Comely Bank

ONE WINTER DAY I was walking on Longwood drive in a suburban district in Chicago. The drive skirts a hill spoken of as "the Ridge," which extends for several miles in a southwesterly direction, an unusual feature in Chicago as most of the city lies on flat ground. The houses on the west side of the drive are built on the crest of the hill which parallels it.

On that particular day, the hill was covered with snow and many youngsters were coasting without regard to the property rights involved. No property owner, however, seemed disposed to question the rights of the youngsters to make common ground of their hillside lawns.

The picture seemed so true to the New England life I had known and loved that the thought came to me if ever I was to have a home of my own, it would be on the top of the bill on Longwood drive. The time came sooner than expected. It was on one of the countryside hikes of the Chicago Prairie Club that I met a bonnie Scottish lassie who, dismayed by a rip in my jacket, offered to repair it for me. That was how she got into trouble for it wasn't long after that when I persuaded Jean Thomson to become Mrs. Paul Harris.

I married my bonnie Jean in 1910, and two years later, acquired a home on the bill. We named our home "Comely Bank," after the street in Edinburgh where she spent the days of her childhood and youth, and never, during the thirty-odd years of our ownership, has any boy ever been refused free use of our lawn when coasting times come.

How could I refuse them! They are rapscallions one and all! In most recent years many of them have been fighting for us on foreign soil, on the seas and in the skies, far, far from home. God bless and protect the rapscallions of our beloved land!

The great city comes nearer and nearer to us as its population increases and, as the years roll on, we can almost feel its breath. We are still on the outskirts, however, and ten minutes in our motor car suffices to take us into the Illinois farming country where wheat and corn fields, pastures and woodlands give us a feeling of having made good our escape.

Diagonally across the drive from our home, there was, in the early years of our married life, an ideal bird refuge of which we were very proud. The entire block was covered with a growth of wild crab apple trees so dense and so studded with long, sharp thorns that it afforded the birds ample protection from cats and dogs. As a refuge, it was especially popular with the robins that remained there during the mating and nest-building period. Thousands of them made their appearance and took up temporary quarters each spring. The air would be full of song.

Just why these discriminating creatures considered this Heaven-made protection undesirable for permanent residence, I have never been able to determine. Perhaps they, like discriminating humans, preferred to think of it as a grand concourse, something like the Grand Central Station for instance, where humans go to attend to certain matters of their own and then move out by the speediest means available. No sane person would ever think of bringing up his family in the Grand Central Station, and no robin, to my knowledge, ever thought of building a permanent nest in the crab apple bees on Longwood drive. They were all prospective papas and mammas and I imagine that the prospective papas liked to give the prospective mammas the once over, and then, having made their selection, hie away with the ladies of their choice to find homes far from the madding crowd of robins.

One morning, after the birds had left on their home finding expedition, tractors dragged the trees out by their roots; not one remained as the day drew to a close. When the robins returned, and witnessed the depredation committed during their absence, they were distracted. The tumult of whirring wings and their cries were deafening. One could imagine that in bird language, they were crying, "robbers! robbers! These rapacious humans have not only pillaged our houses but they have actually taken our houses along with them; did you ever hear of such things!"

Within ninety days from that time, an apartment building, affording homes for five hundred human beings, had been erected where once a bird sanctuary had been. The structure was beautiful and the property well landscaped but where had our privacy and our feeling of being "country folks" gone? Well, we had to make the best of it and we did. We found compensation in the thought that nearly five hundred human beings had made their escape from the noise and confusion of the city and that the twinkling lights from scores of windows would throw out a certain friendliness of their own.

My wife and I have tried to make the best possible use of Comely Bank." We have entertained scores of Rotarians from all parts of the world, sometimes seating at our table guests from as many as eight different countries at one time. In honor of our guests, we have planted many trees in our friendship garden, and, in many instances, guests so honored, have passed to the Great Beyond, but the trees still stand as memorials to our friendship.

Having no children of our own, Jean and I have adopted Rotary International. While our cup of joy at "Comely Bank" has consistently overflowed, we have also had our share of sorrows. For instance: The city fathers established arc lights on Longwood drive. No longer need God pin the curtains of night back with his stars; no longer need the harvest moon shine; no longer need the commuters of our community grope their way back through the darkness, to the warmth and good cheer of their firesides. The city fathers take care of all such matters. Night has, in fact, been banished forever.

Upon several occasions, Boards of Rotary International have extended to us invitations to visit the Rotary clubs of other countries; such invitations we have, as a rule, accepted and we have tried to make of ourselves ambassadors of goodwill. With the cooperation of Rotarians and local governments, I have planted friendship trees in the parks and playgrounds on all the five continents of the world and even on some of the major islands of the seas. Our trees stood as symbols of international understanding and good-will. National and municipal governments have participated in the ceremonies incident to such plantings and monuments bearing bronze plates with appropriate inscriptions, have, in several instances, been erected. Our tree plantings are merely gestures of good-will but they are intelligible to all the citizens of the various countries whatever language they speak. *

Of the population of the earth, no race has impressed us as being beyond the pale of decency; all have their codes of correct living although many of them differ greatly from ours. Travelers who insist upon measuring other countries by their own yardsticks find them lacking of course; some folks are far too much disposed to feel that their civilization is the norm and that any variance from it is wrong.

The superiority complex is a great disturber of peace and unfortunately it is common to folks of all nations. The formula which we use during our travels is to take keen interest in the things the home folks value most and to draw no comparisons between their ways and ours unless expressly asked to do so. To put it briefly, we try to find the beautiful rather titan the ugly in the countries which we visit and our policy has been richly rewarded.

No one who has had the privilege of getting into the lives of the people of as many lands as we have can easily be inflamed to hatred of any nation. To me, hatred is a dangerous weapon and is neither serviceable nor necessary in war or in peace. Christianity points the way but men fail Christianity when they allow emotionalism and hatred to gain control of them.

After long journeys we are always glad to return, loving our country not less but more; it has already accomplished so much and it is so full of promise. My love however, is no longer blind; it has become rationalized through contacts with folks of many countries. I now not only love my country but I know why I love it; I love it for its ideals, for its passion for education, and its willingness to pay the price of liberty.

I need go no further in listing the virtues of my country. These qualities are enough to justify my unceasing homage and unwavering loyalty. My conviction that America is possessed of virtues in a degree unrivalled by other countries gives me courage to admit the mistakes we have made, the mistakes we are making and the mistakes which we probably will continue to make.

The ideals of my country and its passion for education encourage me never to be complacent or easily satisfied, but, on the contrary, always to aspire to yet greater things, firm in my faith in the destiny of America.

My patriotism does not blind my eyes to the fact that we live in a predatory world and that we also have been predatory at times. The survival of the fittest seems a brutal doctrine, a hang. over from the jungle; it is just that and civilization cries out against it, demanding that we find better ways to settle our disputes. We shall eventually succeed, not through hypocritical pretensions and not through giving vent to our emotions, but rather through the exercise of tempered reason in all of our relations between men and through a sincere desire to serve the best interests of all.

My country's unselfishness and idealism has been made manifest to the world during the last fifty years and we shall arise to meet all emergencies but we must not close our eyes to the dangers which lurk along the road before us.

We Americans are hero worshippers; it would be well for us to choose our heroes wisely. Who can be blind to the fact that we worship at the shrine of productivity? What shall we do when all the wants have been satisfied? Think up new wants and put them into production? Having geared ourselves to high productivity, perhaps there is no other way out at present. Men must have work and that means production. It's easy enough to scramble eggs but not easy to unscramble them.

Productivity of course should not be discouraged; it is too full of possibilities; the automobile has leveled mountains and the aeroplane is bridging the seas, thus making it possible for the children of earth to understand each other better. The inevitable consequences of increased understanding is increased goodwill though at times it may not seem so.

In favor of high productivity it may be said that we and our allies won the recent war because of the fact that we are productive. We have more colleges and universities and hospitals than any other nation; they are the fruits of productivity and if we are to feed the children of all of the other nations suffering as the result of war, how shall we be able to do it without high productivity?

I find that I never have to wait long for my country to find a way out of its difficulties. If I see needs, I soon learn that other men, stronger and more unselfish than I, also see them and the need is realized in America's own indomitable way.

What we need in America is a wholesome, sensible philosophy of life, not a philosophy which is subservient to any mechanical device. The pinnacle of my hopes for my fellow countrymen is that they may be known throughout the world as a home-loving, cultured people.

The preachers, philosophers and poets have long been telling of this better way of life and we accept the theory but fail in the practice. Some times however even men of large business affairs see the virtue of the doctrine and a few put it in practice.

What has all this to do with My New England valley? Just this: Rotary was born of the spirit of tolerance, good will and service, all qualities which characterized New England folks of my boyhood days, and I have tried to interpret, so far as lies within me, that faith to other men.