| By Author | [ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z | Other Symbols ] |
| By Title | [ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z | Other Symbols ] |
| By Language |
|
Download this book: [ ASCII ] Look for this book on Amazon Tweet |
Title: Harlow Niles Higinbotham - A memoir with brief autobiography and extracts from speeches and letters
Author: Monroe, Harriet
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Harlow Niles Higinbotham - A memoir with brief autobiography and extracts from speeches and letters" ***
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
HARLOW NILES HIGINBOTHAM
[Illustration: _HNHiginbotham_]
HARLOW NILES HIGINBOTHAM
A MEMOIR
with Brief Autobiography and Extracts
from
Speeches and Letters
Written and Edited
by Harriet Monroe
CHICAGO
1920
CONTENTS
Page
Biography 9
Appendix A
Lincoln in 1864 49
Appendix B
The power of personality 53
Appendix C
The man who did me a good turn 57
Appendix D
An inscription in a copy of “Echoes from the Sabine Farm” 61
HARLOW NILES HIGINBOTHAM
Harlow Niles Higinbotham, represented, to a singular degree, the best
citizenship of the second and third half-centuries of the Republic. Born
on an Illinois farm October tenth, 1838; educated in his native state;
serving as a volunteer soldier through the Civil War; employed by a
small dry-goods house and working for it loyally and with perfect
integrity until it had become one of the greatest merchandising firms in
the world, and he one of its most active partners; responding with ardor
to every public call, whether it came from a newsboys’ and bootblacks’
club or from the World’s Columbian Exposition; retiring from business at
sixty or more, and giving his later years, with beautiful devotion, to
his family and his favorite charities and public works; and dying at
eighty in full career and with faculties unimpaired; such a life
epitomizes the strength and character of the nation during its robust
and adventurous formative period.
The story of his earlier years may be outlined in Mr. Higinbotham’s own
words; for a rough manuscript, autobiographical but written in the third
person, was found among his papers after his sudden death. It begins as
follows:
“Harlow Niles Higinbotham was born on a farm near Joliet, Illinois,
October tenth, 1838. His father was Henry Dumont Higinbotham, who was
born on January tenth, 1806, and died in 1865. His mother was Rebecca
Wheeler Higinbotham. Both were born in Oneida County, New York. They
moved to a farm in the Township of Joliet, Illinois, in 1834. The
Higinbotham family came originally from Holland, removing thence to
England, thence to the Barbados Islands and from there to the United
States.
“The farm, upon which Henry Dumont Higinbotham settled, was made up of
lands purchased from the Government by him and not previously under
cultivation. It is still in possession of the family, enlarged by
purchases and inheritance from the late Mrs. Harlow N. Higinbotham’s
estate; her son, Harlow Davison Higinbotham, being the present owner and
resident. For years a beautiful feature of it has been the carnation
greenhouses—for the subject of this memoir made that flower his special
hobby, and propagated many new varieties.
“Henry Dumont Higinbotham built and operated saw-mills with water-power
furnished by Hickory Creek, a stream that runs through the farm. In the
early days farmers for many miles brought their wheat and corn there to
be ground, and his compensation was a percentage of the grain brought,
called toll. This he ground, and sold as flour and meal. He also kept
cattle and hogs that were fattened by feeding at or near the mill, the
tailings being used in part for that purpose. Being one of the early
settlers in that section, he was looked upon with reverence by his
neighbors, and was always called ‘Uncle Henry’ and his wife ‘Aunt
Rebecca.’
“When Harlow N. Higinbotham was a small boy the farther fence of his
father’s farm was the last evidence of civilization in that direction.
In later years he used to say: ‘I remember going with my father when he
went out to erect a flag-pole in the middle of the prairie as a
preliminary for a wolf-hunt that was held at least once each year. On a
given morning all the settlers would start on horseback, with dogs and
guns and horns, from the outer edge of a circle having a radius of ten
or more miles, and work towards the center, where the flag-pole had been
erected. In this way wild animals would be driven into a pocket,
surrounded and killed. This was made necessary to protect the sheep,
swine and poultry of the settlers. I have seen wolves kill our sheep in
our own fields.’”
In one of his addresses is another reference to his early life:
“Our fathers were pioneers on the prairies of Illinois. There we early
learned the lessons of Nature, and recognized and loved the message that
the recurring seasons had for us. The flowers of the field and the
forest were our companions, and we knew when and where to look for them;
we knew the habit and habitat of each, and they were an open book to us.
We knew the birds, and were not long in discovering that by their flight
and their notes we could tell the season, and almost the hour of the
day. When we heard in the field the love-note of the pinnated grouse, or
in the woods heard the drumming of his ruffed cousin on the logs, we
knew it was time to plough and plant. An approaching storm was announced
with certainty by the coming of the quail from his seclusion in the
thicket to a position where he could make his message heard. The
crooning of the cricket, and the call of the katydid, each had a meaning
and message that we understood. These constituted the catechism from
which we learned to believe in Deity, and the larger and diviner life
for man.”
To return to the autobiography:
“The farm was about three miles east of the village of Joliet, and the
early schools were the ordinary district schools with one teacher for a
few months in each year. In winter they used to have spelling contests
every week in one of the three schools located at three points of a
triangle named Jericho, Babylon, and Bagdad. Harlow had the distinction
of being the champion speller when he was so small that he had to stand
on a box to be as high as the others in the class.
“In order to give his children a better school, Henry Dumont Higinbotham
built a house in the village of Joliet about 1855 and moved there. This
was his home until his death in 1865.
“In 1857 the nineteen-year-old youth accepted a position as bookkeeper
and teller in a bank in Joliet, after which he was cashier of the Bank
of Oconto, at Oconto, Wisconsin. In 1860 he became entry clerk,
bookkeeper and cashier for Cooley, Farwell & Company, wholesale
dry-goods dealers in Chicago, a city he had first discovered long before
from the top of a load of hay which he had brought there to sell as a
boy. In 1862 he left Chicago to go to the Civil War.
“He first enlisted in the Mercantile Battery, but was rejected on
account of poor health. Then he obtained a position as clerk in the
Quartermaster’s Department, and went to Clarksburg, West Virginia. His
service there being much in the open and on horseback, his health was
restored. While there he organized a company of infantry, as a guard to
protect Clarksburg as a base for supplies for the United States army,
which was always in the mountains, frequently leaving its base
unprotected. He was captain of this company, which was called the Kelley
Guards, General Kelley then being in command of the department. While in
Chicago Mr. Higinbotham had belonged to the old Zouaves, and had been
drilled in the manual of arms and company formation and tactics. The
Government supplied the Kelley Guards with arms and ammunition, and
their presence perhaps prevented raids that might have been made. The
company was made up of men employed in the Quartermaster’s and
Commissary departments.
“In 1863 and 1864 Higinbotham served in like capacity in Kentucky and
Tennessee, and concluded his service at Hagerstown, Maryland, at the
close of the war.
“Returning to Chicago in 1865, he engaged as bookkeeper with the new
firm just commencing business as Field, Palmer & Leiter. This firm
changed in 1867 to Field, Leiter & Co., and a few years later to the
present firm of Marshall Field & Co. Mr. Higinbotham was a member of
that firm and remained in that business until he retired in 1902. In his
later years he was the only original member of that firm still living.”
On December seventh, 1865, occurred his marriage to Miss Rachel Davison,
of Joliet. Her mother was Priscilla Moore, whose ancestors were of
Scotch descent, and came to this country in 1723, settling in
Londonderry, N. H. The two had been acquainted since childhood, their
fathers’ farms being side by side. They attended the same school, and
later, when Rachel Davison was the belle of Joliet, their friendship
grew and culminated in their marriage. Six children—two sons and four
daughters—were born of this union. Two of the daughters died in infancy.
The four surviving are Harlow Davison Higinbotham, Henry Mortimer
Higinbotham, Florence, wife of Richard T. Crane, Jr., and Alice, wife of
Joseph Medill Patterson.
During the presidential campaign of 1864, when a large parade was to be
held in Joliet in honor of McClellan and Pendleton, the democratic
candidates, Rachel Davison had been selected to head it because of her
great beauty and fine horsemanship; and this beauty remained with her
until her death on June twenty-fifth, 1909.
Although modest and shy, Mrs. Higinbotham was a strong personality. She
cared little for social life, never seeking conspicuous position, her
home and children being always uppermost in her thoughts. Her sense of
duty, and her thrift when a young matron, aided her husband to attain an
influential position in the community. She exerted a strong influence,
and during their life together was companion, adviser, and assistant in
large business undertakings and in philanthropic work. Like him, she was
always kind, and always mindful of those in need.
During the World’s Fair, her gracious hospitality made their home the
centre of Chicago’s social life. Their house on Michigan Avenue,
designed in early French renaissance by F. Meredith Whitehouse, was a
charming setting for the many entertainments given for distinguished
visitors.
We now return to Mr. Higinbotham’s narrative:
“At the time of the Chicago fire on October ninth, 1871, Higinbotham was
in charge of the Insurance and Accounting Department of the business of
Field, Leiter & Co., and was only an employe of the firm. Without
waiting for instructions, he went to their barns and called out all the
drivers with their teams; and he and they went at once to the store and
commenced carting away the most valuable goods to a point south of the
fire limit or belt. They continued this all night, and at the same time,
by changing blankets in the windows and keeping them wet, they kept off
the fire until it had passed them on the opposite side of State Street,
gone north a mile or more and burned the city waterworks. This occurred
at about seven in the morning of October tenth, Higinbotham’s
thirty-third birthday.
“With their water supply thus cut off, they were helpless and had to
abandon the store and its contents to the fire that slowly backed up
from the north and drove them out. A later inventory showed that they
had saved a little over six hundred thousand dollars’ worth of goods,
their proofs of loss showed that a little over two million and a half
had been burned, and their insurance amounted to nineteen hundred
thousand dollars. This would indicate a loss of six hundred thousand
dollars. It was, however, much greater for the reason that many of the
insurance companies were unable to pay their obligations, a number not
more than ten cents on the dollar. A portion of the saved goods were in
the car barns at Twentieth and State Streets, some in a wooden church at
Thirty-second Street and South Park Avenue. Higinbotham’s home was then
on Prairie Avenue near Twenty-seventh Street.
“Higinbotham went from the fire directly to Mr. Leiter’s home, and told
him of a plan he had formed for the re-establishment of the business.
Mr. Leiter threw up both hands and exclaimed, ‘Oh, Higinbotham! It is
too early to make plans—Chicago is gone!’ Mr. Higinbotham replied, ‘No,
no—we have got to do these things anyway.’ His plan was for Mr. Field to
give his attention to finding a place wherein to re-establish the
business; Mr. Leiter was to take charge of the saved goods, and have
them inventoried so that the inventory would show the contents of each
case. Higinbotham had in mind the adjusting of the loss, as that was one
of the first essentials. Mr. Willing, a junior partner, was to go to
Valparaiso, Indiana, stop all goods coming from the east, and warehouse
and insure them until the Company was ready to have them sent in. Mr.
Higinbotham was to take his family and Mr. Leiter’s, and all the
bookkeepers and books of account, cash and valuable papers, and go at
once to Joliet and there remain until a place had been arranged for at
least an office in the city. This plan, which was formulated while he
was saving the goods, was carried out in every particular. In Joliet the
office of Field, Leiter & Co. was for two weeks in his mother’s house,
and she took care of a number of the bookkeepers during their stay. He
then went with his wife and baby to Cincinnati, St. Louis and San
Francisco to adjust and collect insurance. A number of the companies in
these cities having no agencies in Chicago had failed. It was his
business to ascertain how much their assets would pay, collect the money
and return as quickly as possible.
“The business was soon re-established, and went through that year with a
net profit of over three hundred thousand dollars, notwithstanding that
two and a half millions had been burned up in a single night. It was
then that Mr. Leiter said, ‘Higinbotham, we are going to give you an
interest in this business!’ meaning, of course, a share in the profits.
Later he was made a partner and remained in the firm until 1902.”
Unfortunately, Mr. Higinbotham’s sudden death prevented his completing
this autobiographical sketch with any fulness of detail. We have merely
a few rough notes—two or three typewritten pages—in regard to his public
activities, of which his work for the World’s Columbian Exposition was
the most important.
From the first he was an enthusiast in this movement for a fit
celebration of the great quadri-centennial anniversary, and for the
location of the world festival in Chicago. As he said years after, at a
banquet to a group of Japanese commissioners, who were promoting a
proposed exposition in Tokio: “In the years preceding our Columbian
festival, peace reigned throughout the world. It was an opportune time
for the assembling of the animate and inanimate parliaments, a time for
the world to pause, take account of stock, to note progress in all the
things that make for peace and humanity’s good; a time for the exchange
of greetings between the peoples and the nations of the earth. You will
all remember with what zeal Chicago entered into competition for the
honor of being the host on that occasion. You will also remember the
satisfaction and pride that filled our hearts when we had won the
distinguished honor, and the heroic efforts we put forth to fulfil our
pledge. To the older civilizations of the world it seemed presumptuous
that a new city in a far country should appear in such a role. Our
nearer neighbors predicted failure, and this stimulated us to greater
effort; with a result that it is not even necessary to refer to, except
in so far as to show its beneficent influence and substantial value to
the world.”
And this further extract from the address shows that his motive was not
merely local, that his vision embraced a world-wide ideal of humane
values involved in these great festivals of peace:
“The International Exposition, where the richest and rarest products
meet in friendly competition, where the ripest wisdom of the ages is
represented by the scholars and thinkers of all the world, cannot but
result in great and lasting good and in promoting peace and good will.
“The Exposition stands at the meeting of the world’s highways, where
gather the nations of the earth, burdened each with the evidences of its
newest and noblest achievements. It is an epitome of the world’s
progress, a history and a prophecy.
“The latest discoveries, the newest inventions, the triumphs in art, in
science, in education, in the solution of social and even of religious
problems, are here arrayed; whatever testifies to the industry, the
skill, the creative and almost divine power of human thought when
stimulated to its most earnest endeavors.
“The more we share with others the good we possess, the more shall they
share with us the things and thoughts that make for peace with them. The
more we all strive for the common good, the nearer we shall attain to
universal brotherhood.”
Thus inspired, he was deeply engaged in the enterprise from the first.
In 1890 he had much to do with securing from Congress the honor of
holding the Exposition in Chicago. After it was so decided, he was
commissioned to go abroad to promote interest in the Fair—was a director
and a member of important committees—Finance, Ways and Means, Foreign
Exhibits; and later, in August, 1892, was made President of the
Directory and Chairman of the Council of Administration, a body of four,
chosen half from the Directory and half from the National Commission
created by Congress. This Council was clothed with the full power of all
other bodies and committees, and charged with the completion and
administration of the Exposition at a time when the treasury was empty
and the enterprise was thought to be a failure. During that summer Mr.
Marshall Field, Mr. Higinbotham’s partner and head of the firm, was
absent in Germany; and he withheld his consent to Mr. Higinbotham’s
accepting the Presidency, because he felt that the probable failure of
the enterprise would reflect on their business. To convince him, Mr.
Higinbotham wrote him the exact status of the Fair, what he thought he
could do with it if Mr. Field would consent, and his reluctance to
refuse his services at a time of crisis.
In regard to this, Mr. Higinbotham has stated: “I remember saying that
he would not be glad he lived in Chicago if the Fair was a failure, and
his property would not be worth half as much. I also wrote him how many
people would attend the Fair and how much we would receive from
concessions, estimating about as follows:
Admissions, 22,000,000 $11,000,000
Concessions 4,000,000
Residuum, Building Material, etc. 1,000,000
———————————
$16,000,000
“Then I wrote him that it would cost to complete and
administer the Fair 9,000,000
———————————
and we would have $7,000,000
to pay back to bondholders and stockholders. These were arguments that
he could understand when far away, and he cabled me, ‘All right, go
ahead.’ I did, and we made the prognosis good and a little more. I wish
I had time, space and patience to tell you how I based my estimates for
attendance, and then tell you how hard I worked to make it all come
true. The other members of the Council of Administration agreed at the
first meeting to stand by and support me all the time and always. This
they did, with the result that at the conclusion, with six thousand
written pages, we did not have a single negative vote recorded in the
minutes of our meetings. The members of the Council of Administration,
besides the Chairman, were: George V. Massey of Dover, Delaware; J. W.
St. Clair of West Virginia and Charles H. Schwab of Chicago.”
Mr. Massey, the only surviving one of the four, corroborates this
assertion of harmony, and adds the following appreciation of his dead
colleague’s services:
“As one of his associates in the Council, I was afforded exceptional
opportunity to become acquainted with his wonderful capacity for
effective work along the most judicious and practical lines; and the
knowledge of his envied characteristics, thereby derived, warrants the
statement that the successful results of the Exhibition were more
largely attributable to his untiring and energetic efforts than to any
other official related to the undertaking.”
The year or two covered by those six thousand pages of minutes was a
period of dramatic intensity for the man at the head of the vast
enterprise. The local Board of Directors, composed of Chicago business
men, was the great working body which organized, paid for, and ran the
Fair, the National Commission being a more or less ornamental consort
appointed by the Government to give the Exposition authority and dignity
in the eyes of the invited nations. When Mr. Higinbotham, on August
eighteenth, 1892, accepted the presidency of the Directory, after the
successive resignations of Lyman J. Gage and William T. Baker, the early
local enthusiasm had given way to despondency, for the impression had
gathered force that soaring expenses could never be met even to the
extent of repaying the bonded indebtedness, not to speak of the
stockholders.
As president of the Board of Directors, Chairman of the Council of
Administration, and member of the Bureau of Admissions and Collections,
Mr. Higinbotham held three offices, each involving “heavy
responsibilities which could not be delegated, resting upon powers which
were ill-defined, yet were co-extensive with the purposes of the
company’s incorporation.” For over two years these duties required his
entire time—often from twelve to sixteen hours out of the
twenty-four—and more than a man’s due share of physical and mental
energy.
The story is told with outward completeness in the “Report of the
President to the Board of Directors of the World’s Columbian
Exposition,” a volume of 323 octavo pages (exclusive of appendices)
written in that clear, concise and vivid narrative style which was
always at Mr. Higinbotham’s command. Outward completeness only, for one
must read between the lines of any formal report to discover the
heart-story involved; and in this case, as in all Mr. Higinbotham’s
activities, the heart-story was the central motive.
He undertook this public service from the purest instinct of civic pride
and loyalty—love of his city and state, pride in the great festival and
delight in the ideal involved—its consummation of democracy in beauty
representing the union of many creative wills. The Exposition was the
first effort of our American democracy to achieve, in any large sense,
such a consummation. Thus, to any man of vision, it was prophetic of a
new era, and worthy of all that the individual could give. Mr.
Higinbotham’s gift was an indomitable will and a mind trained to
finance, knowledge of men, quick decision of difficult problems, and
unfailing resource in initiative.
One cannot tell the whole long story here, but a few characteristic
incidents may be referred to. The electric light contest, for example,
illustrates Mr. Higinbotham’s skill and patience in handling would-be
profiteers—for public spirit among contractors was not the universal
rule. At this time, the spring of 1892, he was vice-president of the
Board of Directors, but acting as president in Mr. Baker’s absence.
Powerful companies in collusion presented bids averaging $18.00 per
incandescent lamp for the six months the Fair was to endure; but by
playing other companies against them, and refusing to be stampeded into
immediate action, he gradually reduced this bid to $5.95 per lamp, and
finally gave the contract to another company at a still lower figure. In
the end the sum paid for the entire service was $399,000, as against the
$1,675,720, originally demanded.
Indeed the financial history of the Fair was one long series of contests
and anxieties for its president. Again and again the enterprise would
have failed for lack of funds if the situation had been less skilfully
handled; and although failure would have meant national dishonor, the
Congress at Washington did not show any proper sense of partnership in a
great national festival which was to cost over twenty-eight millions.
Instead of the five millions which had been listed for eight months in
the appropriation bill and counted upon with reasonable assurance, the
government at last, during the hot summer of 1892, compromised on two
millions and a half in souvenir coins of uncertain sale; and afterwards,
at a moment of imminent financial crisis, it withheld more than a fifth
of that sum ($570,880) to pay the expenses of its own department of
awards, a department over which the Directory had no jurisdiction
whatever.
What this cost the company’s president during the following months of
enormous expenditure, when construction bills for material and labor had
to be met if the work was to go on, can hardly be estimated. The year
from August, 1892, to August, 1893, was a time of incredible strain for
the man at the helm. The writer vividly remembers a chance meeting with
Mr. Higinbotham in July, 1893. Although she had felt that the attendance
thus far was slight, she had not realized the financial issue involved.
One glance at the familiar face, however, informed her of the danger;
gave her an emotion of anxiety which she will never forget. The face,
usually smiling and even tender with friends, was white and stern and
drawn; incredibly strong and firm, but cold and hard; the face of a ship
captain through a tornado, of a general when the battle seems going
wrong; recording a moment when individual emotion was swallowed up in
the tragic passion of leadership through imminent disaster.
Fortunately this long and ever increasing strain began to diminish soon
after. In August the gate receipts began to creep up, so that the
bondholders became less clamorous and the Board of Directors less
apprehensive; and the phenomenal “Chicago Day” attendance of October
ninth—the twenty-second anniversary of the Fire which a young employe
had fought for Field, Leiter & Co.—a day when 761,942 persons went
through the turn-stiles, enabled the Treasurer of the Exposition to pay
the bondholders in full.
But finances were only one detail, though of course the most important,
the most fundamental, to the responsible Company and its president.
Other issues involved brought less anxiety and more joy, introducing an
infinite variety of experience and motive into the life of a
middle-western American merchant. Of these were the president’s
relations with the board of architects, those distinguished artists from
far and near who designed and built the Fair. In this connection may be
mentioned his life-long loyalty to the memory of John Wellborn Root, the
first consulting architect, who made the ground plan of the Fair,
admittedly a master-piece of great-festival design, but suddenly died—in
January, 1891—before he could lead in carrying it out. Mr. Higinbotham,
to the end of his life, loyally insisted on ascribing the beauty of the
Fair chiefly to the genius of this man, contending always against rival
claims and the forgetfulness of time.
The aesthetic and picturesque aspects of the Fair building included also
personal relations—which often, to a warm-hearted man like Mr.
Higinbotham, became friendships—with painters, sculptors, musicians,
even poets; with foreign Commissioners, government and state officials;
with eager concessionaires from far and near; indeed with all the
various types of human self-interest and idealistic enthusiasm which a
vast festival gathers together. In each case the president, in his
council of four, must hold the even scales of justice, settling all
disputes aesthetic or temporal, and getting or giving a reasonable price
for what was granted or secured.
Many of these disputes were little less than agonies to the persons
involved, and in these cases Mr. Higinbotham’s quick sympathies became
deeply engaged, and he spent over them many hours which should have been
given to sleep. One such incident may be briefly dwelt upon, not because
it was more important than others, but because it was typical of
countless minor disputes which went for final settlement to the Council
of Administration, and because the writer, as the author of the poem
involved, happens to know about it.
This was the “Columbian Ode” episode—a story which Mr. Higinbotham
delighted to tell to the end of his life. This poem had been unanimously
requested of the author by the Committee on Ceremonies and definitely
accepted by that body for the great day of the Dedication of
Buildings—the four-hundredth anniversary of the Discovery of America.
But a small group in the committee suddenly ceased to favor the poem,
and set up a violent opposition in the effort to have it annulled as a
feature of the Dedication Day program. The dispute became so bitter that
a peaceful decision in the Committee became impossible, and the matter
was referred to the Council of Administration for settlement.
This was in mid-September, 1892—the Dedication of Buildings was only a
month away. The writer, who had just returned from a summer outing, was
summoned to present her side of the question at an evening session of
the Council of Administration. At this time she had never met Mr.
Higinbotham, who took the chair soon after her arrival—a simple, quiet
man in the prime of life, of slight figure, fine shapely head, regular
features rather delicate in contour, and dark wavy hair and beard
streaked with a few threads of gray. Near him were two other members of
the Council of Administration.
It was strictly a business session, and the writer was interested to
observe how simply and easily various widely differing details were
disposed of, either directly or by reference to individuals or
committees; details of the roofing contract, the power plants, the
sewerage system; applications from would-be concessionaires; and
Dedication Day arrangements—program-printing, livery charges, the
military procession, plans for transporting and seating the vast throng
of over an hundred thousand persons who were being invited to assemble
under the lofty glazed and vaulted roof of the Manufacturers’ Building,
to celebrate the quadri-centennial anniversary of one of the supreme
events in the history of the world. And one of these details was the
dispute, inherited from the Committee on Ceremonies, about the
“Columbian Ode”—whether or not a portion of it should be read and sung
before the great audience on the great day.
The opponents presented their case; they were not satisfied with either
the author, who should have been a poet of distinction like the aged
Whittier, or the ode itself, which was too long for the occasion, and
which contained, moreover, a sixty-line tribute to a deceased relative
of the author—a tribute which she had declined to omit.
The writer met these objections as well as she could, pointing out
especially that the tribute in question—to the Fair’s first
architect-in-chief—was due to his memory on this great day, especially
as it was only three lines and a half long instead of the sixty-four
complained of.
Mr. Higinbotham asked the writer to read the questioned tribute, and
then remarked: “It’s hardly enough to say of the great architect who
planned the Fair, whose death at his post during that first year was the
heaviest blow it could possibly have received. A poem for this
dedication which did not refer to him would be gravely defective, in my
opinion.”
Mr. Higinbotham used to say afterwards: “Her poem had been asked for,
approved by experts and accepted by the Committee on Ceremonies, and I
made up my mind that as much of it should be read as we had time for in
the program, including the tribute to John Root.” And it was so ordered.
At last the long anticipated anniversary arrived. It is impossible to
exaggerate the beauty of the late October day, the dramatic splendor of
the festival, or the ardent spirit of that vivid audience, whose gay
colors fluttered into rainbow brilliancy as the sun struck down through
the glass roof. Mr. Higinbotham wrote in his report:
“The scene in the Manufacturers’ Building will never be forgotten by
those who witnessed it. The grand platform was occupied by officers of
the national government, members of the diplomatic corps, officers of
the various States, senators and representatives, directors and
commissioners. The eye and brain could scarcely comprehend the vastness
of the audience stretching out before this platform. There was little
motion, but the air was resonant with an indescribable hum of voices. At
the south end of the building the chorus of five thousand persons seemed
but a mere island in an ocean of humanity.”
Mr. Higinbotham’s share of the program was a quiet speech in which he
accepted the completed grounds and buildings from Daniel H. Burnham,
Director of Works, saluted “the master artists of construction” whom the
Director had presented, and offered to him for distribution the medals
which had been struck off by the Directory for presentation to the
artists of the Fair. Everyone noted the simple dignity of his bearing
and speech on this conspicuous occasion.
I have already referred to the anxieties of the Fair’s president during
the nine months which followed the Dedication. The reward for his long
labor came during the last three months of the gorgeous festival, when
he could enjoy the beauty and share the gay spirit of that ephemeral
White City which he had done so much to create. For, though there have
been world’s fairs before and since the Columbian, no other has rivalled
it in delicate Venetian magic. No other has attempted its inter-weaving
of water-ways among buildings and colonnades, whose shining day-time
beauty turned to glory at night, when the long rows of lights trailed
their golden fringes in the wide lagoons. Mr. Higinbotham delighted in
the joy of the people as the festive spirit of the crowd rose and
gathered force during those last months of the gala season.
The most important social event of the Exposition season was the banquet
given by the Board of Directors on October eleventh to the Commissioners
of foreign nations. The great Music Hall on the grounds was transformed
into a brilliantly lit bower of ferns, palms and flowers for this
occasion, fitly adorned with the flags of the forty-eight nations and
the yellow and white banners of the Exposition. Mr. Higinbotham, as
presiding officer, opened the exchange of compliments with a brief
salutation, and the program closed with his address on “The Future
Influence of the Exposition,” of which a few sentences may be quoted:
“The impress of our work will be so delicately and imperceptibly woven
into the fabric of the future that it will have a finer and more
beautiful texture. It will sink deep into the minds of the learned and
unlearned alike. It will stimulate the youth of this and later
generations to greater and more heroic effort. It will give to the
wheels of commerce a new impetus; thereby bring the people of the earth
into more intimate and, I trust, happier relations.
“Let us hope that future generations will look back to this place with
reverence, satisfaction and pride, as the spot where was laid the deep
foundation of a monument that should mark the dawn of a new era,
emphasizing the benign influence of the gospel of peace, the fatherhood
of God, and the brotherhood of man. Let us indulge the fond hope that
its influence will increase until it encircles the globe and encompasses
the race.
“I have long sought for some consolation to justify the imminent
destruction of our beautiful city, and I can find only this thought as
comforting:
“Whenever a people have gained distinction by the creation of some
specially meritorious work, have declared it finished, and then rested
to contemplate its grandeur and magnificence, feeling that there was
nothing greater for them to do, they have fallen into a condition of
decay, and from that time become effeminate. It is better, therefore,
for us to efface our work, and cease to delude ourselves with the
thought that there is nothing for us, and those that come after us, to
do. Let us rather hope that what we have done will live, as a
stepping-stone to grander and more heroic efforts, compensated with
richer and rarer fruits. Let us not take to ourselves the credit, and
seek to magnify unduly our creation; if it has merit and excellence it
will speak for and defend itself. Let us rather rejoice in the thought
that what has been done is the culmination of a period in the progress
of the world; that especially it declares and emphasizes the wisdom of
our fathers in the creation of a government founded on the broad and
enduring principles of human liberty.
“These buildings will disappear and mingle with our dust, but their
glory will ever live, and continue to mark an era in the progress of
civilization long after their creators have been forgotten.
“There is a sense in which the material side of our work seems
insignificant; compared to the kindly feeling that has been augmented by
the gathering of representatives of the nations of the earth it is of
slight importance. The culmination of these close relations of the heart
will have more lasting benefit, will permeate more peoples, enduring
through all time, and growing brighter and brighter unto the perfect
day.”
In every detail of his connection with the national festival, Mr.
Higinbotham was an effective presiding officer. While making no pretense
of oratory in addressing an audience, his personal distinction of manner
and the quiet earnestness of his voice added to the force and beauty of
a diction concise and vivid. In closer contacts he never lost his
patience, yet never retreated from a just decision. In the personal
intimacies which developed with all kinds of people, he was unfailingly
sympathetic and generous; and when these ripened into friendship, his
warm-hearted loyalty became a precious possession in his own spirit and
in those it honored.
On May first, 1895, the Board of Directors presented a silver vase as a
testimonial to their president, his work now almost over. Their
spokesman, Edwin Walker, in the course of his address, said:
“I am commissioned by all who are or have been Directors to make, in
their name, public recognition of the invaluable services of our
President, Harlow N. Higinbotham. We all recognize his incessant labor,
his zeal and loyalty, from the first organization of the Board, but more
especially from the date of his official relations until the present
time. He is still our President.
“Possibly in some respects I have more intimate knowledge of the
magnitude of his labors than other members of the Board, on account of
the close relations of our official positions; but we all know that
during the lifetime of the Exposition proper the cares and
responsibilities of his office were almost beyond human endurance. He
brought to the work all his mental and physical strength, his integrity
of character, and all the elements of a generous manhood. His work did
not close with the Exposition. He was charged with the settlement and
adjustment of a large proportion of the varied claims made against the
Exposition. These labors have been especially annoying and perplexing.
“But the end of all his and our special work is rapidly approaching.
Within a reasonable time we shall be able, as a corporation, to
surrender back to the people the trust confided to us, with the hope
that all the people will give us the credit of having assumed and
honestly discharged a public duty and great public trust.
“And now, President Higinbotham, in behalf of your friends of the
Directory, I present this testimonial. I repeat the inscription engraved
thereon as the better expression of the earnest appreciation by your
friends, of your unswerving fidelity to official duty:
“‘By this testimonial, the Directors record their thorough appreciation
of the untiring labors, and unselfish devotion to official duty, of
their President, Harlow N. Higinbotham—a souvenir of pleasant
associations, abiding friendships, and of the inspiration,
administration, and glorious ending of the World’s Columbian Exposition
of 1893.’”
In closing this chapter of his life we must, for the moment, pass over a
quarter-century to that May-day of 1918 when Daniel Chester French’s
statue of the Republic was dedicated in Jackson Park as a memorial of
the Exposition. To reproduce in bronze of heroic size this figure, which
had dominated the Court of Honor in 1893, the last residue of Exposition
funds was used, Mr. Higinbotham having successfully resisted numerous
efforts to spend the money less fitly. All the members of the old Board
of Directors who were alive and in Chicago surrounded its president as
his little grand-daughters, Florence Crane and Priscilla Higinbotham,
unveiled the monument, and portions of the “Columbian Ode” were read by
its author.
Mr. Higinbotham made the following address, which happened to be his
last public utterance:
“It is my pleasure to deliver into the care and keeping of the South
Park Commissioners this statue. It has been created as a memorial of the
Exposition held here a quarter of a century ago to celebrate the
Four-hundredth Anniversary of the Discovery of America by Columbus. The
Discovery and the celebration four hundred years later, in which the
peoples of the earth so generously united, are landmarks, milestones, on
the highway of civilization.
“This statue is intended to commemorate both events, and is in such form
as to do them the highest honor. It is made of purest metal. It is of
heroic size, thus indicating that the events it commemorates were
notable. It is in the image of a woman, typifying purity, strength,
motherhood. Thus it suggests those qualities that in all the ages have
commanded love and respect.
“I cannot allow this last opportunity to speak of the World’s Columbian
Exposition to pass without paying tribute to its high purpose, its
beauty and beneficent influence. It sprang into being under
circumstances and conditions that made it akin to a miracle. A new city
in a far country was responsible for its conception, creation, and
administration. Its magnificence caused the world to wonder and almost
worship. Its Court of Honor will be remembered as worthy of a place
beside the most beautiful creations of man. It won the smile of the
world and had the blessing and benediction of the Divine. Its author did
not live to witness its grandeur. The ‘Columbian Ode’ said of him:
‘Beauty opened wide her starry way,
And he passed on.’
“The unanimity with which the Nations of the Earth united in the
celebration is an indication of the value that the Discovery of the New
World was to mankind in its onward march.”
Soon after the close of the Exposition Mr. Higinbotham returned to
active business. Unfortunately that part of his life is less a matter of
public record, and in its history the present writer is wholly
uninformed and incompetent. She once read an article by Mr. Higinbotham,
intended for young would-be merchants, which set forth so clearly the
qualities of mind and temperament required for such a career, and
described many typical incidents so picturesquely, as to convince her
that its author should use his literary gift to tell the whole dramatic
story of the growth of the great business which engaged him for nearly
forty years—from its small local beginning with Field, Palmer & Leiter
in 1865, to the enormous world-wide commerce of Marshall Field & Co.
from which he retired in 1902. Such a story would be, in effect, a
commercial history of the great formative period of the nation, and its
value can hardly be estimated.
Mr. Higinbotham’s public activities did not cease with the World’s Fair.
After its close, the Field Columbian Museum of Natural History was
organized, and he served for seventeen years as its president. For its
occupancy the authorities reserved, during a quarter-century, the
beautiful Fine Arts Building of the Exposition, from which it removed,
in 1920, to the permanent structure south of Grant Park. To this museum
its president contributed not only seventeen years of devoted service,
but also the collection of precious stones made by Tiffany & Co. for the
Exposition, which was installed as the Gem Collection in Higinbotham
Hall.
Indeed, during the last twenty-five years of Mr. Higinbotham’s life,
most of his leisure was devoted to the people of Chicago, especially the
poor and suffering. In 1897 President McKinley offered to appoint him
Ambassador to France, but excessive modesty, and love of his own place,
caused him to decline. When the city proposed to spend thirty-five
million dollars for a new drainage district, and the project was in
danger of capture by incompetent politicians, he was active in
organizing a non-partisan opposition, and accepted membership in a
nominating committee which presented to the voters an able and
incorruptible group of six candidates. Then, as chairman of the Finance
Committee, he personally collected thirty thousand dollars for campaign
expenses, and conducted a whirlwind campaign of only thirty days which
resulted in the election of the entire independent ticket. Thus the city
was assured not only proper economy, but such professional competence in
the construction of the Drainage Canal as should insure the future
health of its citizens. This was but one instance of his many
inconspicuous but valuable public services.
Besides countless private philanthropies, certain charitable
institutions deeply engaged his interest. For many years he was
president of Hahnemann Hospital and of the Newsboys’ and Bootblacks’
Association; and he organized, and was the first president of the
Municipal Tuberculosis Sanitarium, located on a tract of one hundred and
sixty acres in the northwestern part of the city.
But the Home for Incurables was his best beloved philanthropy—if one can
call by that name a veritable child of his spirit which engaged his love
and devotion for nearly forty years. When he was first importuned, in
1880, to become a member of the board of such an institution, which had
then gone no further than to take out incorporation papers, he felt that
he could not consent, in justice to other charitable institutions with
which he was connected, not to speak of the arduous and exacting duties
of his private business.
However, he was persuaded, and duly elected, made chairman of a finance
committee, and soon succeeded to the presidency, which he held until his
death. Within a few days he had raised thirteen thousand dollars and
rented a vacant house at Fullerton and Racine Avenues. This first Home
ran along with some difficulty until 1887, when under the will of Mrs.
Clarissa C. Peck, an eastern woman, it fell heir to over six hundred
thousand dollars. Mr. Higinbotham became president of the nine trustees
under this will, and at once property was purchased and buildings
erected at Ellis Avenue and Fifty-sixth Street, the present location.
The property has been increased by numerous bequests—notably six hundred
thousand dollars from Otto Young and a quarter of a million each from
Albert Keep and Daniel B. Shipman—until its value is now nearly two
million dollars.
A little while before Mr. Higinbotham’s death he said: “Since the
Chicago Home for Incurables was opened in 1890, it has had but one
superintendent, Mr. Frank D. Mitchell; one matron, Miss Hattie I.
Miller; one physician, Dr. W. P. Goodsmith; and one president. And they
are all still on duty.”
Miss Eleanor Quin, secretary to Mr. Higinbotham for the past ten years,
is still assisting; without these people, whose love and devotion has
been unfailing, the work could not have been carried on successfully.
It is difficult to follow without emotion the story of Mr. Higinbotham’s
devotion to the Home. From the time of his retirement from business in
1902, it became, after his family, the chief interest of his mind and
heart, with which nothing was allowed to interfere. When in town he made
daily visits, always becoming personally acquainted with—indeed, the
friend of—each inmate, and cheering them all on with unfailing sympathy
and humor. The coldness of many institutional “charities” was never
allowed to enter here, and the love which rewarded him in life, and
mourned his death, was pathetic in its fervor.
When the death of other early benefactors had made him the sole
survivor, he presented to the Home, as a memorial to those who had been
associated with him in its establishment, a bronze tablet bearing the
following inscription:
A. D. 1909
“This tablet is placed in loving memory of those good and faithful
women and men who gave unselfishly of themselves, and generously of
their means, for the establishment of this Home. Their names are not
recorded here. Yonder in the Infinite they are written on pages more
glorious and far more enduring. This tablet is the gift and the
tribute of one who knew them well and loved them fondly.
“May patience and peace and plenty ever abide within its walls.
“May those who suffer and those who serve, those who sing and those
who pray, as well as those who, unable to do more, stand by and
cheer, be equally blessed.
“May this great city, and all the agencies here employed to heal the
sick, alleviate suffering and advance the interest of humanity, be
prospered always.”
Among the many incidents which portray the tenderness of his nature was
one relating to a poor woman in the Cook County Hospital, who, when told
that Mr. Higinbotham had come to see her, said: “Is this really Mr.
Higinbotham!” Bursting into tears, she drew from beneath her pillow his
picture, cut from a newspaper which she had carried many years, as a
help to make her patient in suffering, as an inspiration to be gentle
and kind. Many other stories of his kindness to those in sickness and
distress might be told; particularly details of his daily visits to the
Home for Incurables.
A few other incidents may be mentioned to illustrate further Mr.
Higinbotham’s keen sympathies and his untiring activity in obeying their
commands. The case of Leo Frank, whose conviction he felt to be unjust,
interested him so deeply that, unsolicited, he went to Atlanta to
intercede with the Governor and the Commission for his life. His efforts
were successful, as the sentence was commuted and Frank was removed to
another city; but the lynching of the prisoner soon after prevented
further action in his favor.
Many men now prominent in affairs tell with what kindly sympathy and
affection Mr. Higinbotham aided them in youth. Among these, one who
early entered the credit department of Marshall Field & Co. says: “I
never knew a man so sympathetic with boys; he never tired of helping
young men to get a start in life, and no one could show more tact,
perseverance and energy in their service.”
A friend tells a story of one of the walking-trips which were Mr.
Higinbotham’s favorite athletic diversion; for three times—in 1862, 1886
and 1897—he tramped over the mountains of West Virginia, a distance of
one hundred and sixty-five miles, either alone or in company; this
besides many shorter mountain tramps. The story illustrates not only his
love of boys, but his determination to overcome all obstacles.
“Two young employes at Field’s planned to take a walking-trip, and asked
for the necessary vacation. Mr. Higinbotham was enthusiastic, and said
that if they wouldn’t mind his company he would make it possible for
them to take quite a long tramp through the mountains of West Virginia.
They were delighted—no one could have been a more agreeable companion.
This was the second or third tramp he had made through this region,
whose wild scenic beauty he had learned to love while he was stationed
at Clarksburg, West Virginia, during the Civil War, when he was obliged
to explore the region on horseback.
“He took the phrase ‘walking-trip’ very seriously, and would not accept
any invitation to ride an inch. At one place, for example, where we had
to cross an unfordable stream, he refused to ferry over, and ordered a
local carpenter to make a pair of stilts on which he stumbled and
splashed, and fell down and got up, and tumbled again, finally arriving,
drenched but triumphant, on the opposite bank.”
An incident of another walking-trip began at the grave of General
Pettigrew, who had been fatally wounded while in command of the rear
guard of Lee’s army on its retreat from Gettysburg. It was in 1897, in
North Carolina, that Mr. Higinbotham found a moss-green grave-stone,
which told how General Pettigrew had died at the house of a man named
Boyd, near Martinsburg, West Virginia. As it was in Martinsburg that Mr.
Higinbotham, while a young Union officer, had been stationed during
1864, and as he had there “received many courtesies from the people of
the South both during and after the war,” he was much interested. But it
was not until 1918 that he could learn anything about the General’s
family. A few letters then passed between him and Miss Mary Johnstone
Pettigrew of Tryon, North Carolina, in one of which he says:
“You mention the mysterious way in which peoples’ lives cross or touch,
and inform me that the General’s great-great-grandmother was Rachel
Higinbotham. You will, I am sure, feel that truth is stranger than
fiction when I tell you that my wife’s name was also Rachel
Higinbotham.”
And he tells of a quite recent trip on the James River, during which he
had met, at Hampton, a cousin of Robert E. Lee who had known the Boyd
family, in whose house General Pettigrew died.
He always emphasized the necessity of human sympathy and service, and we
have plenty of testimony showing the quick response of his big heart to
appeals public and private. A poet once wrote to him, after he had held
out his hand at a crisis:
“Who cares for the burden, the night and the rain,
And the long steep lonesome road,
When at last through the darkness a light shines plain,
When a voice calls hail, and a friend draws rein
With an arm for the heavy load!
“For life is the chance of a friend or two
This side the journey’s goal.
Though the world be a desert the long night through,
Yet the gay flowers bloom and the sky grows blue
When a soul salutes a soul.”
In religious matters he was extremely liberal, feeling that “It is what
we do, yesterday, today, and tomorrow, more than what we believe, that
will be important in the final round-up.” In June, 1893, he said, in his
address of welcome at the opening of the World’s First Parliament of
Religions:
“The meeting of so many illustrious and learned men under such
circumstances evidences the kindly spirit and feeling that exists
throughout the world. To me this is the proudest work of our Exposition.
Whatever may be the differences in the religions you represent, there is
a sense in which we are all alike. There is a common plane on which we
are all brothers. We owe our being to conditions that are exactly the
same. Our journey through this world is by the same route. We have in
common the same senses, hopes, ambitions, joys and sorrows; and these to
my mind argue strongly and almost conclusively a common destiny.
“To me there is much satisfaction and pleasure in the fact that we are
brought face to face with men who come to us bearing the ripest wisdom
of the ages. They come in the friendliest spirit, which, I trust, will
be augmented by their intercourse with us and with each other. I am
hoping, Mr. Chairman and gentlemen, that your Parliament will prove to
be a golden milestone on the highway of civilization—a golden stairway
leading up to the tableland of a higher, grander and more perfect
condition, where peace will reign and the enginery of war be known no
more forever.”
This hope of a better era is referred to again in the address to the
Japanese commissioners quoted above. On that occasion—in 1909—he said:
“I am hoping that future expositions will leave out the machinery of
war. I know that we had a warship and the Krupp gun at our own, but I am
older now, and I have a higher appreciation of the implements of peace,
and an intense dislike, amounting to hatred, of war and all its
trappings.
“Let us all hope that this twentieth century will witness the dawn of a
new era, that it will go down in history as the age of peace, the age
when a common desire seemed to take possession of humanity everywhere to
share with all others the blessings they enjoyed. Thus would be
augmented the great sum of human happiness.
“The nations of the earth should unite in a movement to maintain a
universal court whose duty it will be to determine and adjust all
national differences. I would have, representing this court on the high
seas, one navy and only one, whose duty it would be to police the seas,
prevent possible piracy or improper or illegal commerce, and assist the
merchant marine in time of disaster or distress. The money thus saved
would go far towards the care of the sick and unfortunate the world
over, and would add to the peace and prosperity of the people
everywhere, far beyond the power of the human mind to conceive or
calculate.”
To such feeling as this, developed and cherished through a long life,
the world catastrophe of 1914 was a cruel strain; and for over two years
Mr. Higinbotham hoped that his own country might keep out of the
struggle. Nevertheless, both before and after the United States declared
war, he did what he could to alleviate distress in the suffering nations
and to encourage heroic spirit in our own.
The Armistice brought to him, as to all the world, deep relief after the
long and bitter strain. It was good that he lived to see the collapse of
the anachronistic military autocracy which had caused the war, and to
return, in spite of this cataclysm, to his firm belief that the days of
war are numbered.
The fatal accident of April eighteenth, 1919, in New York, closed his
life while he was still scarcely conscious of old age, and in full
possession of vigor of body, mind, and spirit. To the last he was
thinking of others—he was on his way to greet returning soldiers of
Illinois when he was stricken down by a government ambulance.
One is tempted to apply to him a few sentences he once wrote for a
friend who had died:
“He discovered to me a nature rich in every higher attribute, and his
communication was so charming in diction, and so sweetly simple in its
mood, that I was deeply moved by his conversation. I was impressed by
his love for humanity, his patriotism, and the pride he felt in his
profession. He was a pure type of the old-school gentlemen. His was the
habit and mien of the scholar. His character has stamped itself upon
many people, and his example will influence the generations; as his
perfect life has blessed the community in which he lived, and benefited
those who knew him.
“It is well with our friend. He sleeps the slumber of peace. The night
wrapped his body in death, but his soul saw the dawn of life.”
APPENDIX
APPENDIX A.
LINCOLN IN 1864
_The following article, suggested by the controversy over Mr. Barnard’s
statue of Lincoln, was written for the New York Sun, and published in
that paper during the summer of 1917_:
I am impelled by your full-page illustrated article on Lincoln, and the
artist’s representation of him to be given to a nation that believed in
and sympathized with him and that desires to honor him and perpetuate
his memory, to give you and the public my views:
I was born in Illinois in 1838 and have always been a resident of that
State. I knew Lincoln, not intimately, but well. I saw, and heard him
speak frequently during the years next preceding the Civil War. I knew
him before he was a candidate for the presidency, and best during the
contest between him and Douglas for the senatorship. It is, I think,
well understood that the contest between these two great men was the
stepping-stone to the presidency for Lincoln, and gave him to the nation
and the world as one of its foremost noble and heroic characters. I knew
him later as president, and I am the only person living who was present
on the occasion of the first meeting between Lincoln and General U. S.
Grant. This meeting took place in the White House on the evening of the
eighth of March, 1864, when General Grant came to Washington, escorted
by Congressman E. B. Washburn, to receive his commission as
Lieutenant-General of the Army. Those present on that occasion, all from
Illinois, were Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln, General Grant, Hon. E. B.
Washburne, Mr. and Mrs. B. F. James, and myself.
In Harper’s Weekly published at that time is a full-page illustration of
the presentation of the commission by President Lincoln, in the presence
of the members of the cabinet, on the day following the first meeting.
The presentation took place at the Capitol. It may not be generally
known, but General Grant was the first to enjoy the full rank of
Lieutenant-General after Washington; General Winfield Scott having
received it by brevet. I was engaged in the Quartermaster’s Department
at this time and was on duty in Knoxville, Tenn., and had been sent to
Washington to confer with the Quartermaster General, M. C. Meigs. This
visit gave me opportunity to see Lincoln under conditions vastly
different from those when I had seen him in Illinois. He was, however,
the same Lincoln that I had known. If there was a change, it was that he
seemed shrunken in stature. He was, however, both in manner and dress,
quite in keeping with his exalted station. He was at ease and well
poised; nothing in his manner, dress or speech even suggested
awkwardness. He had indelibly stamped on his features more than a
suggestion of nobility. There were clearly outlined and defined those
characteristics that made him famous; that made him the Saviour of his
Country and the liberator of a race from bondage. It seems to me, that
any representation of Lincoln should, at least, aim to show him as
teeming with and, in fact, overflowing with those qualities and
characteristics that he was known to possess. On the contrary, the
artist has gone far back to his early life, and has sought to represent
him even worse than he could have been under the most adverse
circumstances. The statue is what the artist seemingly intended it to
be—a splendid, a magnificent misrepresentation of Abraham Lincoln as he
was _in the later years of his life_, for it reverts to what he
conceived him to have been back in Kentucky before he had found himself.
As evidence of this, it is stated that the sculptor went to Kentucky and
found a man who was, and always had been, a rail-splitter and nothing
else; and he gives it as Lincoln. Those of us who knew him cannot accept
such a substitute.
H. N. HIGINBOTHAM.
APPENDIX B
THE POWER OF PERSONALITY
_At the Commencement exercises of Lombard College, June fifth, 1901, Mr.
Higinbotham delivered a eulogy in memory of the Rev. Dr. Otis A.
Skinner, whom he called “my exemplar,” “my ideal of a grand and noble
manhood,” “the most splendid and attractive man I have ever beheld.”_
_As this address expresses intimately its author’s philosophy of life
and death, we append the following extracts_:
We have been told by a world-famous student and philosopher that
self-sacrifice is the surest means of securing happiness and repose,
that life is only of value through devotion to what is true and good.
But in turning aside at this hour from other claims upon my time and
attention to consider briefly the power of personality in life, as
exemplified in the career of a good man, it is not so much the spirit of
self-sacrifice as it is the feeling of inadequacy that enters into my
task. It is friendship that interrogates me; it is frankness that will
respond. It is a pleasure to lay a wreath, however simple, upon the
grave of one to whose noble example and beneficent influence I am
largely indebted for any humane endeavor or philanthropic spirit that
has found expression in my life....
On Sunday afternoons it was his custom to go into the country to preach,
and on many of these occasions it was my privilege to accompany him. He
talked and thought a great deal about the happiness of others. He always
seemed to be looking for a soul that he could cheer by loving and
thoughtful words. He knew that no man could live unto God except by
living at the same time unto his fellows.... So this man’s good works
follow him and will be reflected and multiplied in the lives of others
to the end of time....
It is wonderful how indestructibly the good grows and propagates itself,
even among weedy entanglements. Evil things perish, but the good goes on
forever. Music heard from afar is all harmony; the discordant notes
perish by the way and never reach the ear of the listener....
If men are changed by events and environment, they are changed much
more, either for good or ill, by their fellow-men. This is the alchemy
of influence. We, all of us, are apt to minimize our power or influence,
arguing to ourselves that what we may say or do is not noticed or
observed, and is therefore of little moment or consequence. There was
never a greater error.
For every good deed of ours the world will be better always. And perhaps
on no day does a man walk the street cheerfully without meeting some
other person who is brightened by his face, and who unconsciously to
himself catches from that look an ineffable something—an inspiration
that gives him new courage and saves him from a wrong action.
Usefulness, after all, is nobler than fame—so noble, indeed, that man
should not demand a higher reward for his labors under the sun than the
consciousness of having done his neighbor some form of service.
Every person who has lived in the past, who lives in the present or may
hereafter come into being, either has exerted or will exert some
influence for the good or ill of his fellows. Even in inanimate nature
this seems to be the law of existence. The glacier, that had its
beginning when the earth was new, carries in its icy grasp objects which
today tell the story of its course as plainly as if by written or spoken
word. The tree standing by the wayside, barren of either flower or fruit
and seemingly useless, may have a beneficent office. Some tired and
lonely traveler, discouraged and disheartened, resting beneath its
shade, may be lured back to a life of usefulness and happiness by the
song of a bird in its branches. And so it is too in the animal kingdom.
The beasts of the field and the fowls of the air in divers ways make
their impress upon nature and upon all life.
“When our souls shall leave this dwelling,
The glory of one fair and virtuous action
Is above all the ’scutcheons of our tomb.”
APPENDIX C
THE MAN WHO DID ME A GOOD TURN
_Written by Dr. Frank Crane_
Is there any feeling quite like that with which you pick up the Morning
Paper?
You yourself, child of mystery, have just come from a brief visit with
Death, in the house of Sleep, and are upon the stoop of another Day, and
when you look at the Paper, it is as if your hand lay upon the latch
that opens the Door of another Room in that great House of
Adventure—Life.
What will you see? Kings fallen? New wonders of strange lands? Another
crime? What new shifting in the kaleidoscope of Fate?
The other day I read that Harlow N. Higinbotham, sometime President of
the World’s Columbian Exposition, man of affairs, wealth, business, and
philanthropy, had died. At eighty-two years of age, still active and
vigorous, he had fallen beneath an automobile in the street.
This is not the story of his life. Others will write his biography. They
will tell of his plans, achievements, honors.
But certain men, to you, are types. They are symbols. Whatever may be
their order in the usual chronicle of the world, to you they stand for a
point of sentiment, a mark of an idea.
Harlow N. Higinbotham will always be to me the concrete representative
and ikon of
“The Man Who Did Me a Good Turn.”
It matters not what it was all about, but once he, wealthy and busy,
stopped his work, left his office and walked with me, little and
unknown, down the street, to do me a favor, for no reason except that he
took a fancy to me.
That was more than twenty years ago. So he is gone now! I wish I might
drop a tear upon his folded hands; perhaps the Recording Angel, checking
up his account, might see it, and think it was a pearl, and put it to
his credit. So only can I pay my debt.
Reading of his death has set me thinking. How many persons there are who
have done me a Good Turn! Just casual people, I mean. All kinds. Let me
recall. Alas, that my memory for kindness is so poor!
I cannot understand those who say they owe no man anything. My days are
crowded with undeserved Good Turns. I shall never pay my debts, if I
live a thousand years.
There’s the man who gave me a match, the girl who gave me a smile, the
farmer who gave me a ride, a cobbler in Munich once mended my shoe and
would take no money, a man made way for me in a crowd to see the parade,
a baby once smiled at me and held out her arms—I would not forget these
small things, little sparkles in the life-stream.
And men have given me a chance, and some have stopped to praise me, and
I have seen the little flame in women’s eyes as they looked on me, and
years ago George Armstrong and Jo Holmes lent me money when I am sure
they did not know they would ever get it back.
There are others, appearing out of the stranger throng, that have stood
by me, defended my name, spoken out boldly and called themselves my
friends.
Of all these Harlow N. Higinbotham is the type, because my acquaintance
with him was but casual, because he had no reason for his kindness
except the human spark, because he emerged from the multitude, did me
his Good Turn, and receded again into the mist.
Always his strong face, shrewd and understanding, will stand out from
among the sea of human faces in my memory, and rebuke my dark moods,
saying unto me that this world of men and women is a good place, full of
unexpected impulse, not a vale of tears, but a place of Heart and
Humanity.
So, Recording Angel, when the case of this man comes up on the Day of
Judgment, let me bear my testimony.
HARLOW N. HIGINBOTHAM
One of the workers of the world
Living toiled, and toiling died;
But others worked and the world went on,
And was not changed when he was gone.
A strong man stricken, a wide sail furled;
And only a few men sighed.
Well, I am one of them.
[Illustration:
_Facsimile of ms. page_
_Written by Eugene Field._
]
APPENDIX D
_In a copy of “Echoes from the Sabine Farm,” given to Mr. Higinbotham by
Eugene Field we find inscribed, on the fly leaf, the following_:
Dear Mr. Higinbotham: I am sending you this book for several
reasons. In the first place, I should like to have it serve as a
token of that sense of pleasure which, in common with the rest of
our townsmen, I feel to have you back in Chicago after months of
absence in foreign lands. Then, again, I am glad to give you the
book because I know that you will regard it with the appreciative
and jealous tenderness which every author loves to see others bestow
upon the creations of his brain and pen. But above all I am hoping,
dear sir, that you will look upon this gift as a cordial expression
(however modest) of my feeling of indebtedness to you for the
goodness you have shown to me and to my friends for my sake.
(Signed) EUGENE FIELD.
Chicago, February, 1892.
_And in Mr. Field’s hand writing this little poem referring to Mr.
Higinbotham’s return from a three year’s absence in Europe._
Pompey, ’tis Fortune gives you back
To the friends and the gods who love you!
· · · · ·
Once more you stand in your native land,
With the stars and stripes above you!
Come, just for once, let’s celebrate
In the good old way and classic—
Our skins we’ll nard with Fairbank’s lard,
And soak our souls in Massic!
And when the bill for the same comes in,
I pray you’ll be so partial
As to charge my share in the costly affair
To my prosperous cousin Marshall!
RALPH FLETCHER SEYMOUR
DESIGNER—PRINTER
FINE ARTS BLDG., CHICAGO
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling.
2. Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed.
3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Harlow Niles Higinbotham - A memoir with brief autobiography and extracts from speeches and letters" ***
Copyright 2023 LibraryBlog. All rights reserved.