• Author: Unknown
• Editor:
• Newspaper: The Umpire volume V
• Page Number:
• Date: 4 24 1918
• Tags:
• advice

WHO WORKS?

Charles M. Schawb has stated recently, that after this war is over, the worker, the man without property, will control the destinies of the world. We here confess that “we rather like the idea; for if we can’t qualify on the one point, we can at least pass as regards the other; and the idea of being a world-ruler has a certain appeal, as we don’t doubt it has for all, for who wouldn’t be a ruler? But what we started out to ask, is how many of our number are going to qualify under the first particular? How many of us have been horny-handed sons of toil, and liked it, and are willing to continue as such; and are so qualified for a life job as a world ruler as soon as this cruel war is over? We wonder.

It is reasonably certain that we would all like the job of ruling, would enjoy wearing that air of authority that goes so well with a pearl-gray fedora. But are we willing to work to attain such end? There’s the question. We fear that a goodly number are going to be content to remain as privates— very High Privates, of course in the ranks, rather than attempt the attainment of official rank at the cost of a little industry.

This should not be: eliminating the aged, the infirm, the hopelessly crippled, and the invalid, at least 75 per cent of our number should be easily able to qualify as potential rulers of destiny, and how many will embrace the opportunity? It really doesn’t require so much of an effort as some of us seem to think, to chaperone a wheel-barrow along a narrow plank; or hit a rivet squarely on its effulgent head; or swing a shovel in perfect rhythm, or cause a pick to rise and fall with varied regularity through a few hours each day, or do any one of a thousand-and-one other things. Those who havedallied with such arts, assure us that in the course of time one really comes to like it, and that great, strong men have been known to cry for work, as babies cry for Castoria.

There’s a rich reward of dollars in it, and too, think of the solemn joy that lurks in being able to walk past the corner ‘‘cop,” chin in air, and see him jump to the salute; instead of sneaking down a back-alley for fear of his seeing us, and ringing for the wagon. We would counsel our readers to heed Mr. Schawb’s statement, and get busy. It certainly looks good to us.