New-York tribune., 1917-07-03
Bu-Products of War
By James N. Rosenberg

nmity the trying ana plVilui u''. ;.
his wealthy patients appendix Even d"
crease overnight of hundred thousand uo'-
lars in the merchants inventory, owing to
Using market does not round out the sum OF
the merchants happiness. The day laoorer'
the clerk. the bookkeeper, the streetcar con
ductor have something besides their Joo, the
baseball score the lodge and the saloon; they
are members of the local Home Guard, ana
march on Sunday afternoons shoulder 10
shoulder with the greengrocer, the doctor ana
the bank president. The Boy Scouts ana the
Campfire Girls are hard at their jobs. Inc
women are taking courses TO become nurses
aids. They are preparing surgical dressings
end bandages, studying diatetics, hygiene ana
economy, and pulling the weeds out OF their
gardens The great, the rich and the power
full are throwing up their jobs right and LETT
to work without pay for the government, TO
raise Red Cross moneys for amounts that
stagger the imagination, to drive the vast
wheels of affairs in thousand ways.
Community Joy
In short. the community spirit has awak-
ened. Men, women and children discover new
lows the Joy of combined accomplishment,
of cooperative service for a common good, OF
becoming acquainted with others-still bet
ter, with themselves. The slackers are AL
ways were and always will be slackers out
hundreds of thousands who did nothing be-
cause they knew of nothing to do are finding
place and learning the possibilities and the
inspiration of united and coordinated power.
When the war broke out Mrs. Thompson
wept for two weeks because Percy, her only
boy insisted on going to the trenches Even
Thompson addressed sage advice to his son
along the lines of waiting for conscrlpuon,
and rebelled inwardly, though in vain, when
Percy went to Plattsburg To-day Mrs.
Thompson is saying that she wishes she had
five sons to give to her country. She doesn't
quite mean it, but she will go saying it.
and presently she will mean it in every inch
of her being.
Whence the change? Mrs. Thompson and
all the others have been giving; and in giving
they have learned to give. This community
spirit, Unavailable in unruffied days of peace,
has blossomed overnight into the fine flower
of patriotism and sacrifice. Six months ago
such blooms were rarer than orchids. To-day
they spread like daisies in a summer meadow.
Mrs. Thompson has learned that though Mrs.
Carpacci wears no corsets and never heard OF
lingerie yet for all that Mrs. Carpacc is the
better man of the two. Didn't Mrs. Carpacci
sell twice as many of the bonds? Didn't she
know how to dry and can vegetables? Didn't
she, with rare tact, smooth out the row in
committee meetings? Tonight Mrs. Thomp-
son gives dinner to the ladies of the canning
committee Good God! Think of it! Mrs.
Carpacci and the rest of them round Mrs.
Thompson's mahogany table, Mrs. Thomp-
son recalls that somewhere in the Constitu-
tion or the Declaration of independence, or
some place like that, there is something about
all men being born free and equal. She is
aware, too, that her country is democracy.
Those things she learned in school. What
have they meant to hes? noisy Election
Day. with horns blowing extras, excited
gentlemen dsputing rather rudely over their
cigars about tiresome matters.
War the Democratizer
The last few months have been eye openers.
The democratizing influence OF the encounter
with the garage keeper, of the committee
work with the women of the village, of the
work with the men at the cannery-these
things have shaken Mrs. Thompson to her
foundations; they have pulled her up by the
roots. No less deeply have all the others
the men, the women and the children-been
stirred. They are not introspective; they are,
therefore, hardly conscious of the change.
But none the less, the change has come. De-
mocracy is stepping out of the books and
closets It's on the streets, in the fields, the
shops, the Offices, the trolley cars, the res
taurants, the automobiles; the confounded
thing has even got past the membership COM
mittees of some of the best clubs. It's get
ting TO be a regular live, moving, breathing
being. And it's one of those animals which,
once they get out in the open air, among
people, bear watching.
These are some of the emerging by-prod
ucts OF this grim and horrible thing called
var. These are some of the compensations
for an indescribably tragic tax on life and
happiness. How heavy that tax shall be when
the final accounts are cast up no human mind
will ever be able to grasp or sense, but il
there are things in life's balance sheet more
precious than fortune or even life itself. may
we not find some comfort in the assets these
by-products must yield in the years to come?