* Demoreaiic atom
Bellefonte, Pa., September 2, 1927.
ET ———
THE CURIOUS CONDUCT OF OLD
MAN KRAGG.
For a whole month Oscar M.
Kragg, reputed by those who should
know to be the fourth richest man in
the United States, had not been near
his office and no one knew what was
the matter with him. He didn’t know
himself, Old Man Kragg didn’t.
That’s what everybody had been
calling him for years—Old Man Kragg
—though even now he was not yet
sixty. He was one of those persons
born old, from his earliest days soli-
tary, serious-minded, uncommunica-
tive. Plain in appearance, plain in
taste, he attracted little notice per-
sonally. Few of the subway’s mil-
lions ever recognized the squat, gray-
haired, clean-shaven, square-should-
ered man who rode down with them
every morning as one of the world’s
great financial powers. There was
absolutely nothing to distinguish him
from the masses unless you happened
to glimpse his keen brown eyes that
forever carried a hard look, or no-
ticed protruding from below his
high cheek-bones his long sharp-
pointed nose, the “money nose” that
most self-made men possess.
His appearance might have sug-
gested, if you were a student of
ethnology, possibly Scandinavian par-
entage, but his origin was lost in the
dim obscurity of the distant West
from which, when the metropolis
first heard of him, he had just
emerged as the owner of a thriving
chain of grocery stores.
Coming to the Big Town unob-
trusively about the time the shares
of his company were first listed on
the Exchange, he had purchased a
commodious brownstone house just
off Madison Avenue and there he had
lived ever since. For a time there
had been a Mrs. Kragg and two
daughters, insignificant figures, who
long since had passed out of the pic-
ture.
One of the daughters had died and
the other married.
The wife, wearying at last of the
constant neglect she had experienced
since her wedding-day, as her hus-
band kept assiduously on in his pur-
suit of wealth, had obtained a di-
vorce, which he had in no way op-
posed, not even objecting when she
demanded that he settle on her and
on her daughter a million each. Since
then she had spent her time drifting
from one European cure to another.
The daughter, too, lived abroad. For
ten years or more Old Man Kragg
had been alone in the big house, at-
tended by three competent servants
and two even more competent secre-
taries.
Each day his routine was the same.
Breakfast at seven-thirty, a glass of
orange juice, a poached egg on toast,
one cup of coffee. After that until
ten-thirty he was reading financial
reports, dictating orders, planning
new coups. On the subway going
down-town he read the morning
paper. From eleven until five, Sat-
urdays included, he was in his office,
a high lord of finance. At five, for
his health’s sake he walked home,
where a substantial dinner awaited
him. By ten each night he was in
bed. He prided himself that he had
never known a day’s illness.
Kragg’s Groceries, Inc.,
ago disappeared, sold for a
fit. He played the bigger game now,
railroads, power developments, util-
ity companies, banks. mergers. He
had his fingers in oil, automobiles.
lumber, mines. coal, everything. Had
he wished, his financial influence
would have opened for him the
doors of the most exclusive clubs,
country homes of the socially elect,
might have given him 3 desirable
choice of a new wife from among the
most beautiful of the widows or the
most aspiring of the debutantes, but
Old Man Krage’s was a one-track
mind. All he ever had wanted, all
he ever had thought about or cared
about, since he had first left the
Minnesota farm, was making money,
and watching the money he had made
make more money.
Then into his well-ordered home a
month ago had come an unexpected
visitor that had overturned all his
routine. This visitor was a little
bug, a microbe so tiny that no scien-
tist’s microscope ever has been able
to detect it, a mischievous little in-
fluenza germ, which, flitting about in
the subway, had selected for a lodg-
ing place one of Old Man Kragg’s
generous nostrils. Two days later he
had been in bed, aching in every bone,
delirious from a raging fever, with
three fifty-dollar-a-visit doctors in
attendance and Wall Street joyously
kicking about all the Kragg stocks.
For a day or two it had been touch
and go whether he would get well.
Perhaps it was the high-priced spe-
cialists, perhaps it was the reserve
that his abstemious life had built up
—something won the battle, and two
weeks later the doctor had pronounced
him well, and had told him he could
return to his office whenever he felt
like it.
The amazing part of it, as amazing
to Old Man Kragg as to everyone
else, was that he didn’t want to do
anything. A great lassitude possess-
ed him. He sat day after day in his
library, sometimes playing solitaire by
the hour, sometimes not doing any-
thing at all.
Mr. Blaine, his chief secretary, was
really alarmed.
“Shall IT read you the market re-
port?” he asked solicitously. “All
our lines seem to be picking up nice-
1 xd
Youd Man Kragg dismissed the mat-
ter with an imperative wave of his
hand.
had long
huge pro-
“Here is the Power Company’s
statement. Would you like to go
over it?”
Another wave. Kragg never wast-
ed words. . ; :
Mr. Blaine, returning to his office
“Suppose I try him on the house-
hold ie” suggested Tompkins.
“Go ahead.”
About the household accounts here-
tofore Mr. Kragg had always been
most meticulous. Even though they
ran to very modest figures, he insist-
ed each month on inspecting them
personally. Part of his gospel of
life was a horror of waste: If four-
teen pounds of butter were used one
month and fifteen the next he would
always demand an explanation.
All Tompkins got was another sum-
mary wave of dismissal, and he re-
tired to the office to consult with Mr.
Blane. Presently they heard their
employer coming down-stairs, and
Mr. Blaine, hurrying out to meet him,
found him with his hat on heading
for the front door.
“Going to the office?” asked Mr.
Blaine. “Had I not better call the
car?”
“No.”
“Would you not like me to accom-
pany you? Perhaps you over-esti-
mate your strength.”
“No.
Unattended, Old Man Kragg strode
cut into the street, leaving his sec-
retaries looking dubiously after him.
As a matter of fact he did not know
where he was going. A subconscious
desire for exercise had driven him
out. For block after block he wand-
ered aimlessly on. His illness, the
first in his life, had given him his
first opportunity in years for thinking
—for thinking about anything but
money. As he had sat there day af-
ter day in his library he had been re-
viewing his life, thinking about life
in general.
What was it all for?
He had been recalling his youth
with its back-breaking labors on the
farm and the resolve he had made to
escape physical hardship by acquiring
wealth. His first pathway out had
been an opportunity to clerk in the
village store, but even there he had
been dissatisfied: It had come to him
that the way to get rich was not to
work for other people, but to get
other people working for you.
Minna Shrob had inherited two
thousand dollars. She was a dull
girl, physically unattractive, but her
money would enable him to buy out
the store in which he was employed,
so he had married her. After a
fashion he had been good to her al-
though there was nothing of romance
about their marriage. He gave her
what she asked for in the way of
money. When she finally divorced
him he did not argue about the settle-
ment she demanded for herself and
her surviving daughter. He really had
never known either of his girls. He
had always been too busy making
money to get acquainted with them.
Step by step he went over his fi-
nancial career. He felt that it was
something that he had a right to be
proud of, from that first two thous-
and dollars to his many millions, but
for some reason he was entirely
apathetic about it. He had achieved
his ambition, he had got the thing
out of life that he had thought he
wanted, he had climbed to the very
top of the path he had marked out for
himself—and what was there in it?
- The prospect of taking up once
more the financial burdens he had
laid aside for the last month appalled
him. Suppose he should return to his
office and resume the management of
his affairs, it would only mean mak-
ing money and more money, and what
was the use of it? But what else
was there for him to do?
Suddenly aware of physical weari-
ness, he espied a bench and sat down.
He was in the Park within a stone’s
throw of which he had lived for years
but never before had visited. =~ The
warm rays of the May sun, the bud-
ding green of the grass and the
shrubbery, the twittering of the birds
and the antics of the squirrels made
the bench he had chosen a delightful
spot for any lover of nature, but Old
Man Kragg was entirely oblivious to
his surroundings. His mind was still
busy with the great enigma—what
was it all for?
A tug at his trousers brought him
sharply out of his reverie. A tow-
headed youngster, a boy of perhaps
three, clad in rompers, was standing
beside him, looking expectantly at
him.
“Man, det Billy’s ball,” the child
demanded imperiously.
Old Man Kragg’s first reaction was
one of annoyance:
“What’s that?” he asked sharply.
He was wholly unused to having any-
one ask him to do something. For
vears he had been telling other peo-
ple to do things for him.
“Det Billy’s ball,” the youngster
repeated, pointing to a bush where
reach.
Old Man Kragg looked helplessly
about. Where was the child’s mother
or nurse? What did the park man-
agers mean by letting infants run
about annoying people? But there
was no one in sight to whom he could
complain.
“Det Bily’s ball, up dere,
the child persisted.
Heavily, unwillingly, Old Man
Kragg got to his feet and dislodged
the ball. ;
“Sank you, nice man,” cried the
boy, smiling happily at regaining his
toy- :
As the yongster skipped merrily
away, Mr. Kragg sank back in his
seat again, finding himself all aglow
with a most unusual sensation. En-
tirely removed from all intimate hu-
pease,”
man contacts by his manner of life, | ed
this was the first time in years—per-
haps ever—that he had performed a
kindly service for anyone. His now
was the pleasurable feeling that a
service rendered to another always
brings. Novel and unusual the feel-
ing he had just experienced was, but
he found himself liking it. The
child’s gratitude, so politely express-
ed, had warmed him to his very soul.
From one of the by-paths a pleas-
ant-faced young matron emerged
leading the litle boy by the hand. As
the child espied Mr. Kragg, he pointed
excitedly:
down-stairs, conferred with his “Dere’s the man,” he cried enthu-
assistant, young Mr. Tompkins. “I siastically. “Nice man. Dot Billy’s
can’t make out O. M. at all. He does | ball.” ;
not seem interested in anything. He Old Man Kragg found himself
will not let me read anything.”
blushing, shamefaced at the idea of
having his kindly act thus so blat- | your goods from
antly advertised. :
“I hope my little boy has not been |
bothering you,” the woman apologiz-
ed. She spoke with a slightly for- |
eign accent, Swedish, he decided. |
“Not in the least,” he replied, con- |
fusedly raising his hat. |
The woman went on but the little
boy, clutching her hand, turned back
to smile beamingly on Old Man
Kragg.
“Nice man,” he repeated.
For a long time after they had
vanished he sat on the bench. = Not
a single one of his great financial
achievements ever had given him as
pleasureable a thrill as he had de-
rived from this slight service to a
helpless child. Could it be, he wond- |
ered, that he had planned his life all
wrong ? Were there other things
more worth while than wealth? Had |
life cheated him?
As he reentered his home he smiled
grimly at the relief depicted in the
countenances of his secretaries at his |
safe reappearance.
“Mr. Mills has been calling you,”
said Mr. Baine. “He wants to know
if you cannot come down to the of-
fice tomorrow.”
“No.”
“It is very important. There is
that meeting to decide on the power
merger.”
“Not interested.”
Day after day went by. Still Old
Man Kragg stayed away from his of-
fice, refusing to see any of his asso-
ciates, refusing to discuss business.
He spent hours in his library in soli-
tude, poring over the papers relating |
to the various companies he controll-
ed. Even his secretaries were not !
taken into his confidence.
But each day he went for a walk,
invariably directing his steps to the
bench where he first had met the
child. To his joy, the child finding
him there had recognized him, greet-
ing him warmly. Using the only
medium he knew he had tried to buy |
favor with a bright new quarter. de-
lighting in the pleasure with which
little Billy accepted it- But a minute
later the boy was back, this time with
his mother.
“I cannot let my boy take money,”
she said firmly. “Money means too
much. It is something that must be
worked for. Billy, give the gentle-
man back his money.”
Obediently, even if unwillingly, i
the boy did as he was told. Mr. |
Kragg, abashed, accepted it, though |
he wanted to tell the mother that |
money meant nothing at all, that it |
wasn’t important, that he had piles |
and piles of money and it had not |
brought him happiness, but he con-
tented himself with merely asking:
“How old is he?”
Thus began a conversation that con- |
tinued day after day, the mother
and he sitting on a bench as the !
youngster played about. To the wo-
man he was just “Mr Osecar’—that
was all he had told her of his name—
who every day sat in the park. But
shrewdly he had drawn from her, bit
by bit, the whole story of her life.
He made no more mistakes of at-
tempting gifts of money, but each |
day he came with something, a bit of i
candy, a bag of peanuts to feed the
squirrels, and soon he and little Billy
were the greatest of friends. And Old |
Man Kragg was happy, happier than
he ever could remember having
been.
The woman’s story was a simple |
one. Ten years before she had come |
from Sweden. On the steamship she |
had met William Olsen. He had |
found work in a delicatessen store
and she had gone into service. They
had fallen in love and both had saved
their money. After they were mar-
ried and the baby had come they had
pooled their savings and had bought
a little grocery store. Each morning
she opened up the store while her hus- |
band went to market. While the rush
of customers was on they both work-
ed in the store. In the afternoon she
took Billy to the park. Things were
not going so well recently. Their rent ;
had been raised. A chain store had i
opened up in the next block, cutting |
prices and taking away their trade. |
Old Man Kragg listened sym-
pathetically. He had been in the |
grocery business once himself, he told |
her. He knew how it was. i
Olga Olsen looked anxiously at her
husband. “What’s the matter with |
the meat balls, William ?” !
“They are all right. I'm just not
hungry.” i
“You're worrying again,” she ac-'
cused him.
“Why shouldn’t I worry? This |
week’s business a hundred dollars |
less than last. If things keep on like |
this we’ll lose the store and every- |
i
'e | thing we put into it.”
his rubber ball had lodged out of his |
“Oh, William!” she cried with a sob. |
The silence of despair settled down |
on them. “The store” represented to |
both of them all that was worth while,
their happiness, their future, the fu-
ture of their little son—everything.
“William,” ventured Olga timidly,
“you know that old man I meet in the
park sometimes, the Mr. Oscar I told
you about who is so fond of Billy—he
knows a lot about things. He told
me that he once was in the grocery
business himself. Maybe—I ask him
to dinner on Sunday—he can suggest
something we can do.”
“There’s nothing,” said her hus-
band gloomily. “It’s that cursed chain
store. They sell things too cheap.
There’s nothing to be done.”
Nevertheless the next Sunday “Mr.
Oscar” came to dinner. It was the
best dinner that Olga, with her limit-
finances, could provide—a
smorgasbord of cheese, fish, pickles, a
delicious soup, fishballs made of dried
cod beaten in milk, a roast, a sweet
pudding. Mr. Oscar enjoyed it more
than any meal he ever had eaten, and
even William relaxing after dinner
found himself pouring into the sym-
pathetic ears of their guest the story
of their troubles. Mr. Kragg knew
at once what was the matter. Like
two trusting children, knowing noth-
ing of the principles of successful
merchandising, they had put their
savings into the store, imagining that
all they had to do was to buy goods,
sell them at a profit, and buy some
more.
“Your trouble”—it was the past
master of finance speaking—*“is with
your turnover. You do not move
‘eyes
i bigger balance
enough.”
“But what can I do?”
bewildered William. “The chain
store in the next block sells so low.
If I met their prices I would make
no profit.”
“You have some things that stick .
on your shelves, that sell slowly,
things that you are overstocked
with 7”
“Yes, there are soaps, many brands, |
and flavoring extracts, three cases.”
“People like to think they are get-
ting something for nothing,” observ-
ed Mr. Oscar. “Suppose next week
you give away all this stuff that isn’t
selling well—a gift with every dollar’s
worth you buy.”
“But I lose the profit
goods. I pay my money for them,”
objected the cautious grocer.
“You can’t get your money back
on stock that doesn’t move from the
shelves. Better give it away than
have it lying there.”
“Oh, William,” breathed Olga, her
sparkling with
“don’t you see the idea? The women. |
because they get something free, will
all come back to our store.”
“Suppose,” suggested Mr. Oscar,
“we go over to the store and see what
you have there.”
The rest of the afternoon and far
into the night, the three of them
spent at the store. Monday morn-
ing showed the results of their work
in one of the store windows filled
with all sorts of attractive miscellany,
and above the door a great banner
reading:
GIFT WEEK
Your choice of anv article in
the window ABSOLUTELY
FREE with every dollar's worth
of groceries purchased. First
come, first served. Do your buy-
ing early, and get first choice.
It was the most prosperous week
the little store ever had known.
The rush of customers began early
Monday morning, women customers
gleefully carrying off cakes of soap,
bottles of flavoring extract, perfume,
kitchen utensils. Twice during the
week it became necessary to restock
the window as the dollars came pour-
ing in. Mr. Oscar spent several
hours each day at the store, getting
new thrills constantly at the way his
idea was working out. Neither of
the Olsens now had time to leave the
store in the afternoon, and it was he
who took little Billy to the park,
glowing happily each time the boy
called him “Uncle Oscar.”
Before the week’s end all the dead
stock had vanished from the shelves,
There had been money enough to make
substantial payments on old accounts
and there was still a balance left, a
than ever before. But
William Olsen had begun to worry
again.
“Next week we shall have nothing
to give away,” was his pessimistic
prediction. “All our customers will
go back to the chain store because
the prices are cheaper there.”
“How many oranges do you sell in
a week?” Mr. Oscar asked with ap-
parent irrelevance.
“About six or eight dozen.”
nl see the fruit companies are mak-
Ing a big campaign to get people to
eat more oranges. They are taking
big advertisements in all the papers.
Suppose you try to help them.”
“What could I do?”
“If you gave away a dozen oranges
with every dollar’s worth of grocer-
les, people would get used to eating
oranges and buy more, wouldn't
they 7” |
“Yes,” William admitted doubtful-
lyy, “I suppose they would. But
ow could we afford
that many oranges?”
“Suppose you go to the company
you buy your oranges from. Tell them
you want to help their campaign by
aving an Orange Week. Tell them
that if they'll give you oranges
enough you'll fill a whole window with
them and boost orange-eating in the
neighborhood. To prove to them that
you believe in the idea yourself, guar-
antee that hereafter you will buy
twenty dozen oranges each week.”
“I don’t think they do it.” =
“Try,” urged his wife. “It never
does any harm to try, William.”
Slow to make up his mind, but per-
sistent when once he had decided to
do anything, William Olsen gave the
manager of the fruit company such
a convincing argument that he got
his oranges, to his own amazement
and Mr. Oscar's great satisfaction,
for had he failed it had been the
latter’s intention to see that it was ar-
ranged. He was the fruit company’s
controlling stockholder. He noted with
approval that the company’s alert
manager promptly grabbed the idea
and began having a series of “Orange
Weeks” in other sections of the city.
whole window packed full of
great yellow, luscious oranges, with
a big placard:
One WHOLE DOZEN of these
wonderful oranges FREE with
every dollar’s worth of groceries
purchased here this week.
gave the Olsens a second week of
prosperity and added many gray hairs
to the head of the chain store man- |
ager in the next block. And, as Mr.
Oscar had prophesied, Olsen found no
difficulty in disposing of twenty
dozen oranges in the weeks that fol-
lowd.
Frequently now Mr. Oscar stayed
to dinner in the little apartment, and
one evening the Olsens made him a
business proposition.
“Mr. Oscar,” said Olga, “William |
and I have been talking things over |
and we'd like to have you go partners
with us in the store. You have given |
us such good ideas. We would like
to give you one-third interest. We |
do not want you to pay anything for |
it. We feel that we need you.”
Old Man Kragg glowed with an in- |
ner feling of delightful warmth. It |
was nice to know that there was |
someone in the world who felt that |
he was needed, somebody that wanted |
to give him something, but he shook |
his head. |
“No,” he said firmly. !
“You could come here and live with |
us. You could have the front room,”
pleaded Olga. “We would charge
you nothing. We need your ideas in
the store. You have taught us how
to make it pay. You need not do any
to give away
asked the |
on these :
excitement, ,
, more than thirty years old.
‘ memorandum from Mr. Kragg
i plained his idea in providing a youth-
i ful board of trustees.
‘tion in young men’s
i for me to profit much by it.”
| nouncement of the novel Foundation
body ever had heard of—bright young
your shelves fast : work except when you feel like it.
i Won't you go partners with us?”
“No”, said Mr. Oscar. “I am too
‘old. Business is for young men.
have enough—” He stopped abruptly.
| Disappointment was written in the
‘faces of both the Olsens, and this
was the moment Billy selected
climb up into the old man’s lap.
“Tell Billy a ’tory, Unkie
he pleaded.
The warmth of the child’s
against his, the tiny fingers trust-
fully clasping one of his great hands | moved into the front
I Kragg’s whereabouts,
to | but the gleaning was
1
{
Oscar,” | Even those
[
|
wy,
lawyers and former business asso-
ciates, even if they wished, could have
given no information about Mr.
so skillfully
had he hidden his tracks.
The whole country was scoured for
facts about O. M. Kragg and his past
scanty. No
in existence.
associated with him
could give little information about
pictures of him were
body | him,
And “Mr. Oscar,” with one trunk,
room of the
filled Old Man Kragg with a sense of | Olsens’ flat.
satisfying peace.
repeated Olga.
Kragg was thinking.
he not do what he wanted to?
should he let his wealth prevent him
‘from living where he had found peace
and happiness?
stop him? Who would care? Surely
he was entitled to some happiness be-
‘fore he died, he reasoned, as a great
, resolution began forming in his mind.
“I will think it over.” he announced.
“Going partners with you—no, that is
not possible.
vou”’—he looked down tenderly at the
|
|
“You could have the front room,” | the most thriving
Why should | but was busy in
|
What was there to household. He had become a
|
{
|
|
i
i
1
child now asleep in his arms—“maybe !
—if you will let me Pay. J have
Some money. Next menth, perhaps.
We shall see.”
It was two months later that the
financial world was startled by the
announcement of the retirement
0. M. Kragg from active participa-
tion in the management of al] his
companies. There were many con-
jectures as to the reason for it, but
Mr. Kragg himself refused to be
interviewed on the subject.
Ever a man of quick decisions, with
a one-track mind, when he discovered
that his intimate association with the
Olsens was giving him greater happi-
ness than anything he ever had done,
of | .
i their success.
he decided deliberately to make their :
circle his mode of existence. He real-
ized the difficulties
path so long as he retained his vast
holdings.
he proceeded to rid himself of them.
In a few busy weeks he turned all his
stock interests into bonds. He sold
his house and found other employ-
ment for his secretaries. He bought |
himself an annuity giving himself an
income of fifty dollars a week,
Then came an announcement that
startled the whole world.
The problem of what disposition to
make of amassed millions has per-
plexed many a financier. Rockefeller
found the answer in trying to im-
prove the world’s health, Morgan in
creating a great art collection, Duke
In endowing an educational institu-
tion. But Old Man Kragg was dif-
ferent. In perfect health all his life,
except for one attack of influenza, the
subject of disease did not interest him
in the least. Equipped only with the
scantiest of public school education,
universities and colleges meant noth-
ing to him. About art and music he
was utterly ignorant, and therefore
wholly disinterested. Churches
missions were likewise outside of
limited sphere.
There was onl
one thing that interested him—busi-
ness—so it was to business he turned
over the whole fortune he had ae-
cumulated, but his manner of doing
it was novel, revolutionary, With
characteristic modesty he left his own
name out of the trust he incorporated,
christening it “The Start in Life
Foundation.”
Briefly its purpose was stated—to
help worthy young Americans to get
started in business for themselves.
Any young American from twenty-
one to thirty-five, recommended by
his
two reputable citizens as of good
character, on apnlication to the
Foundation could obtain a loan of
$5.000 to start in business for him-
self.
No interest was to be charged.
There was a further provision that if
at the end of two years the business
that lay in his |
i afternoon in pleasant weather
William Olsen’s grocery was now
in the vicinity.
lga no longer worked in the store,
a new and bigger
Why | flat, made necessary by the arrival of
a little Olga.
Mr. of the
neigh-
borhood figure. Each day he visited
the grocery, sitting for most of the
in a
chair by the door exchanging greet-
Ings with the customers. He still kept
a keen eye on things, showing Wil-
Oscar still was part
But living here with liam many ways of increasing his
profits.
There were several clerks now in
the store, and three delivery wagons,
and in the Olsen home were a piano
and a radio.
Olsen and his wife, extravagantly
grateful, told everyone that it was
Mr. Oscar who was responsible for
Presently the neigh-
bors began coming to him for advice.
Surrounded bv friendly people who
locked up to him, rejoicing each day
iit the companionship and love of the
lwo Olsen children, the old man’s
character gradually softened znd he
became garial, kindly-—and day after
cay experienced new happiness in
helping others.
Keenly, too, he watched the papers
for any reference to the Foundation
he had formed, and somehow each
year managed to get hold of its an-
i nual report, Jjoying to see that it had
With Napoleonic directness ! KE
: anticipated.
worked out even better than he had
In the report there were
pages on pages of grateful letters:
from young men who had got their
| start through the loan.
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Only in one respect had the Founda-
tion worked out differently than he
had anticipated. When he had plan-
ned it he had been thinking only of
young American men. He had ne-
glected to make any specifications as
to sex.
In every part of the country, am-
bitious young women were taking
advantage of the Foundation funds,
With his money they were opening
stenographic
tea shops, beauty shops,
offices, art shops. Young widows, left
with a child or two to support and no
money, found salvation in the capital
thus available.
“Perhaps it is just as well,” said
Old Man Kraggz to himself. “What
, would have become of Olga and little
and |
Billy if Win
knew them?”
Once more—it was nine years after
iam had died before I
he had come to live at the Olsens’—
. the
y one thing he knew, |
‘smile on his rugged face.
influenza attacked the old
This time he did not recover, but
days later passed peacefully
man.
five
away, a
“Oh, William,” sobbed Olga, as she
found a writing dividing between her
two children nearly fifteen thousand
“dollars the old man had accumulated,
‘to us.
“how we shall miss him.”
“He was a good friend, a fine man,
said William, choking as he spoke.
“It was our little boy brought him
We must put a silver plate on
his coffin—‘And "a little child shall’
lead them.’ » :
Thus the coffin was marked—and
the sorrowing talk of the neighbor-
hood about Mr. Oscar's death spread
till it reached the ears of the city
. editor of one of the big newspapers.
needed further capital, an additional
lean of $5,000 was to be made.
When the net profits of the busi-
ness exceeded $5,000 a year, the bor-
rower for a period of ten years was
required to turn back to the Founda-
tion one-tenth of the net profits.
The directors of the Foundation
were permitted no diseretion in mak-
ing the first loan. If the applicant
was recommended as of good char-
acter, and had been at work two
years, they had to give him the
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money, no matter how foolhardy they
might think the venture he was
undertaking. If the second five thou-
sand was applied for, they were per-
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mitted to use their discretion to de-
cide whether or not the business was
worth salvaging or expanding.
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The management of the Foundation |
was placed in the hands of a self-
perpetuating board of trustees. There
were two provisons—each trustee
must have had at least five years’
experience in business. No trustee
at the time of his election must be
A brief
ex-
“It is my purpose if possible to
keep the management of the Founda-
hands. Age
makes men conservative, timid, and
i puts them out of touch with the ambi- !
tions of youth. :
“If a young man goes into business
and fails, the capital advanced is to |
be charged off and not held as a debt
against him. Even if his idea was a
mistaken one, it is by the mistakes
they make that men learn wisdom.
“I have formed this Foundation be-
cause of a big mistake I made in life
—discovered, alas, too late in my life
As was to be expected, the an-
created a furor. The trustees select-
ed were mostly young men whom no-
men whom the keen eyes of Old Man
Kragg had ferreted out in the various
companies he controlled. They were
to have life jobs at $25,000 a year,
and each year one-tenth of the profit-
money returned to the Foundation
was to be shared among them, an in-
centive for them to make as many
loans as possible.
Every effort possible was made by
the newspapers to interview Old Man
Kragg. The reporters found his of-
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fice vacated, his house in the pos-
session of its new purchaser. His |
“Go up to that funeral, Nelson,”
he said to his star reporter, “and see
if you can’t dig up a human interest
story out of it.” .
The reporter, out of curiosity, join-
ed the long line of weeping neighbors:
that filed past the coffin for one last
look at their friend.
“It’s Old Man Kragg!” he exclaim-
ed in amazement, as he looked at Mr.
Oscar.
And the facts recorded here form
the “human interest” tale he dug up
at the funeral.
Wall Street, busy with its inces-
sant pursuit of dollars, could not
grasp what it all meant.
“Guess Old Man Kragg went crazy
at the finish,” was its puzzled com-
ment.
Maybe he did.
Perhaps it’s the other way about.
In Heart’s International-Cosmopoli-
tan.
Sr— gr pe———
Real Estate Transfers.
Wilbur R. Dunkle, et ux, to Charles
W. Mauck, tract in Walker Twp.;
$1,300.
Stella I. Brown, et al, to Anna
Funk, tract in Centre Hall; $1,600.
Jacob S. Williams, et ux, to Harry
Marshall, et ux, tract in Port Matilda;
$2,250.
Heirs of James T. Hale to Charles:
Caldwell, tract in Boggs Twp.; $60.
Frank Shufran, et ux, to Harry
SN assaahin, tract in Rush Twp.;
150.
Charles A. Eckenroth, Adm., to R.
F. Welty, et ux, tract in Bellefonte;
$4,100.
Daniel F. Houser, et ux, to Paul W.
Houser, tract in Bellefonte; $400.
Clarence L. Dumm, et al, to Forest
G. Rogers, tract in Walker Twp.;
$2,500.
Elnora MacDonald, et bar, to Edwin
B. Peters, tract in Milesburg; $2,000.
Ellsworth 8. Emenhizer, et ux, to
William T. Barntd, tract in Boggs:
Twp.; $1,600.
Thomas Dugan to Wassell Lavon-
ick, et ux, tract in Rush Twp.; $320.
William F. Hicks, Exec., to J. Clyde
Thomas, tract in Rush Twp.; $900.
C. D. Bartholomew, et ux,
Grand View Hunting
Potter Twp.; $600.
Samuel H, Baumgardner, et ux, to
John B. Gramley Jr., tract in Gregg
Twp.; $850.
J. H. Rowe, et ux, to Gertrude 235
Rowe, tract in Haines Twp.; $1.
Gertrude T. Rowe, to Harry 1.
Wingard, tract in Haines Twp.; $1.
to
club, tract in