Loyola University Maryland - Evergreen / Green and Gray Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

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18 THE LOYOLA ANNUAL disaster must have dogged my path. First, my carbureter became clogged. For a priceless half hour I lay prostrate be- neath the wheels of my dragon. When this difficulty was finally adjusted I sped on, but for a time only. Delay after delay occurred, minor, indeed, in their nature, but each con- suming its meed of time. By me flashed a huge mile post with “82 miles to New York” written upon it. I looked at my watch. It was after half-past one. Faster and faster I flew. For a time the accidents ceased and by two o’clock I was only fifty miles from my journey’s end. Then came the crowning disaster. I was flying along a clear stretch of road (the country around me was notably desolate) when, about a mile ahead, I saw a woman waving a red blanket. As I drew nearer I per- ceived that she was very old, and, with her grey locks swirl- ing wildly about her, she looked like a Druid priestess impor- tuning her gods. Nearer and nearer I came, and, as she re- mained steadfast in the road, I was forced to slow down and finally come to a full stop. Waving her arms imploringly she poured forth her tale of trouble into my ears. From the con- fused jumble of words I gathered that her daughter was very ill with diphtheria and would surely die unless she had a doctor within the hour. The mother had seen me coming and had rushed out to implore me to return for a doctor in the car. I hesitated. The nearest physician’s office was three miles back. It was now a quarter-past two and I had forty- five miles intervening between me and my goal. To return would be to gravely jeopardize my chance of arriving in time. But I could not look into those faded eyes, filled with all a mother’s love and refuse her request, much less as it con- cerned her daughter’s life. Turning the auto, I was soon racing back over the road whence I had come. Three minutes later I pulled up in front of a medium-sized house with a doc-

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THE LOYOLA ANNUAL 17 nf 0II|antg HE telephone jangled loudly. It was nearly eleven. All morning I had been expecting a call. I had an important deal on hand in Wall Street, for the success of which it was expedient that I be absent from ’Change till the very last mo- ment, so I had secluded myself in my country home, two hun- dred miles from New York. However, I could reach Wall Street in plenty of time, for outside puffed my high-power Packard and the Exchange did not close till three in the after- noon. It was most important that I should arrive in time, for,, though I was understood to be in the deal, I had not yet paid for the stock. I was not legally therefore a member of the corporation, whose object was the control of practically all the copper supply. Taking up the receiver I heard the voice of Brice, one of the leaders of the enterprise : “Hello. Is this Jim Ferris?” said the voice. “Well, Jim, everything is progressing finely. How- ever, the Harriman interests are making a big fight, but your appearance, with the cool million in cash, can safely be de- pended upon to swing the deal. Without you we would surely be whipped ; so be in tim.e. If you start now you ought to be here by two-thirty. Goodbye.” As soon as our talk was ended I descended the steps and entered my waiting car. No time was lost in the start and I was soon whirling over the turnpike leading towards New York, with the Hudson to my right and to my left myriads of populous villages. On I sped, as through a land in miniature, so rapidly did man and beast, forest and hill pass by. The hands of my v atch pointed to one when I reached Cragmont, with half the distance covered. But from here on a very god of 2

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THE LOYOLA ANNUAL 19 tor’s sign posted by the door. Luckily for me, the doctor was at home and we were soon flying cityward. In another five minutes I had dropped the doctor at a wayside hut and, with- out waiting to see if he was in time, I pressed on. I heard a clock to my right boom the half hour. With thirty-five miles left to cover I could hardly make it. Madly I raced on, to my left the Hudson writhed and twisted like a snake encrusted with silver scales, as the sun glanced from its surface. Far up the river a thunderstorm was brewing and the clouds raced and swirled like so many battling de- mons. Soon I was entering New York. It was now five min- utes to three. Through the long city streets, some broad, some narrow, I passed. Finally I reached my longed-for goal. Wall Street. I drew up in front of the mammoth Stock Ex- change, buzzing within like a hive of bees. Leaping from my car I was entering the door when a nearby clock boomed three. Instantly the clamor ceased, the Exchange was closed. Through an act of charity I had lost millions. Riding slowly home that night, with Brice’s upbraidings and his statement that I had sold myself to the opposing inter- ests still ringing in my ears, I mused upon how little is to be gained by putting one’s trust in God by doing good. Even the heartfelt thanks of the old woman, for her daughter was recovering, failed to assuage my sorrowful heart. The next morning I picked up the paper with forebodings of disaster. Here would be printed, for all the world to see, our total defeat, and, perhaps also, the reason for it. To my sur- prise and bewilderment, I read in glaring headlines of the United States Government’s great coup; how, acting under the provisions of the anti-trust law, they had nipped in the bud a gigantic corner in copper, and, finally, how the leaders of the great combine were already in jail. Gradually it dawned upon me that I had saved not only money but honor