“And you had done nothing at art so far?” I asked.
“At that time I saw a clay sketch. I said to myself, ‘I can do as well
as that,’ and I copied it. My second sketch admitted me to the St.
Louis Sketch Club. I told my friends that I would be a sculptor. They
laughed and ridiculed me. I had secured a position in a store, and at
odd times worked at what I had always loved, but had only half realized
it. Notices appeared in the papers about me, for I was popular in the
community. I entered the competition for a statue of General Frank R.
Blair. I received the first prize, but when the committee discovered
that I was only a bill clerk in a store, they argued that I was not
competent to carry out the work, although I was given the first prize
medal and the one hundred and fifty dollars accompanying it.”
“But that inspired you?”
“Yes, but my father and mother put every obstacle in the way possible.
I was driven from room to room. I was not even allowed to work in
the attic.” Here Mr. Ruckstuhl laughed. “You see what genius has to
contend with. I was advanced in position in the store, till I became
assistant manager at two thousand dollars a year. When I told the
proprietor that I had decided to be a sculptor, he gazed at me in blank
astonishment. ‘A sculptor?’ he queried, incredulously, and made a few
very discouraging remarks, emphasized with dashes. ‘Why, young man,
are you going to throw up the chance of a lifetime? I will give you
five thousand dollars a year, and promote you to be manager if you will
remain with me.’”