At his country place on the Hudson there are constantly employed several hundred men of different nationalities; many of these employees he knows by name; he is constantly mingling with them in their work, interested in their progress and in their home life, and it is not an infrequent sight, at the close of the day’s work, to see him returning home in his automobile with half a dozen or a dozen Italian and Hungarian workingmen crowded about him on the seats and standing on the running board as he gives them a lift on their way home.

When motoring about the country he may frequently be found talking with a group of men at the country store in a little village, and when he comes upon school children returning from their school he delights to load as many of them into his automobile as possible and give them a ride on their way.

I recall not long since the death of a colored teamster who had for some years been in my father’s employ. My father was among the first to visit the bereaved family in their humble home above the work stable, that he might express his sympathy with them in their sorrow, and as he stood at the grave his tears were mingled with the tears of the other mourners as he paid his last tribute of respect to a faithful employee and a true friend.

When called as a witness in New York by the Industrial Relations Commission last winter, my father stated very clearly his attitude toward workingmen.

Briefly, these were the three points that he made:

That he believed that Labor and Capital were partners, not enemies.

That in any industry with which he was connected he would gladly welcome the workers as stockholders, and further:

That it would be his wish that those who work with their hands be given representation upon the Board of Directors, so that they might come to have a closer knowledge of the problems with which the management of the corporation is confronted.

The word “fear” is not found in my father’s vocabulary, nor does he know what the sensation is, and yet he has the gentleness and the tenderness of a woman.