Evening star., 1924-05-11


veil of gauze, lies a city of
beauty-misty hill tops, pink
rs a rose at dawn, long avenues of
spreading trees. great palaces of
white marble, perched high above the
SCOT and CRIME of the Black Valley
the rivers edge, where fires spit their
endless flames skyward and giant
hammers crash.
There are vivid flower gardens and
green lawns and little clusters of
silver pines against red brick wallis.
There arc blue lagoons and woody
parks and fountains that toss a mil
lion diamonds into the air-homes of
the operators, the capitalistS-and
the greatest of these capitalists was
James Dean.
Dean began as a breaker boy; en-
tered the mines at eight, when he
grimy youngsters who picked the
slate from the coal.
One day he emerged into the yell
low sunlight, blinking, stoop-
ShouIdered, prematurely old. but
chief stockholder in Prcndergast, the
largest anthracite mine in the state,
all because his promotion to door boy
had not satisfied him, nor to labor
TT. nor to miners helper. nor to full
fledfied miner, nor to foreman, nor
superintendent
GE was frankly greedy for the
- good things of life. They
came to him at high cost
successful superintendent
won his promotion through producing
,oa1 cheaply-that meant by insisting
upon more work than the men under
him were physically able to do. So
Dean became slave driver. with but
two interests dominating his whole
cxistencn-the mines and the son his
wife had died in giving him.
Dean named the boy Peter and
handed him over to the care of
others; nurses, tutors and eventually
college professors. He made no at
tempt to become acquainted with his
son during his youth Dean was too
busy, moreover. he scarcely knew how
TO talk to his child. He was content
to wait Some day Peter would come
TO him a man. Then they would be
insepa rable. working out business
problems, laying gigantic schemes.
developing great projects together
always together.
And so one day in June, Peter came
home with his college degree and his
twenty-one years, feeling a keen
eageness to become acquainted at
last with the great man whose name
he bore. They were to dine together,
and to Peter this first meal was a
matter of gravest Importance. He
dressed carefully for it. 1t was a
custom of his fraternity house to
slip into evening clothes each night.
lie spent more time than usual be-
fore his mirror.
Dean had been out to the mines
that day. He wore corduroy trousers
and an old coat His shoes were COW
cred with mud, his face filmed with
a blush SCOT His finger nails were
dirty.
lie glanced away from tho paper
he sFas pretending to read when his
son tentered.
What are you all dressed up for3'
he shot at him.
Peter suddenly remembered. That
was the way his father did; shot
questions at him. He explained,
flushing swiftly. His father cut him
short
We'll, you can can the soup and
fish after this. You amt a college
dude now, remember, you're a busi-
ness man"
Peter inclined his head. Perfectly
willing to can it, he said. So they
went in to dinner.
Tomorrow" Dean told him, "o'Hara
will show you over the mines, then
you can go down and spend a few
months with d pick and shovel 1t
will do your hands," with a dry smile,
"a lot of good"
They ate in heavy silence. After
a similar lack of conversation in the
library, Peter rose, then said, I'm
going up. Goodnight, father"
Might" growled Dean, don't for
get to put out the light in the upper
hall"