New-York tribune., 1910-06-25
CLARENCE KING
A Brilliant Man Portrayed by an
Old Friend.

A Brilliant Man Portrayed by an
Old Friend.
More than thirty years ago. when Mt.
Edgar Beecher Bronson was on the stan
of The Tribune, John Hay, who was then
writing editorials for it's columns IN
troduced him to the late Clarence KING.
Not long afterward the latter employed
him as his secretary. and a. few years
later the two were associated on ranch
in the West Some memories of their
friendship are recorded by Mr.. Bronson
in the July number Of the Century
Magazine" They recall one of the most
brilliant and lovable characters that
have adorned American life
Every reader of that beautiful book of
his. Mountaineering in the Sierra Me-
vada land of his little masterpiece, THE
Helmet of Mambrino," has wondered
why he did not make many other con-
tributions to literature. In answering
the old question Mr.. Bronson touches
upon one of the secrets of Kings charm.
the amazing depth of his resources. 7
believe" he says. 'it was because OF the
very wealth of his endowments, the
multiplicity Of his talents and attain
ments: because of a. mind so tireless
and fertile that by the time it had
sketched one brilliant literary picture
another was clamering for the recorded
expression none ever got Then, too,
for all that he had the gift OF literature.
King was no mere literary man. Nat
urally, it was hard Cor him to put his
pen to paper, in view of the traits which
Mr.. Bronson thus describes:
With a learning so comprehensive and
profound that he stood among the fore
most savants of his generation. the hours
dearest to him were those spent in ahso-
lutte or semi-savagery, listening TO the
droning songs of squaws about old Winnie
mucca's lodge fire; idly dream ming about
Piute village. watching its primitive
tasks and games; garlanded in merry
kalakauan fete or breasting the breakers
on Hawaiian beach, himself as daring
and swift in the water as the lithest or
sturdiest islander of them all: vying with
riding contests; wandering through the
corridors of the San Luis Obispo Mis-
sion with bent Franciscan, absorbed in
tales of Junipero Serra's heroism and sac
rifiCes and mentally reeonstructing the
stirring scenes of the ecclesiastical con-
quest of California; trailing, grizzlies into
killing them; scaling untrod mountain
peaks listening to the croonings of a tur-
baned black grandmother, hungry for some
hint of Voodoo mysteries-such were the
experiences he best loved.
Mr. Bronson refers, of course, to his
solid achievements in science. his mas
terly work as a geologist, and, in a
word, the knowledge and sagacity which
made him one of the most practically
useful men of his time--thaugh, para
doxicauy. he lacked the fortune build
ing instinct. But the best things in this
pa per relate to Kings personality, his
wit, his buoyant and effective carriage
in his everydaY-but never prosaic-life.
Once. in a California mountain camp, an
interlocutor of his made a motion as
though to use his revolver to III pur-
pose. King was entirely unarmed, but.
standing at the moment with his right
hand in his trousers pocket. at the first
hostile move he stuck forward his thumb
until it looked like the muzzle of a pis-
tol and then snapped quill toethpiek
that fortunately happened TO be in the
same pocket, the sound of which was so
much like the muffied click of pistol
lock that his adversary promptly bolted
through the door"
His friend preserves some OF his cpl
grams. Returning from a dinner at the
house of a tasteless plutoCrat, King re-
marked: "These people have bought the
scenery of society, but the play isn't
going on On another occasion he
said: Civilization! Why. it's a nervous
Once Mr.. Bronson asked him
why he had never married. We'll, I'll
tell YOU" he replied Woman is too
ne-sided-like a tossed up penny-and
I want both sides or none" Following
this Mr.. Bronson recalls King in ber-
serker mood pounding to insensihiity a
policeman who was needlessly clubbing
g drunken Sailor in a dark alley one
morning; but the finest of these stories
relates to the tired man of genius on his
deathbed-tired, but with his spirit un-
broken. His doctor had remarked that
perhaps the drug ber0in, recently ad-
ministered, had gone to his head Very
likely. King whispered. Many a
heroine has gone TO better head than
mine is now" That was like Clarence
King He was as brave as he was
brilliant. All those who knew him will
be grateful to Mr.. Bronson for his affec-
tionately drawn portrait.