Worcester Polytechnic Institute - Peddler Yearbook (Worcester, MA)

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carts. If you are not too young, you may remember them. Wool- worth got his color scheme and merchandising plan from them. Only Woolworth goes one better: he makes you come to him—and pay cash. These old red carts with their jingling bells and jangling wares notified the housewife that the “paper-rags” she had been saving all winter might be traded for pots, pails, kettles and pans. Templeton was the port of en try for this fleet of John Boyn¬ ton’s for twenty-five years. Then he shifted again; again radically. He closed out his business, lived quietly for twenty years, making shrewd investments of his modest accumulations. John Boynton was a man of few words. He had been brought up in a hard school. The lines of his face were rather stern. He was plain of dress and manner. People thought him a little “queer”; called him miserly. If only they could have understood the purpose on which this silent man’s heart was set, they might have been more charitable. One day he came to Worcester to see David Whitcomb—his old time partner. Told him of his dream. Told him how he wished to devote $100,000—practically the entire accumulation of a life¬ time of industry and frugality— to helping the boys of Worcester County to gain educational advan¬ tages such as had b een beyond his own reach. Could Mr. Whitcomb think of any plan? The deacon could not —-but he thought he knew of a man who could—his minister, Dr. Sweetzer. Mr. Whitcomb asked permission to lay the problem be¬ fore him. And so the matter rested for a time. HILE John Boynton was farming it in New Hampshire, I c h a b o d Washburn was forging iron—and character— in Leicester, Massachu¬ setts. He was apprenticed to a blacksmith. Such things as the minimum wage and the eight-hour day had not appeared. If they had, he would have ignored them; such was his tireless energy. He paid his pew rent making pot hooks and fire irons; and ex¬ tra hours at the forge earned his tuition in Leicester Academy. Early New England hill-town life developed thirft, vigor, a re¬ spect for work, a deftness in man¬ ual skill, a competition with excellence, resourcefulness. Think over the geography of mechanical inventions of the na¬ tion during the period of which the Civil War was the closing epoch—and note from what sec¬ tion most of them came. When Ichabod Washburn came to Worcester the problem of mov¬ ing his worldly goods was simple. He didn’t require a moving van. He walked—all his worldly poses- sions being done up in a small bundle tucked under his arm. The first development of the factory system came in textile processes. As a corollary of that, there sprang up industries to make textile machinery. Ichabod Washburn evolved from the blacksmith to a manu- Page eleven

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UCK plays a minor role in Life for most things do not just happen. Some one dreams a dream. Out of the dream comes a plan. And out of the plan, the. way is found. John Boynton was a tin peddler. One would not expect a tin peddler, brought up in stern New England, to dream dreams. No one suspected it of him. He did not look like a dreamer. He did not act like one. But out of his peddler’s cart— and his dreams — there was evolved a plan of education so unique that it was almost two gen¬ erations ahead of its time. John Boynton was a farmer’s boy. He was born in New Hamp¬ shire; lived for thirty years on the farm where he was born. Then he made a shift of jobs— and a most radical shift it was. He came to Templeton, one of the old hill towns in central Mass¬ achusetts, and set up making tin¬ ware. New England being largely rural, the problem of “distribu¬ tion” was in his case one of ped¬ dling. He was manufacturer, jobber and retailer,—-no middle¬ men! And tin ware was cheap—- and good. His business was one of barter, and he who barters is likely to become observant of his fellows. Also, the nature of his business, slow jogging from town to town, left him much time for analyzing his clients—and what was to bet¬ ter purpose, analyzing himself. He realized that his three “R” schooling—and mighty little of that—had balked his ambition. But his business grew. Most bus¬ inesses do, if they are attended to. John Boynton left the road and with his partner became admiral of a fleet of old red peddler’s Page ten

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facturer of card wire. And from this humble start grew the great¬ est industry Worcester has ever had. In theoretical knowledge—book lamin’, as it was sometimes called —he was a better educated man than John Boynton. But in his attempts to improve his product and his machinery, he too, notwithstanding constant study, found himself hampered. He discovered that he lacked fun¬ damental knowledge in Mechanics and Chemistry. And so—though he gave liber¬ ally to every worthy charity—as his fortune grew, he too dreamed a dream—and formed a plan. The blacksmith’s plan was—as you might expect—practical. It concerned itself with the founding of a school in which apprentices —while still learning their trades —might also learn the principles of applied science. It is the mark of a well-rounded man of mature years—when ven¬ turing into a new field—a field entirely foreign to his experiences —to seek advice. Ichabod Washburn knew what he wanted to do. He wasn t sure he knew just how. He, too, sought the advice of the Reverend Doctor Sweetzer. And so here were two men— Mr. Whitcomb, on behalf of his friend John Boynton, and Ichabod Washburn—asking Doctor Sweet- zer’s advice on practically the same subject. HE mission of the min¬ ister is that of interpre¬ ter. He interprets ab¬ stract truth in terms of present concrete prob¬ lems. For forty years, the R e v e r e n d Seth Sweetser, D.D., was the minister—the parish priest—of his flock, al¬ most of the entire community. His sound scholarship, his broad outlook, the breadth of his sympathies, the radiance of his character made his opinion much sought—and respected. All sorts of men came to him with their varied perplexities. Back in the fifties, some young fellows sought his advice as to how they could enter the profes¬ sion of civil engineering without taking a regular college course. A little later came Ichabod Wash¬ burn, with his scheme for a school of industrial science. These two so different inter¬ views focussed his mind on the solution of this entirely new thought in education. As was his habit, be proceeded to think it out. Years passed—years of in¬ dustrial depression and of Civil War. Still the parson pondered on that idea. Its very novelty gripped him. During all those years he thought it out and to clarify his own mind, he wrote it out. Then came David Whitcomb to broach an unnamed donor’s wish to make $100,000 serve the boys of Worcester County. The par¬ son’s vision of earlier years, be¬ came the “Worcester Idea.” After taking counsel with one or two other men, he drafted the pro¬ gram for the new institution. With hardly any modifications, John Boynton adopted that plan, as it stands in his letter of gift. Mr. Washburn naturally felt that Worcester’s acceptance of Page tivelve