Page ten. Memoirs continues... 1907 to 1912 were starvation years with us, we struggled along on the few dollars I could make, trying to keep up courage and hoping for better times to come. Lucia was a wonderful manager. I turned every penny I made to her and she made the money go as far as it could. Often we were entirely without funds, and then we borrowed, first on the simple jewelry she had left (most of her better rings she had sold previously to this), and then on our household furniture which we had in storage, to pay the interest on our loans and our storage expenses. We began to sell our furniture piece by piece. Right at the lowest ebb in our fortunes, Lucia was taken critically ill and this necessitated her being rushed to a hospital for a serious operation. This doleful event put me in terrible straights. I had no money even to pay her hospital expenses, let alone the surgeon's bill, but it had to be done. And so as a last resort I tried to borrow funds on the balance of our furniture from a "loan shark," but he refused to make a loan on such poor security. Lucia was able to borrow a small sum of money from a family connection, but this was not sufficient to cover the expenses. Finally, I called on a man whom I knew slightly, having met him at a club where I occasionally played bridge. He was a man of considerable means and one of the most popular club men, and his popularity was well merited as he had a wonderful personality and a genial, happy smile for everybody. This man was Charles R. Pelgrim. He greeted me cordially, and when I stated my needs and asked him for a loan without any security he at once handed me a check which covered the amount I needed for Lucia, and which amount I repaid later on with interest. Afterwards he told me that I was about the only one to whom he had made loans who ever repaid him. A short while ago I called on his widow at Brielle, N.J., who told me of his death. Well, through the kindness of Charlie Pelgrim, I was able to pay the hospital expenses and part of the surgeon's bill. This was made easy for me to pay by an old friend, Dr. Walter A. Dunckel, who knew Dr. Gibson, the surgeon who operated on Lucia. It was some time before I finally paid in full, but in the end I did. Dr. Dunckel was a mighty good friend of ours during the years of trouble and illness that overtook us following the events I am about to record, but I'll dwell more fully upon his friendship later on in this recital. It does seem that Lucia and I were destined to go through nothing but trouble and adversity, because almost before we struggled out of one serious difficulty we found ourselves into a worse one, and this unfortunate fate never left us till the moment when she finally passed from this life. And if ever there lived a saint on Earth, she was one. Such patience and fortitude under the frightful punishment she endured with not only the pangs and pains of her disorder, but poverty and worry always harassing us. She never complained nor rebelled against her sad lot and hard luck, no not once till the day of her death, a sweet, brave woman and example of true Christian fortitude. But I am ahead of my story. After Lucia's return from the hospital, I again tried my best to find some way to make enough money to keep the wolf from our door, but bad luck still followed me. I seemed to go from bad to worse until I became almost desperate, and about decided I was under some curse and it was useless to struggle against it. During the entire hard luck period I had managed by hook and crook to keep up a life insurance of $10,000. The thought was continuously in my mind that if worse came to worse I could end it all and give poor Lucia my insurance, which would temporarily relieve her both of poverty and a useless husband who was only a millstone around her neck. She sensed what was in my mind and used to beg me not to think of it. For (said she), "hard luck could not last forever, it must end, and I know you have brains and ability, and you will find yourself in the end and be successful, so don't desert me. It would kill me, too, and so your sacrifice for me would only be in vain." It was only her absolute belief in me, her great love for me and mine for her, that I now feel sure prevented my ending it all. But when I think over the events which have taken place in my life since, I see how blind we are and how little we know what fate has in store for us. "God moves in mysterious ways his wonders to perform." I have previously mentioned my connection with the Bloomingdale Reformed Church and that during this period I was superintendent of the Sunday school. Well, one Sunday, I told the pastor of the church, Mr. Ketchum, he should take care of the collection which usually amounted to $10 or $12. He said, "That's your business," but I replied, "I can no longer trust myself with it as I am now entirely without funds, and I am afraid I'd use it, and cannot see if I do I can ever pay it back." When I told Mr. Ketchum this he was amazed and he said, "I had no idea you were so hard up, is there anything I can do?" I said, "If you mean loaning me money, it would not help me, and anyway, I could not accept any help from you." Mr. Ketchum then said, "Why not ask help from God? If you make it a subject of prayer I'm sure He will not only show you a way out of your present difficulties, but he will reveal himself to you, and unmistakably so." "But," I replied, "why should I ask God to help me? There are so many millions of people all over the world that need his help more than I do. I think it would (?) be presumptuous of me to ask him." Mr. Ketchum said, "You are all wrong. Let Him be the judge. It's only when Man makes a complete surrender and goes to God and puts himself entirely under His care and confesses his inability to get along without this aid, that God then takes charge of his life, and from that time will direct his steps. And afterwards you will be able to trace out clearly the marked out way." I shall never forget his words nor can I ever forget that memorable Sunday night in the winter of (Jan. 18?) 1912. A small bare room in the top floor of a cheap boarding house, Lucia, my dog Paddie, and I, sitting around an oil stove trying to keep warm. I decided to tell Lucia my conversation with Mr. Ketchum and asked her what she thought of it. She replied, "Well, what else is there for us to do? We are now at the end of everything. Mrs. Leeming, our landlady, will probably tell us either to pay up or get out, and we can't pay. And where can we go? We must do something. Let's try it." And so Lucia and I knelt down, and with our little dog as our only witness, we prayed God to help us, as we were in sore distress and knew not where to turn. We promised Him to devote our lives to any service or work He desired us to do. And while I prayed my dog licked my face, he too knew we were in trouble, and this was his way of showing sympathy. Whether or not you believe God answers prayers, I am convinced He does, and He certainly did in this instance. And I think you will admit that at least there was something uncanny and remarkable about the chain of events which began the very next morning after our appeal to Providence for help. Mrs. Leeming, our landlady, rented rooms and served meals to outsiders as well as her regular borders. Very frequently people living in the neighborhood came in for both breakfast and dinner. Among these were a young couple, who occasionally came in for dinner, by the name of Mr. and Mrs. Frank McNammara. Lucia became acquainted with Mrs. McNammara who was a very beautiful woman. She was vivacious and jolly but was unhappily married to a man totally unsuited to her. We liked Mrs. McNammara, but we both disliked her husband, as he was given to saying sarcastic things and also tried to impress you with his importance by openly bragging in the dining room about the big position he held in a large banking house in Wall Street. I personally had never spoken to him, nor he to me, as I instantly disliked him. The next morning, after our appeal to Providence to help, Lucia and I went down as usual to breakfast and we both thought it would be our last meal in the place as we expected Mrs. Leeming to ask us for our board bill which was then overdue several weeks. We found to our surprise McNammara breakfasting, a very unusual circumstance as he only dined there, never breakfasted. We both remarked on his presence and concluded that Mrs. McNammara had left him, and our conclusions were later on proven to be correct. Well now, here begins a most remarkable chain of events. McNammara finished breakfast and on the way out of the dining room he suddenly stopped at our table and said, "Good morning." We were both very much surprised as he had never before addressed us. We of course answered with a cordial "good morning." He then, addressing himself to me said, "Are you going downtown today?" I said "Yes" because it was the first thing that entered my head to say. I had no particular place to go and made no plans for that day, but I did not want to let him think I was unemployed. He said, "I'll wait and ride along with you." On the way to the subway station he said, "Have you anything particular to do?" I said, "No." He then said, "If you are looking for a position I think I can get you (?) one, and if you will call at my office at 11am today I'll arrange things for you." Well I was too much surprised to speak. The very first thing I thought of was, an answer to our prayers, and from the last place in the world I would have expected it to come from. Well he interviewed me in his office at the appointed time. He was manager of the bond department of H.B. Hollins & Co., at that time a large and important banking house with imposing offices on the corner of Wall and Broad Sts. Continued on page eleven...