New-York tribune., 1920-12-15
PERSONAL But Not Confidential
This Is Letter Number One of Sere Written to All of You
in the Hope That You Will Read and Approve

To-day I am starting to do
what | think is the greatest work
OF my life. [ hope [ will be able
to do it we'll. 1t is doing some
thing that all of us should take to
heart and then do our part. If
all Of us fall in line with the idea,
1T will mean doing the right thing
by ourselves, and in doing the
right thing by.ourselves we will be
doing the biggest thing we can for
our. country.
Don't you think that right now
IS the time for. all of us to get
down to earth once more-to stop
spending our money foolishly and
wastefully-to do a full DAVIS
work-to produce all we can
and to help il every way our in
dustres, which are the backbone
OF the progress and prosperity of
the Z. S. A.?
1t always happens that some
man comes to the front at the
right time with a big plan to
stralghten out the tangles we get
into every so often by forgetting
to observe the simple rule Of
safety first
A man | have known by reputa-
ton for several years, but had never
met, called me on the telephone at
IL AS Saturday morning, November
13, 1920. and asked if l would take
dinner with him at his home that
evening, saying that he wanted to
talk to me about a matter in which
he thought | would be interested. I
asked him if it was urgent, because
had arranged to go out Of town
that day to visit an aunt and friends
IN New Jersey village where I had
taught school forty-two years ago.
He said he would be out of town the
following week-that he thought the
matter he wanted to talk about was
urgent, and he would appreciate it
very much if | could postpone my
visit until Sunday.
[ told him I would meet him. l
asked him where he lived. He said,
Bridge street." and asked, "Where
the dickens is Bridge street," He
laughed, saying, Never mind. l
will send car for you" So it was
arranged for car to call for me at
my home at 6 80 p. m. 1t was there
on time, and l was whisked down
Broadway to Bridge street, which is
one of the many criss-cross streets
in the Battery section Of New York
city. had never been there before.
When | got out of the car l Won
dered why this man lived in this
section of the city, and in tene-
ment house at that, because l felt
sure he could afford to live in the
finest kind of a home if he want
ed to.
I was in for a series of surprises
that Saturday evening" The first
surprise came when l walked up
narrow, carpeted stairway one flight
and was ushered into a big living
room, where my eyes quickly took
in its comforts. There is one big
settee, many easy chairs, two tables,
several electric lamps, grand piano,
two talking machines, an AeoIian
orchestrelle and big pile of music
rolls, three bookcases filled with the
kind of books that everybody should
read, as l later learned, and the walls
are covered with rare old prints and
the floor with fine rugs. There is
an open fireplace, too-one of those
unusual things found in the city, but
which always delight men who were
raised in the country, as l was.
In a few minutes dinner was
served in very quaint dining room
which has coal stove sitting back
in the wall at one end, and its red
glow was most cheerful. There
were no frills about this dinner. 1t
was very plain but good-the kind
Of dinner served in the average
American home, which is always
good enough for anybody.
After dinner we seated ourselves
in the big living room. / sat in a
chair that was mighty comfortable
for my 225 pounds. The man" sat
in a~straightback chair in front of
the open fireplace. resting his right
Ill