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<h1>AN AMERICAN IDYLL</h1>
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<h2>THE LIFE OF<br/> CARLETON H. PARKER</h2></div>
<h4><i>By</i></h4>
<h3>CORNELIA STRATTON PARKER</h3>
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<h2><SPAN name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></SPAN>PREFACE</h2>
<p>It was a year ago to-day that Carl Parker died—March 17,
1918. His fortieth birthday would have come on March 31. His
friends, his students, were free to pay their tribute to him, both
in the press and in letters which I treasure. I alone of
all,—I who knew him best and loved him most,—had no way
to give some outlet to my soul; could see no chance to pay
<i>my</i> tribute.</p>
<p>One and another have written of what was and will be his
valuable service to economic thought and progress; of the effects
of his mediation of labor disputes, in the Northwest and throughout
the nation; and of his inestimable qualities as friend, comrade,
and teacher.</p>
<p>"He gave as a Federal mediator,"—so runs one estimate of
him,—"all his unparalleled knowledge and understanding of
labor and its point of view. That knowledge, that understanding he
gained, not by academic investigation, but by working in mines and
woods, in shops and on farms. He had the trust and confidence of
both sides in disputes between labor and capital; his services were
called in whenever trouble was brewing. . . . Thanks to him,
strikes were averted; war-work of the most vital importance,
threatened by misunderstandings and smouldering discontent, went
on."</p>
<p>But almost every one who has written for publication has told of
but one side of him, and there were such countless sides. Would it
then be so out of place if I, his wife, could write of all of him,
even to the manner of husband he was?</p>
<p>I have hesitated for some months to do this. He had not yet made
so truly national a name, perhaps, as to warrant any assumption
that such a work would be acceptable. Many of his close friends
have asked me to do just this, however; for they realize, as I do
so strongly, that his life was so big, so full, so potential, that,
even as the story of a man, it would be worth the reading.</p>
<p>And, at the risk of sharing intimacies that should be kept in
one's heart only, I long to have the world know something of the
life we led together.</p>
<p>An old friend wrote: "Dear, splendid Carl, the very embodiment
of life, energized and joyful to a degree I have never known. And
the thought of the separation of you two makes me turn cold. . . .
The world can never be the same to me with Carl out of it. I loved
his high spirit, his helpfulness, his humor, his adoration of you.
Knowing you and Carl, and seeing your life together, has been one
of the most perfect things in my life."</p>
<p>An Eastern professor, who had visited at our home from time to
time wrote: "You have lost one of the finest husbands I have ever
known. Ever since I have known the Parker family, I have considered
their home life as ideal. I had hoped that the too few hours I
spent in your home might be multiplied many times in coming years.
. . . I have never known a man more in love with a woman than Carl
was with you."</p>
<p>So I write of him for these reasons: because I must, to ease my
own pent-up feelings; because his life was so well worth writing
about; because so many friends have sent word to me: "Some day,
when you have the time, I hope you will sit down and write me about
Carl"—the newer friends asking especially about his earlier
years, the older friends wishing to know of his later interests,
and especially of the last months, and of—what I have written
to no one as yet—his death. I can answer them all this
way.</p>
<p>And, lastly, there is the most intimate reason of all. I want
our children to know about their father—not just his academic
worth, his public career, but the life he led from day to day. If I
live till they are old enough to understand, I, of course, can tell
them. If not, how are they to know? And so, in the last instance,
this is a document for them.</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 23em;">C.S.P.</span><br/>
<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">March 17, 1919</span></p>
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<h2>AN AMERICAN IDYLL</h2>
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