Deep Furrows Part 7

"He did, Ben, an' I'll tell you why. This thing'll probably go bust; but I put a hundred into it. Supposin' I put a hundred in a horse an'

he dies on me. Same thing, ain't it? I got to have horses to do farmin' an' I just go an' buy another one. I figure it's worth takin'

a hundred-dollar chance on this thing to try her out."

Up in the northern part of Manitoba was one man who was meeting with pretty fair success. His name was Kennedy and his friends who knew him best called him "Honest John." His plan was simple--to start talking, talk for awhile, then keep right on talking.

"For G.o.d's sake, Kennedy, if $2.50 will stop you talking, here it is!

We're sleepy!"

Then he would stop talking.

One by one the original canva.s.sers dropped out of the field till almost the only one left besides E. A. Partridge was this hard-talking enthusiast up in the Swan River country who wound himself up for the night and tired them out--but got the money!

[1] See Appendix--Par. 4.

[2] See Appendix--Par. 5.

[3] See Appendix--Par. 6.

CHAPTER VII

A FIGHT FOR LIFE!

My dear little Demus! you'll find it is true, He behaves like a wretch and a villain to you . . .

--Aristophanes.

It was characteristic of John Kennedy to keep everlastingly at it. He was used to hard things to do. In this life some men seem to get rather more than their share of tacks in the boots and crumbs in bed!

But every time Fate knocked him down he just picked himself up again.

Always he got up and went at it once more--patiently, conscientiously, smiling. Even Fate cannot beat a man like that and John Kennedy was a hard fighter in a quiet way who did not know how to quit.

With four younger brothers and an equal number of younger sisters to crowd up to the home table down there on the farm near Beaverton, Ontario County, Ontario, it was advisable for the eldest son to work out as a farm boy. He was thirteen years old when he first hired out to a farmer for the summer and he was to receive twenty-four dollars for the season. But the farmer had a hard time that year and at the end of the summer--

"John," said the poor fellow with ill-concealed embarra.s.sment, "I--I'm afraid I can't pay you that money. But you know that big flock of sheep down in the back pasture? Well, tell you what we'll do. Over at Beaverton I've got an uncle who's a tailor. I can give you a suit of full cloth of homespun and call it square," and though the boy wanted the money for fifty things he had to take the homespun suit.

Three or four hobble-de-hoy years of it on the farms of the neighborhood and young Kennedy literally took to the woods and drove the rivers in Muskoka and Michigan as a lumberjack till he was a chunk of whalebone in a red flannel s.h.i.+rt and corked boots and could pull the whiskers out of a wild-cat! With varying success he fought the battle of life and learned that many things glitter besides gold and that the four-leafed clover in this life after all is a square deal between men.

The appeal of E. A. Partridge at the convention of the Manitoba Grain Growers in 1906 therefore found John Kennedy feeling responsive. He knew the unjust position in which the farmers were placed; for he was a farmer himself--up in the Swan River Valley--and he was a delegate from the Swan River Grain Growers' a.s.sociation. The idea of forming a farmers' commission company for handling the farmers' grain sounded like a very satisfactory solution of a very unsatisfactory state of affairs and he threw himself whole-heartedly into the campaign to sell enough stock to obtain a charter.

Up in the newer part of the country, which was his own particular territory, he found the farmers ready enough to listen; for they had suffered up there from the evils at which the new movement was aiming.

He found also that the most interested members of his audiences were men who could least afford to lose any money.

An effort was made to discredit the whole proposition as a political move of the Conservative Party. Throughout the Swan River district, the Dauphin district and all the way down to Neepawa the rumor spread ahead of the meetings; so that the speakers were asked many pertinent and impertinent questions, J. W. Robson, a Swan River farmer who was at that time a Conservative Member of the Manitoba Legislature, was giving his services free as a speaker on behalf of the proposed company; John Kennedy was known to be a political supporter of J. W. Robson. One and one make two; two and two sometimes make a fairly large-sized political rumor. But Mr. Robson was a ready and convincing speaker who was known to be a farmer first and last and Mr. Kennedy attributes the practical results obtained as due largely to Mr. Robson's logic and sincerity.

Along in June Kennedy received a telegram from Winnipeg that startled him. It contained the first intimation that difficulties were arising at Ottawa to prevent the proposed farmers' company from getting their charter. Taking the first train, he found on his arrival at Winnipeg that Francis Graham and W. A. Robinson, the two committeemen who met him, had not yet notified E. A. Partridge. A wire was despatched at once to Sintaluta and the Chairman joined them by first train. For two days the Board wrestled with this unexpected difficulty which threatened to annihilate the company before it got started.

The application of the Organization Committee for a charter was refused on the ground that the shares of a company with a capital of $250,000 could not be less than $100 each. Their solicitor tried in vain to induce the Department to change its views, all canva.s.sing to sell stock being discontinued by the Committee in the meantime.

"Well, let 'em keep their charter if they want to," said Kennedy finally. "This discussion's not getting us anywhere and if we can't get a Dominion charter, why we can't get it."

"Guess you're right, John. We might as well quit and go on home."

"Who said anything about quitting?" Kennedy brought down his big fist on the table with a thump. "We'll get a Manitoba charter. That's what I mean."

The others shook their heads. A Provincial charter would be useless for what they were proposing to do, they contended. Kennedy disagreed so emphatically that he refused to stop arguing about it till at last he and John Spencer were delegated to see the Manitoba authorities. In the course of a few days the arrangements for a Provincial charter were complete, and the Committee turned its attention to selling enough stock to be ready for business by the middle of the following month.

By this time the harvest season was so near at hand that prompt action was necessary if they were to do any business that fall. Under the Manitoba charter the company could open for business with a provisional directorate and as five members of the original committee were in Winnipeg and available for quick action, it was decided to go ahead as it would be impossible to hold a representative general meeting of the shareholders before harvest and it was advisable in the interests of the subscribers to take advantage of the opportunity to do business in the meantime.

Provisional organization therefore was undertaken during the week of the Winnipeg Industrial Exhibition, in a tent on the Fair grounds, and July 26th was set as the date. When s.p.a.ce was sought for the erection of their sixteen-foot tent, however, they found themselves cla.s.sed with the "Sunflower Belles" and "Katzenjammer Castle" and it was only after the payment of fifty dollars that permission was granted for the erection of the tent. Here to the accompaniment of a raucous medley of sounds--the beating of tom-toms, the ballyhooing of the sideshows, the racket of the machinery exhibits and the cries of the peanut and lemonade vendors--the farmers' trading company was organized with provisional officers[1] and directorate in legal shape to start the wheels in motion as a joint stock company.

But before actual business could begin a manager must be located who knew all the ins and outs and ups and downs of the grain business; also a seat upon the Winnipeg Grain Exchange must be purchased before the farmers could enter the arena as dealers in grain. None of the officers of the young company which was about to try its wings overlooked the fact that nothing could be more foolhardy than for farmers like themselves, direct from the green pastures, to attempt the plunge they were about to take without proper guidance as to the depth of the water and the set of the currents. They knew they were embarking in a most intricate and difficult business and with so much at stake on behalf of the whole farming population of Western Canada it was necessary to place the helm in the hands of somebody who could pilot them through the shoals. At best it promised to be a stormy pa.s.sage.

About the only man in sight for the position was Thomas Coulter, of the Independent Grain Company. He had treated E. A. Partridge with more consideration as the "Farmers' Representative" than most of the other grain men and there was a possibility that he might be persuaded to take the offer seriously. But on approaching him, Mr. Coulter did not become excited over the prospect of managing a farmers' company in the grain business; even he was not inclined to take too seriously the effort of the farmers to do their own trading. How long would the farmers stand behind the company in the face of the compet.i.tion that would be brought to bear? That was the question that bulged right out in front; for, as everybody knew, farmers never had been able to hang together very long when it came down to a matter of dollars and cents in their individual pockets. Finally, however, he agreed that there might be a fighting chance and accepted the management.

So far so good. But what about the seat on the Grain Exchange? The price of it was $2,500. One thousand shares of the company's stock had been disposed of with ten per cent. paid up and from the $2,500 thus realized the expenses of organization had to be met, the charter paid for, the legal fee and expenses at Ottawa in connection with the effort to secure a Dominion charter, office rent, printing bills and what not.

"Which leaves us about $1,000 to buy a $2,500 seat and finance our first business operations," said John Spencer with the look of a worried Secretary-Treasurer.

"We'll have to issue a twenty per cent. call on subscribed stock,"

admitted the President reluctantly. "In the meantime I'll have to see if some of the boys out at Sintaluta will go security for the fifteen hundred. Thank heaven, these fellows down here think we're a hilarious joke! The only chance we've got to get through the fence with this thing is for them to keep right on laughing at us till we get our toes in the sand!"

He wrote to Sintaluta, explaining the situation, and five of E. A.

Partridge's friends[2] at once responded by going to the bank with their personal notes for the amount needed.

"With support like that we're going to win, boys," cried the President proudly when the bank notified them that the money was available.

Financial arrangements were established with the Bank of British North America and when a room had been rented on the top floor of the old Tribune building and circulars sent broadcast among the farmers, soliciting grain, the wheels began to turn.

The little office was opened for business on September 5th (1906). It was so small that even two or three people got in each other's way, though all they were doing was to watch the mails anxiously for the first indications as to whether the farmers would stand behind the big idea that was now put to the test. Then came the bill of lading for the first carload of grain consigned to the new company, followed quickly by the second, the third, fourth, fifth, sixth--two at a time, three, ten, fifteen per day! Every foot of s.p.a.ce in the little office was a busy spot and the lone typewriter clickety-clacked on the second-hand table with cheerful disregard of lunch hours. By the end of the month the weekly receipts had risen to one hundred cars of grain.

It became necessary to move to a larger office and accommodation was obtained in the Henderson Block. At the present rate, a whole floor would be needed soon.

Over at the Grain Exchange some men were talking seriously. They were talking about E. A. Partridge and they were not laughing. The Secretary of the Exchange was instructed to write a letter.

Partridge hit the desk so hard that the paper-knife with which he had sliced open that letter hopped to the floor.

"They're after us already!" he exploded.

It looked that way. The Company's seat on the Grain Exchange was held in the name of the President and the letter summoned him to appear before the Council of the Exchange to answer to a charge of having sinned against the honor and "diginity" of that inst.i.tution and of violating its rules. A short time before the young company had issued a circular setting forth their intention of dividing co-operatively whatever profits were earned; in other words, the man sending the larger amount of grain would receive the larger profits. This, the Exchange claimed, was a violation of the strict rules of the Grain Exchange and would have to be abandoned.

"You are virtually splitting the commission with the s.h.i.+pper," claimed the Exchange, "and we can't allow that for a minute."

"It's up to you to prove I'm guilty, not up to me to come here and commit myself," argued Partridge. "If you can find any profits that have been distributed co-operatively by the Grain Growers' Grain Company, go ahead. Nor have I sinned against your 'diginity'!" he added, sarcastically taking advantage of the stenographer's error in spelling. "For that matter, you've been digging into me ever since I came on here!"