came to Detroit and obtained employment in a shoe factory. Soon after that my partner and myself started one of our own. He had a little less than a thousand dollars, and I had $460—left from my army pay.”
“That seemed a large sum, I suppose?”
“Yes, and I thought if I could ever get to making fifty pairs of shoes a day I would be perfectly happy.”
The number is amusingly small, when it is remembered that this factory, the embryo of which he spoke, grew up under the Governor’s personal supervision, until it is now one of the largest in the United States.
“But tell me, Governor, when you were starting out in life, did you ever look forward to the career you have carved out for yourself?”
“No,” said he, with the promptness that characterizes all of his speech; “I never had anything mapped out in my life. I did whatever there happened to be for me to do, and let the result take care of itself.”
“Is it the same with your political success, or is that the outgrowth of youthful ambition?”
HOW HE BECAME MAYOR OF DETROIT.
“No, I was pushed into that by accident. I had never been in the common council chamber before I was elected Mayor of Detroit. The thing that caught me was that my friends began to say I was afraid of the position, so, of course, I had to accept the nomination to prove that I wasn’t.”
This was clever of his friends. The fact is that, at that time, the city needed the Governor’s brains to manage its affairs. He was elected Mayor of Detroit four consecutive terms and was in his eighth year as mayor when he resigned. Even his most earnest political opponents admit that he was the best mayor the city ever had.
“But, during the formative years of your career, did you ever worry over the possibility of failure?”
“No,” said the Governor serenely, “I never did, and don’t now. I was never given to worrying.”
In this as in other ways, Mr. Pingree was remarkable. During the stormiest of his political times he was never in the least disturbed when he reached home, and he would sleep as peacefully as a child.
“What would you suggest, Governor, as the best route by which the young man of to-day may obtain success?”
“He can do one of two things: go to work for somebody else; or, if he cannot stand that, he can buy a small farm.”
“Then you think there is not the chance in the United States now that there was thirty years ago?”
“There isn’t a doubt about it. The young men of to-day are to be pitied—there isn’t anything for them to do. The subject is a serious one,” said the Governor, speaking rapidly. “Why, if I had nothing, I wouldn’t know how to advise my own son to start. I don’t claim to know much, but I do understand a little about the shoe business, and I can tell you honestly that, with the knowledge I have gained in many years of experience, and with the influence of my friends, I could not start in the shoe business to-day with the chance of success that I had then.”
“And the causes of this?”
“Are trusts and monopolies.”
“And the result?”
A GREAT CHANGE PROPHESIED.
“There will be a great change in this country before many years. Free schools have so educated the people that they will not submit to this injustice forever, even though it is organized against them.”
“But how will this change be effected?”
“Through the splitting up of political parties—but it is sure to come.”
“Recognizing the conditions that the young man of to-day has to contend with, what guide-posts would you point out to him?”
“In the first place, I would advise every young man to be honest and outspoken at all times. What people want is open, frank talk. There is too much catering and palavering and round-about talking nowadays. It is a great mistake. Then, of course, in order to accomplish anything, the young man must have plenty of energy and perseverance.”
By inheritance, Governor Pingree was a patriot and fighter. In his possession were three historic muskets, one of which was used by his great-grandfather in the Revolutionary War; another by his grandfather in the War of 1812, and one by himself in the Civil War. His first American forefather was Moses Pingree, who emigrated to this country in 1640. Many of his descendants have figured with distinction in American history, among them being Samuel Everett Pingree, Governor of Vermont from 1884 to 1886.
Governor Pingree was a strikingly interesting example of self-earned success. His indomitable will, tireless energy and unyielding perseverance were the machinery with which he manufactured the fabric of his career. But the pattern was stamped by his own individuality, and was like no other ever seen—it was sui generis.
On the battlefield of public life, Governor Pingree was a general who said, “Come on!” not “Go on!” He acted with the bold, unfettered authority that springs from an honest belief in the justice of his opinions, and never put his plans out of focus by shifting his ground. When once resolved, he was as immovable as a fixed star. He was absolutely fearless because he was absolutely honest, and was not afraid to fight, single-handed, the greatest financial power the world has ever known.
The political spider was never able to bind his arms with the thread of party combination—scheme or intrigue. He was at all times a free lance, fearless and ceaseless in his efforts to chip the veneer from gilded fraud, to pierce the heart of injustice and to befriend those not able to shield themselves. He was a champion of the people and a believer in them.
HE WAS NOT A DEMAGOGUE.
“But they call you a demagogue. How does that accusation affect you?”
The Governor smiled, as if he considered it a good joke.
“Well, that amuses me,” said he. “They don’t do that around here any more. They’ve worn it out, I guess. No, it doesn’t disturb me a particle. I always go on the principle that lies never hurt anybody.”
Governor Pingree was a man of powerful physique and dignity of bearing. But he was delightfully oblivious to his own importance, and was entirely devoid of ostentation in everything that he did or said. His disposition was buoyant, his manner that of frank simplicity, and he was prodigal in his generosity and sympathy for those in need. In his private business, the welfare of his employees was always balanced in the scale with his own.
In the camps of war he was known as “Father Pingree,”
