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[p. 43: Uz Cikagu]
Having studied and worked diligently for two school years and one summer, I had earned a Commercial Course diploma in
bookkeeping, and prepared to enter college. With that I left the friends I had made and headed for the city to seek my fortune.
Before leaving, I participated in the commencement ceremony, reciting Ralph Waldo Emerson's "The Scholar is the Only
True Master".
In the summer of 1909 I found, already in Chicago, my brother Martin, working in Pullman, I think. Kristaps Katlaps from
Klostere was there too, working as a boilermaker. His father, old Tom, may have been the youngest brother of the farmer who
owned the next farmstead [neighboring Kalnieki], called Blaki. My brother Fricis had worked, during the economic crisis, as
an oiler on the dredge [ship] Burton, and had moved to Chicago. Our brother Peteris stayed on as an oiler on the Burton for
many years; he gave his only son, Edward, Burton as a middle name. He spelled his last name 'Kalmin', allowing for the trouble
English-speakers had trying to pronounce the '-nin'.
Chicago!
Now it is hard to remember events and the order in which they happened. Many factual and chronological mistakes will slip
in no matter how I try to avoid them. It will be like that poor biblical prophet who always brought about what he didn't want,
but could never bring about what he intended. I will try.
It seems that the first place I lived was on Adams Street, around the 1400 block. I think that I soon found the West Side
Y .M. C.A., where I often met with a Greek dentistry student, an acquaintance from Greer College. The swimming pool and the
gym were very noisy, to an extent that would not be tolerated today.
The second place I found was the triangular (like the Singer building in New York) Ashland Block, at the intersection
of Ashland, Madison and Ogden, which was razed long ago. It was about ten stories high. Somewhere on the sixth or eighth floor
was Carnegie University, in its beginning phase, organized by Daniel N. Warde from New York, with numerous 'doctoral' titles.
I registered to continue my studies and pursue a bachelor's degree; the main subjects were Latin, English, and German language
and literature, which was still held in high regard [I assume this refers to the rejection of German during the First World
War]. The school gained university accreditation, and received its charter, but didn't get any money from Carnegie even though
he was the school's 'godfather'. I earned my diploma in a couple of years. [This last sentence is puzzling. My grandfather
enrolled and graduated from law school, not Carnegie U, during the same period; see below.]
Not far from where I lived was St. Joseph Hospital, and on Elizabeth Street at Warren (roughly) was the Medical College.
Both belonged to Dr. John Dill Robertson, later the Chicago city health commissioner. I enrolled in the medical school, and
arranged to earn my way by doing heating and maintenance work at the school. It was still summer, before the school year began.
I took my meals in the hospital cafeteria. My job was to take care of the cats and dogs used for vivisection, as well as the
cadavers which came from the County Hospital, from the ranks of the poor. When I arrived there were ten bodies on the coals
in the furnace. Some were missing one or both legs, others were fat [druknis?] and stank. I had to battle with unusually aggressive
rats. There were containers [karlines?] of formaldehyde, which I poured onto the corpses; even that didn't deter the rats
for long.
The bodies which were unsuited for anatomical dissection were brought to a smaller furnace room and placed in a ( --)
[grapi ?] to boil until the flesh peeled off the bones, which were then strung up as skeletons for the classrooms. A few of
the 'half-cooked' ones were stood upside-down in a barrel and a saw was used on them [to remove the feet or legs?]. The main
work was done by an. upperclassman, a senior, and I was his assistant. These tasks were given. to me too suddenly, and I couldn't
perform them; I got sick to my stomach. When the president himself, John Dill, as he was called, happened to come into the
furnace room, I told him to do it himself, that I was leaving. He looked at me, saw what was the matter, smiled, picked up
a saw and began to saw away. Watching him I was ashamed that I had entertained the idea that I was too good for such filthy
work; even though the problem was really the repugnant, frightful work, to which I had been completely unaccustomed. I determined
not to shrink from work of any kind again. I ended my medical studies.
I didn't abandon my further education. I think it might- have been on Dr. Warde's recommendation that I enrolled in a
special legal school, the Illinois College of Law, which had been founded by a (former?) senator from Virginia named Ogden.
There in the fall of 1909, I started taking evening classes as a freshman; I couldn't afford to study during the day, since
I had to work for a living.
Around this time I found a bookkeeping job for the National Candy Co., somewhere around the corner of Ontario and New
Orleans. I took an apartment, one room actually, not far from Lake Michigan and the old Water Tower. The difficult haul began
for me: nine hours a day working and three hours of school in the evening; work was six days a week. My salary was less than
$80 per month; it was enough for living expenses plus school, with a little bit of extra if I worked hard. I was in harness--
now it was time to pull!
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