THE. SUNDAY OREGOXIAX, TORTLAXD, .JTTSt 15, 1022
Car
moMn
try
V 4 irww.t'.v;
BY CHARLES W. DUKE.
HAS the old American pioneer
spirit died? Has modern
American youth anything to
fight for, what with the plains peopled,
the ranches staked off to cattlemen, the
mountains girded with railways, the cor
ners 61 the country explored and ex
ploited. ! .
Have science and modern progress
flulled the edge of intiative? Have ease
and luxury, wealth and improved ave
nues of opportunity lessened the desire to
get out and dig for gold and glory?
In other words, has the country gone
soft?
Come with me for a few minutes Into
the smoking room of a palatial 20 th cen
tury Pullman. Listen to some modern
Canterbury Tales. They are unfolded by
the Boy with the Golden Smile. He and
I are fellow travelers on the Wolverine
Express bound for New York out of De
troit, the metropolis of this young new
America of the middle west.
Some one has just been reading from a
Cincinnati newspaper a little news skit
nnder the caption "Puts It Over." The
story:
"Well, then, wait "a minute and I'll
eing for you right now!"
And Virginia Rae of Louisville, Ky., at
one end of the telephone wire, started to
sing the Bell song from "Dinorah" to
William Wade Hinshaw, concert director,
at the other end of the wire.
Hinshaw was starting on a trip when
Miss Rae called him. He hadn't any time
to listen. He was busy! -And what did
a little unknown amount to anyhow! But
Virginia sang!
.Virginia is now a recognized coloratura
Boprano.
"That's a fine young press agent yarn,"
exploded the automobile tire salesman.
Everybody smiled, including the Boy
wll the Golden Smile. Yet the smile
passed quickly from his face.. He was
deliberating something manifestly se
rious. "But young folks are doing those
things these days just the same," he of
fered. Did we want to hear some stories
that were not press-agent yarns? We
did. ..And we got them.
-Here is a youth by the name of Skin
ner. In real life he was a "skinny" of the
caricature kind. Like Topsy he just
grew up In the streets and market places
of Detroit. He had no special training
of. any kind. He sold newspapers and ran
errands. Old enough to hold down the
wheel of an automobile, he became a taxi
driver in the Michigan city of motorcars.
When the war came along he was one
of the first to enlist a dare-devil will-o'
the-wisp, melting quickly and with fa
cility into the martial type. .He enlisted
the day after the United States declared
a state of war with Germany and went
abroad to serve faithfully and efficiently
with the A. E. F. He emerged from the
trenches with the shoulder stripes of a
lieutenant.
; "Rolling the bones" a game he had
picked up in the side streets and on the
docks of Detroit was his. favorite pas
time. After the armistice, with a back
payroll in hand, he drifted down into the
Riviera, intent upon seeing something of
the continent before returning home. He
had plenty of time and nothing to hurry
him. ,.
Monte Carlo was just to his liking.
Bkinner "cleaned up." When he em
barked finally for Hoboken he had a huge
roll. En route to the states he enlarged
his stake at the expense of the luckless
doughboys. Arriving eventually in De
troit young Mr. Skinner had more money
than he ever dreamed one lucky taxi
driver could have of his own.
But the taxi business palled on him. De
troit looked out of proportion. He had
ieen a lot of the world and was not con
tent to settle down. The wanderlust pos
sessed him like many another ex-doughboy,
who found it hard to settle again into
a life of rountine. So he bought a
"flivver" and . started out to see the
country.
One day he stapped at the front gate of
an old dilapidated farm on the outskirts
of the village of Jasper, in Michigan. The
throat of his radiator was parched nor
was he averse to some fresh country but
termilk. A man bent from drudgery on
the, farm came out to greet him, followed
soon by his wife. They were all of 60
years, and alone on the farm. All the
boys and girls had drifted away gone
away to hunt up the white lights of the
city. The place was out of whack and
run down. With a hundred chickens,' a
couple of cows and several pigs, the old
folks were just eking out an existence.
But it had possibilities. Skinner looked
the place over as he sat drinking his
buttermilk and conversing with the old
folks. They were anxious to get out.
'How much will you sell for?" asked
Skinner. .'
They named their price. It was less
than $6000 for 40 acres of land, old
fashioned farmhouse, livestock and all.
For a moment Skinner turned the propo
sition over in his mind. Next day he came
back and bought the place paid for it
with $6000 cold cash, his Monta Carlo,
doughboy-transport "earnings."
That was the beginning. Skinner went
in for chickens.. From 100 he ran his
brood up to 10,000 by the simple expedi
ent of hiding eggs is incubators. Skinner
''n
Another boy found his gold m milk, and
knew the ropes of the Detroit markets,
where he had once knocked round as a N
"newsy" and errand boy. He knew all
about middlemen. Instead of dealingwith
them Skinner loaded his flivver with eggs
and hauled them direct to the big dealers.
No intermediaries for him.
In the army Skinner had picked up a
lot of useful information. He kept his .
own books and figured out the cost of
producing eggs. Pretty soon he figured
that he was producing eggs on his Jasper
farm at the rate of 14 cents per dozen.
That first winter, when he was selling
seconds in Detroit for 70 cents a dozen
and shipping his "bests" to New York for
better prices, it required no frenzied
finance to figure further that he was mak
ing money. He candled his own eggs.
The money flowed in. Skinner hunted
up his best girl the sweetheart he had
dreamed about marrying before he went
away with the A. E. F. She was still
waiting-for him, but could hardly believe
her own eyes when Skinner rolled up in
front of her home in his own Cadillac
eight. He took her out in the country and
showed her his chicken farm. It wasn't
much to look at yet.
"But we can make it a swell little
lovenest," he told her. And they did.
They got married. Then they went after
the old farmhouse. It was done over 'n
a jiffy electric lights, bathtubs and mod
ern plumbing, player-piano, talking ma
chine and other things calculated to make
it a comfortable home.
If you were to drop in on Mr. and Mrs.
Skinner at -Jasper, Mich., this month you
would find them installing a new radio
outfit. Skinner wants to know the market
prices of eggs, as he gathers his "hen
fruit." A pretty little baby tumbles round
in the green grass of the old farm place.
Talk about eggs harvest time every day
looks like an Easter egg-rolling on the
lawn of the White House.
Also, Mr. and Mrs. Skinner are rolling
in more than eggs. Their bank account
Oh boy!
Or take the case of a country lad by the
name of "Bill" Bruce in another small
Michigan town. Bruce came of Scotch de
scent and inherited the faculty of pinch
ing a nickel until he could make the In
dian grunt.
"Bill" Bruce was working with his
father cutting ice. It was slow, monoton
ous work. Cutting ice just .natuarlly
didn't cut much ice with "Bill" Bruce.
What Chance for the future? That mill
pond where , he labored long and hard
every winter he grew to hate. He wanted
to get out and get somewhere.
The war gave him his opportunity. It
took him away from the ice pond. It en
larged his vision. When he came back
from Europe it was with a determination
that he never would settle down to the ice
pond again. And he didn't.
There was a creamery In that town that
it was the color of gold, too, yellow batter.
had failed just about the time "Bill"
iBruce came back from glimpsing the wide
'expanses of the ocean and the great cities
of his own aad other countries. Even be
fore he doffed his khaki Bruce had his eye
on the creamery. He set out to buy it,
but, unlike Sjkinner of Monte Carlo, he
had no big roll of bills.
"Bill" asked his dad for a small stake
and got it. But it was not enough to swing
an equity in the decre'pit creamery. "You
lend me $500 and I'll get the rest," "Bill"
told his father. And he did. He went 50
miles away from home to get the rest of
his stake in the home of a doughboy pal
whose father was president of a bank.
Frankly "Bill" Bruce put his proposition
. to this bank president; told him how
much he had and what he intended to do.
The credit was forthcoming and Bruce ,
went back home and bought the cream
ery. Honest "Bill" Bruce's father had a
good name and that helped.
The first thing the ambitious youth did
was to hire a Danish buttermaker, paying
him $300 a month.' Bruce's father looked
aghast at this, declaring the salary too
high and the .boy starting too strong.
But I've got to have the best buttermaker
in the business," he said.
Also he had another reason. Bill took
his younger brother into business. "Watch.,
that Dane and learn all his tricks," Bill
told the brother. For 30 days they made
fresh, good-looking, fine-tasting butter.
Bill busied himself with selling the prod
uct. Every other day he loaded up the
old Ford truck and carted .his butter to
Detroit. He, too, evaded the middlemen
and sold direct.
"Churn one day and you get it the
next," wag his b'usiness slogan.
At the end of 30 days Bill asked his
brother how he was getting along with
the high-priced Danish buttermaker. The
brother nearly knew the business by
heart, he said, and in another 30 days
could go it alone. So for another month
they kept the high-priced buttermaker on
their payroll and watched him like a
hawk.
"Bill" Bruce worked 18 and 20 hours
a day. With the aid of a correspondence
school he brushed up a lot on details. On
the days when Bruce wasn't delivering
butter into Detroit he went round among
nearby farmers and bargained for tlielr
fresh milk supplies. At the end bf the
second 30 days Bill and his brother dis
pensed with the services of the $300
buttermaker. They had learned all his
tricks.
Three hundred dollars off the over
head! Now it was full steam ahead. The
creamery speedily became a success. An
addition had to be made and more em
ployes taken on. Both Bruce boys mar
ried and staked themselves to pretty little
homes close beside 'the creamery.
Some of that excellent butter you
spread upon your rolls in a Detroit, But-
falo or New YoTk restaurant today prob
ably came from this creamery out near
Detroit. It is literally booming. Just as
the war ended 'the creamery was on its
last legs; owing to the Initiative and en-,
ergy of "Bill" Bruce and his brother it is
at this moment a distinctly going concern,
with prospects altogether bright .
"Bill" Bruce was willing to take a
legitimate chance. The old pioneer spirit
was with him.
Just another story to clinch the point.
Out in the little town of Tecumseh, Mich.,
lived a family consisting of father,
mother, two daughters and one son. .Two
years ago this summer the father died
very suddenly, leaving the boy the sole
support of the family. The boy had Just
come home from the war and was on the
point of "breaking loose" when his parent
died. Nothing was left him but to stay
at home with mother and the girls.
7
to
On
X"
J, .6
6
A
The old pioneer spirit still lives, and
while oar gold banters do not al
ways cross the plains in their qaest
they are at heart Forty-niners.
When it came to settling up the estate
it was found there was not only a mort
gage on the farm, but a number of bad
bills. ThaU boy started to make good.
First of all, he ran over to Detroit and
signed np with a big packing house for
the butter supply of the farm. Then he
started to make butter in greater quantity
than his father had ever attempted. He
got a good price for it, too; and was mak
ing headway. '
But the boy couldn't get away from
that bugaboo of bad debts and that
mortgage. It was taking too long to dis
pose of these liabilities. Something had
to be done to get ahead. The urge was a
pretty girl "the girl I left behind me"
when the lad went to war. He wanted to
marry her, but couldn't run away and
leave his widowed mother and sisters.
One day this chap got an idea they
still say necessity is the mother of inven
tion. In the process of butter-making the
boy farmer noted that much of the butter
milk was going to waste. Some of it was
fed ' to the pigs, but the quantity was
much more than was required for hog
consumption, yet the buttermilk in itself
was not marketable. The labor and trans
portation costs were not worth the re
turn. Do something with the buttermilk
that was the idea. But what? For a
time the boy turned it over in his mind.
And then came the answer feed it to
' the chickens.
The Tecumseh farmer boy set out im
mediately to engage in the chicken busi
ness. Hundreds of young chicks scam
pered round that spring. New coops were
built. The butter business was carried
on as formerly, but herein and hereafter
no more buttermilk was spilled over the
landscape. It was fed to the chickens.
When the chickens grew up the boy
f"Wj
a
Br"
m
$4
.5
wired to Detrun ior a butcher. Instead of
shipping the live stock to the cities in
crates the youth was fattening his own
chickens with buttermilk. He decided to
keep his shrinkage. The only loss would
be the feathers. He could pack more
dead 'chickens in a given space than live
chickens.
Right and left the youth bought live
chickens from nearby farmers, giving
, them one cent above the market price for
live chickens. Carting them home he fat
tened them on buttermilk. The butcher
came on from Detroit after the boy farm
er had gone into the city and made a deal
with a big wholesaler there. They started
THE FOOD MARVEL OF THE AGE
(Continued From page 2.)
keting and distribution, has been a phe
nomenal one.
In the state of Oregon there are two
huge dehydration plants at this time,
working at capacity now that the produc
tive season Is at hand. The Salem fac
tory contains 100,000 square feet of floor
area and the one at The Dalles is nearly
a duplicate. So great have been the de
mands for dehydrated products that an
other factory has been opened this spring
at Lodi, California, marKing the invasion
of the southern state by a northern con
cern engaged in their own game, fruit and
vegetable preservation.
Just as an illustration of the magnitude
of the operations of this company, little
known here, for their trade field is in
other sections of the world, last season
they dehydrated 6300 tons of apples and
authoritive figures of all other canning
and evaporating operations for the entire
Pacific coast set the consumption at 8900
tons. This season the dehydration plans
call for the handling of 17,600 tons of
fresh fruits and vegetables and this enor--mous
bulk will be reduced to about 2000
' tons. In other words a crop that woud
. normally require 350 cars to handle fresh
will be marketed in 40 cars dehydrated.
This will serve to give some idea of the
economy to both producer and consumer.
Aggressive national advertising cam
paigns, planned anddirected from Port
. land, have served to put this city on the
to kill and ship buttermilk-fed chickens.
They are still killing and shipping buttermilk-fed
chickens as fast as they can
fatten them. The supply for their prod
uct is unequal to the demand. This sum
mer me youia ouui more coops ana
batched more eggs than ever before. Not
a drop of buttermilk is being wasted. The
old debts have disappeared, the mortgage
has been burned, the lad is married to
the girl of his dreams and they live in a
little palace of their own overlooking the
dairy and the chicken farms. Mother and
one daughter are well cared for, while
the other daughter has married and
moved away. '
Once again the pioneer spirit.
Nor was the lad who told me these real J
stories right out-of every day current
life a slouch himself when it came to the
initiative and the pioneer spirit. He, too,
had gone through the World war. Return
ing to Detroit he slipped into the old
groove alongside his brother, a produce
merchant in the Detroit markets.
But it was no fun working for some
one else. The business belonged to that
someone else. Every Saturday night the
pay .envelope came along O. K. He owned
a flivver of his own with which to take
hi3 best girl joy-riding. But something
was lacking.
. The lad decided to burn his bridges
behind him and hie forth in quest of his
own fortune. Several weeks ago he told
his brother he was through. Going to the
savings bank he drew down all the money
he had saved.
"My brother has staked me to a little
pile on the side," he told the writer. "He
can afford it, for he has made a lot."
"And what are you going to do?" was
asked.
"I'm on my way to Wilkes-Barre, Penn
sylvania," he smiled in reply. "Me for a
farm in Wyoming valley. You know, It's
a great location. Right at a strategic point
on lines of transportation. One road leads
At Monte Carlo Skinner cleaned np.
south to Philadelphia markets; the othe
leads east to New York markets..
"I'm going in for chickens and dairy
products like those fellows I was telling
you about. If they can do it I can do it."
And he will.
.You don't have to be born in America
to catch the idea, either. It's in the a'r.
Down in Washington sits a man who, 50
years ago, came here as an immigrant boy
from Wales. Today he bosses all United
States immigration. He's "Jim" Davis to
his friends; otherwise the Hon.- James-J..
secretary of labor.
Such are the wa of the modern pio
neer. food map of the world until now it is one
of the prime factors in feeding the many
million mouths on the face of the globe.
Who can venture to predict the future of
the business or its bearing on the future
of the farming industry in the west? One
day's orders-last week were for $55,000
worth of the finished product. Their
yearly sales go into the millions and they
have found it necessary to practically
double their capacity this season.
Last year, after coming through the
war-adjustment period with flying colors,
they gained 48 per cent Income 'over the
year before and cut their prices an aver
age of 30 per cent. Nearly a million dol
lars was paid out to farmers in this state
alone and much more will be laid out in
the purchase of materials this season.
Cut in Alphabet Suggested.
TOKIO. With a view of setting a
limit to the burdens imposed on school
children, the education department has
recommended that the Chinese charac
ters in common use be restricted to 2000
words. At present the ordinary school
grade of six years contains about 260.0
characters, higher grades 3600 and mid
dle scboel about 5000.
College Talk Overheard.
First College Man I want you to coine
to our dance tonight.
Second Ditto Thanks. Is it formal,
or shall I wear my own clothes?