A FIGHT FOR LIFE!

It was characteristic of John Kennedy to keep everlastingly at it. He was used to hard things to do. In this life some men seem to get rather more than their share of tacks in the boots and crumbs in bed! But every time Fate knocked him down he just picked himself up again. Always he got up and went at it once more patiently, conscientiously, smiling. Even Fate cannot beat a man like that and John Kennedy was a hard fighter in a quiet way who did not know how to quit.

With four younger brothers and an equal number of younger sisters to crowd up to the home table down there on the farm near Beaverton, Ontario County, Ontario, it was advisable for the eldest son to work out as a farm boy. He was thirteen years old when he first hired out to a farmer for the summer and he was to receive twenty-four dollars for the season. But the farmer had a hard time that year and at the end of the summer

“John,” said the poor fellow with ill-concealed embarrassment, “I I’m afraid I can’t pay you that money. But you know that big flock of sheep down in the back pasture? Well, tell you what we’ll do. Over at Beaverton I’ve got an uncle who’s a tailor. I can give you a suit of full cloth of homespun and call it square,” and though the boy wanted the money for fifty things he had to take the homespun suit.

Three or four hobble-de-hoy years of it on the farms of the neighborhood and young Kennedy literally took to the woods and drove the rivers in Muskoka and Michigan as a lumberjack till he was a chunk of whalebone in a red flannel shirt and corked boots and could pull the whiskers out of a wild-cat! With varying success he fought the battle of life and learned that many things glitter besides gold and that the four-leafed clover in this life after all is a square deal between men.

The appeal of E. A. Partridge at the convention of the Manitoba Grain Growers in 1906 therefore found John Kennedy feeling responsive. He knew the unjust position in which the farmers were placed; for he was a farmer himself up in the Swan River Valley and he was a delegate from the Swan River Grain Growers’ Association. The idea of forming a farmers’ commission company for handling the farmers’ grain sounded like a very satisfactory solution of a very unsatisfactory state of affairs and he threw himself whole-heartedly into the campaign to sell enough stock to obtain a charter.

Up in the newer part of the country, which was his own particular territory, he found the farmers ready enough to listen; for they had suffered up there from the evils at which the new movement was aiming. He found also that the most interested members of his audiences were men who could least afford to lose any money.

An effort was made to discredit the whole proposition as a political move of the Conservative Party. Throughout the Swan River district, the Dauphin district and all the way down to Neepawa the rumor spread ahead of the meetings; so that the speakers were asked many pertinent and impertinent questions, J. W. Robson, a Swan River farmer who was at that time a Conservative Member of the Manitoba Legislature, was giving his services free as a speaker on behalf of the proposed company; John Kennedy was known to be a political supporter of J. W. Robson. One and one make two; two and two sometimes make a fairly large-sized political rumor. But Mr. Robson was a ready and convincing speaker who was known to be a farmer first and last and Mr. Kennedy attributes the practical results obtained as due largely to Mr. Robson’s logic and sincerity.

Along in June Kennedy received a telegram from Winnipeg that startled him. It contained the first intimation that difficulties were arising at Ottawa to prevent the proposed farmers’ company from getting their charter. Taking the first train, he found on his arrival at Winnipeg that Francis Graham and W. A. Robinson, the two committeemen who met him, had not yet notified E. A. Partridge. A wire was despatched at once to Sintaluta and the Chairman joined them by first train. For two days the Board wrestled with this unexpected difficulty which threatened to annihilate the company before it got started.

The application of the Organization Committee for a charter was refused on the ground that the shares of a company with a capital of $250,000 could not be less than $100 each. Their solicitor tried in vain to induce the Department to change its views, all canvassing to sell stock being discontinued by the Committee in the meantime.

“Well, let ’em keep their charter if they want to,” said Kennedy finally. “This discussion’s not getting us anywhere and if we can’t get a Dominion charter, why we can’t get it.”

“Guess you’re right, John. We might as well quit and go on home.”

“Who said anything about quitting?” Kennedy brought down his big fist on the table with a thump. “We’ll get a Manitoba charter. That’s what I mean.”

The others shook their heads. A Provincial charter would be useless for what they were proposing to do, they contended. Kennedy disagreed so emphatically that he refused to stop arguing about it till at last he and John Spencer were delegated to see the Manitoba authorities. In the course of a few days the arrangements for a Provincial charter were complete, and the Committee turned its attention to selling enough stock to be ready for business by the middle of the following month.

By this time the harvest season was so near at hand that prompt action was necessary if they were to do any business that fall. Under the Manitoba charter the company could open for business with a provisional directorate and as five members of the original committee were in Winnipeg and available for quick action, it was decided to go ahead as it would be impossible to hold a representative general meeting of the shareholders before harvest and it was advisable in the interests of the subscribers to take advantage of the opportunity to do business in the meantime.

Provisional organization therefore was undertaken during the week of the Winnipeg Industrial Exhibition, in a tent on the Fair grounds, and July 26th was set as the date. When space was sought for the erection of their sixteen-foot tent, however, they found themselves classed with the “Sunflower Belles” and “Katzenjammer Castle” and it was only after the payment of fifty dollars that permission was granted for the erection of the tent. Here to the accompaniment of a raucous medley of sounds the beating of tom-toms, the ballyhooing of the sideshows, the racket of the machinery exhibits and the cries of the peanut and lemonade vendors the farmers’ trading company was organized with provisional officers and directorate in legal shape to start the wheels in motion as a joint stock company.

But before actual business could begin a manager must be located who knew all the ins and outs and ups and downs of the grain business; also a seat upon the Winnipeg Grain Exchange must be purchased before the farmers could enter the arena as dealers in grain. None of the officers of the young company which was about to try its wings overlooked the fact that nothing could be more foolhardy than for farmers like themselves, direct from the green pastures, to attempt the plunge they were about to take without proper guidance as to the depth of the water and the set of the currents. They knew they were embarking in a most intricate and difficult business and with so much at stake on behalf of the whole farming population of Western Canada it was necessary to place the helm in the hands of somebody who could pilot them through the shoals. At best it promised to be a stormy passage.

About the only man in sight for the position was Thomas Coulter, of the Independent Grain Company. He had treated E. A. Partridge with more consideration as the “Farmers’ Representative” than most of the other grain men and there was a possibility that he might be persuaded to take the offer seriously. But on approaching him, Mr. Coulter did not become excited over the prospect of managing a farmers’ company in the grain business; even he was not inclined to take too seriously the effort of the farmers to do their own trading. How long would the farmers stand behind the company in the face of the competition that would be brought to bear? That was the question that bulged right out in front; for, as everybody knew, farmers never had been able to hang together very long when it came down to a matter of dollars and cents in their individual pockets. Finally, however, he agreed that there might be a fighting chance and accepted the management.

So far so good. But what about the seat on the Grain Exchange? The price of it was $2,500. One thousand shares of the company’s stock had been disposed of with ten per cent. paid up and from the $2,500 thus realized the expenses of organization had to be met, the charter paid for, the legal fee and expenses at Ottawa in connection with the effort to secure a Dominion charter, office rent, printing bills and what not.

“Which leaves us about $1,000 to buy a $2,500 seat and finance our first business operations,” said John Spencer with the look of a worried Secretary-Treasurer.

“We’ll have to issue a twenty per cent. call on subscribed stock,” admitted the President reluctantly. “In the meantime I’ll have to see if some of the boys out at Sintaluta will go security for the fifteen hundred. Thank heaven, these fellows down here think we’re a hilarious joke! The only chance we’ve got to get through the fence with this thing is for them to keep right on laughing at us till we get our toes in the sand!”

He wrote to Sintaluta, explaining the situation, and five of E. A. Partridge’s friends at once responded by going to the bank with their personal notes for the amount needed.

“With support like that we’re going to win, boys,” cried the President proudly when the bank notified them that the money was available.

Financial arrangements were established with the Bank of British North America and when a room had been rented on the top floor of the old Tribune building and circulars sent broadcast among the farmers, soliciting grain, the wheels began to turn.

The little office was opened for business on September 5th (1906). It was so small that even two or three people got in each other’s way, though all they were doing was to watch the mails anxiously for the first indications as to whether the farmers would stand behind the big idea that was now put to the test. Then came the bill of lading for the first carload of grain consigned to the new company, followed quickly by the second, the third, fourth, fifth, sixth two at a time, three, ten, fifteen per day! Every foot of space in the little office was a busy spot and the lone typewriter clickety-clacked on the second-hand table with cheerful disregard of lunch hours. By the end of the month the weekly receipts had risen to one hundred cars of grain.

It became necessary to move to a larger office and accommodation was obtained in the Henderson Block. At the present rate, a whole floor would be needed soon.

Over at the Grain Exchange some men were talking seriously. They were talking about E. A. Partridge and they were not laughing. The Secretary of the Exchange was instructed to write a letter.

Partridge hit the desk so hard that the paper-knife with which he had sliced open that letter hopped to the floor.

“They’re after us already!” he exploded.

It looked that way. The Company’s seat on the Grain Exchange was held in the name of the President and the letter summoned him to appear before the Council of the Exchange to answer to a charge of having sinned against the honor and “diginity” of that institution and of violating its rules. A short time before the young company had issued a circular setting forth their intention of dividing co-operatively whatever profits were earned; in other words, the man sending the larger amount of grain would receive the larger profits. This, the Exchange claimed, was a violation of the strict rules of the Grain Exchange and would have to be abandoned.

“You are virtually splitting the commission with the shipper,” claimed the Exchange, “and we can’t allow that for a minute.”

“It’s up to you to prove I’m guilty, not up to me to come here and commit myself,” argued Partridge. “If you can find any profits that have been distributed co-operatively by the Grain Growers’ Grain Company, go ahead. Nor have I sinned against your ’diginity’!” he added, sarcastically taking advantage of the stenographer’s error in spelling. “For that matter, you’ve been digging into me ever since I came on here!”

“You can’t do any more business with our members till you change your ways,” declared the Exchange and forthwith, on October 25th, notice was posted to all Exchange members that any of them found dealing with the farmers’ company would be penalized themselves.

Expelled from trading privileges! Practically boycotted! It was a straight punch on the nose that threatened to put the young organization out of business for the final count. Membership in the Exchange was absolutely imperative if the farmers were to be in a position to sell grain to exporters; they were not strong enough yet to export direct to Old Country markets and all the exporters through whom they were compelled to deal were members of the Exchange.

“The whole thing’s just a pretext!” cried Partridge vehemently. “We haven’t got any by-law regarding distribution of profits co-operatively; the only thing they’ve got to go on is that circular. They’re beginning to get scared of us and they see a chance to put us out of business.”

If this were the object, it looked as if it might be achieved in short order. The grain was pouring in steadily by the carload and with no buyer daring to deal with them in face of the mandate from the Exchange, of which they were all members, the new company was in a quandary to dispose of the incoming grain on a falling market. The only thing they could do was to wait until they had sufficient of any grade to make a shipment of from 8,000 to 10,000 bushels of that grade and try to place it somewhere in the East. The Manager was sent east hurriedly to see what connections he could establish while his office assistant mailed letter after letter to eastern points in an endeavor to work several contracts.

The farmers who shipped their grain to the new company were expecting to receive seventy-five per cent. of an advance from the bank on their bills of lading and a prompt remittance of the balance when the Inspection Certificate and Outturn were in the hands of the Company. With the grain piling up on their company day by day, it was not long before the overdraft at the bank began to assume alarming proportions.

Luckily the Assistant Manager succeeded in making several sales in the East, which eased away from the crisis which was shaping. It was quite patent that it would have been suicide for the young trading organization to notify the farmers to stop sending in business. They dare not do that.

In desperation the President and Vice-President went to the Manitoba Government and laid their case in full before the cabinet. Premier R. P. Roblin (now Sir Rodmond Roblin) was very much surprised to learn the facts.

“The Government certainly cannot countenance any such action on the part of the grain dealers,” he declared emphatically. “We cannot allow them to boycott a company composed of farmers who have as much right to sell grain as any other body of men.”

Accordingly the Government set a time limit within which the Exchange had the option of removing the ban against the farmers’ company or of losing their Provincial charter. In the meantime, however, this did not obtain restoration of trading privileges, without which the farmers’ company could not do business with Exchange members except by paying them the full commission of one cent per bushel.

The situation, therefore, was approaching a crisis rapidly. The company was fortunate in having the friendship of their local bank manager; but even he could not go on forever making advances on consigned grain and there was some suspicion that letters were reaching the head office of the bank in Montreal, advising that the quicker this particular account was closed out the better off the bank would be.

Then one morning the local manager called on the Executive and his face was grave.

“This is not the first time I’ve heard from the Head Office about this account, as you know,” he began at once, “but I’m afraid it’s the last call, gentlemen.” He handed a letter to the President. “As you see, I am instructed to close out your account at once unless further security is forthcoming. I’m sorry; for I believe you’ve merely run into hard luck in getting squared away. But I’m not the bank, you understand.”

“What do you want us to do? What can we do?” asked Partridge anxiously. “This thing will straighten out, Mr. Machaffie. We’re getting the business. You know that. We’re going to get back our trading privileges and everything will be alright.”

The banker shook his head slowly.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen. But do you know what your overdraft amounts to now?”

“Three hundred and fifty-six thousand dollars,” murmured the Secretary-Treasurer.

“Exactly.”

“What are we to do?”

“Before coming here I’ve been to see the Scottish Co-Operative Wholesale Society about taking some of your wheat. Fisher is ready to help you out if he finds he’s not overstepping the rules of the Exchange. I may be able to carry you along for a short time if you three gentlemen, the Executive of your company, will give the bank your personal bond without limit as to the amount. I have even gone so far as to draw up the document for signature, if it meets with your approval.”

“What about that, Kennedy? Spencer?”

“Guess we’ve got to do it,” nodded Kennedy.

“Looks like it,” agreed Spencer.

“Then down she goes!” decided Partridge, dipping his pen in the ink. The others signed after him.

“That means we three go down with the ship,” he remarked quietly after the door had closed upon the bank manager. “I appreciate you two fellows signing that thing.” He got up and shook hands with each of them in turn. “If bad gets worse and we go to smash

“It can’t get worse and we’re not going to smash,” reassured the others.

But that remained to be seen. Although placing grain in the East was robbing them of profits, it was the best that could be done to tide things over. The three active officials were on the anxious seat from morning till night. It had got down now to a question of meeting each day’s events as they came and frequently the lights blazed in the little office till two and three in the morning while the provisional officers raked the situation from every angle in an endeavor to forecast the next day’s difficulties and to prepare for them.

For three months the overdraft at the bank had averaged $275,000, due almost entirely to the conditions resulting from the action of the Exchange. It was useless to worry over the amount of interest which this accommodation was costing and the profits which might have been rolled up had things been different; the real worry was to keep going at any cost. For, as the bank manager had intimated, the whole thing was just hard luck rather than any unsoundness in the business. It was a fine paradox that the more pronounced the success of the idea itself became, the greater grew the danger of complete failure because of the predicament! Death by wheat! An ironical fate indeed for a grain company!

Upon investigation, the farmers’ company discovered that their original idea of distributing their profits co-operatively as embodied in the circular to which the Exchange had objected was contrary to the provisions of the Manitoba Joint Stock Companies’ Act under which they held their charter. Therefore the co-operative idea in connection with profits was formally dropped by the Grain Growers’ Grain Company. This had been done at a directors’ meeting on December 22nd (1906), when a resolution had been passed, cancelling the proposal contained in the objectionable circular. But although the Exchange had been notified immediately and repeated applications for reinstatement had been made, the farmers’ company was still struggling along in the throes of their dilemma proof positive, concluded the farmers, that the Grain Exchange had used the co-operative suggestion as a mere pretext to oust the Company from the field altogether.

In piled the wheat, car after car of it! A considerable portion of it had been bought on track and farmers who had consigned their grain were anxious, naturally, to have it disposed of without delay. With prices going down and navigation on the point of closing, the best hopes of the management became centred in getting a big shipment away to Buffalo by boat. That would enable them to escape a big item in storage charges and to place the grain in line for export at rates considerably below the all-rail figures.

“With those bills of lading in the bank, we’ve no control of them and the bank can do just about as it likes,” reviewed the President one night. “If they should come down on us to sell our wheat inside of forty-eight hours we’re goners, boys! All that those fellows over at the Exchange have got to do is to shove down the market thirty points and our name is mud! The loss to the farmers who’ve shipped us their grain will kill this movement and every one like it in the West for all time to come. This company will be as dead as a doornail and so will we financially as its bonded backers.”

Kennedy was running a finger tentatively down the window-pane. It left a streak in the forming frost.

“What I want to know is, how long ought it to take to load up this whole boatload we’re trying to move?”

“Oh, about seventeen hours or so.”

“And how long have they been at it already? Five days, ain’t it? And she’s not away yet! What d’you suppose that means?” he snapped. He began to throw things into a grip. He made for the door.

“Where’n the mischief are you going, John?”

“Fort William can just make the train if I hustle. The J. P. Walsh gets out of that harbor with that wheat of ours, by Hickory! if she has to be chopped out with an axe!”

Two days later a telegram reached the little office:

S.S. J. P. Walsh cleared to-day for Buffalo. Three hundred and ten thousand bushels. Last boat out. KENNEDY.