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Unsung
By WILLIAM WAUBIN

[[image: drawing of man carrying a ladder, looking up at street light]]

A True Story of a Peace Time Hero, Who Like Many Others, Passed Unheralded

How far a little candle throws its beam!
So shines a good DEED in a naughty world
—Merchant of Venice.

JOE BALLARD was just a lineman—a black lineman, it is true—but a lineman, nevertheless. In fact, he was the only lineman of his race that the C. P. C. had ever employed. But what of that? Of course, they could never put him on the line with the other men. They would object. Night duty was the best for him.

Just how long Joe had been going around inspecting the arc lights which illuminated the streets of his native Charleston, he himself could not tell. He guessed that it was about fifteen years, but he was not sure. As long as he did his work well that was all that Joe cared aout. His one principle in life could have been summed up in one sentence.

"I want to be always faithful to my company," was the way that Joe had put it.

Yes, they used the Arc Lights in those days . . . that kind with two sticks of carbon whose attraction for each other when electrified gave off that peculiar whitish glow used for street lighting. But those lights which were so useful when lighted was a menace when they went out, for then one imagined the spot ten times darker, because he was accustomed to its being lighted by the brilliance of the lamp's cheerful glow. Joe kept the lights in working order. He made his nightly rounds of inspection to see that nothing was wrong with them.

JOE was past fifty. One could hardly tell from his active stride that he was getting feeble. There was a cheerfulness that beamed from his countenance that seemed to reflect a brightness of soul that was of greter magnitude than his lamps. "Let your light shine," was the motto of his work and of his life. Each night, whether clear or stormy, in rain or cold, he left his home to make his rounds of inspection. One night Joe left his home. Equipped with a small board which was just large enough for him to stand on and to which was attached four rubber tipped legs, and with a canvas bag in which he kept his tools, he sallied forth as a knight of the city's safety. No one whose
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for May, 1931 19

GRADUATION—"This One Thing I Do"

[A Confidential Talk to the Young Folk]
By Nahum Daniel Brascher

GRADUATION, a step, a grade, up the stairway of SUCCESS.

Commencement is Beginning. School door "Finis" is World door "Entrance." Like a saloon I recall seeing once on the edge of town in Columbus, Ohio; before crossing the Scioto river; entering town it was "First Chance"; leaving town it was "Last Chance." So with Graduation, before crossing the river of earthly Life, it may be your first or last chance.

Many years ago, Spanish-American war year, 1898, if you pardon, I had my first "graduation," high school in dear old Connersville, Indiana. LIke little Jack Horner: "See what a big boy am I!" Gosh and Gash! We had "graduation essays" which we wrote and delivered in public. My subject? Please laugh with me: "The Demands of Civilization." I surely told a waiting world in no uncertain tones. And how!

We had a "Class Motto," in Latin, English was so commonplace, don't-you-know: "Hoc Unum Negotium Facto," "THIS ONE THING I DO." That was, and is a good motto, accepted from good old Saint Paul. He knew a few things, too. The subject of our baccalaureate sermon was "Oneness of Purpose," delivered by Dr. Virgil Tevis, eloquent scholar and Methodist. He really got us told, smashing our conceit in the nose, but earnestly pointing to the doorway of OPPORTUNITY.

Graduation season is here again. Between 1898 and 1931 I have had my eyes opened by the onrush of the Stern Realities in Life. We "Live to learn." I yet am striving to "Learn to Live." The keynote, the keystone, is SERVICE.

The opportunity for service in America, and the world, is unlimited. These things are necessary: Vision, Initiative, Efficiency and Oneness of Purpose.
Scatterbrain activities and scatterbrain ideas get nowhere. Remember: "Jack of all trades and good at none?" You have seen the type.

Graduation, to me, is always beautiful, inspiring and pathetic. What are you going to do? Where are you going? I have asked those questions of hundreds of graduates, boys, girls, young men and young women, North, South, East and West. Many of the answers have been inspiring, others disheartening. All too often, even college graduates have no real objective, goal. They expect things to HAPPEN, for the best.

THAT DOES NOT GET IT! Looking back across the years and beholding the silent moving picture of the hundreds and hundreds of men and women now filling positions of influence and affluence, many of whom I have known from childhood, all of them cornered a definite aim and stuck, clung, squeezed to it. They are what they are because they had oneness of purpose—made themselves efficient, worth while, in a single objective. We are, indeed, in the age of specialization.

"Book learning" without common sense usually produces a fine specimen of Fool. You have seen the type. He seldom, if ever, finds his niche. He can tell you everything about the stars, but is lost in dealing with the human touch. He can sneer noisily at ignorance, but is ignorant of the power of LOVE.

GENIUS IS CONCENTRATION OF EFFORT. No more; no less. Concentration is singleness of purpose. Singleness of purpose—with perseverance—always brings results: SUCCESS.

The University of Adversity, and the University of Experience, after all, are the world's greatest training schools.

Diplomas that beget isolation and isolation that begets a superiority complex, creates only a Worm that rots the tree of Human Service.

Seclusion gives Power to Concentration but it must be fed with the sunlight of Human Contact, Observation and Travel.

The world is sorely in need of a new crop of Geniuses, and there is no better year than 1931 to produce them—men and women who will be a definite and satisfying part of the world's everyday work.

There is needed a CRUSADE of non-hypocritical human service, void of the poison of selfish ambition, and the cant of human hate.

America, and the world, will be "born again," and prosperity will light the way like Christmas candles, when HUMAN SERVICE is a truism and patriotism is measured by unvarnished duty.

We must be "each for all, and all for each."

Resolved: "THIS ONE THING I DO, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize."

Good old Saint Paul said just that. He was, indeed, a keen minded man, who knew what it's all about.

Whatever your hopes or desires, if you have singleness of purpose, nine chances out of ten you will gain the prize of SUCCESS. The tenth, the failure, is needed to prove the rule.

Graduates, Quituates, Officiates, and Sophisticates,—all of us, let's find the way, or make it.

[[image - drawing of a lit candle and two feather quills]]