Secret of Success

It might be stated at this point that through out his travels Paul stole no rides; he either paid his fare or worked his way and he always carried baggage. People have frequently expressed wonder at his ability to land almost immediately on his feet after arrival in a strange city; even men of considerable experience such as roving newspaper men have expressed amazement. Harry Pulliam, for instance, used to call Paul the “wonder man.” To those who have sometimes been out of jobs for months at a time in their own home cities, Paul’s experiences would probably seem miraculous.

The fact that he could do what he did was as much a tribute to the astonishing resources of the country in which he lived as to Paul personally.

 

The reasons why he was successful were simple.

In the first place, he always made it a point to dress well and to appear well-groomed; in the second place, he did not limit himself to any particular class of work. He was willing

[58]

 

to undertake any kind of work, mental or physical, by which he could earn a livelihood, and finally he always gave full measure of service. It was his aim to give the best he had in him and in case he failed to make good it was because of physical or mental limitations and not because of indifference. His manifest earnestness of purpose frequently resulted in his being transferred from work which he could not do to the advantage of his employer to other work to which he was better adapted.

To get to New Orleans was not difficult. He borrowed fifteen dollars from his college friend, invested ten of the fifteen with a ticket-broker for the return part of a round-trip ticket from Crawley, Louisiana, to Chicago via New Orleans. The ticket was cheap be cause it was within twenty-four hours of expiration.

On arrival in New Orleans early one morning, he sold the remaining part of the ticket to a broker for $1.00.

The traveler was able to engage good board and room with a respectable family for four dollars per week and he immediately set

[59]
 

siege upon the newspaper offices. Times were unusually slow, especially in the newspaper business and nothing except the privilege of space-writing was available. Before his capital was exhausted, however, Paul was fortunate enough to find opportunity to add a new chapter to his story; how interesting and extraordinary the chapter was to prove, he could not have conjectured.

Picking Oranges

In a want-ad of a daily paper, be read:

 

“Wanted—A dozen men to pick and pack oranges in a grove in Plaquemine parish.”

The next day a gang of men, including Paul, crossed the Mississippi river and took the train on a narrow-gauge track for Buras, a township in the delta not far from where the Father of Waters empties into the sea. After a rough ride and a walk of a mile and a half from Buras they arrived at the grove and warehouse of S. Pizatti, the senior member of the well-known Pizatti-Oteri Steamship Company whose boats plied between New Orleans and Bluefields, Nicaragua.

The warehouse was on a high foundation,

[60]

 

the floor being level with the top of the dike, thus permitting the trucking of oranges from the warehouse directly across the top of the dike to the wharf whence they were taken by river boat to New Orleans. The oranges in Louisiana are picked and packed while still green on account of fear of early frosts.

The gang began operations at once. Sleeping-quarters had been provided in the ware house and Pizatti’s cook prepared the meals for the laborers in Pizatti’s rather substantial dwelling. The old Italian who had become wealthy importing bananas was present most of the time.

The business of picking, packing, boxing, and shipping oranges progressed satisfactorily for several days as it doubtless would have done the crop was harvested had it not been for a very extraordinary circumstance.

Fast and Furious

On a Sunday morning, several members of the gang, including Paul, rowed across the Mississippi River to dredge for oysters in a bayou. Returning in the afternoon, they en-

[61]

countered a heavy wind which made the crossing difficult. The wind storm continued with such force that the men feared that the ware house standing so high above the ground would be blown down. They therefore sought refuge in the Pizatti house where they gained admittance.

The storm continued to rage during the early part of the evening, so the workers remained in the large kitchen. Frequently the door was opened and a family dripping wet, entered. As they were foreigners, their con fused and excited words were unintelligible to the men. The house filled with shouting men and crying women and children, and it soon became apparent that they had fled from their homes to take refuge in the staunch house of Pizatti. Then to the amazement of the orange pickers a rush of water came into the house gaining ingress under the doorway. The structure seemed to be afloat. At this juncture some one raised a shout which sounded above the general hubbub. Men took children in their arms and burst through the door into the night. The women followed. It was apparent to all that the one salvation

[62]

 

was to reach the high-standing warehouse; the water was more feared than the wind.

Paul and several other orange-pickers took children in arms and plunged out into the night. Paul held in his arms a little girl eight or nine years of age. The water at first was only about knee deep, but the depth increased rapidly as the low ground near the approach to the warehouse was reached. It was necessary for Paul to constantly raise the child higher and higher in order to keep her out of the water which was not far from his armpits when his foot finally touched the plank incline leading up to the warehouse. There in the light of a lantern were fifty or more men and crying, shrieking women and children. The orange-pick were young men and not easily upset. Moreover, they were ignorant of what had happened and of what might happen on the Mississippi river.

A man by the name of Granger from Jacksonville looked down at a frightened woman on her knees sobbing a prayer and seemingly impressed with some untoward sense of the ludicrous, began to laugh. A

[63]

 

box maker from New Orleans who knew the river turned to Granger and said: “Don’t laugh. Prepare to meet your God.”

But the wind which brought the water was blowing toward the river, not from it. On someone’s suggestion Paul and others went to work with axes, pickaxes, and crowbars in an effort to cut the dike and let the flood through into the river. It was difficult to stand upon the dike, the wind blew so relentlessly. How the warehouse continued to withstand the storm was a mystery. Another gang tried to build a raft.

To the infinite relief of all when daylight finally broke, the storm subsided. The only dry land in sight was the top of the levee which was covered with walking, creeping, and crawling things; horses, cows, hogs, hens, birds, and no end of squirming, writhing, deadly moccasin snakes.

The only home remaining standing was Pizatti’s and the place of refuge, the warehouse. Fortunately some builder had done his work honestly and well.

The waters round about were strewn with

[64]

wreckage of houses and with green thorn- picked oranges, but the strangest of all sights was a three-masted schooner standing where but yesterday had been dry land.

The newspapers described the great coast storm of 1893 which swept one island clear of every human being and devastated an area of hundreds of square miles, as a tidal wave. It was said that at Bayou Cook alone, eight hundred lives were lost. In Buras township the loss of life was tremendous.

In an incredibly brief period relief boats came down the river from New Orleans and the survivors were given every possible aid.

These coast storms are not at all frequent, so it seems as if it must have been by interposition of Divine Providence that he who was so interested in adventure should happen to have been present at that particular time.

The writer wishes he had the power to adequately describe this storm that descended so suddenly upon the Lower Mississippi. Al though years have elapsed, the suffering and horror of that night still remain in memory.

Times continued to be hard in New Orleans and moreover the avidity of the traveler’s

[65]

 

longings had somewhat slackened. But new adventure beckoned.