The Elder Bok did not find his "lines cast in pleasant places" in the
United States. He found himself, professionally, unable to adjust the
methods of his own land and of a lifetime to those of a new country. As
a result the fortunes of the transplanted family did not flourish, and
Edward soon saw his mother physically failing under burdens to which her
nature was not accustomed nor her hands trained. Then he and his brother
decided to relieve their mother in the housework by rising early in the
morning, building the fire, preparing breakfast, and washing the dishes
before they went to school. After school they gave up their play hours,
and swept and scrubbed, and helped their mother to prepare the evening
meal and wash the dishes afterward. It was a curious coincidence that it
should fall upon Edward thus to get a first-hand knowledge of woman's
housework which was to stand him in such practical stead in later years.
It was not easy for the parents to see their boys thus forced to do work
which only a short while before had been done by a retinue of servants.
And the capstone of humiliation seemed to be when Edward and his
brother, after having for several mornings found no kindling wood or
coal to build the fire, decided to go out of evenings with a basket and
pick up what wood they could find in neighboring lots, and the bits of
coal spilled from the coal-bin of the grocery-store, or left on the
curbs before houses where coal had been delivered. The mother
remonstrated with the boys, although in her heart she knew that the
necessity was upon them. But Edward had been started upon his
Americanization career, and answered: "This is America, where one can do
anything if it is honest. So long as we don't steal the wood or coal,
why shouldn't we get it?" And, turning away, the saddened mother said
nothing.
But while the doing of these homely chores was very effective in
relieving the untrained and tired mother, it added little to the family
income. Edward looked about and decided that the time had come for him,
young as he was, to begin some sort of wage-earning. But how and where?
The answer he found one afternoon when standing before the shop-window
of a baker in the neighborhood. The owner of the bakery, who had just
placed in the window a series of trays filled with buns, tarts, and
pies, came outside to look at the display. He found the hungry boy
wistfully regarding the tempting-looking wares.
"Look pretty good, don't they?" asked the baker.
"They would," answered the Dutch boy with his national passion for
cleanliness, "if your window were clean."
"That's so, too," mused the baker. "Perhaps you'll clean it."
"I will," was the laconic reply. And Edward Bok, there and then, got his
first job. He went in, found a step-ladder, and put so much Dutch energy
into the cleaning of the large show-window that the baker immediately
arranged with him to clean it every Tuesday and Friday afternoon after
school. The salary was to be fifty cents per week!
But one day, after he had finished cleaning the window, and the baker
was busy in the rear of the store, a customer came in, and Edward
ventured to wait on her. Dexterously he wrapped up for another the
fragrant currant-buns for which his young soul--and stomach--so
hungered! The baker watched him, saw how quickly and smilingly he served
the customer, and offered Edward an extra dollar per week if he would
come in afternoons and sell behind the counter. He immediately entered
into the bargain with the understanding that, in addition to his salary
of a dollar and a half per week, he should each afternoon carry home
from the good things unsold a moderate something as a present to his
mother. The baker agreed, and Edward promised to come each afternoon
except Saturday.
"Want to play ball, hey?" said the baker.
"Yes, I want to play ball," replied the boy, but he was not reserving
his Saturday afternoons for games, although, boy-like, that might be his
preference.
Edward now took on for each Saturday morning--when, of course, there was
no school--the delivery route of a weekly paper called the South
Brooklyn Advocate. He had offered to deliver the entire neighborhood
edition of the paper for one dollar, thus increasing his earning
capacity to two dollars and a half per week.
Transportation, in those days in Brooklyn, was by horse-cars, and the
car-line on Smith Street nearest Edward's home ran to Coney Island. Just
around the corner where Edward lived the cars stopped to water the
horses on their long haul. The boy noticed that the men jumped from the
open cars in summer, ran into the cigar-store before which the
watering-trough was placed, and got a drink of water from the ice-cooler
placed near the door. But that was not so easily possible for the women,
and they, especially the children, were forced to take the long ride
without a drink. It was this that he had in mind when he reserved his
Saturday afternoon to "play ball."
Here was an opening, and Edward decided to fill it. He bought a shining
new pail, screwed three hooks on the edge from which he hung three clean
shimmering glasses, and one Saturday afternoon when a car stopped the
boy leaped on, tactfully asked the conductor if he did not want a drink,
and then proceeded to sell his water, cooled with ice, at a cent a glass
to the passengers. A little experience showed that he exhausted a pail
with every two cars, and each pail netted him thirty cents. Of course
Sunday was a most profitable day; and after going to Sunday-school in
the morning, he did a further Sabbath service for the rest of the day by
refreshing tired mothers and thirsty children on the Coney Island
cars--at a penny a glass!
But the profit of six dollars which Edward was now reaping in his newly
found "bonanza" on Saturday and Sunday afternoons became apparent to
other boys, and one Saturday the young ice-water boy found that he had a
competitor; then two and soon three. Edward immediately met the
challenge; he squeezed half a dozen lemons into each pail of water,
added some sugar, tripled his charge, and continued his monopoly by
selling "Lemonade, three cents a glass." Soon more passengers were
asking for lemonade than for plain drinking-water!
One evening Edward went to a party of young people, and his latent
journalistic sense whispered to him that his young hostess might like to
see her social affair in print. He went home, wrote up the party, being
careful to include the name of every boy and girl present, and next
morning took the account to the city editor of the Brooklyn Eagle, with
the sage observation that every name mentioned in that paragraph
represented a buyer of the paper, who would like to see his or her name
in print, and that if the editor had enough of these reports he might
very advantageously strengthen the circulation of The Eagle. The editor
was not slow to see the point, and offered Edward three dollars a column
for such reports. On his way home, Edward calculated how many parties he
would have to attend a week to furnish a column, and decided that he
would organize a corps of private reporters himself. Forthwith, he saw
every girl and boy he knew, got each to promise to write for him an
account of each party he or she attended or gave, and laid great stress
on a full recital of names. Within a few weeks, Edward was turning in to
The Eagle from two to three columns a week; his pay was raised to four
dollars a column; the editor was pleased in having started a department
that no other paper carried, and the "among those present" at the
parties all bought the paper and were immensely gratified to see their
names.
So everybody was happy, and Edward Bok, as a full-fledged reporter, had
begun his journalistic career.
It is curious how deeply embedded in his nature, even in his earliest
years, was the inclination toward the publishing business. The word
"curious" is used here because Edward is the first journalist in the Bok
family in all the centuries through which it extends in Dutch history.
On his father's side, there was a succession of jurists. On the mother's
side, not a journalist is visible.
Edward attended the Sunday-school of the Carroll Park Methodist
Episcopal Church, in Brooklyn, of which a Mr. Elkins was superintendent.
One day he learned that Mr. Elkins was associated with the publishing
house of Harper and Brothers. Edward had heard his father speak of
Harper's Weekly and of the great part it had played in the Civil War;
his father also brought home an occasional copy of Harper's Weekly and
of Harper's Magazine. He had seen Harper's Young People; the name of
Harper and Brothers was on some of his school-books; and he pictured in
his mind how wonderful it must be for a man to be associated with
publishers of periodicals that other people read, and books that other
folks studied. The Sunday-school superintendent henceforth became a
figure of importance in Edward's eyes; many a morning the boy hastened
from home long before the hour for school, and seated himself on the
steps of the Elkins house under the pretext of waiting for Mr. Elkins's
son to go to school, but really for the secret purpose of seeing Mr.
Elkins set forth to engage in the momentous business of making books and
periodicals. Edward would look after the superintendent's form until it
was lost to view; then, with a sigh, he would go to school, forgetting
all about the Elkins boy whom he had told the father he had come to call
for!
One day Edward was introduced to a girl whose father, he learned, was
editor of the New York Weekly. Edward could not quite place this
periodical; he had never seen it, he had never heard of it. So he bought
a copy, and while its contents seemed strange, and its air unfamiliar in
comparison with the magazines he found in his home, still an editor was
an editor. He was certainly well worth knowing. So he sought his newly
made young lady friend, asked permission to call upon her, and to
Edward's joy was introduced to her father. It was enough for Edward to
look furtively at the editor upon his first call, and being encouraged
to come again, he promptly did so the next evening. The daughter has
long since passed away, and so it cannot hurt her feelings now to
acknowledge that for years Edward paid court to her only that he might
know her father, and have those talks with him about editorial methods
that filled him with ever-increasing ambition to tread the path that
leads to editorial tribulations.
But what with helping his mother, tending the baker's shop in
after-school hours, serving his paper route, plying his street-car
trade, and acting as social reporter, it soon became evident to Edward
that he had not much time to prepare his school lessons. By a supreme
effort, he managed to hold his own in his class, but no more.
Instinctively, he felt that he was not getting all that he might from
his educational opportunities, yet the need for him to add to the family
income was, if anything, becoming greater. The idea of leaving school
was broached to his mother, but she rebelled. She told the boy that he
was earning something now and helping much. Perhaps the tide with the
father would turn and he would find the place to which his unquestioned
talents entitled him. Finally the father did. He associated himself with
the Western Union Telegraph Company as translator, a position for which
his easy command of languages admirably fitted him. Thus, for a time,
the strain upon the family exchequer was lessened.
But the American spirit of initiative had entered deep into the soul of
Edward Bok. The brother had left school a year before, and found a place
as messenger in a lawyer's office; and when one evening Edward heard his
father say that the office boy in his department had left, he asked that
he be allowed to leave school, apply for the open position, and get the
rest of his education in the great world itself. It was not easy for the
parents to see the younger son leave school at so early an age, but the
earnestness of the boy prevailed.
And so, at the age of thirteen, Edward Bok left school, and on Monday,
August 7, 1876, he became office boy in the electricians' department of
the Western Union Telegraph Company at six dollars and twenty-five cents
per week.
And, as such things will fall out in this curiously strange world, it
happened that as Edward drew up his chair for the first time to his desk
to begin his work on that Monday morning, there had been born in Boston,
exactly twelve hours before, a girl-baby who was destined to become his
wife. Thus at the earliest possible moment after her birth, Edward Bok
started to work for her!