy will smash me。〃 Each man became responsible again。 The mob was gone； and all we had was individual men； each thinking for himself。 That thinking then went on and each man reached a verdict based on logic； sense and duty。 The meeting could no longer speak with one voice。 It couldn't talk at all。 It stammered。 The action showed that each mind stood apart； alone。 And yet the vote revealed that they were all together。
I have watched the long struggle of unionism in America and I know the law that has governed all its ups and downs。 Wherever it was still a movement it has thrived； wherever it became a mob it fell。 The one Big Union was a mob。 No movement based on passion finally wins； no movement based on reason finally fails。 Why then say life is a riddle and man helpless？
When I became Secretary of Labor； one of the first letters I received was from Mrs。 Eli Baldwin whose coal oil I burned shamelessly； studying far into the night。 Mrs。 Eli Baldwin wrote from Atlanta； Indiana； where she now lives：
〃When your roommates complained because your light kept them awake； I knew what you were doing。 I knew that you were studying their problems for them； getting yourself an education so you would know how to get them better wages and better working conditions。〃
This letter pleased me more than I can tell。 This kind old lady； now eighty…two； had faith in me and feels that her faith was justified。 Now； then； can I believe that life is meaningless；that there is no plan； and that all man's efforts are foredoomed to failure？
CHAPTER XXXIII
I MEET THE INDUSTRIAL CAPTAINS
Elwood； Indiana； was a small village that had been called Duck Creek Post…Office until the tin mill and other industries began making it into a city。 In my capacity as president of the local union and head of the wage mill committee； I was put in personal contact with the heads of these great industrial enterprises。 This was my first introduction to men of large affairs。
I approached them with the inborn thought that they must be some sort of human monsters。 The communist books that Comrade Bannerman had given me taught me to believe that capitalists had no human feelings like ordinary mortals。 I therefore expected to find the mill…boss as cunning as the fox and ape combined。 I supposed that his word would be worthless as a pledge and would be given only for the purpose of tricking me。 His manners I expected to be rude； he would shout at me and threaten me； hoping to take away my courage and send me back to my fellows beaten。
What I found； of course； was a self…possessed man； the model of courtesy and exactness。 He differed from us men in one respect。 His mind was complex instead of simplex。 That is； he could think on two sides of a question at the same time。 He had so trained his mind by much use of it that it was as nimble as the hands of a juggler who can keep several objects tossing in the air at the same time。 We men were clumsy thinkers； and one thing at a time was all we could handle without fumbling it。
The great manufacturer never showed any emotion。 He was never angry； domineering； sneering or insulting。 He kept these emotions under control because they could do him no good； and because they would give pain to others。 We fellows never hesitated to show how we felt。 We would jibe one another； laugh at a fellow to his chagrin； and when we were angry bawl each other out unmercifully。 For a fellow to smile when he was angry and not let the other fellow know it； was a trick we had not learned。 That a bloodthirsty； cruel capitalist should be such a graceful fellow was a shock to me。 I saw from the start that the communist picture of a capitalist as a bristling； snorting hog was the farthest thing from the truth。 The picture was drawn by malice and not from a desire to tell the truth。
I learned that when Mr。 Reid and his fellows gave their word they never broke it。 It was hard to get a promise from them； but once they made a promise they always fulfilled it。 If they said they would meet us at a certain hour； they were always there on the minute。 They were patient； firm and reasonable； and they always treated us as their equals。
They always gave us the reasons for the stand they took。 At first I doubted their sincerity； but in the end I learned that the reasons they cited were the true reasons。 At first they thought that they would have to guard themselves against roguery and doubledealing on the part of the tin workers。 This showed that they had had unpleasant experiences。 For； men who knew their business as well as they did must surely have had some cause for their suspicion。 Baseless suspicion is a trait of ignorant men； and these men were not ignorant。 A burnt child dreads the fire。
I decided to take them as my models； to learn all their virtues and let them know that I was as square in my dealings with them as they were with me。 I studied their business as thoroughly as I studied the case of the men。 I soon got from them all the concessions we had demanded when we called the strike。 It was fortunate for us that the strike was cancelled； for we kept our jobs and in due course got all the things that we were going to strike for。
In fact； I got so many concessions by dickering with those bosses that I made life a burden for them at times。 I knew the cost of every different kind of plate the mill put out； and so I could demand a high rate of wages and support my demands with logic。 My midnight studies had not been in vain。 It all came back in cash to the working man； and yet it was my own pals who had rebuked me for being too bookish。 This did not make me sour。 I loved the fellows just the same； and when they showed their faith in me； it more than paid me back。
But I had learned this general rule： The average working man thinks mostly of the present。 He leaves to students and to capitalists the safeguarding of his future。
CHAPTER XXXIV
SHIRTS FOR TIN ROLLERS
In summer the temperature in the tin mills is very high。 It is as hot as the Fourth of July in Abyssinia。 One day a philosophical fellow was talking religion to me。 He said； 〃I don't believe in hell as a place where we boil forever in a lake of brimstone。 It can't be as hot as that。 My constitution never could stand it。〃 His constitution stood up under the heat in the tin mill。 So it is plain that the tin…mill temperature was somewhat less than the temperature of the Pit。
Outsiders began coming into the mills and giving us workers a chill by telling us that the heat was killing us。 The men used to cool themselves down with a glass of beer at the close of the day。 The social investigators told us that alcohol taken into the system at such a time would cause sunstroke。 If beer was fatal； most of us figured that we had been dead for years and didn't know it。 The effect of constant complaints was to demoralize us and make our work harder。 I thought at first that these investigators were our friends and I gave them all the help I could。 But instead of helping us； they only hurt us； and then I soured on their misapplied zeal。 They were a species new to me that seemed to have sprung up in the hard times； just as cooties spring up in time of war。 And like cooties； they attached themselves to us closer than a brother and yet they were no brothers of ours。 The social investigators nibbled away at the men and kept them restless in their hours of ease。 They sat at our boarding table and complained of the food。 Corned beef and cabbage was one of our regular dishes。 Mr。 Investigator turned up his nose and said： 〃I never touch corned beef。 If you knew as much about it as I do； you would insist on steaks or roast beef instead。 You know what corned beef is； don't you？〃
The men got mad and one fellow said： 〃Yes； it is dead cow。 All meat is dead animals。 Now give us a rest。〃
〃Yes； it's all dead； but some of it is a whole lot deader than you imagine。 I've been investigating the packing business； and I'll tell you all about