The ReCreation of Brian Kent

H >> Harold Bell Wright >> The ReCreation of Brian Kent


He may or may not be a prodigy of physical strength. He may or may not
be a tower of mental energy. But so long as this old world stands the
man with an overpowering desire for all that is best for the race to
be in the race, whose life is in tune with the divine and with the good
that is within us all, whether he be orator, writer, artist or artisan,
is a giant among men.

That which we read makes a deeper and more lasting impression on our
lives than that which we see or hear. An author with millions of readers
must be a great central power of thought and influence, at least, in his
own day and generation. We can understand the truth of this through a
study of the aims and life purposes of Harold Bell Wright as expressed
through his books and the circumstances under which they were written.
The wonderful popularity of this author is well estimated by the
millions of copies of his books that have been sold. This is also the
greatest testimonial that can be given to the merit of his work. The
great heart of the reading public is an unprejudiced critic. "Is not
the greatest voice the one to which the greatest number of hearts listen
with pleasure?"

When a man has attained to great eminence under adverse circumstances we
sometimes wonder to what heights he might have climbed under conditions
more favorable. Who can tell? It is just as easy to say what the young
man of twenty will be when a matured man of forty. The boy of poverty
makes a man of power while the boy nursed in the lap of luxury makes
a man of uneventful life, and, again, a life started with a handicap
remains so through its possible three score years and ten and the life
begun with advantages multiplies its talents ten and a hundred fold.

So, after all, is not the heart of man the real man and is it not
the guiding star of his ambition, his will, his determination, his
conscience?

Harold Bell Wright, the second of four sons, was born May 4, 1872, in
Rome, Oneida County, New York. From an earlier biographer we quote the
following:

"Some essential facts must be dug from out the past where they lie
embedded in the detrital chronicles of the race. Say, then, that away
back in 1640 a ship load of Anglo-Saxon freedom landed in New England.
After a brief period some of the more venturesome spirits emigrated to
the far west and settled amid the undulations of the Mohawk valley
in central New York. Protestant France also sent westward some
Gallic chivalry hungering for freedom. The fringe of this garment of
civilization spread out and reached also into the same valley. English
determination and Huguenot aspiration touched elbows in the war for
political and religious freedom, and touched hearts and hands in
the struggle for economic freedom. Their generations were a genuine
aristocracy. Mutual struggles after mutual aims cemented casual
acquaintance into enduring friendship. William Wright met, loved
and married Alma T. Watson. To them four sons were born. A carpenter
contractor, a man who builds, contrives and constructs, is joined to
a woman into whose soul of wholesome refinement come images of dainty
beauty, where they glow and grow radiant. With lavish unrestraint the
life of this French woman pours itself into her sons. The third child
died in infancy. The eldest survived his mother by some thirteen years.
The youngest is a constructive mechanical engineer. The second son is
Harold Bell Wright.

"During ten years this mother and this son live in rare intimacy. The
boy's first enduring impression of this life is the vision of the mother
bending affectionately over him while criticising the water color sketch
his unpracticed fingers had just made. Crude blendings and faulty
lines were pointed out, then touched into harmony and more accurate
perspective by her quick skill. Together their eyes watched shades dance
on sunny slopes, cloud shadows race among the hills or lie lazily in the
valley below.

"Exuberant Nature and ebullient boy loved each other from the first.
Alone, enravished, he often wandered far in sheer joy of living. He
brings, one day, from his rambles a bunch of immortelles which mother
graciously receives. Twenty years later the boy, man-grown, bows
reverently over a box of withered flowers--the same bouquet the mother
took that day and laid away as a precious memento of his boyish love.
Such was the first decade.

"A ten-year-old boy, motherless, steals from harsh labor and yet harsher
surroundings, runs to the home of sacred memories, clambers to the
attic, and spends the night in anguished solitude. This was his first
Gethsemane. For ten years buffeted and beaten, battling with adversity,
sometimes losing but never lost, snatching learning here and there,
hating sham, loving passionately, misunderstood, misapprehended, too
stubbornly proud to ask apologies or make useless explanations, fighting
poverty in the depths of privation, wrestling existence from toil he
loathed, befriending many and also befriended much, but always face to
face with the grim tragedy which has held part of the stage since Eden.

"Such was the second decade. The first was spent on hill sides where
shadows only made the light more buoyant as they fled away. The second
was passed in the valley where the shadow hung lazily till the cloud
grew very black and drenched the soil.

"Lured to college, he undertook to acquire academic culture. As is
well known, college life with its professorial anecdotes and jokes, its
student pranks and grind, is routine drudgery and cob-webbery prose.
Bookish professors and conventional students rarely have just such an
animate problem of French artistry and Bohemian experience to solve.
They did nobly, to be sure, but here was a mind which threw over them
all the glamour of romance."

Mr. Wright entered the Preparatory Department of Hiram College at the
age of twenty, having previously accepted the faith and identified
himself with the Christian Church in the little quarry town of Grafton,
Ohio. He continued active in the different departments of work in his
church all during his school years with the ultimate result of his
entering the ministry.

Having no financial means, while in school he made his way by doing odd
jobs about town, house painting and decorating, sketching, etc. After
two years of school life, while laboring to gain funds in order that he
might continue his schooling, he contracted from overwork and out-door
exposure a severe case of pneumonia that left his eyesight badly
impaired and his constitution in such condition that, to the present
day, he has never fully recovered.

Air castles were tumbled and hopes blasted when his physician advised
him that it would be fatal to re-enter school for, at least, another
year. Whereupon, seeking health and a means of existence, starting from
a point on the Mahoning river, he canoed with sketch and note book, but
alone, down stream a distance of more than five hundred miles. From
this point, by train, he embarked for the Ozark mountains in southwest
Missouri. Here, for some months, while gradually regaining his strength,
he secured employment at farm work, sketching and painting at intervals.

Once more, he found himself on bed-rock, taking his last cent to pay
express charges back to Ohio on some finished pictures, but, this time,
fortune smiled promptly with a good check by return mail.

It was while in the Ozarks that Harold Bell Wright preached his first
sermon. Being a regular attendant at the services, held in the little
mountain log school house, he was asked to talk to the people, one
Sunday, when the regular preacher had failed to appear.

From this Sunday morning talk, that could hardly be called a sermon, and
others that followed, he came to feel that he could do more good in the
ministry than he could in any other field of labor, and soon thereafter
accepted a regular pastorate at Pierce City, Missouri, at a yearly
salary of four hundred dollars. True to a resolve, that his work should
be that through which he could help the most people, he had now chosen
the ministry. A further resolve that he would give up this ministry,
chosen with such earnest conviction, should another field of labor offer
more extensive measures for reaching mankind, took him, in later years,
into the field of literature. He left the ministry with many regrets but
with the same earnest conviction with which he had earlier chosen it.

Following the publication of "The Shepherd of the Hills" his publishers
assured him that he could secure greater results from his pen rather
than his pulpit and prevailed upon him to henceforth make literature his
life work. This was in every way consistent with his teaching that every
man's ministry is that work through which he can accomplish the greatest
good.

In the battle of life there is always the higher ground that the many
covet but few attain. In reaching this height Mr. Wright has given to
a multitude, his time, strength and substance, that they, too, might
further advance. He is companionable, loving and loyal to his friends.
He hates sham and hypocrisy and any attempt to glorify one's self by
means other than the fruits of one's own labor.

This boy, who, from the death of his mother, was driven into a hand to
hand struggle with life for a bare existence, was necessarily forced
into contact with much that was vicious and corrupt. But he in no way
became a part of it. That same inherent love for mental cleanliness and
spiritual truths that has so distinguished the works of the man kept the
boy unstained in his unfortunate environment.

Mr. Wright resigned his charge at Pierce City for the larger work at
Pittsburg, Kansas. In the second year of his pastorate--1899--he
married Frances E. Long in Buffalo, New York. This union of love had
its beginning back in the school days at Hiram. Unto them have been born
three sons, Gilbert Munger, 1901, Paul Williams, 1902, and Norman Hall,
1910.

In Pittsburg, Mr. Wright received enthusiastic support from his church
people. Finances were soon in a satisfactory condition, and church
attendance reached the capacity of the building, but still the young
pastor was not satisfied. Pittsburg was a mining town, a young men's
town. A little city with saloons and brothels doing business on every
hand. His soul was on fire for his church to do a larger work and, with
the hope of arousing his people, he conceived the idea of writing "That
Printer of Udell's," planning to read the story, by installments, on
special evenings of successive weeks, to his congregation.

Pittsburg was made the principal scene and the church of the story was
the kind of church he wanted his Pittsburg charge to be. The teachings
set forth, through the preacher of the story, in the latter half of
the book, are the identical things the author was preaching. The first
chapters of the story are very largely colored by Mr. Wright's early
life, but they are by no means autobiographical.

"That Printer of Udell's" was written without thought or intention of
offering it for publication. During the author's ministry he made some
of the warmest and most abiding friendships of his life, and it was
through certain of these friends that he was persuaded from reading the
story, as intended, but to offer it for publication, giving it, thus, a
wider usefulness.

Having a leave of absence of several weeks from his church during the
winter of 1901-2 he accepted an invitation from the pastor of a Chicago
church to hold a special meeting, and it was during this meeting
that the author and his publisher met for the first time. Mr. Wright
delivered a sermon entitled "Sculptors of Life" that was so impressive
that I sought him out with entreaties to repeat his sermon as a lecture
to a certain company of young people.

The acquaintance thus begun very quickly became one of friendship,
without any knowledge or thought that it would in time lead to a
co-operative life work, and when the author later offered his book for
publication it was without request or thought of financial remuneration.
Mr. Wright, however, was given a contract paying him the highest royalty
that was being paid for any author's first book.

"That Printer of Udell's" was written almost entirely in the late hours
of the night and the very early hours of the morning. Great demands were
being made on the author's time in the way of requests for officiating
and speaking at public and civic functions in addition to the now heavy
requirements of his church. His aggressive activities, backed by his
splendid spirit, fearlessness and courage in combating the evils of his
little city made for him a host of admirers, alike, among his enemies
and friends. When he left to accept a pastorate in Kansas City,
Missouri, his resignation was not accepted.

After one year in Kansas City he found that he was not physically able
to carry out the great city work as he had dreamed it and planned it,
on a scale that would satisfy his longings for service, and it made him
seriously consider whether there was not some other way that would more
equally measure with his strength. He went again to the Ozarks, this
time for rest and meditation, and while there began writing "The
Shepherd of the Hills." This Story has a peculiar significance for
the author. He feels toward it as he can not feel for any of his other
books. "The Shepherd of the Hills" was written as a test. The strength
of the message he was able to put into the story and the response it
should find in the hearts of men and women was to decide for him his
ministry henceforth, whether he would teach the precepts of the Man of
Galilee by voice or pen. It was a testing time that bore fruit not only
in this simple, sweet story, that to quote an eminent divine, "is one of
the greatest sermons of our day," but resulted as well in the splendid
volumes that have followed.

"The Shepherd of the Hills" was finished during the year of his
pastorate at Lebanon, Missouri, and but for the sympathy, encouragement
and helpful understanding of his church officers and membership, it is
doubtful if the story could ever have been completed. When Mr. Wright
delivered the manuscript to his publishers the first of the year, 1907,
for publication the next fall, he had accepted the pastorate of the
Christian Church in Redlands, California, hoping this land of sunshine
would give him a larger measure of health.

Some months later, resigning his Redlands pastorate, he went to the
Imperial Valley and there, the following year, wrote "The Calling of Dan
Matthews." The church and its problems were weighing on the author and
affecting his life no less than when he was in the ministry and it was
only natural that he should give to the world "a picture that is true
to the four corners of the earth." Every incident in the story has its
counterpart in real life and, with but few exceptions, came under the
author's personal observation. He did not get the real pleasure out
of writing "The Calling of Dan Matthews" that he did the story which
preceded it. But he could not, try as he would, escape it.

The publication of "The Calling of Dan Matthews" in the fall of 1909 was
just two years after the publication of "The Shepherd of the Hills."

"The Winning of Barbara Worth" required more time and effort in the
collecting of material than any book the author had written, but
probably gave him, at least, as much pleasure. He is very careful with
regard to descriptive detail, and even while writing "The Calling of Dan
Matthews" he was making a study of the desert and this great reclamation
project. Before sending his manuscript for publication he had it checked
over by the best engineers on the Pacific coast for inaccuracies in any
of his descriptions that involved engineering or reclamation problems.

"The Winning of Barbara Worth" bears the distinction, without doubt,
of being the only book ever published that called its publisher and
illustrator from a distance of two and three thousand miles, into the
heart of a great desert, for a consultation with its author. This story
of the Imperial Valley and its reclamation was written in the same study
as was "The Calling of Dan Matthews." A study of rude construction,
about eighteen by thirty-five feet, with thatched roof and outside
covering of native arrow-weed and built entirely by the author himself.

When Mr. Wright finished "The Winning of Barbara Worth"--so named in
honor of Ruth Barbara Reynolds--he was a sick man. He often worked the
night through, overtaxing his nerve and strength. For several months he
virtually dwelt within the four walls of his study and for a time it was
feared he would not live to finish the book. He wrote the last chapters
while confined to his bed, after which he was taken by easy stages,
through the kindness of friends, to that part of Northern Arizona that
is so delightful to all lovers of the out-of-doors. In this bracing
mile-high atmosphere he soon grew well and strong, almost to ruggedness,
and on the day his book was published he was riding in a wild-horse
chase over a country wild and rough where the writer of this sketch
would only care to go, carefully picking his way, on foot. So it was
weeks after publication before the author saw the first bound copy
of his book. During these summer and fall months, while regaining his
strength, he was busy with sketch and note book collecting material, for
this part of Arizona is the scene of his novel "When a Man's a Man."

"Their Yesterdays" was written in Tucson, Arizona, and was published in
the fall of 1912, just one year after the publication of "The Winning
of Barbara Worth." In order to write this story, with the least possible
strain on his nerves and vitality, Mr. Wright secluded himself in a
little cottage purchased especially for this work. His material was
collected from the observations of his thoughtful years and his intimate
knowledge of human hearts. This book is, perhaps, more representative
of the real Harold Bell Wright than anything he has done. It is the true
presentation of his views on life, love and religion. I once asked Mr.
Wright, in behalf of the faculty, to deliver an address to a graduating
class of some twenty-odd young men of the Morgan Park Academy (Chicago).
He was very busy and I suggested that without special effort he make the
commonplace remarks that one so often hears on like occasions. For the
first time that I remember he somewhat impatiently resented a suggestion
from me, saying "These young men are on the threshold of life and the
very best that is within me is due to them. I can give to them only such
a message as I would, were I to stand before judgment on the morrow." It
was with just this spirit that the author wrote "Their Yesterdays."

Following "Their Yesterdays" the next book in order of publication was
"The Eyes of the World," published in the fall of 1914. It was written
in the same arrow-weed study on Tecolote Rancho in the Imperial Valley
where he wrote "The Calling of Dan Matthews" and "The Winning of Barbara
Worth." Being fully in sympathy with the author's purpose in writing
this story, the campaign of advertising was of such educational
character and so eventful in many ways, that it will long be remembered
by authors, publishers and reading public, and, we trust, make for
cleaner books and pictures.

As it was in the writing of "The Calling of Dan Matthews" so it was in
the writing of "The Eyes of the World," the sense of duty stood highest.
The modern trend in books and music and art and drama had so incensed
the author that "The Eyes of the World" was the result of his all
impelling desire for cleaner living and thinking. As is true of all
writers, there are sometimes those who fail to catch the message in
Mr. Wright's books. He is occasionally misunderstood, and that was
especially true with "The Eyes of the World." To the great majority
of people, clean living and thinking, the message was not to be
misinterpreted and to them the book is blessed. To that small minority
it was convicting and, from a few such, it brought forth condemnation
which, in a fellow author here and there, was pronounced and emphasized
by envy and jealousy. To critics of this class Mr. Wright makes no reply
and is not in the least disturbed.

"The Uncrowned King," a small volume--an allegory--published in 1910,
to me, is one of the most delightful of Mr. Wright's books. Possibly,
it has an added charm because of certain peculiar conditions. It was
written in Redlands, California, during the winter of 1909-10, although
the notion for the little volume occurred to the author while living in
Kansas City. It was one of those times when the longing and will to do
a work greater than the physical would permit seemed almost overpowering
when, unconsciously coming to his aid, a young woman talking to a
company of Christian Endeavorers chanced to remark, "After all, the
real kings of earth are seldom crowned." All through the evening service
thoughts that this inspired kept running through the author's mind and
late that same night he wrote the outline which was only completed some
years later and given to his publishers to enrich the world.

His first four novels in order of publication have been dramatized
and enjoyed by thousands from before the footlights and it has been a
delight to renew acquaintances with old friends in this way. It remained
for "The Eyes of the World" to be the first of his books to be presented
in a feature production of motion pictures.

The likes and dislikes of Harold Bell Wright are quite pronounced. He is
unpretending, cares not for the lime-light and avoids interviews for the
public press. Loud, boisterous conversation is but little less offensive
to him than vulgarity in speech or action. His friends are strong,
clean-minded men who are doing things in the world and are as necessary
to his being as the air to his existence, and his generosity to them is
no less marked than his caring and providing for his family, which is
almost a passion. He is extremely fond of most forms of out-door life.
The desert with its vast expanse, fierce solitude and varied colors is
no less attractive to him than the peaceful quiet of wooded dells, the
beauty of flowering meadows or the rugged mountains with their roaring
trout streams that furnish him hours of sport with rod and line. He
enjoys hunting, horse-back riding or long tramps afoot. But when there
is work to be done it is the one thing that bulks largest and all else
must wait.

After finishing "The Eyes of the World," Mr. Wright embarked on the
building of a home in the Santa Monica mountains near Hollywood,
California. So in the summer of 1915 the little family of five
began making their residence in the new canyon home, one of nature's
delightful spots.

Then again, the author went into camp in the Arizona desert while
writing "When a Man's a Man." For he finds it very helpful to live in
the atmosphere of his story while doing the actual writing and he also
avoids frequent interruption. I think he got more real enjoyment out
of this story than any he has previously done. It is a story of the
out-of-doors in this great unfenced land where a man must be a man. I
suppose, too, he enjoyed writing this work so much, partly, because it
comes so easy for him to just tell a story without the intervention of
some nerve racking problem. The only book he has heretofore written that
is purely a story is "The Shepherd of the Hills," and I sometimes wonder
to what proportion of his readers does this Ozark story hold first
place. For all such, I am sure, "When a Man's a Man" will find a
reception of special heartiness because it is just a fine, big,
wholesome novel of simple sweetness and virile strength.

I have written this sketch of Harold Bell Wright that you may know him
as intimately, if possible, as if you had met him in person. But should
you have the opportunity of making his acquaintance do not deny yourself
the pleasure. If you are a lover of his books I am sure you are just the
kind of person that the author himself delights to meet.

"Relay Heights," February 15, 1916.