Autobiography of Andrew Carnegie
his remains, or some similar service. I am indebted to these trifles
for some of the happiest attentions and the most pleasing incidents of
my life. And there is this about such actions: they are disinterested,
and the reward is sweet in proportion to the humbleness of the
individual whom you have obliged. It counts many times more to do a
kindness to a poor working-man than to a millionaire, who may be able
some day to repay the favor. How true Wordsworth's lines:
"That best portion of a good man's life--
His little, nameless, unremembered acts
Of kindness and of love."
The chief happening, judged by its consequences, of the two years I
spent with Mr. Scott at Altoona, arose from my being the principal
witness in a suit against the company, which was being tried at
Greensburg by the brilliant Major Stokes, my first host. It was feared
that I was about to be subpoenaed by the plaintiff, and the Major,
wishing a postponement of the case, asked Mr. Scott to send me out of
the State as rapidly as possible. This was a happy change for me, as I
was enabled to visit my two bosom companions, Miller and Wilson, then
in the railway service at Crestline, Ohio. On my way thither, while
sitting on the end seat of the rear car watching the line, a
farmer-looking man approached me. He carried a small green bag in his
hand. He said the brakeman had informed him I was connected with the
Pennsylvania Railroad. He wished to show me the model of a car which
he had invented for night traveling. He took a small model out of the
bag, which showed a section of a sleeping-car.
This was the celebrated T.T. Woodruff, the inventor of that now
indispensable adjunct of civilization--the sleeping-car. Its
importance flashed upon me. I asked him if he would come to Altoona if
I sent for him, and I promised to lay the matter before Mr. Scott at
once upon my return. I could not get that sleeping-car idea out of my
mind, and was most anxious to return to Altoona that I might press my
views upon Mr. Scott. When I did so, he thought I was taking time by
the forelock, but was quite receptive and said I might telegraph for
the patentee. He came and contracted to place two of his cars upon the
line as soon as they could be built. After this Mr. Woodruff, greatly
to my surprise, asked me if I would not join him in the new enterprise
and offered me an eighth interest in the venture.
I promptly accepted his offer, trusting to be able to make payments
somehow or other. The two cars were to be paid for by monthly
installments after delivery. When the time came for making the first
payment, my portion was two hundred and seventeen and a half dollars.
I boldly decided to apply to the local banker, Mr. Lloyd, for a loan
of that sum. I explained the matter to him, and I remember that he put
his great arm (he was six feet three or four) around me, saying:
"Why, of course I will lend it. You are all right, Andy."
And here I made my first note, and actually got a banker to take it. A
proud moment that in a young man's career! The sleeping-cars were a
great success and their monthly receipts paid the monthly
installments. The first considerable sum I made was from this source.
[To-day, July 19, 1909, as I re-read this, how glad I am that I have
recently heard from Mr. Lloyd's married daughter telling me of her
father's deep affection for me, thus making me very happy, indeed.]
One important change in our life at Altoona, after my mother and
brother arrived, was that, instead of continuing to live exclusively
by ourselves, it was considered necessary that we should have a
servant. It was with the greatest reluctance my mother could be
brought to admit a stranger into the family circle. She had been
everything and had done everything for her two boys. This was her
life, and she resented with all a strong woman's jealousy the
introduction of a stranger who was to be permitted to do anything
whatever in the home. She had cooked and served her boys, washed their
clothes and mended them, made their beds, cleaned their home. Who dare
rob her of those motherly privileges! But nevertheless we could not
escape the inevitable servant girl. One came, and others followed, and
with these came also the destruction of much of that genuine family
happiness which flows from exclusiveness. Being served by others is a
poor substitute for a mother's labor of love. The ostentatious meal
prepared by a strange cook whom one seldom sees, and served by hands
paid for the task, lacks the sweetness of that which a mother's hands
lay before you as the expression and proof of her devotion.
Among the manifold blessings I have to be thankful for is that neither
nurse nor governess was my companion in infancy. No wonder the
children of the poor are distinguished for the warmest affection and
the closest adherence to family ties and are characterized by a filial
regard far stronger than that of those who are mistakenly called more
fortunate in life. They have passed the impressionable years of
childhood and youth in constant loving contact with father and mother,
to each they are all in all, no third person coming between. The child
that has in his father a teacher, companion, and counselor, and whose
mother is to him a nurse, seamstress, governess, teacher, companion,
heroine, and saint all in one, has a heritage to which the child of
wealth remains a stranger.
There comes a time, although the fond mother cannot see it, when a
grown son has to put his arms around his saint and kissing her
tenderly try to explain to her that it would be much better were she
to let him help her in some ways; that, being out in the world among
men and dealing with affairs, he sometimes sees changes which it would
be desirable to make; that the mode of life delightful for young boys
should be changed in some respects and the house made suitable for
their friends to enter. Especially should the slaving mother live the
life of ease hereafter, reading and visiting more and entertaining
dear friends--in short, rising to her proper and deserved position as
Her Ladyship.
Of course the change was very hard upon my mother, but she finally
recognized the necessity for it, probably realized for the first time
that her eldest son was getting on. "Dear Mother," I pleaded, my arms
still around her, "you have done everything for and have been
everything to Tom and me, and now do let me do something for you; let
us be partners and let us always think what is best for each other.
The time has come for you to play the lady and some of these days you
are to ride in your carriage; meanwhile do get that girl in to help
you. Tom and I would like this."
The victory was won, and my mother began to go out with us and visit
her neighbors. She had not to learn self-possession nor good manners,
these were innate; and as for education, knowledge, rare good sense,
and kindliness, seldom was she to meet her equal. I wrote "never"
instead of "seldom" and then struck it out. Nevertheless my private
opinion is reserved.
Life at Altoona was made more agreeable for me through Mr. Scott's
niece, Miss Rebecca Stewart, who kept house for him. She played the
part of elder sister to me to perfection, especially when Mr. Scott
was called to Philadelphia or elsewhere. We were much together, often
driving in the afternoons through the woods. The intimacy did not
cease for many years, and re-reading some of her letters in 1906 I
realized more than ever my indebtedness to her. She was not much
beyond my own age, but always seemed a great deal older. Certainly she
was more mature and quite capable of playing the elder sister's part.
It was to her I looked up in those days as the perfect lady. Sorry am
I our paths parted so widely in later years. Her daughter married the
Earl of Sussex and her home in late years has been abroad. [July 19,
1909, Mrs. Carnegie and I found my elder-sister friend April last, now
in widowhood, in Paris, her sister and also her daughter all well and
happy. A great pleasure, indeed. There are no substitutes for the true
friends of youth.]
Mr. Scott remained at Altoona for about three years when deserved
promotion came to him. In 1859 he was made vice-president of the
company, with his office in Philadelphia. What was to become of me was
a serious question. Would he take me with him or must I remain at
Altoona with the new official? The thought was to me unbearable. To
part with Mr. Scott was hard enough; to serve a new official in his
place I did not believe possible. The sun rose and set upon his head
so far as I was concerned. The thought of my promotion, except through
him, never entered my mind.
He returned from his interview with the president at Philadelphia and
asked me to come into the private room in his house which communicated
with the office. He told me it had been settled that he should remove
to Philadelphia. Mr. Enoch Lewis, the division superintendent, was to
be his successor. I listened with great interest as he approached the
inevitable disclosure as to what he was going to do with me. He said
finally:
"Now about yourself. Do you think you could manage the Pittsburgh
Division?"
I was at an age when I thought I could manage anything. I knew nothing
that I would not attempt, but it had never occurred to me that anybody
else, much less Mr. Scott, would entertain the idea that I was as yet
fit to do anything of the kind proposed. I was only twenty-four years
old, but my model then was Lord John Russell, of whom it was said he
would take the command of the Channel Fleet to-morrow. So would
Wallace or Bruce. I told Mr. Scott I thought I could.
"Well," he said, "Mr. Potts" (who was then superintendent of the
Pittsburgh Division) "is to be promoted to the transportation
department in Philadelphia and I recommended you to the president as
his successor. He agreed to give you a trial. What salary do you think
you should have?"
"Salary," I said, quite offended; "what do I care for salary? I do not
want the salary; I want the position. It is glory enough to go back
to the Pittsburgh Division in your former place. You can make my
salary just what you please and you need not give me any more than
what I am getting now."
That was sixty-five dollars a month.
"You know," he said, "I received fifteen hundred dollars a year when I
was there; and Mr. Potts is receiving eighteen hundred. I think it
would be right to start you at fifteen hundred dollars, and after a
while if you succeed you will get the eighteen hundred. Would that be
satisfactory?"
"Oh, please," I said, "don't speak to me of money!"
It was not a case of mere hire and salary, and then and there my
promotion was sealed. I was to have a department to myself, and
instead of signing "T.A.S." orders between Pittsburgh and Altoona
would now be signed "A.C." That was glory enough for me.
The order appointing me superintendent of the Pittsburgh Division was
issued December 1, 1859. Preparations for removing the family were
made at once. The change was hailed with joy, for although our
residence in Altoona had many advantages, especially as we had a large
house with some ground about it in a pleasant part of the suburbs and
therefore many of the pleasures of country life, all these did not
weigh as a feather in the scale as against the return to old friends
and associations in dirty, smoky Pittsburgh. My brother Tom had
learned telegraphy during his residence in Altoona and he returned
with me and became my secretary.
The winter following my appointment was one of the most severe ever
known. The line was poorly constructed, the equipment inefficient and
totally inadequate for the business that was crowding upon it. The
rails were laid upon huge blocks of stone, cast-iron chairs for