nversational radius. Our wealthy friends would tell us he
ruined their chauffeurs--they got so that they didn't know their places.
As likely as not, he would jolt some constrained bank president by
engaging him in genial conversation without an introduction; at a formal
dinner he would, as a matter of course, have a word or two with the
butler when he passed the cracked crab, although at times the butlers
seemed somewhat pained thereby. Some of Carl's intimate friends were
occasionally annoyed--"He talks to everybody." He no more could help
talking to everybody than he could help--liking pumpkin-pie. He was born
that way. He had one manner for every human being--President of the
University, students, janitors, society women, cooks, small boys,
judges. He never had any material thing to hand out,--not even cigars,
for he did not smoke himself,--but, as one friend expressed it, "he
radiated generosity."

Heidelberg gives one year after passing the examination to get the
doctor's thesis in final form for publication. The subject of Carl's
thesis was "The Labor Policy of the American Trust." His first summer
vacation after our return to Berkeley, he went on to Wisconsin, chiefly
to see Commons, and then to Chicago, to study the stockyards at
first-hand, and the steel industry. He wrote: "Have just seen Commons,
who was _fine_. He said: 'Send me as soon as possible the outline of
your thesis and I will pass upon it according to my lights.' . . . He is
very interested in one of my principal subdivisions, i.e. 'Technique and
Unionism,' or 'Technique and Labor.' Believes it is a big new
consideration." Again he wrote: "I have just finished working through a
book on 'Immigration' by Professor Fairchild of Yale,--437 pages
published three weeks ago,--lent me by Professor Ross. It is the very
book I have been looking for and is _superb_. I can't get over how
stimulating this looking in on a group of University men has been. It in
itself is worth the trip. I feel sure of my field of work; that I am not
going off in unfruitful directions; that I am keeping up with the wagon.
I am now set on finishing my book right away--want it out within a year
from December." From Chicago he wrote: "Am here with the reek of the
stockyards in my nose, and just four blocks from them. Here lived, in
this house, Upton Sinclair when he wrote 'The Jungle.'" And Mary
McDowell, at the University Settlement where he was staying, told a
friend of ours since