He liked his houses kept up, the lawns mowed, so they would look like
something. Like a good pair of shoes.
Like most Americans, the old man was too deeply involved with labor and
capital to think in those terms. Instead he thought in terms of people and
whether their work - and their word - was good.
When he died, people the family couldn't remember, maybe had never seen,
showed up at the house to pay their respects. They'd all tell much the same
story-how he'd given them credit when they needed it, or a little help when
they were trying to get started.PB
He liked giving people a start. There was Henry Johnson, for example, whom
he'd hired as a boy - and taught how to fix shoes. Henry would stay with him
for the next 50 years through the old man's various ventures, mastering one
skill after another.
His apprentice would grow old with him, teaching his boss as much he'd
learned, and die two weeks before the old man himself did. The family smiled
knowingly. They understood that Henry had just gone ahead, as usual, to
scout the territory.
On this Labor Day, a great deal will be said in the usual press releases,
but none of it will be more eloquent than work done well. To me, two new
soles on a pair of well-shined shoes still say more than all the Labor Day
speeches ever written. |