The Co-opolitan: A Story of the Co-operative Commonwealth of Idaho — Background and Themes

CHAPTER I. THE YEAR 1897.

During the entire existence of the great American republic no year seemed more hopeless to the masses of its people than the year 1897.

It is true that the dark hours of conflict, when separation from Great Britain was sought at the cannon’s mouth, and later, when civil strife nearly rent the nation in twain, seemed, to superficial observers, to be more fraught with danger.

But the problems of those times could be and were readily understood. Success to the arms of the patriots, in the one case, and the Unionists in the other, was a simple solution, although distressing in its pursuit and difficult of achievement.

But this year was one which was the culmination of many years of singular abundance, blessed by nature in almost every conceivable way, and yet by a strange contradiction of circumstances full of sorrow, distress, hunger and poverty.

The wealth of this, the richest country in the world, was made valueless by reason of the belief on the part of its people that it must borrow the right to use that wealth from other nations. The supplies of food, clothing and materials of all kinds were vast, and yet the inhabitants for some cause were not able to obtain them, although their needs were great. There were now a few rich and many—very many—extremely poor.

It was this strange, contradictory, confusing and incomprehensible condition which made men hopeless. Where to look for help, what to do, the cause, the consequence, the evil and the remedy, were all subjects of agitation and deep concern. Everybody except those few who were satisfied with any condition which did not disturb their own happiness, had views on these subjects and had conceived of some remedy. And the multiplicity of these views and the innumerable varieties of remedies proposed, seemed to aggravate the general despair and produce an increasing paralysis of action.

It was in January of that dismal year that I found myself in the great city of Chicago. I, too, had been affected by the universal depreciation of property, so that a fortune of fifty thousand dollars, which I had inherited from my parents, was now dubiously estimated to have dwindled to something like ten thousand dollars. I knew it was not my fault.

Bank stocks, railroad stocks and mining stocks, represented the bulk of my poor, deceased father’s savings and investments.

Much of this could not attract buyers at any price. Some could not be given away. The rest was convertible into gold at a few cents on the dollar.

But I was too young, being only twenty-five years of age, to become despondent over the loss of money, and I had traveled so extensively about my own country and seen its countless opportunities that I felt a certain elation in the prospect of building up a fortune of my own.

So that, although a stranger in Chicago, with no friends nearer than Massachusetts, and without the smallest idea of a plan for the future, I yet had a firm belief in God, man, my country and myself.

I did not even doubt the system which had robbed me of my fortune, and was inclined to look upon all who denounced it as hostile to the best interests of mankind.

My education was, in a large measure, responsible for this. Born in Salem, Massachusetts, one of the oldest, sleepiest and most conservative of American cities, educated in her schools and in one of the staid old colleges, for which New England was justly famous, how could I have imbibed anything but ancient, sleepy and conservative theories of political economy, and fine, staid and somewhat musty notions of the end and purpose of man?

It is true that my extensive travels had broadened me somewhat mentally. They had taught me the value of individual men and had rather obliterated sectional pride, which I was willing to confess was the besetting sin of the average New Englander; they had made me acquainted with manners and customs and had produced in me a capability of adjusting myself to delicate situations.

But this sort of breadth, while excellent and serviceable, did not render me tolerant of ideas which were at variance with those commonly accepted. My distinguishing characteristic, on which I prided myself not a little, was an almost encyclopedic knowledge of the history and resources of my own country. I mention this particularly now, because I had occasion, later on, to turn my knowledge to a very useful purpose.