“Look around you. I need the money.”
Mr. Lungren laughed and started to make out a check, but I insisted upon currency, saying that a check was only a promise to pay and no good to a drowning man. Then I added, “I want it in small bills, please.” I got it in twenties and tens.
On the way home, I stopped at every subway station, went up to the surface, and bought a drink and broke one of the bills. By the time I had traveled from Wall Street to Ninety-sixth Street my mind was in a very mellow condition and my pockets bulging in every direction. Marching into the house, I yelled for the startled members of my family and, emptying my pockets, hurled the bills into the air so that they flew into every part of the room. These high spots in a man’s life are worth all the years of poverty and struggle.
In spite of the fact of the manner of my receiving the order, I think I made a pretty good representation of “Hospitality” for Mr. Lungren.
During these periods of “hardupness” in my life, I was constantly having the strangest things happen—things that almost made me believe in miracles. I am often criticized for being too optimistic, but my experience has made me so. Luck has always come to me out of the empty air. The telephone, the mail, a chance meeting with a friend, any one of a thousand occurrences may happen to change the tide of affairs at any moment. Oftentimes, in Europe, would come a letter from mother, with a wholly unexpected check. Mothers seem to have a seventh sense which tells them when their children need help, and I always felt that there was an especial bond of sympathy between my mother and myself. She probably knew that I was rather an outcast and needed her more than the others, and I am sure that I understood her better than anyone else. For example, when I painted mother’s portrait, everyone criticized me because I did not have her knitting. I never saw my mother knit; she did not have time. Whenever she had a moment’s leisure to sit down, she had some sewing in her hand, so I made her mending a stocking.
This was a time of portraits—I did President Hill of Harvard, Mr. Sayre of Bethlehem, and many others—and small decorations, including several overmantels and ceilings, but finally, out of the clear sky came along one of the largest orders that I ever received—to help do the Capitol of the state of Minnesota, at St. Paul.
It was rather a big idea for a state to decorate its building so extensively, and Cass Gilbert, the architect, deserves a great deal of credit for the venture. I was given four huge panels below the dome of the rotunda. They were about twenty-eight feet long and thirteen in height. Placed ninety feet from the ground, they looked like postage stamps when finished. The two rooms where the Supreme Court and the House of Representatives met were given to Blashfield and La Farge.
The subject chosen was the Settling of the West. The first panel represents the Young Man Leaving Home; the second, the Cleaning Up of the Land; the third, Breaking the Soil, which he does by lifting a great stone out of a hole from which issues a young girl bearing maize; and the last, the Young Man Is Crowned and sends the Four Winds to the Four Quarters of the globe bearing the gifts of Minnesota. In every panel he is accompanied by Hope and Minerva.
“CLEANSING THE SOIL OF THE BAD ELEMENTS”
Panel by Edward Simmons, Minnesota State Capitol, St. Paul
Copyright by Edward Simmons; from a Copley Print, Curtis & Cameron, Publishers, Boston