“He lived in a neighboring town—let us call it Shoteville—and was soon, indeed, the principal Shote of Shoteville. The business was there. It had always prospered. When his father died, John took the crown and became a swearing, rantankerous tyrant.
“He inaugurated a system of efficiency. He trusted nobody. There was an indicator at the entrance of the big building and every worker great and small had to touch a button on this indicator when he left or entered the place. He had a kind of guillotine in the office and every day heads fell into the basket. But when a man left Mr. Shote it was a point to his credit in Shoteville. It showed that he was above being sworn at. It was a kind of recommendation—a thing to boast of. Every one in the shop was sooner or later called by Mr. Shote “a damn leather head.” It was a kind of initiation. If he accepted the classification and remained Mr. Shote decided that he was amenable to discipline and thought him a promising man. Outsiders looked down upon him. The men who stayed year after year and endured the insults of Mr. Shote were known in that community as 'the damn leatherheads.'
“Every worker was a wheel or a shaft or a lever in the big machine. When, worn or broken, he was cast aside.
“It will be seen that Mr. Shote was one of the followers of William. In his office were busts of Julius and Augustus Caesar and portraits of Napoleon and Frederick the Great. He worshiped power and kicked the common soldier.
“While he was in America, I am glad to say he was not an American—not really. To be sure he was born here and voted here, but he was really a Prussian and his shop was a little kingdom in the midst of a democracy.
“Mr. Shote really thought himself one of the noblest men that ever lived. He was a great success even as a thinker. A man can think himself into anything he pleases from a lobster to a saint. Just where he got off I leave the reader to judge.
“Unfortunately, Mr. Shote believed his own thoughts—all of them. It is a dangerous habit to acquire—that of believing oneself—believe me. If there's any one that requires careful corroboration it's yourself. Mr. Shote could not help believing his own thoughts—they were so commanding and imperious.
“Whatever else we may say of him he was honest, as men go. He paid his debts promptly and kept his credit high and even gave large sums to charity.
“His great lack was common sense; his great failing an uncontrolled temper. When you become the pivot around which the whole world revolves you are apt to get hot and noisy. The world bears down rather hard. So Mr. Shote squeaked and roared with anger every day of his life.
“His great vice was too much efficiency. No man in the plant had any power of initiative, due to the fact that Mr. Shote had no faith in any one but himself. The plant proceeded on an iron plan.