Page Eight
TWER S PE C TI VE S
IMIR.GJLHAUSEN ...Continued from Page 4
proud to ask for work. There were men
walking the streets, wearing themselves
out, and what good was it doing them?
No, when he got a chance he would open
up a shop of his own.$ He would never
work for another man. Where did it get
you? Bootlicling, that's what it was.
The only way a man got anyplace these
days was to be his own boss. A man has
to make people respect him. Then, be-
lieve me, if people wanted anything done,
they knew where to come. Yessir, they
knew who to come to. One could almost
imagine a delegation of men walking
down the street and up on the dusty
front porch of the house, and knocking
at the door, tipping their hats respect-
fully. and saying, "Mr. Gilhausen, we
are opening a new barber shop. We need
somebody to run it, somebody with train-
ing and alent, somebody with pride. A
man of honor, a man of principle. In
short, Mr. Gilhausen, you are the only
man we will have to run our barber
shop. Nobody but you will do. We need
you."
And then Mr. Gilhausen, looking
grave and dependable, would reply,
"Well, gentlemen, as a matter of fact,
,* I was not thinking of going into any
business enterprise this year, but seeing
you need me so urgently, I will, accede
to you in this matter. I will run your
barber shop. I will go to work. But mind
you, I must be my own boss."
"Yessir, Mr. Gilhausen, we want you
to run it your own way."
Of course, no delegation ever came.
Still, all in all, he was a lucky man as
far as luck went then. He still lived
within that circle of standards and
habits that civilization sets for the self-
respecting man. But Mrs. Gilhausen lived
in daily fear that her son would some-
day step outside that circle.
"The city is such a bad place to raise
a boy," she would say.
HAD PLENTY of chances to see the
men who had dropped outside the
bounds. The city was full of them.:[ us ed
to walk through the park every day on
my way to my teacher's studio where I
practiced. I took Twelfth Street, east
to the Avenue. Here, opposite the big
Kresge building with the opulent gold
roof, the street separated around a little
island, an island in the middle of the
city on which were cast the men whov
had nothing to do and no place to go,
like shipwrecked sailors. It was the only
comparatively cool place'in the city, and
almost as soon as the sun's rays slanted
in through .the dry tree leaves, it began
to fill with people, men without work,
,and children. In the middle of the park
was a circular paved court which sur-
rounded the jetting fountain. There were
benches all around, and the men sat idle
there, and drowsed in a sun-soaked
lethargy, their feet stretched out on the
hot cement, and their backs against the
thin green slats. Some of the men slept
there all night. Some of them slept there
all day too. There was something insid-
ious about their indolence.
The seats were packed to overflowing.
Those who found no room on the benches
lay sprawled out on the grass with news-
papers or their old hats over their faces.
It gave them an anonymous look, and
reminded you of case histories. "Mr.
J. A man of forty-two. Has been with-
out work for three years. Is now a va-
grant. No known family connections.
Does not care whether he ever works
again. - Mr. K. Twenty-four. Has never
had a job. Does not want a job. - Mr.
L. - left his wife and three children
with relatives. Cannot find work."
Nothing stirred them, apparently not
even hunger, for at mealtime the place
was as full as at any other time. And
they were very quiet. Only the children
played boisterously in the fountain,
frightening the sparrows up into sudden
flight and splashing the water around
the basin on the sidewalk.
yES, Mr. Gilhausen was really lucky
when you think abtoat it. He still had
a home of his own, and three meals and
a clean shirt every day. And his family.
There was one thi'z of which both
the Gilhausens were unanimously hope-
ful and proud, one thing in which they
refused to relinquish even the smallest
mortgage on the triumphant future,
That was their thirteen-year-old son,
Lawrence. As a matter of fact, Lawrence
was the reason I had such a nice room
in their house. I paid my room rent with
piano lessons. That, too, had been Mrs.
Gilhausen's idea. She couldn't pay a
music teacher, so she advertised in the
paper for a music student to teach
Lawrence. She had great hopes for her
son.
His father couldn't know it, but Mrs.
Gilhausen secretly wished Lawrence
wouldn't grow up to be too much like
her husband. She wouldn't ever have
admitted this little infidelity, even to
herself, but the thought was behind the
strict surveillance she held over her
son. She needn't have worried. Law-
rence was his mother in a young mascu-
line edition. There was nothing of Mr.
Gilhausen in him.
Young Lawrence was a great big boy.
He was really the only child in the block
who always got all he wanted to eat.
Therefore he was practically the only
boy who wasn't underweight and as such
was the leader-in-chief of the gang.
There might be other pretenders to the
throne, but one way or another he al-
ways managed to send them in vocif-
erous rout before the sun set. It was too
bad for the boy who figured that Law-
rence was a sissy because his mother
made him take a bath and go to bed
at nine o'clock. Healthy, unheeding,
young animal, he climbed lampposts,
threw stones, ganged onto trucks, and
hung around the back door of the gro-
cery with the best of them, and then
came home, and lustily pounded out the
Mozart I gave him with the same un-
heeding buoyancy, Very little trouble,
young Lawrence.
He came in one Saturday night ass
hour early so his father could trim his
hair. r. Gilhausen took great pride
in barbering .his son. It was a renew-
al of faith, as well as the one serviceable
thing he could do around the house.
Ie spent half an hour just getting ready
for the great operation, sharpening his
scissors, and laying them out straight
on the table, picking up the comb, and
wiping minute specks of dust off it, and
laying it down on the table. He carefully
draped a towel around Lawrence's neck.
"Now, son, sit up straight."
Lawrence fidgetted energetically. .
"Now, son, sit still."
It happened quickly, Mr. Gilhausen
didn't know how.
"Ouch, dad. Hey, you cut my earl"
It was really a very insignificant cut,
but the blood stood out on it in a full
shiny drop.
Mrs. Gilhausen came in and looked
at her son's ear. The sight of blood
upset her dreadfully.
"It isn't a very bad cut," Mr. Gilhausen
pointed out diffidently.
"No, but it might have been. You
might have disfigured him for life."
If she could have figured out a way,
she would have bandaged the ear. Law-
rence shook her away impatiently.
"Aw, Mom, leave it alone. It's all
right."
He wiped it off with an end of the
towel.
"Lawrence, not on that! You'll get
germs on it. You don't want to get it
infected."
Lawrence was indifferent, but his
mother was adamant. Never again would
his -father cut his hair.
"I'll send you to a regular barber,"
she said. "It's perfectly disgraceful the
way your father can't even trim back
your hair without practically chopping
off your ear."
Mr. Gilhausen didn't argue the decis-
ion with her. It struck too deep to the
core of his pride. He slipped quietly out
into the dark.
It wasn't until the next morning that
his wife began to wonder whether or not
he had intended to retumn.
I
CAN WELL REMEMBER
____________Continued from Page 5
came bac. and made Iowa our homs for
some years and as Farming was my
Husban's Proffession we got right buisye
and build us a home and in a few years
had a nice home. And so the years
roold by rather fast and 'we got older,
but we lived very happy and injoyed
our life, and my Husband was a choir
Masther where ever we lived as we
both injoy Musick and song and sooner
or later wish to join the heavenly choir
and be at home .. .
She was tired. She wished every night
that that would be the last, that she
could go to sleep and never wake up
again, that she would never have to
move again and would have no more
pain. But morning always came and she
had to let Will help her get up and dress
and go into the other room and sit
down on one of the hard chairs because
if she sat in a deep, soft one, she couldn't
get up alone. She had pillows on her
chair but they were worn out and Will
didn't want to spend money for new
ones.
She couldn't write about all that
had happened. They had lived in Cali-
fornia for awhile and Will still talked,
after all these years, about going back
there sometime. She had hated it. Then
there had been those sunny years, too
short, when they had been in Oberlin.
She had i'oved the music and the'church
there. They had had to leave, though,
and after a while had come here. It
was too bad she couldn't tell all abost
it, but the pencil was heasy and her
fingers were stiff. Sometimes she for-
got where she was in tlse story, too,
and told part of it over again. She had
seen that when she read it over the
other day.
Will was coming up the porch steps
now, and she must put this away be-
cause she didn't want him to read it.
It was a long time before she 'ot the
tablet out again. The winter was cold
and she sat every day :ver the wide
register where the heat surged up in
great smothering waves. Will always
said it was too warm in the house.
Jan. 27, 1933
I will add a little more to this Ep-
pistel. As Life has many ups and downs
we found it as well as others have and
had our share of it, Sickness, Broken
Bones and .. .
She had stopped here, she couldn't
remember why, and when in the summer
time she finished the sentence, the let-
ters wavered out singly to the end of
each word. She made mistakes and her
eraser left black smudges over which
she tried to write more firmly so that
the words would slow. She must finish
what she had to say,
D. .eath in our Family, my Fathser
died. As this is my 71 years Birthday
I will add to my Eppistle as much as
I can. This is the 29 of August in
1933 & a very hot day. As Mr. Knapp hay
sung & played'a grate deal to me in the
past year so I have Enjoyed it very much
joe is quite a Bird & likes to sing.
And also my Friends have remembered
me very kindly. Mr. & Mrs. Fowler
brought me a nice Boquet of Flowers
& another Friend a dozen of Fricakes.
So ybu see I had quite a nice time .. .
EVEN WILL HAD REMEMBERED her
birthday this year. He had brought
home an ice cream cone. It was the first
time he had ever given her a present
and it made her very happy. The ice
cream was cold, though, and made her
shiver. She hadn't been able to eat it
all, but Will was glad to finish it. They
had quiter a party of it.
. As we have had no rain for a
week it's a hot time. Let's go back to
where we will go on with the story.
Mr. Knapp & I lived on our Iowa
Farm about 29 years, improved on the
farm in ading an adision to the house,
also to the Barn as we Enjoyed work.. .
Yes, they lad worked harder than
most people, probably. She herself had
helped pub the roof on the house and
had done most of the painting. That
was about the tinme she first began to
feel tired and listless and to have pain
in her back -once in. a while. Some-
times, as nose, it 'ould hurt so that
she could only sit limp and helpless in
her chair. She was getting so she could
regularly write osoly a fesv words before
she vosuld have to put the pencil down.
. .After 11 years of living here my
Father died & we all missed him. So
the time rooles by. Till to day the 12
of Oct 1933 it's 51 years since we weree
in Freport Ill. & we are still here &
alive. Mr. Knapp is going to be 82 years
the 29 of this month in 1933 & I was
71 in Aug the 29 this year so we both
have a fair old age. Mr. Knapp's birth-
day is the 29 of November, also this
year, and you oght to hear him Sing
& Play the Pino. His Mother had a
fine voice. I am an inviled & shut in
for 3 years ..
The words trailed off, cramped and
hazy. She had written as long as she
had the strength to sit up at the table,
and had told all that she was able.
She had dwelt on the happy parts of
her life till now, but now pain and weari-
ness and discouragement were closing
in around her and she couldn't push
them back any more.
She died a- few months later, when
the hedge was tinged with green and
the children over at the apartment
house were jumping rope and roller
skating. The doctor said she was all
eaten away by cancer. The pain was
hideous until he gave her something to
stop it.
The following week they scoured the
house and burned shovelsful of her
treasures. The furniture was sold piece
by piece to people who came and exam-
ined it curiously. Now there is a garage
where the rose arbor used to be.