Michael Anagnos, His Romantic Yet Practical Career.—Death of My Husband.—Return to New York.—My Daughter’s Exhibitions.—High Bridge, a Quaint Old Jersey Town.—Leader Twelfth Assembly District of Manhattan.—Suffrage-worker at Newport, Rhode Island.—The Delights of Canvassing and Out-of-door Speaking.
ONE morning in the summer of 1906 I took up the newspaper and saw that my brother-in-law, Michael Anagnos, had died in Rumania, after a brief illness.
The news was sad indeed for us; we were attached to him not only for his own sake, but for that of our sister Julia and of our father as well. With his death the close connection which had existed between the Howe family and the Institution for the Blind during nearly three-quarters of a century came to an end. It was the beginning of a new era! The removal of the Institution to Watertown, which shortly followed, emphasized the loss.
South Boston had now become so closely built as to make this change desirable. But my heart felt a dreadful pang at the abandonment of the beloved old Institution, dear to us from a thousand associations—the house where I was born!
The early story of Michael Anagnos was a romantic one. There was the unkind stepmother of tradition and the devoted great-grandmother who brought him up. When, in hunting for birds’ eggs, his thumb was bitten by the serpent already in the nest, this valiant soul bound the wounded member tightly with her gold chain, then sucked the poison from it. If he indulged in some boyish mischief, she would shake her head and say, “Aha! I told the ‘Papa’ he did not duck your head under thoroughly when he baptized you!” (In the Greek Orthodox Church baptism is by immersion.)
Like David of old, little Michael tended his father’s flocks, but the passion of the boy, true to the instincts of his race, was for education. He studied by the light of a pine torch, and copied out the school-books he could not afford to buy. By dint of extreme frugality he was able to complete his studies at the University of Athens.
For a time he was engaged in newspaper work and interested in politics. Then he met my father and became his assistant in ministering to the suffering Cretan exiles in Athens.
The story goes on like a true romance. Young Anagnos, accompanying Doctor Howe to America, struggled valiantly with the difficulties attending transplantation to a foreign soil, but finally overcame them all.
“You say you have only five vowels in English. You really have twenty-six,” he would plaintively remark.
How his faithfulness and tireless industry won one step after another, how he married sister Julia and succeeded my father as director of the Institution, has been already told.