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The Messenger |
From the Public
Domain by Elbert G. Hubbard, 1899.
Apologia:
Horse Sense
If you work for a
man, in Heaven's name work for him. If he pays wages that supply you your bread
and butter, work for him, speak well of him, think well of him, and stand by
him, and stand by the institution he represents. I think if I worked for a man,
I would work for him. I would not work for him a part of
his
time, but all of his time. I would give an undivided service or none.
If
put to the pinch, an ounce of loyalty is worth a pound of cleverness. If you
must vilify, condemn, and eternally disparage, why, resign your position, and
when you are outside, damn to your heart's content.
But,
I pray you, so long as you are a part of an institution, do not condemn it. Not
that you will injure the institution—not that—but when you disparage the
concern of which you are a
part,
you disparage yourself. And don't forget—“I forgot” won't do in business.
Capital
'T' in 'This' his literary trifle, “A Message to Garcia,” was written one evening
after supper, in a single hour. It was on the Twenty-second of February,
Eighteen Hundred Ninety-nine, Washington's Birthday, and we were just going to
press with the March “Philistine.”
The
thing leaped hot from my heart, written after a trying day, when I had been
endeavoring to train some rather delinquent villagers to abjure the comatose
state and get radio-active.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Elbert Green Hubbard (1856-1915) was an American writer, publisher, artist, founder of the Roycroft Movement in the Arts & Crafts architectural vernacular and philosopher.
The
immediate suggestion, though, came from a little argument over the teacups,
when my boy Bert suggested that Rowan was the real hero of the Cuban War. Rowan
had gone alone and done the thing—carried the message to Garcia.
It
came to me like a flash! Yes, the boy is right, the hero is the man who does his
work—who carries the message to Garcia. I got up from the table, and wrote “A
Message to Garcia.” I thought so little of it that we ran it in the Magazine
without a heading. The edition went out, and soon orders began to come
for extra copies of the March “Philistine,” a dozen, fifty, a hundred; and when
the American News Company ordered a thousand, I asked one of my staff which
article it was that had stirred up the cosmic dust.
“It's
the stuff about Garcia,” he said.
The
next day a telegram came from George H. Daniels, of the New York Central
Railroad, thus: “Give price on one hundred thousand Rowan article in pamphlet
form—Empire State Express advertisement on back—also how soon
can
ship.”
I
replied giving price, and stated we could supply the pamphlets in two years.
Our
facilities were small and a hundred thousand booklets looked like an awful
undertaking.
The
result was that I gave Mr. Daniels permission to reprint the article in his own
way. He issued it in booklet form in editions of half a million. Two or three
of these half-million lots were sent out by Mr. Daniels, and in addition the
article was reprinted in over two hundred magazines and newspapers. It has been
translated into all written languages.
At
the time Mr. Daniels was distributing the “Message to Garcia,” Prince Hilakoff,
Director of Russian Railways, was in this country. He was the guest of the New
York Central, and made a tour of the country under the personal direction of
Mr. Daniels. The Prince saw the little book and was interested in
it,
more because Mr. Daniels was putting it out in such big numbers, probably, than
otherwise.
In
any event, when he got home he had the matter translated into Russian, and a
copy of the booklet given to every railroad employee in Russia.
Other
countries then took it up, and from Russia it passed into Germany, France,
Spain, Turkey, Hindustan and China. During the war between Russia and Japan,
every Russian soldier who went to the front was given a copy of the “Message to
Garcia.”
The
Japanese, finding the booklets in possession of the Russian prisoners, concluded
that it must be a good thing, and accordingly translated it into Japanese.
And
on an order of the Mikado, a copy was given to every man in the employ of the
Japanese Government, soldier or civilian. Over forty million copies of “A
Message to Garcia” have been printed.
This
is said to be a larger circulation than any other literary venture has ever attained
during the lifetime of the author, in all history—thanks to a series of lucky
accidents!
— E.H.
A Message To Garcia
As the cold of snow in the time of harvest, so is a
faithful messenger to them that send him: for he refresheth the soul of his
masters. — Proverbs xxv: 13
Capital 'In all this
Cuban business there is one man stands out on the horizon of my memory like
Mars at perihelion.
When
war broke out between Spain and the United States, it was very necessary to
communicate quickly with the leader of the Insurgents.
 |
Cuban General Calixto Garcia |
Gen. Calixto Garcia
was somewhere in the mountain fastnesses of Cuba—no one knew where. No mail or
telegraph message could reach him.
The
President must secure his cooperation, and quickly. What to do!
Some
one said to the President, “There is a fellow by the name of Rowan will find
Garcia for you, if anybody can.”
Rowan
was sent for and was given a letter to be delivered to Garcia. How “the fellow
by the name of Rowan” took the letter, sealed it up in an oilskin pouch,
strapped it over his heart, in four days landed by night off the coast of Cuba
from an open boat, disappeared into the jungle, and in three weeks
came
out on the other side of the Island, having traversed a hostile country on
foot, and delivered his letter to Garcia—are things I have no special desire now
to tell in detail.
The
point that I wish to make is this: McKinley gave
Rowan
a letter to be delivered to Garcia; Rowan took the letter and did not ask,
“Where is he at?”
By
the Eternal! there is a man whose form should be cast in deathless bronze and
the statue placed in every college of the land. It is not book-learning young
men need, nor instruction about this and that, but a stiffening of the
vertebrae which will cause them to be loyal to a trust, to act promptly,
concentrate their energies: do the thing—“Carry a message to Garcia.”
General
Garcia is dead now, but there are other Garcias.
No
man who has endeavored to carry out an enterprise where many handswere needed,
but has been well-nigh appalled at times by the imbecility of the average
man—the inability or unwillingness to concentrate on a thing and do it.
Slipshod
assistance, foolish inattention, dowdy indifference, and half-hearted work seem
the rule; and no man succeeds, unless by hook or crook or threat he forces or
bribes other men to assist him; or mayhap, God in His goodness performs a
miracle, and sends him an Angel of Light for an assistant.
You,
reader, put this matter to a test: You are sitting now in your office—six
clerks are within call. Summon any one and make this request: “Please look in
the encyclopedia and make a brief memorandum for me concerning the life of Correggio.”
Will
the clerk quietly say, “Yes, sir,” and go do the task?
On
your life he will not. He will look at you out of a fishy eye and ask one or more
of the following questions:
--Who was he?
--Which encyclopedia?
--Where is the encyclopedia?
--Was I hired for that?
--Don't you mean Bismarck?
--What's the matter with Charlie doing
it?
--Is he dead?
--Is there any hurry?
--Shall I bring you the book and let
you look it up yourself?
--What do you want to know for?
And
I will lay you ten to one that after you have answered the questions, and explained
how to find the information, and why you want it, the clerk will go off and get
one of the other clerks to help him try to find Garcia—and then come back and
tell you there is no such man.
Of
course I may lose my bet, but according to the Law of Average I will not.
Now,
if you are wise, you will not bother to explain to your “assistant” that Correggio
is indexed under the C's, not in the K's, but you will smile verysweetly and say,
“Never mind,” and go look it up yourself.
And
this incapacity for independent action, this moral stupidity, this infirmity of
the will, this unwillingness to cheerfully catch hold and lift—these are the things
that put pure Socialism so far into the future. If men will not act for themselves,
what will they do when the benefit of their effort is for all?
 |
U.S. Army Lt. Andrew Summers Rowan |
A
first mate with knotted club seems necessary; and the dread of getting “the bounce”
Saturday night holds many a worker to his place.
Advertise
for a stenographer, and nine out of ten who apply can neither spell nor
punctuate—and do not think it necessary to.
Can
such a one write a letter to Garcia?
“You see that bookkeeper,” said a foreman to
me in a large factory.
“Yes;
what about him?”
“Well,
he's a fine accountant, but if I'd send him up-town on an errand, he might
accomplish the errand all right, and on the other hand, might stop at four
saloons on the way, and when he got to Main Street would forget what he had
been sent for.”
Can
such a man be entrusted to carry a message to Garcia?
We
have recently been hearing much maudlin sympathy expressed for the “downtrodden
denizens of the sweat-shop” and the “homeless wanderer searching for honest
employment,” and with it all often go many hard words for the men in power.
Nothing
is said about the employer who grows old before his time in a vain attempt to
get frowsy ne'er-do-wells to do intelligent work; and his long, patient
striving with “help” that does nothing but loaf when his back is turned. In
every store and factory there is a constant weeding-out process going on.
The
employer is continually sending away “help” that have shown their incapacity to
further the interests of the business, and others are being taken on.
No
matter how good times are, this sorting continues: only if times are hard and
work is scarce, the sorting is done finer—but out and forever out the incompetent
and unworthy go. It is the survival of the fittest.
Self-interest
prompts every employer to keep the best—those who can carry a message to Garcia.
I
know one man of really brilliant parts who has not the ability to manage a business
of his own, and yet who is absolutely worthless to any one else, because he
carries with him constantly the insane suspicion that his employer is
oppressing, or intending to oppress, him. He can not give orders; and he will
not receive them.
Should
a message be given him to take to Garcia, his answer would probably be, “Take
it yourself!”
Tonight
this man walks the streets looking for work, the wind whistling through his
threadbare coat. No one who knows him dare employ him, for he is a regular
firebrand of discontent. He is impervious to reason, and the only thing that
can impress him is the toe of a thick-soled Number Nine boot.
Of
course I know that one so morally deformed is no less to be pitied than a physical
cripple; but in our pitying let us drop a tear, too, for the men who are
striving to carry on a great enterprise, whose working hours are not limited by
the whistle, and whose hair is fast turning white through the struggle to hold
in line dowdy indifference, slipshod imbecility, and the heartless
ingratitude which, but for their enterprise, would be both hungry and homeless.
Have
I put the matter too strongly? Possibly I have; but when all the world has gone
a-slumming I wish to speak a word of sympathy for the man who succeeds—the man
who, against great odds, has directed the efforts of others, and having
succeeded, finds there's nothing in it: nothing but bare board
and clothes. I have carried a dinner-pail and worked for day's wages, and I
have also been an employer of labor, and I know there is something to be said
on both sides.
There
is no excellence, per se, in poverty; rags are no
recommendation;
and all employers are not rapacious and high-handed, any more than all poor men
are virtuous.
My
heart goes out to the man who does his work when the “boss” is away, as well as
when he is at home. And the man who, when given a letter for Garcia, quietly
takes the missive, without asking any idiotic questions, and with no lurking
intention of chucking it into the nearest sewer, or of doing aught else but
deliver it, never gets “laid off,” nor has to go on a strike for higher wages.
Civilization
is one long, anxious search for just such individuals.
Anything
such a man asks shall be granted. His kind is so rare that no employer can
afford to let him go. He is wanted in every city, town and village—in every
office, shop, store and factory.
The
world cries out for such: he is needed, and needed badly—the man who can carry:
A Message To Garcia.
Afterword:
To
act in absolute freedom and at the same time know
that responsibility is the price of freedom is salvation.