Topic 48
HOME FOLK

THERE are many things in Oyster Bay that I would like to see changed, but I cannot well do anything.  If I interfered, many would not like it.  You see there are some persons in this world who resent being reformed, even by an ex-President of the United States."

Colonel Roosevelt was talking of his relations with the people of Oyster Bay.

These relations were unique and not readily understood by the visitor, who often was surprised to hear a resident speak unkindly of the town's leading citizen.  At bottom all liked the Colonel and appreciated what he had done for the town; though many resented the thought that Oyster Bay's sole reason for existence was the need of some place where news despatches having to do with Colonel Roosevelt might be dated.

The entire truth, I think, is that Roosevelt was not really understood by the town folks.  Some resented the fact that only a few of their number ever were asked to Sagamore Hill, where Roosevelt's life, while simple, was essentially that of the Lord of the Manor.  They felt that it was in many ways a world apart, and that the great and important who visited Sagamore Hill were not their kind.

On the other hand, they would have very strongly resented any change.  Were they made welcome at any and all times, they would have felt that "T.  R.," as they invariably called him, would be patronizing them.  It was this the Colonel had in mind when he said he was careful not to interfere in town affairs.

"One trouble here," he said, discussing Oyster Bay and his life there, "is that when there is something worth while here you do not report it.  Your papers would not print it if you did, I suppose.  It would not be news.

"Take the Christmas exercises at the Cove School.  For over thirty years I have been the Santa Claus there.  It began when — no, before — my children started to school.  Mrs.  Roosevelt for years bought the presents after consultation with the teachers, and learning just what each child wished or should have.  I remember she always used to buy at Bloomingdale's because she could get the best value for the money.  Of late years she has not been able to do the shopping and the teachers have done that work.

"The celebration is a movable feast, usually fixed after considerable discussion with the teachers.  I have been there whenever I could.  I always have tried to spend Christmas here at home.  Sometimes when I was President I could not come, but I was here when I could.  It is the usual school celebration — carols, 'curfew shall not ring tonight,' addresses by myself and other leading citizens — you know what I mean.  And of course I have a word for everybody.  The occasion would be entirely lost if the little red heads of one family were not appropriately recognized.

"It's a good school and democratic.  There is one negro family here that sends its children there.  Ted at one time shared a desk with one of them.  If that were only known in the South, it would damn me forever.  But that would not be news, that celebration."

The one person in Oyster Bay who, above all others, voiced his disapproval of the Colonel was Disbrow, the local editor.  His was a Democratic sheet (it still is, I believe), and Disbrow seemed to feel it incumbent upon him to speak as an individual as strongly as he did when he used the editorial "we." He particularly resented the fact that practically every news item from Oyster Bay in the New York papers referred in some way to the Colonel or his family — a state of affairs he considered most unjust.

How to change things he and others who felt as he did did not know until after Judge Hughes had been favored over the Colonel by the Republican Convention.  Then it occurred to Disbrow and others that a big Independence Day celebration, with a parade, a firemen's muster, and other trimmings, would for once, at least, result in something other than Roosevelt matter being printed as coming from the Bay.

"This man up on the hill is all through," said Disbrow.  "The King is dead.  We'll have a celebration that will show folks there's something to Oyster Bay but Roosevelt."

Frederic R.  Coudert was selected as orator of the day, and everything arranged, even to having the Colonel sit in the grandstand, as a sort of Exhibit A.  The Colonel, who had an inkling of the motive back of the celebration, agreed to attend on the distinct understanding that he was not to be asked to speak by the committee or the chairman.

When the day came around, a really creditable parade was held, the town was prettily decorated, and half of Long Island was on hand when Mr.  Coudert began to speak.  So was a detail of blue jackets from a warship, stationed in the Bay for the occasion, a battery of moving picture men, and the usual group of New York reporters.  Mr.  Coudert, always a good speaker, was at his best, and everything from Disbrow's standpoint was lovely until he was about to conclude.

"However," he said, "I am sure you have heard enough from me.  There's another here you’d prefer to hear from, and as I 'm bound by no gentleman's agreement, I present to you your fellow townsman, Colonel Roosevelt."

Instantly, the picture changed.  The "corpus delictu" that was came to life with a crashing, patriotic speech, winding up by inviting the blue jackets and their officers to partake of his hospitality at Sagamore Hill, and departed.  Next morning Oyster Bay was on the front pages of half the papers of the country, with Mr.  Hughes receiving scant room inside.  Mr.  Coudert was mentioned as having "also spoke," and the parade was given notice in passing.

"Huh," said Maury Townsend, last of the oldest families, next day when asked what he thought of the denouement.  "What did they expect? First thing any one about here knows some people we know will be scheming to keep squirrels on the ground."

Topic 49
THE VALUE OF MASONRY

COLONEL ROOSEVELT was a Mason, and in a quiet way an enthusiastic one.  He was a frequent attendant at Matinecock Lodge in Oyster Bay in which he was raised, and when in foreign parts, particularly in out-of-the-way places, made it a rule, when possible, to visit the local lodges.  He was as thorough in his Masonry as he was in other things, as witness Harry Russell, well known in the craft, who assisted in his initiation.

"When," says Russell, "the Colonel came up for examination he was letter perfect — hanged if he did not have the work better than his conductor, for he corrected him in an error."

Talking of Oyster Bay affairs at his home one afternoon the Colonel touched on this phase of his activities.

"As you know," he said, turning to me, "I am a member of the local lodge of Masons.  You also know, brother, I violate no secret when I say that one of the greatest values in Masonry is that it affords an opportunity for men in all walks of life to meet on common ground, where for the time all men are equal and have one common interest.

"For example, when I was President, the master was Worshipful Brother Doughty, gardener on the estate of one of my neighbors, and a most excellent public spirited citizen, with whom I liked to maintain contact.  Clearly I could not call upon him when I came home.  It would have embarrassed him.  Neither could he, without embarrassment, call on me.  In the lodge it was different.  He was over me, though I was President, and it was good for him and good for me.

" I go to the lodge, and even the folks who do not belong to or believe in the order, rather like it that I should go.  They seem to feel it's part of the eternal fitness of things.  Whenever I return from one of my journeys I always go there to tell of the lodges I have visited, in Nairobi in Africa, in Trinidad, or the quaint little lodge I found away up on the Ascunsion River.  They sort of feel I am their representative to these lodges, and they like it.  There's a real community of interest.

"It's the same way with Mrs.  Roosevelt.  She is an Episcopalian, you know, and belongs to a guild named after a saint — Saint Hilda, I believe.  She frequently has the members here.  She had them at the White House on several occasions.  There's no social rank in the guild, no distinction — the brake man's wife or the butcher's wife, the equal of her neighbor, and all are comfortable.  You see, they have a common interest.

"That is the way to make people work together.  Get them on common ground, get them together through some interest in common.  There social lines fade out and you get results."