Elbert Hubbard was a successful soap salesman, but wasn't very happy. So, in 1892, he sold his interest in the company and enrolled at Harvard. He still wasn't happy and soon dropped out.|
Next, he traveled to England and went on a walking tour. While in England, he met William Morris who operated the arts & crafts Kelmscott Press. He was quite impressed with the operation and the seed was planted for his future.
Hubbard decided to become a writer and on his return to America searched for a publisher for his series of biographical sketches called Little Journeys. Unable to find one, he decided to print them himself. He moved to East Aurora, New York and started the Roycroft Press.
Elbert Hubbard became quite famous as a writer. Visitors began making pilgrimages to East Aurora to see him and his operation. At first, he housed them in the printer's quarters. So many people visited, he built a hotel to house them. Hubbard hired local craftsmen to make a simple straight lined style of furniture to fill the rooms of the inn. The furniture was so popular with the guests that they wanted to buy pieces to take home.
Thus, a furniture industry was created. Soon, a whole community of skilled craftsman formed around Roycroft- metal smiths, leather smiths, bookbinders, etc. By 1910, there were over 500 workers who called themselves Roycrofters.
Hubbard explained the success of the Roycrofters with the aphorism- "Build a better mousetrap and the world will beat a path to your door." He did not take credit for the quote. He attributed it to Ralph Waldo Emerson. Emerson had written something similar, but not those exact words.
While Hubbard and his wife, Alice, were on their way to England to begin a lecture tour, they were killed when their ship sank, the Lusitania. His son, Bert, took over the leadership of the Roycrofters and sales increased.
Later, public tastes changed and The Roycrofters closed shop in 1938.
Roycrofter items are still highly prized by collectors.
Elbert Hubbard was the publisher of two magazines: The Fra and The Philistine. An essay he printed in the Philistine became one of the most published articles ever written.
Elbert Hubbard and Bert had a lively discussion at the dinner table on February 22, 1899. That night the subject was "who was the real hero of the Cuban War?" We know it now as the Spanish-American War. Today, you will find few people who could tell you anything about the Spanish-American War. Some may vaguely remember something about Teddy Roosevelt charging up San Juan Hill. In 1899, it was still fresh on everyone's mind.
Was Teddy Roosevelt the hero of the Spanish-American War? Bert argued that it was an obscure lieutenant named Rowan who President McKinley entrusted to deliver an important message to Cuban insurgent General Calixto Garcia.
Elbert Hubbard retired to his study and replayed the discussion in his mind. Hubbard had spent a frustrating day dealing with employees who would not do what they were asked.
He decided that the true heroes of the world are the people who will, without question, go and get the job done.
He spent the next hour writing A Message to Garcia and the next morning added it to his magazine, The Philistine, as fill space. He said he considered it literary trifle and thought nothing else of it.
Soon reorders for the article started coming in. He asked an assistant what article was causing all of the recent mail and was surprised by the answer.
George Davies, president of the New York Central Railroad ordered 500,000 copies of the reprints. Hubbard calculated it would take several years to print that many, so, he gave him permission to reprint it. Davies gave a copy to every railroad employee.
Prince Hilakoff, the director of the Russian Railroad had it translated into Russian. He gave a copy to all of his railroad employees and when the Russians were fighting the Japanese each soldier was given a copy.
The Japanese found copies on captured Russian soldiers and had it translated into Japanese. Each member of the Japanese government was given a copy.
During World War I, A Message to Garcia was distributed to all of the sailors in the U.S. Navy.
By 1913, there were over 40 million copies in print. It has been printed in over 200 magazines and over 100 million copies have been estimated to be in print.
A MESSAGE TO GARCIAwritten by Elbert Hubbard
February 22, 1899
In all this Cuban business there is one man stands out on the horizon of my memory like Mars at perihelion. When war broke out between Spain and the United States, it was very necessary to communicate quickly with the leader of the Insurgents. Garcia was somewhere in the mountain fastnesses of Cuba - no one knew where. No mail or telegraph could reach him. The President must secure his co-operation, and quickly.
What to do!
Someone said to the President, "There's a fellow by the name of Rowan will find Garcia for you, if anybody can."
Rowan was sent for and given a letter to be delivered to Garcia. How "the fellow by name of Rowan" took the letter, sealed it up in an oil-skin pouch, strapped it over his heart, in four days landed by night off the coast of Cuba from an open boat, disappeared into the jungle, and in three weeks came out on the other side of the island, having traversed a hostile country on foot, and having delivered his letter to Garcia, are things I have no special desire now to tell in detail.
The point I wish to make is this: McKinley gave Rowan a letter to be delivered to Garcia; Rowan took the letter and did not ask, "Where is he at?" By the Eternal! There is a man whose form should be cast in deathless bronze and the statue placed in every college in the land. It is not book-learning young men need, nor instruction about this or that, but a stiffening of the vertebrae which will cause them to be loyal to a trust, to act promptly, concentrate their energies; do the thing - "carry a message to Garcia!"
General Garcia is dead now, but there are other Garcias.
No man, who has endeavored to carry out an enterprise where many hands were needed, but has been well-nigh appalled at times by the imbecility of the average man - the inability or unwillingness to concentrate on a thing and do it. Slipshod assistance, foolish inattention, dowdy indifferece, and half-hearted work seem to be the rule; and no man succeeds, unless by hook or crook, or threat, he forces or bribes other men to assist him; or mayhap, God in His goodness performs a miracle, and sends him an Angel of Light for an assistant. You, reader, put this matter to a test: You are sitting now in your office -six clerks are within your call. Summon any one and make this request: "Please look in the encyclopedia and make a brief memorandum for me concerning the life of Corregio."
Will the clerk quietly say, "Yes, sir," and go do the task?
On your life, he will not. He will look at you out of a fishy eye, and ask one or more of the following questions:
Who was he?
Where is the encyclopedia?
Was I hired for that?
Don't you mean Bismarck?
What's the matter with Charlie doing it?
Is he dead?
Is there any hurry?
Shan't I bring you the book and let you look it up yourself?
What do you want to know for?
And I will lay you ten to one that after you have answered the questions, and explained how to find the information, and why you want it, the clerk will go off and get one of the other clerks to help him find Garcia - and then come back and tell you there is no such man. Of course I may lose my bet, but according to the Law of Average, I will not.
Now if you are wise you will not bother to explain to your "assistant" that Corregio is indexed under the C's, not in the K's, but you will smile sweetly and say, "Never mind," and go look it up yourself.
And this incapacity for independent action, this moral stupidity, this infirmity of the will, this unwillingness to cheerfully catch hold and lift, are the things that put pure socialism so far into the future. If men will not act for themselves, what will they do when the benefit of their effort is for all? A first mate with knotted club seems necessary; and the dread of getting "the bounce" Saturday night holds many a worker in his place.
Advertise for a stenographer, and nine times out of ten who apply can neither spell nor punctuate - and do not think it necessary to.
Can such a one write a letter to Garcia?
"You see that bookkeeper," said the foreman to me in a large factory.
"Yes, what about him?"
"Well, he's a fine accountant, but if I'd send him to town on an errand, he might accomplish the errand all right, and, on the other hand, might stop at four saloons on the way, and when he got to Main Street, would forget what he had been sent for."
Can such a man be entrusted to carry a message to Garcia?
We have recently been hearing much maudlin sympathy expressed for the "down-trodden denizen of the sweat shop" and the "homeless wanderer searching for honest employment," and with it all often go many hard words for the men in power.
Nothing is said about the employer who grows old before his time in a vain attempt to get frowsy ne'er-do-wells to do intelligent work; and his long patient striving with "help" that does nothing but loaf when his back is turned. In every store and factory there is a constant weeding-out process going on. The employer is constantly sending away "help" that have shown their incapacity to further the interests of the business, and others are being taken on. No matter how good times are, this sorting continues, only if times are hard and work is scarce, this sorting is done finer - but out and forever out, the incompetent and unworthy go. It is the survival of the fittest. self-interest prompts every employer to keep the best-those who can carry a message to Garcia.
I know one man of really brilliant parts who has not the ability to manage a business of his own, and yet who is absolutely worthless to anyone else, because he carries with him constantly the insane suspicion that his employer is oppressing, or intending to oppress, him. He can not give orders, and he will not receive them. Should a message be given him to take to Garcia, his answer would probably be, "Take it yourself.
Tonight this man walks the streets looking for work, the wind whistling through his threadbare coat. No one who knows him dare employ him, for he is a regular firebrand of discontent. He is impervious to reason, and the only thing that can impress him is the toe of a thick-soled No. 9 boot.
Of course I know that one so morally deformed is no less to be pitied than a physical cripple; but in your pitying, let us drop a tear, too, for the men who are striving to carry on a great enterprise, whose working hours are not limited by the whistle, and whose hair is fast turning white through the struggle to hold the line in dowdy indifference, slipshod imbecility, and the heartless ingratitude which, but for their enterprise, would be both hungry and homeless.
Have I put the matter too strongly? Possibly I have; but when all the world has gone a-slumming I wish to speak a word of sympathy for the man who succeeds - the man who, against great odds, has directed the efforts of others, and, having succeeded, finds there's nothing in it: nothing but bare board and clothes.
I have carried a dinner-pail and worked for a day's wages, and I have also been an employer of labor, and I know there is something to be said on both sides. There is no excellence, per se, in poverty; rags are no recommendation; and all employers are not rapacious and high-handed, any more than all poor men are virtuous.
My heart goes out to the man who does his work when the "boss" is away, as well as when he is home. And the man who, when given a letter for Garcia, quietly takes the missive, without asking any idiotic questions, and with no lurking intention of chucking it into the nearest sewer, or of doing aught else but deliver it, never gets "laid off," nor has to go on strike for higher wages. Civilization is one long anxious search for just such individuals. Anything such a man asks will be granted; his kind is so rare that no employer can afford to let him go. He is wanted every city, town, and village - in every office, shop, store and factory. The world cries out for such; he is needed, and needed badly - the man who can carry a message to Garcia.