Los Angeles County experienced one of those "unusual" stretches of weather, those boulders were covered with a seething roaring torrent of yellow foam that could make the ordinary respectable river ashamed of itself.

The colony got started officially as of May day 1914 and in the following August they got a war started "over there", and then things began to get exciting. I arrived at Llano in the same month that Tom Mooney went to jail, and I was all curiosity to see this strange man Job Harriman who was not a good Socialist and was not a good Union Man and who had recently demonstrated that he was not a good politician. I had just bounced across those boulders of Big Rock Wash in what once had been a Model T. Ford, and that particular day the boulders were hot enough to fry eggs on, according to the visible evidence it had only been there some time in the geologic past.

We unloaded in front of a big barn like structure that they told me was a hotel and dinner was just over but they made shift to find us something and when we were almost finished here came the famous Mr. Harriman, and I discovered later that getting in after all the food was gone was a fairly regular habit of his.

He arrived in a part of a Model T Ford that was considerably more of a museum piece than the one that had just bounced me across Big Rock Wash and while being a mechanic I was interested in that curious remnant of a Flier that was quite undressed and equally unashamed, I was more interested in the tall thin individual who got out of it and strode across the cement porch into the dining room. His skin was slightly dark with a sort of sallow look which was caused by the tubercular condition, which I afterward learned he was suffering from and also from the hot desert sun that was out plugging for the Chamber of Commerce that day. His hair was dark, almost black and it was parted on the side, and a big lock of it insisted in drooping down into his eye. He had on an old felt hat with a wide brim from beneath which shown a pair of intense sparkling gray eyes that looked as if they saw everything around them and then bent down seeing right on into the future that the rest of us could not penetrate. He looked worried but alert, and his face was a study of fleeting expressions that indicated what was going on in his mind. Later I saw how he could make that face as expressionless as if he were playing poker, but this day he was not before a jury or an opposing lawyer. He had just come up from the road that went past the dairy barn to the Tighlman place, and he was much more interested in getting a little chance to think out something than he was in eating something, and guessing from what the meal that was offered to me and some other passenger customer, he got a good chance to think. Well, I was occupied with other matters and saw no more of Job Harriman for some time.

I had no idea then that later I was to live in the same house with this man and talk with him night after night about various tough problems, and watch his struggles with his health problem and with the many political and legal and personnel problems that shortened his life, but at this time I was given a little tent that was not much more than a hundred feet from his tent and so from that time on till the colony moved to Louisiana, I generally knew when Job was in the colony and when he was gone, and when there was a crowd of worried people before his door waiting to unload their personal troubles on his frail weakening form, and argue far into the night about a million netty grievances while they were totally ignorant of the gigantic and terrifying problems that he was wrestling with alone.

Conferences and meetings and general assemblies and legal battles over water rights and land and with the political big-wigs of California came and went in an endless procession until the time came for us to make our decision whether to leave the plains of the river, or to stay there and starve leaving our bones to bleach in the hot desert sun. We decided to leave, and in time found ourselves in Louisiana with a totally new set of problems to deal with, and where I was eventually to find myself living under the same roof with Job Harriman, and learn something of his boyhood. His people had a small farm in Illinois right in the country that where Abe Lincoln has passed his young manhood and had been

left the most indellible impress of his character upon the life and traditions of the America that some of us still love and hope might be preserved. He talked the uncouth and ungrammatical language of the early American frontier and back woods. He absorbed something of the wild forest lore of the American Indian, and something of the noiseless trend, and keen observation and high sense of dignity and honor that were characteristic of the Indians before they were "rubbed out" by the ruthless methods of the land-grabbing sharp trading- enulators who are a curse to the white race. Like other boys of the American frontier, he spent a lot of time in the old barn lying on the hay just thinking, or else reading one of the few books that were available in that day.

The people of the neighborhood were all deeply religious, and in time Job, with his name taken from the Bible, was educated to be a minister of the gospel. He loved nature, and he loved animals, and he loved people, and he saw injustice all around him and he became fired with a determination to devote his life to bettering these conditions as far as he was able. The more he read and pondered the more he saw that the troubles of this earth are very intimately concerned with economics and so he kept on reading and studying everything that came his way. In time he turned away from religion and became almost bitter over the fact that people were ignoring the immediate problems of economics and wasting their time and mental ability in longwinded arguments over various obscure points of theology, and in guessing what some character in ancient history might have said or done. He took up the study of law and the disputes of men here and now, and became one of the most able jury lawyers that this country ever produced, but he found as much hypocrisy in the law as he had found in region, and he also found books for which he was hungry, and he kept right on reading. Naturally he was attracted to the writings of Karl Marx and his analysis of the Law of Capital and the effects on society of the "Capitalist System." but he did not stop with this. He pondered over the theory of Economic Determinism and the Materialist Conception of history and many other things until he finally turned away from the Law as he turned away from Religion, and then later he turned away from Political activity as we have seen at the beginning of this narrative, and began to interest himself in the day by day reactions of ordinary people struggling to get the things necessary to sustain life, and he looked upon Llano Colony as a human laboratory in which he was trying to solve the riddle of social existence and find the way in which human beings could be happy in the process of producing and distributing and consuming the things which sustained their lives.

After several years in the new location in Louisiana he came to the conclusion that economics and material things were not all that were involved in human happiness but that there were other factors of a spiritual nature that played a part and of which we knew very little, and then he gathered all the books he could find on the subject of psychology and the reactions of the human mind with its environment, and how these mental reactions determined human behaviour. In time he got back to something of the old religious attitude, and he developed a reverent, spiritual, mystic attitude toward people and all living things, and he tried to convey what he learned, and something of his conclusions to a few of us who were sympathetic even though we could not follow him very far in his brilliant and profound analyses of human mental reactions, but his strength was weakening and the dreary details of colony life brought about by World War number one, were hastening him to untimely grave. He went to Los Angeles where his wife remained, and then together they went to South America where their son Grey was employed. When he returned to Los Angeles. By that time he and Mrs Harriman had very little in common and he returned to the colony in Louisiana, but by that time he had very little in common with the daily affairs of the colony. He left with Wm. E. Zeuch and Wooster going to Ink Arkansas, but that too was a disappointment so he returned to Los Angeles spending his last days in the old Melrose hotel with his wife, and after driving to Sierra Madre one day he took suddenly worse and died at the home of his son. The funeral was held at Forrest Lawn where he was cremated. He died a broken hearted man bowed down with the tragedy of the human race and knowing that there would be a long changing of habits, before mankind could ever find happiness.