ar, as usual, he
had a small seminar of carefully picked students. He got them to open
their eyes to conditions as they were. When they ceased to accept those
conditions just because they were, they, too, felt the inequality, the
farce, of a democratic institution run on such autocratic lines. After
seminar hours the group would foregather at our house to plot as to ways
and means. The editor of the campus daily saw their point of view--I am
not sure now that he was not a member of the seminar.

A slow campaign of education followed. Intrenched powers became
outraged. Fraternities that had invited Carl almost weekly to lunch, now
"couldn't see him." One or two influential alumnae, who had something to
gain from the established order, took up the fight. Soon we had a
"warning" from one of the Regents that Carl's efforts on behalf of
"democracy" were unwelcome. But within a year the entire organization of
campus politics was altered, and now there probably is not a student who
would not feel outraged at the suggestion of a return to the old system.

Perhaps here is where I can dwell for a moment on Carl's particular
brand of democracy. I see so much of other kinds. He was what I should
call an utterly unconscious democrat. He never framed in his own mind
any theory of "the brotherhood of man"--he just lived it, without ever
thinking of it as something that needed expression in words. I never
heard him use the term. To him the Individual was everything--by that I
mean that every relation he had was on a personal basis. He could not go
into a shop to buy a necktie hurriedly, without passing a word with the
clerk; when he paid his fare on the street car, there was a moment's
conversation with the conductor; when we had ice-cream of an evening, he
asked the waitress what was the best thing on in the movies. When we
left Oakland for Harvard, the partially toothless maid we had sobbed
that "Mr. Parker had been more like a brother to her!"

One of the phases of his death which struck home the hardest was the
concern and sorrow the small tradespeople showed--the cobbler, the
plumber, the drug-store clerk. You hear men say: "I often find it
interesting to talk to working-people and get their view-point." Such an
attitude was absolutely foreign to Carl. He talked to "working-people"
because he talked to everybody as he went along his joyous way. At a
track meet or football game, he was on intimate terms with every one
within a co