Little Journeys to the Homes of Great Businessmen | Page 2

dare not harm. The butcher was a pariah, a sort of unofficial,
industrial hangman.
At the same time he was more or less of a genius, for he climbed
steeples, dug wells, and did all kinds of disagreeable jobs that needed to
be done, and from which sober and cautious men shrank like unwashed
wool.
One such man--a German, too--lives in East Aurora. I joined him,
accidentally, in walking along a country road the other day. He carried
a big basket on his arm, and was peacefully smoking a big Dutch pipe.
We talked of music and he was regretting the decline of a taste for
Bach, when he shifted the basket to the other arm.
``What have you in the basket?'' I asked.
And here is the answer, ``Noddings--but dynamite. I vas going up on
der hill, already, to blow me oud some stumps oud.'' And I suddenly
bethought me of an engagement I had at the village.

John Jacob Astor was the youngest of four sons, and as many daughters.
The brothers ran away early in life, and went to sea or joined the army.
One of these boys came to America, and followed his father's trade of
butcher.
Jacob Astor, the happy father of John Jacob, used to take the boy with
him on his pig-killing expeditions. This for two reasons--one, so the lad
would learn a trade, and the other to make sure that the boy did not run
away.
Parents who hold their children by force have a very slender claim
upon them. The pastor of the local Lutheran Church took pity on this
boy, who had such disgust for his father's trade and hired him to work
in his garden and run errands.

The intelligence and alertness of the lad made him look like good
timber for a minister.
He learned to read and was duly confirmed as a member of the church.
Under the kindly care of the village parson John Jacob grew in mind
and body--his estate was to come later. When he was seventeen, his
father came and made a formal demand for his services. The young
man must take up his father's work of butchering.
That night John Jacob walked out of Waldorf by the wan light of the
moon, headed for Antwerp. He carried a big red handkerchief in which
his worldly goods were knotted, and in his heart he had the blessings of
the Lutheran clergyman, who walked with him for half a mile, and said
a prayer at parting.
To have youth, high hope, right intent, health and a big red
handkerchief is to be greatly blessed.
John Jacob got a job next day as oarsman on a lumber raft.
He reached Antwerp in a week. There he got a job on the docks as a
laborer. The next day he was promoted to checker- off. The captain of a
ship asked him to go to London and figure up the manifests on the way.
He went.
The captain of the ship recommended him to the company in London,
and the boy was soon piling up wealth at the rate of a guinea a month.
In September, Seventeen Hundred and Eighty-three, came the news to
London that George Washington had surrendered. In any event, peace
had been declared-- Cornwallis had forced the issue, so the Americans
had stopped fighting.
A little later it was given out that England had given up her American
Colonies, and they were free.
Intuitively John Jacob Astor felt that the ``New World'' was the place

for him. He bought passage on a sailing ship bound for Baltimore, at a
cost of five pounds. He then fastened five pounds in a belt around his
waist, and with the rest of his money--after sending two pounds home
to his father, with a letter of love--bought a dozen German flutes.
He had learned to play on this instrument with proficiency, and in
America he thought there would be an opening for musicians and
musical instruments.
John Jacob was then nearly twenty years of age.
The ship sailed in November, but did not reach Baltimore until the
middle of March, having to put back to sea on account of storms when
within sight of the Chesapeake. Then a month was spent later hunting
for the Chesapeake. There was plenty of time for flute-playing and
making of plans.
On board ship he met a German, twenty years older than himself, who
was a fur trader and had been home on a visit.
John Jacob played the flute and the German friend told stories of fur
trading among the Indians.
Young Astor's curiosity was excited. The Waldorf-Astoria plan of
flute-playing was forgotten. He fed on fur trading.
The habits of the animals, the value of their pelts, the curing