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Updated: June 1, 2025
"Ah, that was a bad day for Rome and the future of the world, when those mad fellows struck him down there like a pig!" he cried. And Mary, Queen of Scots, was "a sweet, soft body of a white thing that should have been content with being in love, and never tried to rule!" "Can you cook?" asked Spalton of me one day, just as Barton had done at "Perfection City."
There followed the usual spying and publicity ... Mrs. Spalton won her divorce.... But this was after several years. Long before the divorce was granted John and Dorothy were aware of a tangible fruit of their love.... I had often wondered why the Master so ardently, so often, wrote eloquently in defense of the superior qualities of illegitimate children....
The incident gave birth to the legend of a crazy man under Spalton's care, whose chief insanity was running naked through snowdrifts. Spalton had three sons. Roderick was the eldest: named after his father.
Spalton brought him back to the Eos Artwork Studios. There he found that the queer, gentle, old man was as helpless as a child ... all he could be trusted to do was to write addresses on letters ... which he was set at, not too exactingly.... I never saw so happy a man as Pfeiler was that winter. He was a Buddhist, not by pose, but by sincere conviction.
Most of us who had arrived at "The Studios" from "foreign" parts, slept in the common dormitory. We held frequent "roughhouses" there, the younger of us ... to the annoyance of Speedwell. Spalton finally gave him permission to sleep and live, alone, in the shed where the fire-truck and hose was stored.... Not long after he came staggering forth, half-suffocated....
My first impulse was to rush into the dining hall, at breakfast, Waving the sheets, and calling "John" to account for his theft, before everybody ... then I bethought myself that, perhaps, some mistake had been made ... that the proofreader might have left my name out. Spalton looked up quickly as I passed by his table. He read in my face that I had already discovered what he had done. He blushed.
"Come here, John, and hold my horses." Spalton dropped the axe and obeyed. Afterward he had been dismissed with a fifty cent tip. He told the story on himself, and the name "John" stuck. Working in the bindery, I began to find out things about the community of Eos that were not as ideal as might be ... most of the illumination of the books was done by girls, even by children after school hours.
I was rendered unhappy by this. I spoke to Spalton about it. "Why Razorre, so you have come that near to being in print?" I showed him the poems. "Yes, you have the making of a real poet in you!" A day or so after he approached me with "I'm writing a brief visit to the home of Thoreau ... how would you like to compose a poem for me, on him for the first page of the work?"
Spalton had begun his active career as a business man, had swung out from that, his fertile mind glimpsing what worlds of thought and imagination lay beyond it! But now Big Business was calling him back again, using him for its purposes. Oftener and oftener magnificently written articles by him began to appear in his remarkable little magazine, The Dawn.
And he was straightway convinced, wholly and completely, that he had found it in Eos. To him Spalton was the one and undoubted prophet of God, the high priest of Truth. Gabby Jack was a "j'iner." From his huge, ornate, gold watch-chain hung three or four bejewelled insignia of secret societies that he was a member of.
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