A SCHOOL DISTRICT HELD UP
Young McGeehee Simms was loitering along the snowy way to the schoolhouse
bearing a brightly scoured tin pail two-thirds full of water. He had been
allowed to act as Water Superintendent of the Woodruff School as a reward
of merit--said merit being an essay on which he received credit in both
language and geography on "Harvesting Wheat in the Tennessee Mountains."
This had been of vast interest to the school in view of the fact that the
Simmses were the only pupils in the school who had ever seen in use that
supposedly-obsolete harvesting implement, the cradle. Buddy's essay had
been passed over to the class in United States history as the evidence of
an eye-witness concerning farming conditions in our grandfathers' times.
The surnameless Pete, Colonel Woodruff's hired man, halted Buddy at the
door.
"Mr. Simms, I believe?" he said.
"I reckon you must be lookin' for my brother, Raymond, suh," said Buddy.
"I am a-lookin'," said Pete impressively, "for Mr. McGeehee Simms."
"That's me," said Buddy; "but I hain't been doin' nothin' wrong, suh!"
"I have a message here," said Pete, "for Professor James E. Irwin. He's
what-ho within, there, ain't he?"
"He's inside, I reckon," said Buddy.
"Then will you be so kind and condescendin' as to stoop so low as to jump
so high as to give him this letter?" asked Pete.
Buddy took the letter and was considering of his reply to this remarkable
speech, when Pete, gravely saluting, passed on, rather congratulating
himself on having staged a very good burlesque of the dignified manners of
those queer mountaineers, the Simmses.
"Please come to the meeting to-night," ran the colonel's note to Jim;
"and when you come, come prepared to hold the district up. If we
can't meet the Pottawatomie County standard of wages, we ought to
lose you. Everybody in the district will be there. Come late, so you
won't hear yourself talked about--I should recommend nine-thirty and
war-paint."
It was a crisis, no doubt of that; and the responsibility of the situation
rather sickened Jim of the task of teaching. How could he impose
conditions on the whole school district? How could the colonel expect such
a thing of him? And how could any one look for anything but scorn for the
upstart field-hand from these men who had for so many years made him the
butt of their good-natured but none the less contemptuous ridicule? Who
was he, anyway, to lay down rules for these substantial and successful
men--he who had been for all the years of his life at their command,
subservient to their demands for labor--their underling? Only one thing
kept him from dodging the whole issue and remaining at home--the colonel's
matter-of-fact assumption that Jim had become master of the situation. How
could he flee, when this old soldier was fighting so valiantly for him in
the trenches? So Jim went to the meeting.
The season was nearing spring, and it was a mild thawy night. The windows
of the schoolhouse were filled with heads, evidencing the presence of a
crowd of almost unprecedented size, and the sashes had been thrown up for
ventilation and coolness. As Jim climbed the back fence of the
school-yard, he heard a burst of applause, from which he judged that some
speaker had just finished his remarks. There was silence when he came
alongside the window at the right of the chairman's desk, a silence broken
by the voice of Old Man Simms, saying "Mistah Chairman!"
"The chair," said the voice of Ezra Bronson, "recognizes Mr. Simms."
Jim halted in indecision. He was not expected while the debate was in
progress, and therefore regarded himself at this time as somewhat _de
trop_. There is no rule of manners or morals, however, forbidding
eavesdropping during the proceedings of a public meeting--and anyhow, he
felt rather shiveringly curious about these deliberations. Therefore he
listened to the first and last public speech of Old Man Simms.
"Ah ain't no speaker," said Old Man Simms, "but Ah cain't set here and be
quiet an' go home an' face my ole woman an' my boys an' gyuhls withouten
sayin' a word fo' the best friend any family evah had, Mr. Jim Irwin."
(Applause.) "Ah owe it to him that Ah've got the right to speak in this
meetin' at all. Gentlemen, we-all owe everything to Mr. Jim Irwin! Maybe
Ah'll be thought forrard to speak hyah, bein' as Ah ain't no learnin' an'
some may think Ah don't pay no taxes; but it will be overlooked, I reckon,
seein' as how we've took the Blanchard farm, a hundred an' sixty acres,
for five yeahs, an' move in a week from Sat'day. We pay taxes in our rent,
Ah reckon, an' howsomever that may be, Ah've come to feel that you-all
won't think hard of me if Ah speak what we-uns feel so strong about Mr.
Jim Irwin?"
Old Man Simms finished this exordium with the rising inflection, which
denoted a direct question as to his status in the meeting. "Go on!"
"You've got as good a right as any one!" "You're all right, old man!" Such
exclamations as these came to Jim's ears with scarcely less gratefulness
than to those of Old Man Simms--who stammered and went on.
"Ah thank you-all kindly. Gentlemen an' ladies, when Mr. Jim Irwin found
us, we was scandalous pore, an' we was wuss'n pore--we was low-down."
(Cries of "No--No!") "Yes, we was, becuz what's respectable in the
mountings is one thing, whar all the folks is pore, but when a man gets in
a new place, he's got to lift himse'f up to what folks does where he's
come to, or he'll fall to the bottom of what there is in that there
community--an' maybe he'll make a place fer himse'f lower'n anybody else.
In the mountings we was good people, becuz we done the best we could an'
the best any one done; but hyah, we was low-down people becuz we hated the
people that had mo' learnin', mo' land, mo' money, an' mo' friends than
what we had. My little gyuhls wasn't respectable in their clothes. My
childern was igernant, an' triflin', but I was the most triflin' of all.
Ah'll leave it to Colonel Woodruff if I was good fer a plug of terbacker,
or a bakin' of flour at any sto' in the county. Was I, Colonel? Wasn't I
perfectly wuthless an' triflin'?"
There was a ripple of laughter, in the midst of which the colonel's voice
was heard saying, "I guess you were, Mr. Simms, I guess you were,
but----"
"Thankee," said Old Man Simms, as if the colonel had given a really
valuable testimonial to his character. "I sho' was! Thankee kindly!
An'now, what am I good fer? Cain't I get anything I want at the stores?
Cain't I git a little money at the bank, if I got to have it?"
"You're just as good as any man in the district," said the colonel. "You
don't ask for more than you can pay, and you can get all you ask."
"Thankee," said Mr. Simms gravely. "What Ah tell you-all is right, ladies
and gentlemen. An' what has made the change in we-uns, ladies and
gentlemen? It's the wuk of Mr. Jim Irwin with my boy Raymond, the best boy
any man evah hed, and my gyuhl, Calista, an' Buddy, an' Jinnie, an' with
me an' my ole woman. He showed us how to get a toe-holt into this new
kentry. He teached the children what orto be did by a rentin' farmer in
Ioway. He done lifted us up, an' made people of us. He done showed us that
you-all is good people, an' not what we thought you was. Outen what he
learned in school, my boy Raymond an' me made as good crops as we could
last summer, an' done right much wuk outside. We got the name of bein'
good farmers an' good wukkers, an' when Mr. Blanchard moved to town, he
said he was glad to give us his fine farm for five years. Now, see what
Mr. Jim Irwin has done for a pack o' outlaws and outcasts. Instid o'
hidin' out from the Hobdays that was lay-wayin' us in the mountings, we'll
be livin' in a house with two chimleys an' a swimmin' tub made outen
crock'ryware. We'll be in debt a whole lot--an' we owe it to Mr. Jim Irwin
that we got the credit to git in debt with, an' the courage to go on and
git out agin!" (Applause.) "Ah could affo'd to pay Mr. Jim Irwin's salary
mysr'f, if Ah could. An' there's enough men hyah to-night that say they've
been money-he'ped by his teachin' the school to make up mo' than his
wages. Let's not let Mr. Jim Irwin go, neighbors! Let's not let him go!"
Jim's heart sank. Surely the case was desperate which could call forth
such a forlorn-hope charge as that of Old Man Simms--a performance on Mr.
Simms' part which warmed Jim's soul. "There isn't a man in that meeting,"
said he to himself, as he walked to the schoolhouse door, "possessed of
the greatness of spirit of Old Man Simms. If he's a fair sample of the
people of the mountains, they are of the stuff of which great nations are
made--if they only are given a chance!"
Colonel Woodruff was on his feet as Jim made his way through the crowd
about the door.
"Mr. Irwin is here, ladies and gentlemen," said he, "and I move that we
hear from him as to what we can do to meet the offer of our friends in
Pottawatomie County, who have heard of his good work, and want him to work
for them; but before I yield the floor, I want to say that this meeting
has been worth while just to have been the occasion of our all becoming
better acquainted with our friend and neighbor, Mr. Simms. Whatever may
have been the lack of understanding, on our part, of his qualities, they
were all cleared up by that speech of his--the best I have ever heard in
this neighborhood."
More applause, in the midst of which Old Man Simms slunk away down in his
seat to escape observation. Then the chairman said that if there was no
objection they would hear from their well-known citizen, whose growing
fame was more remarkable for the fact that it had been gained as a country
schoolmaster--he need not add that he referred to Mr. James E. Irwin. More
and louder applause.
"Friends and neighbors," said Jim, "you ask me to say to you what I want
you to do. I want you to do what you want to do--nothing more nor less.
Last year I was glad to be tolerated here; and the only change in the
situation lies in the fact that I have another place offered me--unless
there has been a change in your feelings toward me and my work. I hope
there has been; for I know my work is good now, whereas I only believed it
then."
"Sure it is!" shouted Con Bonner from a front seat, thus signalizing that
astute wire-puller's definite choice of a place in the bandwagon. "Tell us
what you want, Jim!"
"What do I want?" asked Jim. "More than anything else, I want such
meetings as this--often--and a place to hold them. If I stay in the
Woodruff District, I want this meeting to effect a permanent organization
to work with me. I can't teach this district anything. Nobody can teach
any one anything. All any teacher can do is to direct people's activities
in teaching themselves. You are gathered here to decide what you'll do
about the small matter of keeping me at work as your hired man. You can't
make any legal decision here, but whatever this meeting decides will be
law, just the same, because a majority of the people of the district are
here. Such a meeting as this can decide almost anything. If I'm to be your
hired man, I want a boss in the shape of a civic organization which will
take in every man and woman in the district. Here's the place and now's
the time to make that organization--an organization the object of which
shall be to put the whole district at school, and to boss me in my work
for the whole district."
"Dat sounds good," cried Haakon Peterson. "Ve'll do dat!"
"Then I want you to work out a building scheme for the school," Jim went
on. "We want a place where the girls can learn to cook, keep house, take
care of babies, sew and learn to be wives and mothers. We want a place in
which Mrs. Hansen can come to show them how to cure meat--she's the best
hand at that in the county--where Mrs. Bonner can teach them to make bread
and pastry--she ought to be given a doctor's degree for that--where Mrs.
Woodruff can teach them the cooking of turkeys, Mrs. Peterson the way to
give the family a balanced ration, and Mrs. Simms induct them into the
mysteries of weaving rag rugs and making jellies and preserves--you can
all learn these things from her. There's somebody right in this
neighborhood able to teach anything the young people want to learn.
"And I want a physician here once in a while to examine the children as to
their health, and a dentist to look after their teeth and teach them how
to care for them. Also an oculist to examine their eyes. And when Bettina
Hansen comes home from the hospital a trained nurse, I want her to have a
job as visiting nurse right here in the Woodruff District.
"I want a counting-room for the keeping of the farm accounts and the
record of our observation in farming. I want cooperation in letting us
have these accounts.
"I want some manual training equipment for wood-working and metal working,
and a blacksmith and wagon shop, in which the boys may learn to shoe
horses, repair tools, design buildings, and practise the best agricultural
engineering. So I want a blacksmith and handyman with tools regularly on
the job--and he'll more than pay his way. I want some land for actual
farming. I want to do work in poultry according to the most modern
breeding discoveries, and I want your cooperation in that, and a poultry
plant somewhere in the district.
"I want a laboratory in which we can work on seeds, pests, soils, feeds
and the like. For the education of your children must come out of these
things.
"I want these things because they are necessary if we are to get the
culture out of life we should get--and nobody gets culture out of any sort
of school--they get it out of life, or they don't get it at all.
"So I want you to build as freely for your school as for your cattle and
horses and hogs.
"The school I ask for will make each of you more money than the taxes it
will require would make if invested in your farm equipment. If you are not
convinced of this, don't bother with me any longer. But the money the
school will make for you--this new kind of rural school--will be as
nothing to the social life which will grow up--a social life which will
make necessary an assembly-room, which will be the social center, because
it will be the educational center, and the business center of the
countryside.
"I want all these things, and more. But I don't expect them all at once. I
know that this district is too small to do all of them, and therefore, I
am going to tell you of another want which will tempt you to think that I
am crazy. I want a bigger district--one that will give us the financial
strength to carry out the program I have sketched. This may be a
presumptuous thing for me to propose; but the whole situation here
to-night is presumptuous on my part, I fear. If you think so, let me go;
but if you don't, please keep this meeting together in a permanent
organization of grown-up members of the Woodruff school, and by pulling
together, you can do these things--all of them--and many more--and you'll
make the Woodruff District a good place to live in and die in--and I shall
be proud to live and die in it at your service, as the neighborhood's
hired man!"
As Jim sat down there was a hush in the crowded room, as if the people
were dazed at his assurance. There was no applause, until Jennie Woodruff,
now seen by Jim for the first time over next the blackboard, clapped her
gloved hands together and started it; then it swept out through the
windows in a storm. The dust rose from stamping feet until the kerosene
lamps were dimmed by it. And as the noise subsided, Jim saw standing out
in front the stooped form of B. B. Hamm, one of the most prosperous men in
the district.
"Mr. Chairman--Ezra Bronson," he roared, "this feller's crazy, an' from
the sound of things, you're all as crazy as he is. If this fool scheme of
his goes through, my farm's for sale! I'll quit before I'm sold out for
taxes!"
"Just a minute, B. B.!" interposed Colonel Woodruff. "This ain't as
dangerous as you think. You don't want us to do all this in fifteen
minutes, do you, Jim?"
"Oh, as to that," replied Jim, "I just wanted you to have in your minds
what I have in my mind--and unless we can agree to work toward these
things there's no use in my staying. But time--that's another matter.
Believe with me, and I'll work with you."
"Get out of here!" said the colonel to Jim in an undertone, "and leave the
rest to your friends."
Jim walked out of the room and took the way toward his home. A horse tied
to the hitching-pole had his blanket under foot, and Jim replaced it on
his back, patting him kindly and talking horse language to him. Then he
went up and down the line of teams, readjusting blankets, tying loosened
knots, and assuring himself that his neighbors' horses were securely tied
and comfortable. He knew horses better than he knew people, he thought. If
he could manage people as he could manage horses--but that would be wrong.
The horse did his work as a servant, submissive to the wills of others;
the community could never develop anything worth while in its common life,
until it worked the system out for itself. Horse management was despotism;
man-government must be like the government of a society of wild horses,
the result of the common work of the members of the herd.
Two figures emerged from the schoolhouse door, and as he turned toward his
home after his pastoral calls on the horses, they overtook him. They were
the figures of Newton Bronson and the county superintendent of schools.
"We were coming after you," said Jennie.
"Dad wants you back there again," said Newton.
"What for?" inquired Jim.
"You silly boy," said Jennie, "you talked about the good of the schools
all of the time, and never said a word about your own salary! What do you
want? They want to know?"
"Oh!" exclaimed Jim in the manner of one who suddenly remembers that he
has forgotten his umbrella or his pocket-knife. "I forgot all about it. I
haven't thought about that at all, Jennie!"
"Jim," said she, "you need a guardian!"
"I know it, Jennie," said he, "and I know who I want. I want----"
"Please come back," said Jennie, "and tell papa how much you're going to
hold the district up for."
"You run back," said Jim to Newton, "and tell your father that whatever is
right in the way of salary will be satisfactory to me. I leave that to the
people."
Newton darted off, leaving the schoolmaster standing in the road with the
county superintendent.
"I can't go back there!" said Jim.
"I'm proud of you, Jim," said Jennie. "This community has found its
master. They can't do all you ask now, nor very soon; but finally they'll
do just as you want them to do. And, Jim, I want to say that I've been the
biggest little fool in the county!"