Books: In His Steps

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Clark came in, feeling that the paper was at a crisis, and prepared
for almost anything after his Monday morning experience. This was
Thursday.

"Clark," said Norman, speaking slowly and carefully, "I have been
looking at our advertising columns and have decided to dispense with
some of the matter as soon as the contracts run out. I wish you
would notify the advertising agent not to solicit or renew the ads
that I have marked here."

He handed the paper with the marked places over to Clark, who took
it and looked over the columns with a very serious air.

"This will mean a great loss to the NEWS. How long do you think you
can keep this sort of thing up?" Clark was astounded at the editor's
action and could not understand it.

"Clark, do you think if Jesus was the editor and proprietor of a
daily paper in Raymond He would permit advertisements of whiskey and
tobacco in it?"

"Well no--I--don't suppose He would. But what has that to do with
us? We can't do as He would. Newspapers can't be run on any such
basis."

"Why not?" asked Norman quietly.

"Why not? Because they will lose more money than they make, that's
all!" Clark spoke out with an irritation that he really felt. "We
shall certainly bankrupt the paper with this sort of business
policy."

"Do you think so?" Norman asked the question not as if he expected
an answer, but simply as if he were talking with himself. After a
pause he said:

"You may direct Marks to do as I have said. I believe it is what
Christ would do, and as I told you, Clark, that is what I have
promised to try to do for a year, regardless of what the results may
be to me. I cannot believe that by any kind of reasoning we could
reach a conclusion justifying our Lord in the advertisement, in this
age, of whiskey and tobacco in a newspaper. There are some other
advertisements of a doubtful character I shall study into.
Meanwhile, I feel a conviction in regard to these that cannot be
silenced."

Clark went back to his desk feeling as if he had been in the
presence of a very peculiar person. He could not grasp the meaning
of it all. He felt enraged and alarmed. He was sure any such policy
would ruin the paper as soon as it became generally known that the
editor was trying to do everything by such an absurd moral standard.
What would become of business if this standard was adopted? It would
upset every custom and introduce endless confusion. It was simply
foolishness. It was downright idiocy. So Clark said to himself, and
when Marks was informed of the action he seconded the managing
editor with some very forcible ejaculations. What was the matter
with the chief? Was he insane? Was he going to bankrupt the whole
business?

But Edward Norman had not yet faced his most serious problem. When
he came down to the office Friday morning he was confronted with the
usual program for the Sunday morning edition. The NEWS was one one
of the few evening papers in Raymond to issue a Sunday edition, and
it had always been remarkably successful financially. There was an
average of one page of literary and religious items to thirty or
forty pages of sport, theatre, gossip, fashion, society and
political material. This made a very interesting magazine of all
sorts of reading matter, and had always been welcomed by all the
subscribers, church members and all, as a Sunday morning necessity.
Edward Norman now faced this fact and put to himself the question:
"What would Jesus do?" If He was editor of a paper, would he
deliberately plan to put into the homes of all the church people and
Christians of Raymond such a collection of reading matter on the one
day in the week which ought to be given up to something better
holier? He was of course familiar with the regular arguments of the
Sunday paper, that the public needed something of the sort; and the
working man especially, who would not go to church any way, ought to
have something entertaining and instructive on Sunday, his only day
of rest. But suppose the Sunday morning paper did not pay? Suppose
there was no money in it? How eager would the editor or publisher be
then to supply this crying need of the poor workman? Edward Norman
communed honestly with himself over the subject.

Taking everything into account, would Jesus probably edit a Sunday
morning paper? No matter whether it paid. That was not the question.
As a matter of fact, the Sunday NEWS paid so well that it would be a
direct loss of thousands of dollars to discontinue it. Besides, the
regular subscribers had paid for a seven-day paper. Had he any right
now to give them less than they supposed they had paid for?

He was honestly perplexed by the question. So much was involved in
the discontinuance of the Sunday edition that for the first time he
almost decided to refuse to be guided by the standard of Jesus'
probable action. He was sole proprietor of the paper; it was his to
shape as he chose. He had no board of directors to consult as to
policy. But as he sat there surrounded by the usual quantity of
material for the Sunday edition he reached some definite
conclusions. And among them was a determination to call in the force
of the paper and frankly state his motive and purpose. He sent word
for Clark and the other men it the office, including the few
reporters who were in the building and the foreman, with what men
were in the composing room (it was early in the morning and they
were not all in) to come into the mailing room. This was a large
room, and the men came in curiously and perched around on the tables
and counters. It was a very unusual proceeding, but they all agreed
that the paper was being run on new principles anyhow, and they all
watched Mr. Norman carefully as he spoke.

"I called you in here to let you know my further plans for the NEWS.
I propose certain changes which I believe are necessary. I
understand very well that some things I have already done are
regarded by the men as very strange. I wish to state my motive in
doing what I have done."

Here he told the men what he had already told Clark, and they stared
as Clark had done, and looked as painfully conscious.

"Now, in acting on this standard of conduct I have reached a
conclusion which will, no doubt, cause some surprise.

"I have decided that the Sunday morning edition of the NEWS shall be
discontinued after next Sunday's issue. I shall state in that issue
my reasons for discontinuing. In order to make up to the subscribers
the amount of reading matter they may suppose themselves entitled
to, we can issue a double number on Saturday, as is done by many
evening papers that make no attempt at a Sunday edition. I am
convinced that from a Christian point of view more harm than good
has been done by our Sunday morning paper. I do not believe that
Jesus would be responsible for it if He were in my place today. It
will occasion some trouble to arrange the details caused by this
change with the advertisers and subscribers. That is for me to look
after. The change itself is one that will take place. So far as I
can see, the loss will fall on myself. Neither the reporters nor the
pressmen need make any particular changes in their plans."

He looked around the room and no one spoke. He was struck for the
first time in his life with the fact that in all the years of his
newspaper life he had never had the force of the paper together in
this way. Would Jesus do that? That is, would He probably run a
newspaper on some loving family plan, where editors, reporters,
pressmen and all meet to discuss and devise and plan for the making
of a paper that should have in view--

He caught himself drawing almost away from the facts of
typographical unions and office rules and reporters' enterprise and
all the cold, businesslike methods that make a great daily
successful. But still the vague picture that came up in the mailing
room would not fade away when he had gone into his office and the
men had gone back to their places with wonder in their looks and
questions of all sorts on their tongues as they talked over the
editor's remarkable actions.

Clark came in and had a long, serious talk with his chief. He was
thoroughly roused, and his protest almost reached the point of
resigning his place. Norman guarded himself carefully. Every minute
of the interview was painful to him, but he felt more than ever the
necessity of doing the Christ-like thing. Clark was a very valuable
man. It would be difficult to fill his place. But he was not able to
give any reasons for continuing the Sunday paper that answered the
question, "What would Jesus do?" by letting Jesus print that
edition.

"It comes to this, then," said Clark frankly, "you will bankrupt the
paper in thirty days. We might as well face that future fact."

"I don't think we shall. Will you stay by the NEWS until it is
bankrupt?" asked Norman with a strange smile.

"Mr. Norman, I don't understand you. You are not the same man this
week that I always knew before."

"I don't know myself either, Clark. Something remarkable has caught
me up and borne me on. But I was never more convinced of final
success and power for the paper. You have not answered my question.
Will you stay with me?"

Chapter Five

SUNDAY morning dawned again on Raymond, and Henry Maxwell's church
was again crowded. Before the service began Edward Norman attracted
great attention. He sat quietly in his usual place about three seats
from the pulpit. The Sunday morning issue of the NEWS containing the
statement of its discontinuance had been expressed in such
remarkable language that every reader was struck by it. No such
series of distinct sensations had ever disturbed the usual business
custom of Raymond. The events connected with the NEWS were not all.
People were eagerly talking about strange things done during the
week by Alexander Powers at the railroad shops, and Milton Wright in
his stores on the avenue. The service progressed upon a distinct
wave of excitement in the pews. Henry Maxwell faced it all with a
calmness which indicated a strength and purpose more than usual. His
prayers were very helpful. His sermon was not so easy to describe.
How would a minister be apt to preach to his people if he came
before them after an entire week of eager asking, "How would Jesus
preach? What would He probably say?" It is very certain that he did
not preach as he had done two Sundays before. Tuesday of the past
week he had stood by the grave of the dead stranger and said the
words, "Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust," and still he
was moved by the spirit of a deeper impulse than he could measure as
he thought of his people and yearned for the Christ message when he
should be in his pulpit again.

Now that Sunday had come and the people were there to hear, what
would the Master tell them? He agonized over his preparation for
them, and yet he knew he had not been able to fit his message into
his ideal of the Christ. Nevertheless no one in the First Church
could remember ever hearing such a sermon before. There was in it
rebuke for sin, especially hypocrisy, there was definite rebuke of
the greed of wealth and the selfishness of fashion, two things that
First Church never heard rebuked this way before, and there was a
love of his people that gathered new force as the sermon went on.
When it was finished there were those who were saying in their
hearts, "The Spirit moved that sermon." And they were right.

Then Rachel Winslow rose to sing, this time after the sermon, by Mr.
Maxwell's request. Rachel's singing did not provoke applause this
time. What deeper feeling carried the people's hearts into a
reverent silence and tenderness of thought? Rachel was beautiful.
But her consciousness of her remarkable loveliness had always marred
her singing with those who had the deepest spiritual feeling. It had
also marred her rendering of certain kinds of music with herself.
Today this was all gone. There was no lack of power in her grand
voice. But there was an actual added element of humility and purity
which the audience distinctly felt and bowed to.

Before service closed Mr. Maxwell asked those who had remained the
week before to stay again for a few moments of consultation, and any
others who were willing to make the pledge taken at that time. When
he was at liberty he went into the lecture-room. To his astonishment
it was almost filled. This time a large proportion of young people
had come, but among them were a few business men and officers of the
church.

As before, he, Maxwell, asked them to pray with him. And, as before,
a distinct answer came from the presence of the divine Spirit. There
was no doubt in the minds of any present that what they purposed to
do was so clearly in line with the divine will, that a blessing
rested upon it in a very special manner.

They remained some time to ask questions and consult together. There
was a feeling of fellowship such as they had never known in their
church membership. Mr. Norman's action was well understood by them
all, and he answered several questions.

"What will be the probable result of your discontinuance of the
Sunday paper?" asked Alexander Powers, who sat next to him.

"I don't know yet. I presume it will result in the falling off of
subscriptions and advertisements. I anticipate that."

"Do you have any doubts about your action. I mean, do you regret it,
or fear it is not what Jesus would do?" asked Mr. Maxwell.

"Not in the least. But I would like to ask, for my own satisfaction,
if any of you here think Jesus would issue a Sunday morning paper?"

No one spoke for a minute. Then Jasper Chase said, "We seem to think
alike on that, but I have been puzzled several times during the week
to know just what He would do. It is not always an easy question to
answer."

"I find that trouble," said Virginia Page. She sat by Rachel
Winslow. Every one who knew Virginia Page was wondering how she
would succeed in keeping her promise. "I think perhaps I find it
specially difficult to answer that question on account of my money.
Our Lord never owned any property, and there is nothing in His
example to guide me in the use of mine. I am studying and praying. I
think I see clearly a part of what He would do, but not all. What
would He do with a million dollars? is my question really. I confess
I am not yet able to answer it to my satisfaction.

"I could tell you what you could do with a part of it, said Rachel,
turning her face toward Virginia. "That does not trouble me,"
replied Virginia with a slight smile. "What I am trying to discover
is a principle that will enable me to come to the nearest possible
to His action as it ought to influence the entire course of my life
so far as my wealth and its use are concerned."

"That will take time," said the minister slowly. All the rest of the
room were thinking hard of the same thing. Milton Wright told
something of his experience. He was gradually working out a plan for
his business relations with his employees, and it was opening up a
new world to him and to them. A few of the young men told of special
attempts to answer the question. There was almost general consent
over the fact that the application of the Christ spirit and practice
to the everyday life was the serious thing. It required a knowledge
of Him and an insight into His motives that most of them did not yet
possess.

When they finally adjourned after a silent prayer that marked with
growing power the Divine Presence, they went away discussing
earnestly their difficulties and seeking light from one another.

Rachel Winslow and Virginia Page went out together. Edward Norman
and Milton Wright became so interested in their mutual conference
that they walked on past Norman's house and came back together.
Jasper Chase and the president of the Endeavor Society stood talking
earnestly in one corner of the room. Alexander Powers and Henry
Maxwell remained, even after the others had gone.

"I want you to come down to the shops tomorrow and see my plan and
talk to the men. Somehow I feel as if you could get nearer to them
than any one else just now."

"I don't know about that, but I will come," replied Mr. Maxwell a
little sadly. How was he fitted to stand before two or three hundred
working men and give them a message? Yet in the moment of his
weakness, as he asked the question, he rebuked himself for it. What
would Jesus do? That was an end to the discussion.

He went down the next day and found Mr. Powers in his office. It
lacked a few minutes of twelve and the superintendent said, "Come
upstairs, and I'll show you what I've been trying to do."

They went through the machine shop, climbed a long flight of stairs
and entered a very large, empty room. It had once been used by the
company for a store room.

"Since making that promise a week ago I have had a good many things
to think of," said the superintendent, "and among them is this: The
company gives me the use of this room, and I am going to fit it up
with tables and a coffee plant in the corner there where those steam
pipes are. My plan is to provide a good place where the men can come
up and eat their noon lunch, and give them, two or three times a
week, the privilege of a fifteen minutes' talk on some subject that
will be a real help to them in their lives."

Maxwell looked surprised and asked if the men would come for any
such purpose.

"Yes, they'll come. After all, I know the men pretty well. They are
among the most intelligent working men in the country today. But
they are, as a whole, entirely removed from church influence. I
asked, 'What would Jesus do?' and among other things it seemed to me
He would begin to act in some way to add to the lives of these men
more physical and spiritual comfort. It is a very little thing, this
room and what it represents, but I acted on the first impulse, to do
the first thing that appealed to my good sense, and I want to work
out this idea. I want you to speak to the men when they come up at
noon. I have asked them to come up and see the place and I'll tell
them something about it."

Maxwell was ashamed to say how uneasy he felt at being asked to
speak a few words to a company of working men. How could he speak
without notes, or to such a crowd? He was honestly in a condition of
genuine fright over the prospect. He actually felt afraid of facing
those men. He shrank from the ordeal of confronting such a crowd, so
different from the Sunday audiences he was familiar with.

There were a dozen rude benches and tables in the room, and when the
noon whistle sounded the men poured upstairs from the machine shops
below and, seating themselves at the tables, began to cat their
lunch. There were present about three hundred of them. They had read
the superintendent's notice which he had posted up in various
places, and came largely out of curiosity.

They were favorably impressed. The room was large and airy, free
from smoke and dust, and well warmed from the steam pipes. At about
twenty minutes to one Mr. Powers told the men what he had in mind.
He spoke very simply, like one who understands thoroughly the
character of his audience, and then introduced the Rev. Henry
Maxwell of the First Church, his pastor, who had consented to speak
a few minutes.

Maxwell will never forget the feeling with which for the first time
he stood before the grimy-faced audience of working men. Like
hundreds of other ministers, he had never spoken to any gatherings
except those made up of people of his own class in the sense that
they were familiar in their dress and education and habits. This was
a new world to him, and nothing but his new rule of conduct could
have made possible his message and its effect. He spoke on the
subject of satisfaction with life; what caused it, what its real
sources were. He had the great good sense on this his first
appearance not to recognize the men as a class distinct from
himself. He did not use the term working man, and did not say a word
to suggest any difference between their lives and his own.

The men were pleased. A good many of them shook hands with him
before going down to their work, and the minister telling it all to
his wife when he reached home, said that never in all his life had
he known the delight he then felt in having the handshake from a man
of physical labor. The day marked an important one in his Christian
experience, more important than he knew. It was the beginning of a
fellowship between him and the working world. It was the first plank
laid down to help bridge the chasm between the church and labor in
Raymond.

Alexander Powers went back to his desk that afternoon much pleased
with his plan and seeing much help in it for the men. He knew where
he could get some good tables from an abandoned eating house at one
of the stations down the road, and he saw how the coffee arrangement
could be made a very attractive feature. The men had responded even
better than he anticipated, and the whole thing could not help being
a great benefit to them.

He took up the routine of his work with a glow of satisfaction.
After all, he wanted to do as Jesus would, he said to himself.

It was nearly four o'clock when he opened one of the company's long
envelopes which he supposed contained orders for the purchasing of
stores. He ran over the first page of typewritten matter in his
usual quick, business-like manner, before he saw that what he was
reading was not intended for his office but for the superintendent
of the freight department.

He turned over a page mechanically, not meaning to read what was not
addressed to him, but before he knew it, he was in possession of
evidence which conclusively proved that the company was engaged in a
systematic violation of the Interstate Commerce Laws of the United
States. It was as distinct and unequivocal a breaking of law as if a
private citizen should enter a house and rob the inmates. The
discrimination shown in rebates was in total contempt of all the
statutes. Under the laws of the state it was also a distinct
violation of certain provisions recently passed by the legislature
to prevent railroad trusts. There was no question that he had in his
hands evidence sufficient to convict the company of willful,
intelligent violation of the law of the commission and the law of
the state also.

He dropped the papers on his desk as if they were poison, and
instantly the question flashed across his mind, "What would Jesus
do?" He tried to shut the question out. He tried to reason with
himself by saying it was none of his business. He had known in a
more or less definite way, as did nearly all the officers of the
company, that this had been going on right along on nearly all the
roads. He was not in a position, owing to his place in the shops, to
prove anything direct, and he had regarded it as a matter which did
not concern him at all. The papers now before him revealed the
entire affair. They had through some carelessness been addressed to
him. What business of his was it? If he saw a man entering his
neighbor's house to steal, would it not be his duty to inform the
officers of the law? Was a railroad company such a different thing?
Was it under a different rule of conduct, so that it could rob the
public and defy law and be undisturbed because it was such a great
organization? What would Jesus do? Then there was his family. Of
course, if he took any steps to inform the commission it would mean
the loss of his position. His wife and daughter had always enjoyed
luxury and a good place in society. If he came out against this
lawlessness as a witness it would drag him into courts, his motives
would be misunderstood, and the whole thing would end in his
disgrace and the loss of his position. Surely it was none of his
business. He could easily get the papers back to the freight
department and no one be the wiser. Let the iniquity go on. Let the
law be defied. What was it to him? He would work out his plans for
bettering the condition just before him. What more could a man do in
this railroad business when there was so much going on anyway that
made it impossible to live by the Christian standard? But what would
Jesus do if He knew the facts? That was the question that confronted
Alexander Powers as the day wore into evening.

The lights in the office had been turned on. The whirr of the great
engine and the clash of the planers in the big shop continued until
six o'clock. Then the whistle blew, the engine slowed up, the men
dropped their tools and ran for the block house.

Powers heard the familiar click, click, of the clocks as the men
filed past the window of the block house just outside. He said to
his clerks, "I'm not going just yet. I have something extra
tonight." He waited until he heard the last man deposit his block.
The men behind the block case went out. The engineer and his
assistants had work for half an hour but they went out by another
door.

Chapter Six

"If any man cometh unto me and hateth not his own father and mother
and wife and children and brethren and sisters, yea, and his own
life also, he cannot be my disciple."

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