He was very sure he did want Mother, evidently sharing my opinion that family life, even of two, is better than the existence of six or eight young men without any womankind. We took up our residence in the late Crucible Club—so named for the connection of its inmates with the steel industry. With a sigh of relief Jack laid aside the cares of the establishment, which had naturally fallen upon him. (He has his father’s talent for taking responsibilities off the shoulders of others.) He protested that he was willing to eat anything for dinner, provided he did not have to order it!
High Bridge is a picturesque New Jersey borough, some fifty-odd miles from New York. It is situated among the hills of the northwestern part of the state, four hundred feet above sea-level. To those knowing only the flatlands of eastern Jersey, this region with its rolling country and lovely views comes as a surprise.
The town, considered from an economic standpoint, consists principally of the Taylor-Wharton Iron and Steel Company. This patriarchal institution was established in the eighteenth century by the Taylor family and still continues under their jurisdiction. It has grown from a small iron-foundry into a plant with branches in other towns employing three thousand men in all. Its one hundred and seventy-fifth anniversary has recently been celebrated.
Every one living in the village is either connected in some way with the steel-plant or keeps a shop to supply the wants of the workers. The latter are of a class not commonly employed in such industries at the present day. There are some Hungarians and other foreigners, but the great backbone of the establishment consists of American men and women. Many of these have their own homes in the surrounding country, coming to work in the Ford cars which have nearly driven out the primeval High Bridge buggy. It is a proud boast of the company that there have been practically no strikes in its history.
In little gate-houses and other odd places one sees the figures of quaint old men, still employed for little services instead of being flung into the discard. The Taylor Company has proved that kindness of heart helps rather than hinders success in business. Old retainers, here as elsewhere, sometimes take advantage of their position, but on the whole the system works well.
The great distance from the metropolis and the small measure of railroad communication tend to isolate the village. If you miss a train you may be obliged to wait four hours for the next. All these conditions tend to produce quaint characters and a unique use of English.
In High Bridge we are very careful never to say seen under any circumstances, substituting the elegant phrase, “I have saw.” Persons of a weakly constitution are held to lack “stamania,” while “financially” is considered more elegant than “finally.” If we wish to postpone a trip, we “refer” it till to-morrow.
The combinations in shopkeeping are also out of the common. To have a barber sell oysters and ice-cream, and a clothier act as optician, surprises the city resident. High Bridge has an atmosphere all its own. One becomes readily attached to the quaint little town.
My son’s business calling him to New York, we spent some winters there, settling this time in Stuyvesant Square near old St. George’s Church.
I was soon drawn into the maelstrom of the old, beloved work. The Twelfth Assembly District, familiarly known as “Charlie Murphy’s,” was clamoring for a leader of the Woman Suffrage party. Mrs. Frederick Gillette, who had conducted its affairs with great ability and signal devotion, absolutely refused to take office again, as her health would not permit it. Her predecessor, the first leader, a lovely woman idolized by her fellow-suffragists, had died in harness! I was on the wrong side of sixty and had been advised by the doctor to take life quietly.